#will it be enough to overcome what he did and how that fear will linger? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluebayousblog · 20 days

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RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 18)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Morning

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SEVENTEEN

Drew didn’t want to let go of Isobel, and he meant that in so many ways. When he was fourteen he laid eyes on her for the first time, and hadn’t expected to like her as much as he did—his entire family liked her. She was so shy with them all in the beginning, but he still managed to be enamored by the fraction of her she presented to his family within those first few weeks of them meeting. He knew she was special and it was easy for him to want to treat her as such because in his head doing that meant she would stick around, it meant she would open up around them.

When college came around they ended up at the same university, so he never had to consider parting ways with her in that regard, it was when she began dating Grayson that he experienced what it felt like for her to be slipping away from him. He didn’t register the feelings as jealousy, no it was more like a discomfort he felt about her being in a relationship. A discomfort that he chalked up as him being protective because that is what made sense to him at the time. He couldn’t stop her from dating, so he learned to live with it—learned how to share Isobel with another man who didn’t deserve her—until they broke up three years into their relationship. And though she returned to him heartbroken and not quite the same happy girl she was before he’ll always remember the relief he felt.

The last two years of college he spent probably annoying Isobel beyond lengths but that’s how he got his fix. He enjoyed walking her to class when he could, no matter how brief, it was always enough for him to see her face and hear her sweet voice. When weekends came he invited her to his parties because it was an excuse to have her around without having to worry about her wellbeing somewhere else. And at those parties he couldn’t help but give most if not all of his attention to her when he wasn’t entertaining some random girl. How could he not when she was in the same room as him, it was close to impossible for him to ignore Isobel’s presence.

Drew had been with so many women in his life, and never once had he felt that pull he did with Isobel after simply realizing he could be attracted to her. After years of knowing each other he’d kissed her once and had been overcome with the need to have her to all to himself. He’d always felt this way but having her in such an intimate way made it so much clearer. Being with Isobel created a fear within Drew because although he felt for her in the capacity that he did, it didn’t mean she felt the same way for him.

And just because Drew had fallen in love with Isobel didn’t mean she would ever fall in love with him.

Isobel let him hold her in his arms after he told her he loved her, she rolled over and hid her face in his chest instead of running away from his confession. He felt whole with her in his embrace, the way she relaxed with him made him feel like she would never leave him, so it scared him when he had to slip away to the bathroom to clean up and discard the condom. The mere thought of the bed being empty when he returned making him linger in the bathroom a little longer just to brace himself.

He eventually couldn’t help but go back to her, holding his breath as he approached his bed, and when he saw her body still resting there on his side of it, he exhaled.

“You took my spot, Izzy Bear.” Drew stated with a smile as he slipped himself under her body, and he melted when her soft hand ran up his stomach so she could wrap an arm around his torso.

She looked so adorable under him, her long hair framing her face, her soft skin bare, and her brown eyes warm with unspoken emotion that made his grip on her hip tighten, “Your spot was warmer than mine.”

He could only smile in response as their eyes remained locked, it felt completely different than before and they both knew it was because what had just transpired between them. Isobel hadn’t expected having sex with Drew to leave her feeling so needy. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like after, and now she was feeling so many confusing emotions all at once. She felt scared of his feelings—of her own—but she didn’t want to leave him. Isobel had already done that, and it only hurt them both. So she clung to him and silently thought of everything that had happened tonight. The unnecessary fighting followed by intense sex followed by his confession.

“You love me?” Isobel whispered with her lips moving against the arm her cheek was lying on, and she couldn’t ignore the twinge of hopefulness that was buried deep in her tone. Only someone who desperately wanted to hear the emotion could distinguish it beyond all of her layers she put forth, but she had a feeling her body knew Drew was exactly that—desperate for a part of her no matter how minuscule. She wanted to look away before he answered her, not in fear of him not saying yes, but the fear of simply looking him in the eyes as he answered her.

“Yes.”

Her face immediately heated at the short response that despite its conciseness had her heart pounding inside her chest, and despite her internal transgressions her eyes couldn’t help but find his blue ones. It was unbelievable how one or three words could mean so much—could make her feel so much. She’d once felt this way before with someone else, she’d also ran away from this feeling, but it still managed to find her and still knocked the breath out of her. She knew her cheeks were red when he swept his thumb across the warm skin of her face, “When did you realize it?”

It was like Isobel was in front of a mesmerizing flame she shouldn’t touch, but couldn’t help but stick her fingers through. Although, the closer she got to him, to the heat, the fire wasn’t so scary anymore—like it wasn’t even really a fire to begin with.

“Isobel, I think I have always loved you.” Drew settled on an answer after thinking it over. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but it also felt impossible for him to keep what he was thinking to himself. It was like when she gave herself to him he couldn’t hold in his feelings for her any longer.

And If he was being honest he couldn’t remember not loving Isobel. The time from when they were only family friends to when they hooked up for the first time felt like one convoluted memory of Drew falling for her without knowing it.

Isobel had no idea what to think, someone had fallen in love with her and he’d done it so easily—so effortlessly. And it melted all of her resolve considering the fact that he’d told her on a holiday she held so close to her heart. She was going to remember his devotion to her every Christmas thereafter.

“I don’t what to say, Drew.” She shyly admitted, now looking away from his gaze. He just sounded so sure from the first ‘I love you’ as he dropped down on the mattress beside her when he rolled off of her, and it was his certitude along with his admission that stole the air from her chest.

She didn’t want to hurt him because of her own reservations, but she also hadn’t come to terms with her own feelings for Drew like he had for her. The last thing she wanted to do was compare what she had with him to her past relationship but her trauma made it hard to distinguish the two. Though, Isobel knew better because the way Drew made her feel wasn’t comparable to the man she had before. Even the way he told her he loved her was different, there was no flood of expectancy—he just wanted her to know but still she couldn’t help but wonder if her silence was disappointing him.

Because despite all of her fears, something that remained consistent for Isobel was that she believed his word.

“I don’t need you to know what to say, Isobel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.” Drew swallowed, wanting to do everything he could not to scare her anymore than he already had.

Isobel’s heart melted at his words, he was being so vulnerable and honest and it only made her want to tuck herself further into his arms, “You don’t have to apologize, Bear.”

He looked so handsome staring down at her with that same glimmer she always saw in his blue eyes, but now she knew exactly what he was feeling behind them. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned up to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, hoping it conveyed everything she couldn’t say because though she couldn’t articulate her feelings for Drew, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel anything at all.  They kissed slowly like time was infinite for them, reveling in the feeling of their lips against each other, and each slow peck eased her nerves. She felt how intentional he was with his kisses like her mouth was made for his own, like he’d found something he’d been always looking for, while Isobel just tightly held on.

Never did she think she’d be in Drew’s bed as he sensually kissed her lips after telling her he loved her on the early hours of Christmas morning. It was unimaginable at one point, but in the moment it made perfect sense. The feeling of his wet lips, the warmth from his body against her own, and the idea of Drew falling in love with her—for the most part.

Isobel suddenly pulled away and looked into his eyes, looking for the answers to the questions she was afraid to ask, the questions she thought may make her look weak in his head. She hated letting her insecurities show, but they would only continue to haunt her if she kept letting them choke her until she was rendered silent. It was easy for Isobel not to be a burden to her friends and family, but what she hadn’t realized was just how silent it made her that she became sort of nonexistent.

And for once she didn’t want to feel that way with Drew.

“You won’t get tired of me?” She quietly asked, forcing herself to keep their eyes connected as she waited for him to speak. Isobel could confidently say that was one of her biggest fears, someone getting tired of you loving them because she’d experienced it first hand. And though it came out like a question, it was more of a plea.

Drew’s eyebrows creased at her question. Not only because the possibility could cross her mind, but at how raw and vulnerable her voice sounded as he listened to her. It was crazy how you could spend an abundance of time with someone and not know how bruised they are, then they let you in and you don’t understand how you couldn’t have seen it all before.

“I could never get tired of you” he stated with emphasis like the thought was rudimentary, he said it with a gentle force like it was truly impossible, and he promised it to her with sincerity because he could never reach that point. He wanted from the depths of his being for her to understand that she had nothing to fear because Drew tiring of Isobel simply could not be.

Drew never thought he could ever be frustrated with Isobel until he fell in love with her. He was frustrated with her for things she couldn’t help, frustrated at things that happened to her, and frustrated that he he’d taken so agonizingly long to realize just how important she was to him that she’d found love in someone else and been burned because of it.

“You promise?” She gave him a gentle smile, but he saw right through it and he knew just how important it was to give her what she needed.

Reassurance.

God, he just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her entire body until she understood him and all the doubt in her mind was no more when she looked at him, touched him, and simply thought of him. But this was Isobel and while he did want so badly for her to trust what they had, there was also a part of him that wanted to see her slowly heal no matter how long it took because he was coming to find out, to truly know Isobel was to love her for the sides of her she allowed people to see while also loving the hidden parts of her that weren’t invisible—they were just barely on the surface.

“I promise, Izzy Bear.” He whispered and when she smiled, a real smile with her teeth on display just for him to see, the frustration he’d just been feeling felt so insignificant to the warmth currently inhabiting in his chest, “Give me a kiss.”

“I don’t think I heard you, Bear, can you say it a little firmer?” Isobel smirked.

She leaned her body on his chest and brought their mouths so close their lips brushed, barely keeping a slither of space between them. Her smirk grew into a full grin when she felt his arm wrap around her lower back and squeeze her upper thigh in his hand.

“I said give me a kiss, Isobel.” Drew looked unamused as he stared into her eyes while his hand wandered upward to rest on her ass.

Isobel didn’t listen as he repeated himself just as she asked, instead she moved her lips to his neck, running her mouth across the contours of it, his skin salty on her tongue. She couldn’t tell if the increase in his breathing was because her defiance was pissing him or turning him on, but she didn’t mind either, “Hmmm I don’t think I feel like kissing you right now.”

“You always feel like kissing me.” He gritted through clenched teeth as she laid a full kiss on the center of his throat making her giggle. Isobel knew he was referring to just how pathetic her attempt was to keep things platonic between them for the holidays. How she’d cracked within days, no within minutes and hadn’t been able to keep her mouth off of him since. God, did she love having her lips on Drew.

Isobel chose not to respond as she continued to plant kisses down his neck and chest, every peck deliberate in her wake as she made her descent. She wanted to show Drew that she felt for him just as intensely as he did for her even if she couldn’t put it into words. This was the only way she thought to herself, atleast that’s how it worked for her in the past. Then Drew’s hand found her cheek and she froze before he pulled her back up his body so she was back where she began—chest to chest, nose to nose, and just slightly brushing his lips with her own.

“You don’t have to do that, Baby.” He mumbled as he pressed their foreheads together, staring into her brown eyes as if he was really trying to make sure she understood him, to remind her that he knew her.

Isobel’s eyes widened as she stared back in a sort of disorienting realization at the sincerity in his eyes and how she’d thought she’d loved before when really that hadn’t been what it was at all because what she was seeing in front of her in this moment was incomparable to anything she’d witnessed before.

“I want to kiss you.” She voiced her thoughts, it came out naturally like Drew was meant to know everything she was thinking.

“Then kiss me.” He barely finished before her lips were covering his in a gentle kiss.

One of his hands immediately found her jaw, squeezing her face as he pulled her further against his mouth. He could feel her as she immersed herself in the feeling of them being connected like she was wordlessly giving him another piece of herself that only he could interpret. Drew couldn’t help but release a deep groan at the intensity of it all, at how packed full of emotion this all was. His hands slipped down her jaw onto her throat before sliding to the back of her neck so he could bring her closer, desperate for all she was willing to give to him.

They kissed until they were out of breath, until Isobel was panting for him and desperate for his touch. His tongue massaged carefully into hers as he took his time tasting her. Her lips were starting to feel swollen and bruised but every time he released the pressure on her neck she kissed him deeper so his grip would return. She whined against his mouth when he disconnected their lips and looked up at the ceiling obviously drowning from his own arousal. She didn’t know where to go from here as she stared down at him, his eyes tightly shut and trying to control his breathing. Here she was in bed with a man who didn’t need her to prove herself to him, and she was completely and utterly lost in it all, “You’re making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.” Isobel whispered as low as she could and rested her chin on the warm skin of his chest .

His eyes remained closed, but when she felt the rumble of a groan travel up his throat she knew he’d heard her and she smiled.

Isobel then couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let her tell him she loved him with his eyes closed, but she knew that’s not how she would want it, she couldn’t imagine it that way. In her head, when she let herself hope, she would say it when she wasn’t afraid to look him in eyes as she gave him her heart.

But for now she’d whisper it in riddles with his waiting stare hidden behind his resting eyelids.

She fell asleep comfortably in his arms and woke up to Drew staring down at her that Christmas morning. They’d obviously switched positions during the night as she was now tucked into his warm body as his back shielded her body and he leaned on his side, putting all his weight on his right arm, “You always wake up at this exact time on Christmas Day.”

Isobel didn’t have to look at the time on her phone to know it was seven in the morning. Her parents were most likely awake and lounging around in the den downstairs while she was cuddled up with Drew in his bedroom instead of waking up in her own. In just thirty minutes they would be listening for her descent down the stairs because that’s how it went every year they spent Christmas together, but things were changing to her dismay.

“How do you know? You usually don’t wake up until breakfast is ready.” She poked his side and giggled when he jumped at the feeling.

Drew couldn’t help but smile at the years of memories from all their holidays spent together, “For some reason I always wake up the moment you walk past my door to the stairs.”

If she already wasn’t a puddle from how sweet he was to her last night, she would’ve melted further into the mattress.

“You sure you weren’t feeling me two years ago, Bear?” Isobel joked though they’d been spending holidays together in this cabin for far longer than two years. Meaning he’d been feeling for her for so much longer.

He wrapped both of his arms around her body so he could pull her into him, he was getting used to his days starting with Isobel’s, especially on one of her most cherished.

“What did I say to you last night, Is?” He breathed and brushed her bare hips with his hand.

‘Isobel, I think I have always loved you.’

The more she heard him say it the more she wanted to hear it, like a song you didn’t quite understand the first listen but as you absorb the melodies, the words, and meaning you can’t help but want to hear it on repeat.

When Drew saw Isobel bite her bottom lip as her dark eyes glazed over in thought he swore he felt his heart rate drop before it began pounding in his chest. He loved this about her, how her body betrayed her and revealed exactly what she was feeling. Drew just loved when her guard was down with him. His grip tightened on her hips as if it would slow down the thumping in his veins.

“I have to get dressed.” Isobel released her lip and pouted knowing her mom would come check on her if she didn’t come downstairs soon, especially since she played sick yesterday to avoid the man she was under at this very moment.

“Okay.” Drew could only watch in a trance as she slipped from under him. He was mesmerized watching her leave the bed and stand before him with nothing covering her body. His tongue swiftly poked out to wet his lips when she swiped her pajamas off the floor and began to slowly get dressed—knowing his greedy eyes were watching, “Come here Isobel.”

She was working on the first button of her top when he interrupted and she wasted no time before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed so she was facing him. When his big hands took over what she’d been doing, she let him as he buttoned up the silk pajama top just as slowly as she’d planned on doing. Although, with his fingers grazing and nudging the curve of her breasts as he made his way up to the last button it had a very different outcome.

“I’ll see you down there, baby.” Drew wiped his mouth with his thumb as he darkly glanced at her breasts through the red satin then back up to her pretty eyes. For some reason Isobel couldn’t help but grin in amusement at how boyish he was being, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was always that way in the morning.

“Maybe you should come downstairs a little earlier than usual?” She suggested and cursed to herself for not wearing any slippers when she decided to come here last night. When she got to the door she turned and gave him a soft look before having to go back to reality, a reality she wasn’t sure she wanted to maintain anymore.

“I’ll be right behind you, Isobel.”

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alovesongtheywrote · 7 months

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Nightmare Academia P.5 | Spencer Reid x Reader

♥ Summary: the prank war continues- you steal spencer's mugs, he uses one of your worst fears against you, and you're both dicks to each other [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: reader makes a mean comment about spencer being fatherless, spencer picks at the reader's insecurities- y'know, normal fare. also, spiders. ALSO, MENTIONS OF THAT RABIES EPISODE FROM SEASON 9.

♥ A/N: i know this has been mindless shenanigans so far, but the next few chapters will contain hints of plot, i promise

♥ Word Count: 1525

Series Masterlist

You didn’t have to send the typewriter in again. For the most part, this was a good thing- it meant that Reid was no longer torturing his students by making them write their notes and assignments by hand. It meant that your students were no longer lingering on the edge of collapse. It meant that the student body was dealing with healthy levels of stress.

It also meant you’d lost your main method for bothering Reid.

While you wouldn’t complain about Reid going pro-tech (or at least tech-neutral) it did mean that you couldn’t send the typewriter to Reid’s classes without being a massive bitch. Before, when he had been tormenting his students, the annoying click of the typewriter had been a punishment. It was all fair game.

Now, you would have to find something more creative. You would have to get crafty- punishing Reid for his various slights against you whilst being annoying, but not disruptive.

So. You decided to steal his mugs.

The idea crept over you like a bug, wiggling into you until you just had to do it. So, you did. You waited until he was teaching, and you snuck into his office. The lock on the door was university regulation- and therefore, it was easy enough to bypass with a lockpick and the tiniest bit of skill.

Like that, you were in- and you were overcome with the realization that this was the first time you had ever really been in Reid’s office. He’d been to yours plenty of times, he was the one who dropped off the typewriter after every class, but you never had a reason to come to his office.

At least, you hadn’t had a reason until now.

You were surprised by how familiar the space was. It was warmly lit, filled with books and various trinkets. The walls were covered with his doctorates and degrees. Mathematics, Chemistry, Engineering, Psychology, Sociology- fuck that guy for being smarter than you.

You didn’t have time to dwell on that, though. You were on a mission. A mug-related mission.

You searched the office, looking through drawers and swinging open cabinets until you found what you were looking for. Behind Spencer’s desk inside a small cabinet, they sat- mugs. Honestly, the sheer number of mugs tucked into such a small space was kind of impressive. You certainly had options.

Eventually, you selected a dark blue mug designed to look like the TARDIS. That was cute. You did your best not to find it too endearing. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t find anything in that office endearing.

And then, upon standing, you immediately broke that promise.

On top of the cabinet that stored all his mugs was a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Your fingers brushed across the cover. That alone was enough to charm you, but then you noticed, beneath the book- an article. An analysis of Pride and Prejudice. You would know the words on those pages anywhere. You wrote that article.

You felt heat building beneath your skin as a blush crawled up to your face. You pulled away from the book as if it had burned you. Kicking the cabinet door closed, you collected the mug in your hands, and you raced from the room as fast as you possibly could.

Reid enacted his vengeance swiftly.

Clearly, he was still in contact with that FBI tech girl of his- and CLEARLY, she was less of a tech girl and more of a mind reader, because she somehow found out about your phobia of spiders, and then she told Reid about it.

You knew all of this because one morning, you walked into your office to find a mug sitting innocently on your desk. Inside of it, a rubber spider. You, however, didn’t know it was rubber.

You had spent the night before grading assignments, helping your GED students edit their papers, and crying over a really cute baby goat. Needless to say, you were sleep-deprived- and it was in this sleep-deprived state that you flung the mug at the wall on instinct because you thought there was a spider inside of it.

Luckily, Reid, in his infinite wisdom, had predicted that this would be a possibility- or you assumed he had. The mug was a tough thing, and flinging it at the wall hadn’t even put a chip in it. The fake spider was also fine (which was good, because if it had been alive, and you had killed it, you probably would’ve cried again).

Once your racing heartbeat had returned to normal, you tried to calm down by grabbing one of your actual mugs from its actual place in a large drawer beneath your desk.

A fake spider sprung out at you the second you opened the thing.

You screamed, slapping the fake creature right off of its mechanism and across the room. Once you were done having a teeny tiny panic attack over that, you took a closer look at your mug drawer. Reid had put his engineering degree to good use, rigging up a mechanism that would let the fake arachnid jump at you once you’d triggered it by opening the door. You were pissed- and a little bit impressed- but mostly pissed.

The last straw was the actual spider on your ceiling. It wasn’t put there by Reid, but you still blamed him for it. Once the little critter was gently placed outside, you stormed off to Reid’s office. You didn’t care that it was the first thing in the morning, nor did you care that you had a class starting in a few minutes. The only thing on your mind was Spencer Reid, and the many ways you could insult him.

You practically kicked open his office door, hitting maximum rage as you stormed inside “You DEEPLy UNFABULOUS POOL NOODLE.”

“Good morning, Dr. (L/N). Sleep well?”

“No. Fuck you for asking. Fuck you even more for the SPIDER in the MUG.”

Spencer didn’t even look up from the paperwork on his desk, “At least it was fake. The bacteria colonies that are currently gathering in my mug are very real.”

“Oh, come on, Reid. I’m not using it. I have some decorum.”

He flipped a page, “I find that hard to believe. So, what kept you up, (L/N)? Crippling self-doubt? The crushing weight of reality and your inability to find a place in it?”

You brushed off the self-doubt comment. He couldn’t know that was half of what kept you up grading papers so late.

“Oh, baby, I know my place in it- it’s twofold. I’m here to be dumb and annoy your terrible self,” you walked over and pushed all his papers to the side just enough for you to take a seat, “And I’m all out of dumb to be.”

Finally, Spencer looked up at you, “So here you are. Y’know, insecurity doesn’t look good on you.”

“And fatherless behaviour doesn’t look good on you, yet here we are. ANYWAY, my special little science boy, I am here to inform you that you’re gonna need to get more mugs. Why? Because I’m going to take everything you have, and I will leave you with nothing. It won’t be today, nor will it be tomorrow, but one day you’ll come into work to face the most terrifying of all the Earth’s horrors- a lack of mugs.”

He paused, lips parted slightly as his eyes danced up and down your face. Honestly, he probably would’ve been more upset about the fatherless comment if you hadn’t followed it up with such a monologue. Now he just felt the need to one-up you.

He’d heard somewhere that less is more.

“Actually, the most terrifying of all Earth’s horrors is probably rabies. Y’know, the BAU once had a case where a serial killer forcibly infected his victims with the disease in order to kill them.”

“Excuse me?”

The pure horror in your voice was delightful. Spencer looked down to his wrist where his watch lay over his cardigan. Of course, he already knew the time- he just didn’t want you to see the massive grin on his face, “Oh, shoot. I have a class to teach. Help yourself to the mugs, Doctor. I hope you like arachnids in yours.”

You sat in shock as Spencer grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder.

“Wait, Reid, I’m still on the rabies thing-”

“Bye, (Y/N).”

“‘Bye?’ The fuck do you mean ‘bye?’ Get back here and explain the rabies thing!”

He did not get back there and explain the rabies thing. He just left you in his office with the terror of rabies hanging over your head. Moving quickly, you stole your mug of the day and left. That evening, while Reid was revelling in his temporary victory, you made a call that you never thought you would make.

“Hi, is this Derek Morgan? Yeah, I’m a criminal justice student,” you lied, “I just had some questions about a case of yours involving rabies?”

Reid would rue the day he brought up the rabies thing- on that, you and SSA Morgan agreed.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #x reader #nightmare academia

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agent-cupcake · 3 months

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Flashbang

Chapter 7 - Look Up, Look Up

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f! Reader

Synopsis: While you're trying and failing to deal with everything that's happened, it becomes increasingly obvious that running away wasn't as simple as you hoped. Captain Buggy takes this personally.

Warnings: Explicit smut, discussions of pregnancy/fertility, dub/noncon, unhealthy relationship

Word Count: 10.8k

Notes: This story is now just full time horny and the mental health of those involved probably won't get much better. See you next Sunday~

“There's something deep inside of me

It lingers and it presses hard

A tidal wave that never catches breath

The end is just the start

And now I don't know what to do”

xxx

Groggy and sore, your head spinning and filled with uncomfortable fog from the drug last night, you stood in the bathroom off Captain Buggy’s cabin, shivering in the thin sheath of a blanket taken from his bed. You had cleaned yourself up as best as you could, but there was nothing to do about the marks littering your skin, the soreness between your legs, or the ugly little bruise on your cheek from where your would-be kidnapper hit you. You washed your face clean of makeup—Buggy’s and yours—leaving you with a pair of splotchy cheeks and a set of unappealing mismatched eyes. One of them was tired, rimmed in red with flakes of mascara clinging to the lashes. The other was… Well, it was what it was.

Dad told you that you should have been grateful for the injury, that you were lucky to be alive at all. Being mildly deformed was nothing compared to what might have happened if you were nearer to the explosion. But your luck was a scar that started about an inch above your left eyebrow and ended two or so inches below the eye. That had been a nasty gash on its own, but there was also the burn. Covering the top of your cheekbone up to right beneath your brow, the skin crackled in shades of sickly burgundy, damaged enough that only part of your eyebrow grew, very few lashes clinging to the ruined lids. The burn as well as the stitches dad had put into your eyelid limited your ability to close the eye, leaving the milky film of your cornea exposed.

It wasn’t without reason that you were called a freak. People saw your eye and winced with phantom pain, thinking how grateful they were that it wasn’t their face that had been ruined. They had sympathy and pity, sure, but you understood the underlying emotions were relief and discomfort. Even dad insisted you cover your eye; he couldn’t stand looking at it. Nobody could.

Except for Buggy, but thinking about him didn’t do anything to help your miserable ruminations.

Bracing one hand on the sink, your heavy head swung down and you stared at the faded porcelain instead. Last night, you vomited and screamed and cried and cried and cried, the grief and pain and self loathing and fear so strong that emotion threatened to overcome you like a tidal wave. Now, the tears didn’t come. You weren’t some sort of victim in all of this, you had to face the facts.

Fact: Dad was still trying to get you back and the only way you could think to explain how he was doing that was to admit you lied to Captain Buggy. Fact: You were never never going to be free of him, not really. Fact: Last night you got high and threw yourself at the captain, and now you were the whore everybody thought you were.

God.

You peeked up at your face in the mirror, searching for the missing part of yourself that physically represented your virtue. That’s what people said. You lost your virginity. You were different now. You felt different, but you didn’t know what you were looking for. Or, rather, what you weren’t looking for. That made no sense, did it?

Disgusted by your nudity beneath the blanket, you left the bathroom. Moving made you realize how heavy your head felt, how foggy. There was a pinched, sour feeling in your throat, like when you got sick. By now, sunshine formed a bright frame around the blinds covering his windows, but his room was freezing.

Shivering, you looked around for your clothes, spotting your shorts and jacket on the floor. You had a feeling your shirt was tangled up somewhere amidst Buggy’s bedding. That was a bit of a problem considering Captain Buggy was also tangled up in the bedding. You didn’t want to wake him up. You weren’t sure you could handle facing him right then.

While you were deliberating what to do, cold and confused and miserable, Buggy opened one eye to give you a disgruntled look. “What’re you doing?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. You hadn’t taken off his makeup last night, adding to his groggy, unkempt demeanor.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, unable to look him in the face. “I’m sorry, Captain Buggy. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He groaned, blinking over and over again in an attempt to orient himself. “Shit. You kept me up too late.”

“I’m sorry.”

Buggy sighed, opening his eyes all the way to look you up and down. You didn’t see him detach his hand, although you spotted his little smile a second before the blanket was torn out of your hands, leaving you naked. You squealed in surprise, nearly falling over as you tried to cover yourself, prickling chills covering every inch of your skin.

He laughed, reattaching his hand and using it to prop up his head. “You know, if this was how you woke me up every morning, I might be more of an early riser.”

“Cap-tain, it’sss c-cold,” you said, shivering hard enough to distort your voice.

“Then get back in bed,” he said.

You frowned, hesitating. “I-I was going to-to go geh-get breakfast.”

Buggy groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Aren’t we past this whole,” he gestured vaguely to you, “coy… schtick? Cut the bullshit and come here, it’s fuckin’ freezing.”

He was right about that at least. Although your hesitation held for a second more, the cold and unsteady dizziness was too potent for you to think of any argument, timidly approaching the bed with an awkward hunch to try and cover your nudity. Buggy obliged with a self-satisfied smile, raising the edge of the blanket for you to slip under the covers and rolling onto his back to make room. There was no graceful way you could think of to join him, but Buggy didn’t let you waste time trying to figure out a natural way to huddle beneath the blanket, pulling you against him regardless of your intentions to keep some space between you. Laying on your side, your head resting against his chest, allowed you some modesty, but every place where your bare flesh met his seared, practically sizzling.

“Shit,” Buggy exclaimed, “you’re like a little ice cube.”

“I’m always cold,” you muttered, trying not to shiver at the feeling of his warm hands smoothing over your chills.

“Yeah, I noticed,” Buggy said with a little laugh. “The first night when you slept in here, you were like a little heat vampire. I couldn’t keep you off of me.”

“Really?” you asked, taken aback. “I don’t… don’t really remember.”

“Of course you don’t, you were completely shitfaced. It was hilarious. Who’d’ve thunk that somebody so repressed and stiff would be such a horny drunk? You are so lucky I’m not some weirdo pervert who’d take advantage of a girl in such a precarious position.” He hesitated before adding, “Well, there was that one thing, but it’s not a big deal, especially now that I know you wanted it anyway.”

“What?”

“Before you get all upset, I didn’t actually touch you. I mean, I had to a little to get you in here and then to get you to settle down, but it wasn’t weird,” Buggy explained. “Trust me, you were begging for a lot more than what I was comfortable with. But then I needed to let out a little steam after all of your teasing, and, hey, if just looking at somebody was a crime, you would be the one with a massive bounty, not me. I bet you masturbate thinking about me every night after you leave.”

“I don’t,” you said, frowning. “I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Buggy said dryly, rolling his eyes. “Innocent little virgin. I bet you don’t know how to make yourself come.”

“I-I…” You forced yourself to not get tripped up by the heat of embarrassment, letting out a big breath. “It’s fine. Just… Did I do anything else that night?”

“Nah, you passed out pretty quick.”

“Do you know what I did with my dress? I’ve never been able to find it.”

“Dress?” Buggy repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. Realization hit him a moment later. “Oh! Yeah, right. To be clear, you wanted to take it off. It was ruined anyway ‘cause of the blood so I didn’t think it was a big deal if I used it to clean things up after. Barely any of it got on you anyway, but then I started to get a little worried you’d be embarrassed about what happened, especially if you couldn’t remember anything, so I ditched it out the window.”

“Oh,” you said stupidly, your skin crawling. “I… Um…” You cleared your throat, hiding your face with your cheek against his chest, trying to stifle the discomfort you felt.

It didn’t matter, it wasn’t as if you could remember, and you believed him when he said he didn’t do anything else. But it meant that you had instigated a sexual dynamic at the start. Compared to what you did willingly, knowingly, you didn’t think you could reasonably be upset, but the idea that anything like that happened when you couldn’t remember was still unsettling.

“I’m sorry I… For acting that way,” you finally said, looking up at him.

“Don’t worry about it, babydoll. I’m not mad or anything. I guess I got a little irritated that you were being such a tease after showing me how you really felt that first night, but it worked out just fine, huh?” His eyes dragged down, lingering on the bite marks he’d left on your neck. He licked his lips. “Hey, come up here.”

“What?” you asked.

He huffed. “What do you mean ‘what’? Get up here,” Buggy said as he sat up, grabbing your waist to haul you up to him regardless of your nervous squirming. You choked out an objection when he wrapped his lips around your nipple, but that shuddered out into a breathy sigh. His mouth was warm and soft, a contrast to the rough sandpaper of his stubble. The sensation of his nose against your skin was odd, maybe because even still you didn’t expect the texture to be so human.

You didn’t want to respond to his touch, you didn’t want to enjoy being touched—you weren’t allowed to enjoy that—but it was like trying not to feel pain. You were utterly unable to ignore the pleasure that made your sore pussy tighten anxiously, the muscles aching for more than one reason. When he bit you, gently, just enough for the threat of pain, you didn’t mean to whimper, but you did. Your body hadn’t recovered from whatever you took last night, still caught in the haze of that spinning sense of need and languid acceptance of his touch.

Buggy pulled away with a wet pop, pushing you down onto the bed so he could lean over you and do the same thing to your other nipple, scattering all your thoughts of protest or nerves for what he intended because of how electrifyingly good it felt.

Using that distraction, his hand delved between your legs, two fingers pushing between your folds to curl against your entrance. The surprising sensation—was it pleasure? You couldn’t tell, it was too sensitive, too raw, too sore—made your back arch up dramatically, Buggy had to release your nipple and sit up.

“Fuck, babydoll,” Buggy said breathlessly, casually pulling his fingers up to rub against your clit. They slid easily over the sensitive flesh, coated in your own slick arousal. “Now you’ve got me all wound up.” You tried to squeeze your legs shut around his hand. All it did was trap him in place, casually rubbing against your clit in a way that had your hips jumping in spite of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you said hoarsely.

“You should be. I won’t be able to get any work done today if I don’t take care of this now.”

“What d’you mean?” you asked, although you felt like you knew.

Buggy pulled his hand out from between your legs, grabbing your wrist and dragging it beneath the blankets. You knew what he was doing, although you still felt an odd zing of surprise when he put your hand around his cock. His breath was hot on your ear when he let out a shaky groan, his hips shifting impatiently, pushing into your touch. Knowing that it had been inside of you was almost surreal. Somehow, it felt harder than you might have expected. Warmer too.

He closed your fingers around his cock before his hand pushed back between your legs, two fingers sliding knuckle deep into your pussy. Buggy ate your little whine, pulling you into a kiss that was all hot breath and tongue and distraction while his fingers pressed a little deeper, his hips pushing his dick into your hand for more friction. It surprised you to feel his cock twitch in your hand, it made your breath catch. Dread, of all things, crawled up your throat like acid. There was a raw ache inside of you, an uncomfortable and unnatural pinch when your pussy unconsciously squeezed his fingers.

“Captain Buggy,” you said, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. “I’m… I’m really sore.”

“You’re really wet,” he said, chasing your lips with his own, drawing you into another kiss.

To prove his point, his fingers pressed deeper into your cunt, hooking and rubbing at your fluttery walls and you couldn’t help but writhe against him, pulling back with a whimper. “Please, Captain Buggy, I…”

He groaned, leaning back. “Do you ever stop whining? It’s not like you have to do anything. Just lay down, hold on, and let Captain Buggy take care of you like I always do.”

Your heart sank. It wasn’t like you were whining for no reason, you were sore, surely he could understand that? Or be sympathetic to it? You wanted to try and explain, but the words weren’t there in your cloudy, dizzy head, at least not in any sensical arrangement. You couldn’t think hardly at all underneath the spotlight of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, your stomach twisting into knots. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

Buggy looked at your pouty lower lip, his gaze rising to meet your wet eye, and his expression softened. “Aw, babydoll. It won’t hurt if you just relax a little,” he told you as he sat up, tossing away the blankets and raising your leg to duck underneath it. “You really gotta trust me about this shit. Unlike you, I know what I’m doing. Besides, I got you through your maiden voyage, didn’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, not registering his playful tone until after your automatic response.

Last night, you had been completely under the influence during this part, but now you were stiff and overly aware of your breathing, of the crawling discomfort of being exposed, of what your body might have looked like to him. The surreal rush was no less intense, but now it was chased by the harsh bite of reality.

You expected him to immediately start lining up his cock, but instead Buggy grabbed your legs and pushed them all the way to your chest, forcing your back to curl. You saw him gather the saliva in his mouth, but it wasn’t until he spat directly onto your pussy that you understood why. You winced with a disgusted sort of humiliation, trying to wriggle away when he pushed the saliva directly into you with two fingers, mixing it with your own arousal.

“Why did you do that?” you asked, your face hot.

Buggy lowered your legs, smirking instead of answering. You covered your flushing cheeks with both hands to hide your embarrassment. At least Buggy didn’t draw out your humiliation, pulling you down to line up the head of his dick with your pussy. You gasped at the feeling, bracing yourself before trying to relax, fighting your body’s instinct to protect itself.

It took a few targeted thrusts to make it catch, and then some effort to force the head past the initial resistance, but as soon as the head popped in, he groaned, practically falling on top of you. “God, you’re tight. Frankly, it’s a little shocking I can get it in at all,” Buggy said in a strained voice, slowly pushing his cock into you with shallow, rocking thrusts.

You were glad he pressed his face into the pillow rather than look at you because it did hurt, even if he rolled his hips in little bursts, slowly easing you into it. You made a little sound in the back of your throat, pulling your legs up to make it easier, trying to relax. Buggy’s breath hitched as he pulled out, and then back in. Slow and gentle.

There was still the part of your mind that wanted to play the martyr. To shut it all out, to take no pleasure in what you knew was wrong. The lapping tide of intoxication threatened to pull you back under into the heavy waves of misty bliss, your body too worn out and mind too frayed to properly fight your reaction. And if you weren’t turned on by the physical stimulation of his cock grinding into you, entering in a way that made your hips jump and pussy spasm around him, then it would be because of the feeling of Buggy’s body above yours. The way the muscles of his back worked and moved with each thrust, the sounds he made. His sounds of pleasure—pleasure because of you.

Even if it hurt and it was wrong and even if you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t help but feel the tightening in your core, the trembling sort of heat that made you writhe beneath him, your hips restlessly tilting to meet each lazy, shallow thrust.

Until you heard something from the other room.

You stiffened up, your fingers curling into his shoulders. “Captain, I—I think… I think someone’s knocking,” you said.

“Ignore it,” Buggy told you, his voice labored.

But the knocking didn’t stop, and then you heard the door open. “Captain Buggy?” Cabaji called into the room. “Are you awake?”

You tensed up at that interruption, your cunt unintentionally squeezing his cock. In response, Buggy’s fingers dug painfully into your thigh, his groan muffled into the pillow. You pushed at him, panicking, but he didn’t budge. Finally, he lifted his head and braced himself on his elbow, looking annoyed.

“What do you want?” Buggy shouted, his grip on you just as tight, his cock remaining halfway inside of you.

“Mohji took command of the other ship, but it’s damaged.” Footsteps from the other room made you think Cabaji was coming closer, and you pushed more insistently at Buggy, disgusted fear of being seen like this seizing your chest. “He’s taking it to the nearest island, should we follow?”

You tried again to push him off, unable to stand the constant pressure, the way your pussy kept spasming and squeezing him. Buggy made a sound of irritation, pinning you in place with a harsh thrust that buried his cock deep enough for his skin to slap against your own, eliciting a shrill yelp you didn’t muffle in time. The footsteps stopped. There was absolutely no way to misinterpret what just happened, but you didn’t care as much compared to the discomfort, to the weight of him inside of you.

“I need to finish this up first,” Buggy said, his voice hoarse with strain. “Get my breakfast, I’ll meet you up there…” He looked down at you, licking his lips. “As soon as I’m done.”

“Yes, of course, sir,” Cabaji said, quickly retreating.

The second the door closed, Buggy was laughing. “You did all this whining about how you’re sore, but got too impatient to even wait for Cabaji to leave.”

“That was you!”

“Nuh-uh, that was aaaall your fault,” Buggy said, rolling his hips experimentally. Your body jerked anxiously, your pussy spasming around his dick. The raw ripping sort of sensation wasn’t made better by the fresh wave of arousal that smoothed out his movements. “Don’t get too upset, the sound you made was so squeaky and pathetic he might have mistaken it for something else.”

You whined helplessly, your back arching and nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s exactly my point. Squeaky hinges, rats in the walls… Ship stuff,” Buggy said, the last word coming out with a heavy grunt as he dragged you back into place, his hips meeting you halfway so he could slam his cock into you. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, but all that did was make Buggy moan.

“Captain Buggy, please, it hurts.”

“If you hadn’t wasted so much time earlier complaining, we’d already be done,” he told you. “Just hold on, honeybuns. I’ll make it up to you later.”

Nothing. And then awareness. And then confusion as a million memories played out all at once, none of them quite right, none of them truly belonging to you. But the state of unconsciousness was familiar in its own way, recognition of its daze independent of your own understanding. That is to say that, at this point, you were familiar with what it felt like to wake up after passing out, unpleasant as it was.

“Don’t panic,” somebody said, the words slowly filtering through your brain until you could comprehend them, reality slotting into place. “You fainted, but you’re alright.”

Your eye fluttered open, slowly focusing on the face above you.

“Crina?”

“Good morning,” she said with a wry smile.

You grunted, getting your elbows beneath yourself to sit up. It wasn’t surprising to realize that you were in her clinic. The smell would have given it away, followed up directly by the uncomfortable surface of the table bed you were laying on.

“Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

Groaning, you laid back down. “I was…” You rubbed your eye, trying to shake your head clear of the fog.

“You collapsed in the passageway,” she prompted. “You were nearly trampled.”

That’s right, you had been looking for a quiet place to be alone because you were very upset. Very, very upset. After everything, every little awful thing, it was the realization that Pippa had left with the other ship that set you off fully. Already you could feel the rising tide of breathless despair as it all hit you again.

“Rest,” Crina told you.

“I’m okay,” you said, gritting your teeth and getting an arm beneath yourself. Moving immediately disproved your reassurance, the painful spinning of your head nearly knocking you right back down. Soreness throbbed between your legs, like you’d pulled a muscle you weren’t even aware of. The drug from last night lingered like smoke in your thoughts. In addition to the bruise on your cheek, your spine ached in several places from hitting the deck when the man dropped you. Separately, any one of those things would have left you weak. It was no wonder you fainted. “I just got really dizzy and…” You shook your head, although that did nothing to dislodge the cottony confusion that laid behind your temple, or to pierce the bubble of tumultuous emotion swelling in your chest. “I’m fine.”

“Did you drink last night?”

“No, no I…” You breathed in, trying to sort your thoughts. “I was, um, upset and so Captain Buggy gave me… I think it-it was an opiate, like my dad used to give me. Just so I could calm down. He was helping me, and I wanted it, but today it feels like… Like having a hangover, but heavier. I didn’t sleep much either, so that’s probably why I… I’m tired is all.”

“This should still help,” Crina told you, holding out a cup of water.

You eyed it warily, your stomach churning at the idea of accepting anything. “No, thank you.”

Her lips pursed, but she set it aside, returning to her workbench. Various vials and herbs littered the surface. It looked like she was preparing something that smelled very strongly of antiseptic, but also other things. Crina’s medicine was never as astringently assaulting as the types your dad used. The water she had boiling—boiling bandages, perhaps?—had a comfortable sound, warming the room.

“What are you doing?” you asked her, grasping for something to ground yourself.

“My job,” she responded wryly. “Pirates fight recklessly, even an overwhelming victory means wounds to tend.”

You nodded.

“My first medical training was as a midwife,” Crina suddenly said, grabbing a fresh cutting board and quickly chopping up what you recognized as ginger. “My mother taught me, and her mother taught her. I helped deliver several babies before I was old enough to conceive one myself.”

In so many ways, Crina was an enigma to you. Hearing her volunteer personal information so randomly, so abruptly caught you off guard. “A hospital hired you when you were a kid?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

“No hospital,” she said with a trace of amusement at the idea, setting aside the knife and sweeping the chopped spice into a kettle which quickly replaced the pot on the stove. “Our community was small and poor. Even if we could afford doctors, we couldn’t trust strangers to safely care for our mothers, daughters, and sisters—and we certainly couldn’t trust them with our babies.”

“Why did you become a pirate?”

“I had few other options,” Crina said, crushing up an herb in a mortar and pestle. “I left my village and sought education as a surgeon when I was old enough to do so, but the medical community thought I was… difficult, to say the least.” She smiled to herself. “It was a mutual feeling. So stuck on the rigid path of modernity that they reject anything they deem to be outdated. I left school with the proper training and debt, but none of the credentials.”

“Why didn’t you go back to your village?”

“There wasn’t much to go back to,” Crina said brusquely. “Poverty is as wicked as any plague.”

“I’m so sorry,” you told her.

“I do not mourn what was, I can only be grateful for what I was given,” Crina said, washing the herbs with a liquid to continue mixing. By now, the smell of ginger was getting quite strong. Warm and spicy and alluring. “I believe my upbringing is why I can handle the brutality of this position better than most. I’ve known many men who will readily amputate a crushed limb or set a bone that has broken skin, but balk at the miracle of childbirth. So eager to impregnate, but unable to face the consequences. To them, a woman’s health is unsympathetic. They will never experience the things we must, so they do not care.”

“That’s not true,” you said.

“Really? You more than anyone should know the truth of it. Your father was not interested in your health, only your dependence. Captain Buggy is not interested in your health, only your service.” Crina looked at you, her smokey dark eyes cutting past any defenses you might have been able to put up. “Can you deny that?”

“I…” You were saved from answering by the squealing kettle, your body jumping in panic at the sudden noise.

Crina took the kettle off the heat, leaving it to sit. “Women must look out for one another. I think, so far, you’ve taken my questions as accusations and mistrust my aid for fear of mistreatment, but I do want to help you. If not for personal reasons, then because I would risk Captain Buggy’s ire if I were to allow anything to happen to you for my negligence. Do you understand?”

You swallowed hard, nodding.

“We need to talk about what happened last night.”

“Nothing,” you answered quickly, bristling. “Nothing happened.”

“I’ve been honest with you, I would appreciate it if you didn’t insult me by lying,” Crina said.

You met her eye, guilt swelling in your chest. “Captain Buggy and I… We… We slept together.”

“Did he force you to have sex with him?”

“No! Captain Buggy would never, ever do that,” you told her quickly, shocked by the question.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, he wouldn’t.” You looked down, biting your lip. “It-it’s normal to be sore after, isn’t it?”

Crina pursed her lips. “Did you notice any blood?”

Last night—and even in the morning—you hadn’t been aware of any blood. Everything was so coated with other bodily fluids that you wouldn’t have noticed. But earlier, when you were changing your clothes, you dropped your shorts and saw the mess of cum that had slowly oozed out of you after you left Captain Buggy’s cabin. It wasn’t the normal milky color, but a sickly pink. Dyed by your blood. Since the color was so mild, you didn’t think it was a lot of blood, but the quantity didn’t matter. Pure, clean girls didn’t bleed. And there you stood with a man’s cum and your own blood staining your panties, the reality of what you had done setting in fully.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice choked.

“Was there enough to be worrisome? ”

“No, there wasn’t that much.” But the amount didn’t matter. Pure, clean girls didn’t bleed.

“What was happening before you fainted?”

“I-I started to—to… I couldn’t breathe,” you said haltingly. “It’s hard to think and my head aches and I’m… tired.”

Ruined, you were ruined. And although everybody was too busy to pay you any mind today—the ship was a flurry of activity after the raid—they would all know soon enough. It was easier to bear the whispers about you and Captain Buggy when you knew it was untrue, but now it wasn’t. Now you were exactly what they said you were. Then you had to think about what happened last night with the man, and your dad, and the entire mess only got worse.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, speaking softly to keep your voice from cracking.

“Right now, you’re going to drink this,” Crina said. She poured two cups of ginger tea, filling the room with its spicy scent. She added a spoonful of powder and forced the cup into your hand. “It will help.”

“What’s in it?” you asked weakly.

“Ginger, turmeric, and something to help your head.”

The steam washed over your face, and that alone was a comfort. Although it was hot, you took a sip. And another.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. I-I just… I didn’t think,” you told her after a bit, your voice weak. “I don’t get why…”

Your statement was met with a solid block of silence. For a moment, you thought that she wouldn’t say anything at all. “Think about your situation,” Crina told you. “You have few skills, very little practical value to him other than what could be provided by any other member of the crew. You are here because Captain Buggy enjoys having a toy to play with. Do you think it’s a coincidence that he never uses your name? That he calls you his babydoll?”

“He never said anything about…about any of that,” you argued. “I thought he wanted me to-to be like… like I was for-” You cut yourself off before finishing that thought. Saying it out loud now, after everything, made a plethora of disturbing implications, but it was the innocent truth, and something to cling to now that your ignorance had come back around to bite you.

“Your father?” Crina finished for you. “Is that how you see the captain?”

You wondered what she was thinking, what conclusions she might draw, but you were too afraid to look up and check her expression. You sniffled, taking another drink. The hot spicy mixture of flavors was a balm to your sour, cold insides. If only your mind was as easy to placate.

“I’m going to have to insist on a comprehensive physical exam,” Crina told you. “I need to know if he hurt you more than you’re letting on, and how your father interrupted your menstrual cycle. The methods of preventing it can significantly interfere with your sexual health.”

For a long time, you didn’t say anything. You knew what she meant, and your insides cringed at the very idea, but you didn’t see a way out of it either. Looking up at Crina, she met your eye openly. Stern, a little intimidating, but not cruel. There were so many reasons you were going to hate yourself anyway, what did this matter?

“Okay.”

The ship was the busiest you had ever seen. Most of the loot had been left on the other ship for Mohji to take it to the nearest island to sell, but there was enough left that needed to be cataloged, organized, cleaned, and repaired. Nobody was looking at you. You told yourself that over and over and over again as you looked for Captain Buggy.

Although Pippa was gone, she’d given you enough to piece together an outfit without her assistance, and Crina had helped you style your hair after she finished her examination. She said that it would help. That it would feel better if you acted like nothing had changed. That you didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. The flowy dress didn’t help you feel much better. Of the things Pippa had lent you, it covered the most skin, but you couldn’t help but cringe at the excessively girlish frills and flow of the fabric as the breeze caught the hems, exposing the bloomers you wore underneath.

“Hey there, girly,” somebody called, his voice raised above the wind. You squinted at the speaker, your shoulders untensing when you saw it was Marty. You trotted over to him, relieved to see a friendly face.

“I was worried you’d gone with Pippa,” you said.

He shot you a smile, finishing tying the knot and moving the secure the next. “Nah, Captain Buggy can’t spare me.”

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a boat ready. The captain mentioned sending a pair of guys to town. Guess there were some things Mr. Mohji forgot.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, crossing one foot in front of the other. “Um… Marty?”

“Hm?”

“I think I lost the knife you gave me last night. I’m so sorry.”

“Did’ya stick someone with it?”

“I… yes.”

“Then I don’t want none of your ‘sorrys.’ There are plenty more knives in the world.”

“Then, um… Thank you.”

“That’ll do,” he allowed, finishing the knot. “Oh, Captain Buggy’s at the helm, if you were lookin’ for him.”

“Thank you,” you said. “Thank you, Marty.”

He grinned, touching two fingers to his brow in a jaunty send-off.

You turned towards the quarterdeck, weaving your way around the chaotic crowd.

Buggy stood on the uppermost deck at the helm alongside the helmsman, issuing instructions in his usual manner. He wasn’t wearing his hat or jacket and opted to merely touch up yesterday's makeup rather than redo it entirely.

“Captain Buggy!” you called, but he didn’t hear you. Unsure of how else to get his attention, you ascended the stairs.

Buggy happened glance in your direction, doing a double take. “What are you doing?” he barked.

“I just, um, I… I was wondering if you were going to break for lunch.”

“What?” he asked, his face scrunching.

“I was wondering if you were going to take a break,” you repeated, raising your voice. He seemed to hear you this time, walking around the helmsman to approach. There was no shame to the way he looked you up and down. It felt hungrier than usual, or maybe that was just your discomfort.

“That’s cute,” Buggy told you, grabbing the skirt and pulling you closer. “Though I’m not sure white’s your color anymore.”

Your heart dropped. “Yeah, I-I guess not,” you muttered.

“So what was this about a break? I’m awful busy, kiddo. Some of us have real jobs to do.”

“It’s lunchtime, Captain Buggy.”

“Really?” Buggy asked, raising his eyebrows in shock. “Okay, fine. Take it to my office and wait for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned away to issue orders to the helmsman, and you retraced your steps to go down to the galley. The soreness between your legs wasn’t as noticeable, but you could still sense it. A weight, an understanding. You knew now what it was like to have something inside of you. Fullness, and absence.

The trip up from the kitchen was uneventful. You were getting used to navigating the ship. Everybody was busy, far too busy to bother with you.

Buggy was not in his office when you set up his lunch. You didn’t dare eat without him, so you sat in your chair and folded your hands in your lap and waited.

You stared at the off-white fabric of your dress, rubbing it with your thumb. It reminded you of something you had nearly forgotten—a doll you once had. Her frilly pinafore was made of the same type of fabric. You could remember her perfect round cheeks, her bow-like mouth, and those beautiful, round blue glass eyes. She only had one pink dress, but three pinafores and two pairs of shoes.

Crina said that the sex hadn’t hurt you, that it wasn’t uncommon for there to be some blood. She said that you weren’t fertile right now. She said that, based on her experience with women like you, even if you did become pregnant one day, you likely would not carry a healthy child to term.

The doll’s name had been something silly. You couldn’t remember it. Blossom? Rose? Even though she was a baby, you always called her sister. Your little baby sister. In hindsight, maybe you already understood that you weren’t the motherly type.

Having a child wasn’t a reality you’d ever seriously considered. When you thought of your own mother, you thought of her sitting at the window. Always turned away, always so sad, so sharp. You understood, although you hadn’t when you were a child, that she was an unhappy woman. Hysteria was one of the few things the two of you had in common. Such was the magnitude of her pain that it outlived her—it echoed within you, within her memory. And when you thought about that, it was hard to blame her. It was hard to feel anything other than grief. There were moments, little treasures you kept buried deep within yourself. Even as a young child, you had been sickly. If there was any sort of illness to be caught, you would be the one to catch it. You remembered a long, cold night all alone in your room. It was a cough. The thick, broken glass type that had you hacking up globs of blood and yellow phlegm. And then mom was there. She emerged from the dark like a beautiful angel, petting your sweaty hair and spooning medicine into your mouth and singing a lullaby.

Had the doll been named Cherry? You couldn’t remember what became of her. In all likelihood, she was one of the many girlish things you gave up when dad began taking you along on his ship.

“There was a girl most fair whom I happened to meet

Late in my room one night trading tricks for a treat

I almost turned down this girl so sweet

Because, as you see, she was quite petite-”

The door into Buggy’s office opened behind you, his raucous singing getting louder. You were only half listening, coming out of your daze as if waking up.

“Even with some spit

I worried that something might split

But it turned out to be a perfect fit—

“Oh, hey there, babydoll,” Buggy said as he passed you to sit down. “What’dya think of my new song?”

You blinked, sitting up and focusing on him. “It was good, Captain Buggy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, dropping into his chair. “Sing it back to me then.” You frowned, realizing he was calling your bluff. Buggy sighed dramatically. “You really need to get better at the whole listening thing.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I guess I got a little lost in thought.”

He pulled the lid off his tray to immediately start eating. “What were you thinkin’ about?”

“I was… Um… Nothing important, sir,” you said. Although you weren’t very hungry—your stomach lingered on the verge of unsettled and outright angry—you started eating too.

“It’s embarrassing, isn’t it,” Buggy said with a lopsided smile, an interesting expression when his cheeks were stuffed full.

“No! Not… not really.”

“There’s no point in hiding it,” Buggy said. “There’s nothing I didn’t see last night.”

“It’s not like that,” you insisted, flushing hotly. “But it is silly, I was just thinking about stuff from when I was a kid.” You shrugged, shoving a spoonful of stew into your mouth.

Buggy pulled a face. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just remembered something.”

You could read the disinterest on his face, so you dropped it, focusing on eating. You had to force yourself, methodically taking bites while you contemplated how you were going to tell him about last night, and how you would answer his questions. It was inevitable that you would have to reveal how you lied to him, and the thought alone was enough to make you queasy, your hands shaking and slick with a cold sweat.

“Captain Buggy? I was wondering if-if we could talk?” you said when he was more or less finished. Almost immediately, you regretted speaking, backing down. “But, um, I know you’re busy today so if you can’t spare the time right now, that’s fine, I just-”

“Spit it out,” Buggy said impatiently, cutting you off.

You looked up and met his eye and felt all of your fragile confidence shatter.

“Why do you never use my name?” you asked instead. “My-my real name, I mean.”

“Your real name?” Buggy repeated. “You mean the name your shitstain of a dad gave you?” He let that incredulous question linger as if baiting you to say yes. Eventually, you nodded timidly. “That’s not you. That’s the girl you used to be. She was pathetic and sad. I don’t want her.” His eyes tracked you up and down, softening his expression. “I want my babydoll. Besides, it suits you way better.” He considered that for a second. “Maybe that should be your thing—an animated doll who desperately longs to be a real girl.”

“If that’s what you… what you think is best,” you said, the words somewhat distant. You weren’t sure what to think, how to feel about his explanation.

“Come over here,” Buggy said after a moment, pushing out from his desk and motioning you towards him. You looked up, the question ‘why’ already formed on your lips, but that was the wrong response.

So you dutifully stood up, smoothed your skirt, and circled his desk. It seemed so impossible that you had been in the same position yesterday, only twenty-four hours ago. Everything was different then, the entire world centered upon a different axis.

Buggy grabbed your hips, tugging you closer. “Are you still sore?” he asked, smirking.

“A little,” you said, squeezing your thighs together. “Crina said that’s not-not unusual.”

“‘Cause you were a virgin?”

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his eye. “Captain Buggy, this is… really embarrassing.”

“Or is it ‘cause you’re so small? That’d explain a lot. I’m still shocked I got it in.” His hand left your hip to press against your abdomen instead, dragging down.

Your insides clenched hard in response, reminding you of the sharp ache and making you gasp. Buggy obviously caught the noise, his eyes flicking back up to your face.

“Shit, that’s hot.”

You froze. “Sir?”

“You’re wearing shorts?” Buggy asked. He didn’t wait for your response, lifting up your skirt to see the bloomers beneath. The sight of them made him scowl, immediately tugging them down to reveal your significantly less cute underwear. He didn’t seem to care, shoving the bloomers down to your ankles while you squirmed, wanting to push him away but knowing you couldn’t.

“Sheesh, calm down,” he told you, letting your skirt fall. “I’m trying to help you out a little.”

“You don’t have to,” you said. “You’re busy and I-I wouldn’t want to, um...”

“It’s not like it’s gonna take very long,” Buggy said. He leaned back into his chair, using his grip on your hips to turn you around and sit you on his lap. You nearly fell over, your ankles tangled in the bloomers. “I bet I can get you off over your panties.”

“You really… You don’t have to,” you said again. Your breathing came out unsteadily and you couldn’t stop squirming around, unable to get comfortable.

“Pay attention, Professor Buggy’s gonna teach you how to make yourself come,” he said, looking at you over your shoulder, his nose brushing your cheek when he turned his head. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you didn’t want to look down at his hands, so you just squeezed your eye shut.

“Captain Buggy, I… I don’t need to know… I’m fine.”

“Your fingers are way too small to fuck yourself with, but that’s okay,” Buggy said, tightening his hold around your waist, keeping you in place while his other hand crawled beneath your dress, the fabric of his gloves rough against your skin. When you tried to press your thighs together to stop him, Buggy hooked your ankles with his own, prying your legs open. He laughed at your helpless whimper.

When his hand reached your clothed pussy, you jolted with the little strike of electricity. The way your inner walls squeezed around nothing hurt, but there was more to the feeling. You wanted to hide, to escape, but there was nowhere to go.

“You know, it’s weird,” Buggy said, sliding his gloved fingers up and down, pushing the fabric of your panties between your folds, pushing his way in between to focus on your clit, “usually I wouldn’t go for this sort of thing, but the way you react is so funny. Most people have an instinctive take on how they’re supposed to act, but here you are. Somebody’d think I was torturing you even though it’s obvious you fuckin’ love it. You know what it reeks of, sweetheart? Other than fish, I mean.”

You weren’t sure if he was looking for an answer or not, but even if you had one, it would have fled your mind the second he began to put more pressure against your clit. Blood rushed between your legs and the more your clit swelled beneath his touch, the more targeted he was.

“Damage,” Buggy supplied for you. “A whole lot of it.”

“Captain Buggy, please,” you begged. You didn’t know what you were asking for, just that those were the only words you could think to say when he had your body immobilized, when you couldn’t stop your hips from tilting up for him, your hands seeking purchase in the fabric of your skirt as the only anchor.

“You’re so pathetic.” When Buggy pulled his hand out from between your legs, you mourned the loss, letting out a broken whimper. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I wouldn’t leave you hanging before the finale,” he reassured you, his voice dripping condescension.

You opened your eye just in time to watch him spit onto his fingers, leaning forward a bit so he could wipe it on your panties—directly above your clit. Your groan of disgust became a helpless moan as he rubbed it in. The wetness added just the right amount of give to the friction, you could feel your thighs tremble, your entire body surging up into the pleasure.

“‘m ss-sorry,” you said, embarrassed by your reaction. He needed to stop, you could only imagine how stupid you looked, writhing on his lap. But you couldn’t help it, not when he was touching you like this.

“You are sorry,” Buggy told you, his voice a little lower, a little huskier. “What kind of girl gets off on this shit? It’s like you’re a masochist but backwards. The better it feels, the more you act like it hurts. I swear, honey buns, you’re a brand new type of freak.”

“No, Captain Buggy,” you said, your voice mostly just breath. “That’s not… I’m not like… Please, it’s… I’m… pleasepleaseplease—I-I-” And then you couldn’t speak anymore, that required too much brain power, the only thing you could do was strain towards your approaching orgasm, towards the heat building in your core, that forbidden and intoxicating wind of tension.

“Come on,” he urged. His stubble scraped against your cheek, and then your neck when your head fell back against his shoulder. You could smell him. The details changed, but there was the fundamental musky warm smell that you remembered so clearly from the first time he held you and it threaded through your entire body like poison.

Coming with his fingers slamming into you had been a heavy, wet feeling. Something snapping, breaking, a little flood of heat that rushed through your body in waves. This was a dry spark, a flash and fizzle. You yelped abruptly, your body jerking forward, kept in place only by the iron bar of his arm across your waist. And then it diffused outwards, ending in your fingertips and toes, at the very top of your spine.

“That was it, wasn’t it?” Buggy asked, his fingers slowing their torturous circles.

You swallowed against your dry throat, nodding, trying to catch your breath. The dizziness from that morning had returned in full force, the world rocked with it. Buggy stopped, pressing his entire palm against the seat of your panties instead, soothing you with the warm, generalized friction.

“I figured. It’s pretty easy to tell with you. I mean, you’re so goddamn dramatic about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, awkward and spinning and sweaty and disgusted and a million other things that culminated in the bite of tears in the corner of your eye.

“Aw, are you embarrassed?” Buggy asked, playfully pinching your cheek with the fingers he’d just used to get you off. You frowned, turning your face away so he couldn’t see your expression.

He huffed, grabbing your chin to force your face towards his. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you could barely bear to meet his eyes at all. Finally, Buggy released you, pushing you off of his lap. You nearly tripped, steadying yourself on the edge of his desk.

“Go change your panties,” he said flippantly, waving his hand. “We’ll work on this,” he gestured vaguely to you, “later.”

You didn’t really know what that meant, but you nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What are you doing?”

Those words drew you out of your tired daze. You had been sitting in an out of the way corner in a passageway to the officer’s mess. It was just a small break, you didn’t want to faint again. You blinked your eye clear, shaking your head of the gauze as you looked up at Cabaji.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?” Cabaji asked again.

“Oh, I… I got a little dizzy so I…” You frowned. “Sorry, I heard the bell, I was about to head up.”

“The bell?” Cabaji repeated. “That was an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

“Captain Buggy needs you.”

Those words made your heart drop. You had no idea how you had lost so much time, but you doubted Buggy would accept any excuse you could give. Not only that, but the idea of seeing Buggy after what happened at lunch filled you with an absurd amount of anxiety. It wasn’t him, it was you. There had to have been some other way for you to handle it, but instead you played the role of a whore. You were disgusting, and when you thought about it you simply didn’t understand why. The person you thought you were wouldn’t have done anything like that, and yet you did.

But that was you.

Getting to your feet was a difficult process, especially when you were trying to hide your fatigue and pain from Cabaji. Which was stupid, you weren’t going to fool him. You were glad he didn’t make a point of your weakness by offering you a hand.

“Where is he?” you asked.

“I’ll go with you,” Cabaji said.

“You-you don’t need to.”

“Come on, Captain Buggy doesn’t like waiting.”

You hesitated, nervous to be around him, but there was no reason you could think of to reject Cabaji’s company either. Embarrassment about what he may or may not have heard that morning wasn’t his fault.

As the two of you traversed the narrow passageway to the ladder, you tried to peek at his face and determine what he was thinking. Which was kind of impossible. He let you go up the ladder first, probably because he was worried you would fall, and so you stood there for a moment in the blinding sunlight. Sitting in the dark had done nothing to help you handle the heavy, hangover-like dizziness.

“Are you okay?” Cabaji asked. You hadn’t realized he was beside you.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, squinting at him. He nodded.

“He said to meet him in his office,” he said, motioning for you to go first. You didn’t fall, although you stumbled on the first step to the quarter deck. It was a relief to walk into the shaded map room, even if it rendered you blind all over again. The door into Buggy’s office was open, but the captain wasn’t there.

You didn’t want to think about what happened in the empty chair only hours before, so you focused on your stoic companion. He saved your life last night. He deserved at least a thank you. There wasn’t much else that you could offer him.

“Cabaji?” you said.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to… to thank you.”

“What?”

“For last night, you...” Taking a heavy breath, you reached out to grab his hand, holding it in both of yours. “Thank you, Cabaji.”

Cabaji looked more than a little bewildered, although not offended. “I was following Captain Buggy’s orders, there’s no need for you to be grateful.”

“But I am. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, I-” The door opened. Startled, you dropped Cabaji’s hand, taking a step away.

“There she is!” Buggy called as he stalked in. “Kept me waiting long enough.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, bowing your head. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping you could help me understand something,” Buggy said. You could immediately tell by his tone that something was wrong with the situation. All of the sudden, Cabaji’s inclusion felt more confrontational than comforting.

“Sir?” you asked, tugging down your bandana and trying not to fidget.

“Earlier,” Buggy said, taking slow, measured steps in your direction, “Cabaji was telling me an interesting story. It involved a strange man attempting to make off with a very,” he stopped in front of you, dropping a heavy hand on your shoulder. The cold smile he fixed you with left you without any air in your lungs—you wanted to disappear. “Special member of my crew.” Squeezing your shoulder once, Buggy released you, turning to pace the length of the room. “The thing is, he only knows part of it. I was hoping you could fill in the blanks.”

“Captain Buggy, I-I was going to tell you,” you said.

“Oh, were you?” Buggy asked, turning around to look at you with round eyes, his expression mockingly curious. “When was that, exactly?”

“I just… I didn’t know how to explain it.”

Buggy wagged his finger at you. “That’s the problem, sweetheart. Truth is self-evident, there shouldn’t be any need for explanation if you’re being honest.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you said, desperate to think of a way to smooth this over. “I just didn’t want you to think-”

“You wanna know what I think?” Buggy asked, cutting you off. “I think you’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not, I swear,” you told him, clasping your hands together over your chest. “There was a man last night who… He tried to take me, but I managed to escape when he got to the upper deck, and Cabaji killed him.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“My-my dad sent him to get me, that’s what he said,” you told him, the words smearing together from your nerves. “He said he was getting paid for it. He-he thought I was your prisoner.”

Buggy looked at you for a long moment, considering your words. And then he burst out laughing. “That’s what you’re going with?” he asked. “If you’re gonna lie, at least try to make it sound believable.”

“That’s the truth,” you said, your voice rising into a whine with your desperation to make him believe you.

This time, Buggy didn’t laugh. “You expect me to believe that, by complete coincidence, we happened to attack the one ship that had a man who was hired to rescue you? Do you have any idea how big the East Blue is? No? You’re about to see for yourself when I toss you overboard and sail away.”

“I think it’s the map,” you said, your voice choked. “You’re following the stolen map, aren’t you? My dad was the one who charted the new trade route. That map is his.”

You could tell the exact moment that Buggy understood what you were saying, his gaze agonizingly intense when it fixed on you. “You said that map and the journal belong to a retired Marine.”

You nodded meekly. “That’s m-my dad.”

“So you lied to me. After everything I’ve done for you, you lied to me.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t take me if you knew my dad was a Marine, and… He has a-a lot of enemies from back then, he was pretty well-known, and so I thought that maybe you’d see me as-as a liability. I was… I was afraid, Captain Buggy. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re makin’ him sound like a big deal.”

“He… I mean, he was… People knew who he was.”

Buggy rolled his eyes. “I bet I haven’t even heard of him.”

“They used to call him the Surgeon.”

The name caught both men’s attention, you could feel the zip of tension in the air, but neither said anything until, finally, “Bullshit,” Buggy said.

“It’s the truth. When he retired, he stopped using that name and tried to-to distance himself from it. He said that if people knew, they would hurt me because of him. My mom and me… That happened because so many people hate him. That’s why I-I lied to you, and I’m so sorry. I was scared that if you knew, you wouldn’t let me join your crew.”

Buggy let out a bark-like laugh. “Sweetheart, if I knew you were the Surgeon’s daughter I would have dragged you onto this ship. I’d say you’re worth your weight in gold, but it’s more like double, no, triple that.” He shook his head. “What do you think someone would pay to get their hands on the Surgeon’s pretty little daughter? Shit, what would he pay to get back his daughter and keep his dope operation a secret? That is his, by the way, right?”

“The map and the journal are his, but I never-never knew about that… stuff.”

Buggy accepted that, nodding as he continued to pace. After a painfully long moment, he shook his head. “No, that still doesn’t explain the guy last night.”

“Captain Buggy?” Cabaji cut in.

“What?”

“It’s possible that the Surgeon sent around a description of the girl to ships in the area. We can assume that he knows we were the ones to take her.”

“You’re saying there’s a merc on every ship in the area looking to rescue a one-eyed midget girl?” Buggy asked incredulously. “No way. How could he possibly know we’d follow his stupid map? Unless…” Buggy looked at you. “Unless his adoring daughter has been reporting back to him.”

“I wouldn’t, Captain Buggy. I-I swore myself to you. Just you.”

“And assuming he knows we’re in the area,” Buggy continued, ignoring you, “why wouldn’t he call the Marines to rescue his precious princess? This place should be crawling with them.”

“Unless he was hoping to do this quietly,” Cabaji said. “Alerting the Marines would put his criminal endeavors at risk of being discovered.”

Buggy didn’t respond to that, staring hard at Cabaji for a second before returning to pacing. After one agonizingly slow lap, he turned on his heel towards you. “There’s no way you’re the Surgeon’s daughter. I saw the guy a couple of times, he looked like his mom fucked herself with the ugly stick while he was still hanging out in there. You’re…” he gestured to you, shrugging, “I mean, the eye thing aside, you’re cute.”

You shrunk away, looking at the floor.

Buggy walked to his desk and leaned over it, his hands flat on the surface. For a second, there was quiet, and then he made a sound like a growl. “Get out.”

“I’m so sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, bowing your head in contrition before going to follow Cabaji out of his office.

“No, no, no. Not you, princess,” Buggy snapped.

You stopped, your heart racing frantically as you watched Cabaji shut the door behind himself.

“What was that with you and Cabaji before?” Buggy asked.

You slowly turned to face him, your apologies and explanations all fizzling out on your tongue at the abrupt lurch of topic. “Uhm… what?”

“I asked,” Buggy said, speaking slowly, emphatically, “what was that with you and Cabaji when I walked in? It’s pretty shameless of you to throw yourself at him after he heard you moaning this morning. Do you think he’ll buy the whole innocent act if you bat your eyelashes enough? I don’t think it’ll work as good with just one eye.”

“I was thanking him,” you said, your voice faint. The anger Buggy had now was different than before, but you didn’t know how to qualify that. There was a petulant edge to it. Not as incendiary, but far more nasty. “He saved me last night.”

“Oh, I get it,” Buggy said, nodding with a little smile. “You think he cares about you. That’s cute.” The smile dropped, his eyes cold. He pushed away from his desk to approach you. “Grow up. Cabaji is my subordinate.” He pointed to himself with the word, his voice slowly getting louder. “The only reason he saved you was because I wanted him to. The only person you should be grateful for is me.”

“I am grateful for you, Captain Buggy,” you told him, shying away with each of his heavy steps. Rather than placating Buggy, your words seemed to rile him further.

“Liar,” he shouted in your face, loud enough to make you flinch back with a whimper, bracing yourself for a blow that didn’t come. “Do you really think that you can make a fool of me? On my ship, in my office. I know there’s something going on with you. You asked him to teach you to fight, and I’ve seen the way you watch his tricks. All wide eyed and ‘oh Cabaji you’re so cool, can you teach me to do that.’”

“I don’t mean it like that,” you insisted.

“Are you trying to tell me that it's all in my head? Is that it?”

“No, sir.”

“If anything, you’re the delusional one for thinking he’d actually care about you,” Buggy said, getting in your face to emphasize his point. “I get it now. Pops was right about you being crazy, wasn’t he?”

When you didn’t respond, Buggy shook his head and turned around again, muttering under his breath. The sound was drowned out by the thumping of your heart, the whir of blood rushing through your ears. You wanted to apologize, or argue, or try to defend yourself, or anything, but you didn’t.

“Okay,” Buggy said after what felt like hours. When he turned around, his expression wasn’t nearly as animated. He pressed his hands together, tapping his index fingers to his lips as he thought. “I’m sending a boat to meet up with Mohji at the nearest island, and you’re,” he pointed at you, “gonna be on it.”

You were already shaking your head by the time you realized what he was saying. “Captain Buggy, please don’t make me go,” you begged, your chest clenching painfully at the thought of going anywhere without him. “I can still do my job. I’ll do anything, just please don’t make me go.”

He looked at you flatly, anger simmering in his eyes. “Not a chance. Consider this a demotion, kiddo. Right now, you’re worth a lot more as a hostage than you are here being a pain in the ass.”

#opla buggy #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #my writing #flashbang #tw.dubcon #not sfw #the gifs are barely related i just want everyone to see his pretty face lmao

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frost-queen · 1 year

Text

Need of a touch (Reader x Kaz Brekker)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: When Kaz calls upon you to help overcome his fear of touching people, you are there to happily assist him. Days go on as Kaz feels himself progress, perhaps even a bit too much all of the sudden. As it was not how he planned it, he does it again for himself, leading to a huge progress of touching.

“Is something the matter?” – you asked having seen Kaz lingering just out of sight for a while now. You had decided to not speak about it, wondering what he would do. Yet now that he didn’t seem like moving from behind the pillar, you took matters into your own hands. You heard him take a deep breath. Hesitantly he moved his cane to the side, stepping away from the pillar. Hand pressed against it to steady his walk. Kaz looked over his shoulder. – “No one is here.” – you reassured him.

He turned his gaze below. To reassure him more, you walked up and around him to shut the door behind him. He gave you a respective nod while passing him by. – “How can I help you?” – you asked, moving over to the desk. On top laid various pieces of fabric. – “Are you in need of a uniform? Do I look out for something? Pass on a note?” – you laid out possibility after possibility. Picking up a piece of fabric, you held it up to observe it.

Widening your eyes, you laid the fabric down, turning swiftly around. – “Do I need to hide? Has my identity been discovered by Rollins men? Should I relocated, leave the city for a while? Am I in danger?” – you frantically outed. – “No!” – Kaz said firmly, moving his head up. His stern voice put a halt to your worrying. – “You… you are save Y/n.” – he answered making you exhale deep. You moved to the mannequin near your desk. A uniform on it, the sleeves was the only thing is missed.

You let your fingers slide over the fabric. Looking past the mannequin to your desk. Picking up a drawing from a Grisha uniform. – “It seems I am missing something.” – you muttered to yourself, staring at the drawing. You barely had heard the walking of his cane till you felt a presence behind you. Turning your posture slightly you were greeted with a pin laying carefully in his gloved hand. Your eyes widened with delight. – “Where did you get this!” – you exclaimed ready to take it as Kaz closed his hand once more, moving it away from you.

Quirking your eyebrow up, you knew Kaz well enough he wouldn’t just give it to you without a favor. – “What do you need?” – you asked of him. Kaz stepped back, holding the pin firmly in his hand. – “I…I…I need help…” – he said struggling to out the words. The struggle inside of him made you gasp softly. – “Whatever you need.” – you answered without hesitation. It had been a year and a half now since you first met Kaz. It was a coincidence actually.

You were roaming the streets of Ketterdam in boy clothing, wearing a disguise to pickpocket. No one seemed to notice you weren’t actually a boy, yet Kaz seemed to see right through you. Apparently he started to stalk you for a while, observe you. Each time you walked around Ketterdam with a new attire, he could easily take out it was you. No matter how many wigs you wore. It were the eyes that gave you away, each time.

After a week or so of stalking he approached you. Finding value in you as you could easily waltz in anywhere unnoticed with your disguises. Having slippery hands were a bonus point to him as well. He asked if he could hire you. You strong headily declined, insisting on how an independent women you wished to be. Never wanting to be a slave of anyone. No contracts. Kaz kept persuading you, but you wouldn’t have ears for it.

Kaz finally gave in, not hiring you… officially. Unofficially you were like a business partner in secret. No one but him knew of your connection to him. Kaz provided you with food and whatever you needed in exchange for your skills. Sewing uniforms for his schemes, deliver messages, pickpocket a thing or two. Anything he needed, you made sure of. Kaz looked down his hand on top of the cane, seeing how it slightly trembled. How shaky his muscles were. He clenched his hand more to stop it.

“Kaz?” – you said taking a cautious step closer to him. Kaz stepped back, avoiding your gaze. It made you stop wondering what demons he carried with him. – “I don’t need to know, simply tell what you need, and I shall take care of it.” – you told him. Kaz removed one hand off his cane, holding it up. – “I need help!” – he called out loudly. You stared at his hand slightly trembling. – “With this…” – he added. You wanted to approach, reach out when he moved his hand back.

You understood. Kaz furrowed his brows as he saw you move things around. Clear the way. You set your mannequins with attires for the other crows under his command aside. You took a chair and set it near the wall. Going round your desk, you took another one. Going round Kaz, you set it far behind him. – “If you please.” – you said, gesturing at the chair. Kaz looked confused over his shoulder. You insisted on him to sit as he did. He carefully came to sit down, watching you go and sit on the far end across from him.

He quirked his eyebrow up at your sweet smile. – “Better?” – you asked, motioning to him. He looked down at his hand, seeing how it had stopped trembling. – “Tell me Kaz, What do you feel at this moment?” – you wanted to know. Kaz clenched his jaw. – “What nonsense is this!” – he called out, loud enough for you to hear from across the room. – “I am simply asking if the space between us is well enough.” – you stated.

“This is ridiculous!” – he got up rudely. You got up as well. – “Sit down!” – you ordered him loudly. Kaz paused, swallowing nervously as he had never heard you speak so loudly to him. – “You asked for my help…” – slowly you calmed your voice. – “let me help you then.” – You gestured at the chair when Kaz looked over his shoulder to you.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down. – “This is foolish.” – he muttered. – “What?” – you called out, having not heard him. Kaz sighed loud. – “This is foolish!” – he repeated louder. You hummed loud, looking around. – “You are right. This might overdue it.” – you took your chair at each side, getting up. – “Tell me when to stop.” – you told him, approaching with your chair. Kaz swallowed watching you come nearer to him. You kept coming as his heart started to pound louder.

His breathing quickening as his temperature spiked up. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could bare it. – “Stop!” – he called out. You came to a stop, taking one step back to set your chair down, seeing how affected he was. – “Is this alright?” – you asked suddenly much closer to him. He nodded sweaty, looking down. – “Tell me what you feel at this moment.” – you encouraged him. Kaz remained silent. – “If it suits you better, we can close our eyes and tell me. No pressure. Just you.” – you told him, demonstrating by being the first to close your eyes.

“Pretend I am not here, simply express what you feel to the silence in the room.” – you said. Kaz watched you. How could he pretend you are not around, when your presence was so clear to him? He took a deep breath, slowly closing his eyes. – “I…” – he started, clearing his throat at how ridiculous it felt. You held your tongue, waiting for him to settle. – “I…I…I feel warm.” – he confessed. – “My heart rate is up. Not yet out of control but steady.”

You smiled at how he was opening up to you. Kaz opened his eyes, getting abruptly up. His action made you open your eyes as well. – “What is the matter?” – you questioned concerned. Kaz felt like passing out. He limbed unsteady over to your desk, placing his hand firmly on top of it. When his hand got pulled up, you saw the pin laying out in the open. – “Kaz… wait!” – you called out when he made haste for the door. Taking the pin in your hand, you held it close to your chest. Exhaling deep. He must’ve gone through a lot of trouble to get you this. You walked over to the Grisha uniform, sticking the pin on it. – “Perfect.” – you whispered.

Kaz stood before you. Hand trembling as he slowly moved it up. His eyes blinked rapidly at the flash of trauma infiltrating his mind. – “We can postpone it today.” – you suggested. – “No!” – Kaz called out loud, clenching his hand into a tight grip. – “I…I need to do this.” – he breathed out, nearly panting. You nodded keeping your hands behind your back. – “You’ll need but a few seconds. Don’t cross any boundaries you are not ready for.” – you reassured him. Kaz exhaled shakily, slowly opening his hand once more.

He moved his gloved hand upwards. A flash of trauma burned on his pupils. It made him pull away. – “Remember Kaz. You have control over this, it does not control you.” – you said to aid him. Kaz’s heartbeat spiked up, thumping loudly against his chest. Droplets of sweat running down his spine. He suddenly became so warm, he felt like passing out. Yet despite the warnings he used to avoid so clearly, he pressed on. Bringing his gloved hand closer to you. He took a deep breath, moving his hand closer to your shoulder.

His fingers tremoring at the idea of touch. – “Stay still.” – he muttered to himself in frustration. You swallowed briefly, looking over his shoulder to not pressure him by your gaze. His hand drew nearer, inches away from your skin now as he felt like unable to breath. His heart pounding loudly in his mind. Vision becoming unclear as he wobbled unsteady on his feet. – “That’s it! We are calling it a day.” – you declared ready to step away.

Kaz tightened his jaw, grabbing you by the shoulder. You felt him squeeze your skin so tightly, it almost hurt. – “Kaz what are you!” – you called out in a panic. He was panting loudly, clearly fighting the demons inside of him. You hated seeing him like this. He released his grip on you, panting loud, bend over. You immediately took a few steps back. – “No…” – he breathed out. – “Stay…”

You blinked confused, slowly moving back to him. He pulled himself back up with a sharp inhale. – “I am very proud of you Kaz.” – you said sweetly. – “Yet next time don’t push yourself!” – you scolded, itching to slap him against his chest, but you knew your boundaries. Kaz curled up a smirk. – “Five seconds…” – he breathed out. You sighed softly. – “Yes, five seconds you idiot.” – you answered, seeing him smile more. – “That is it for today.” – you told him turning away. – “I want more!” – he expressed. – “Kaz!” – you said to reason with him. – “I think you’ve been through enough today. We’ve been at it for two weeks. You can’t rush things.” – you reminded him.

He came walking around you to face you once more. Before you could say anything he reached for your hand, taking it in his. – “Kaz!” – you called out, wanting to pull it away, but his grip was tight around yours. – “Normally one would shake one’s hand out of respect Y/n.” – Kaz said breathless under his struggles. You rolled your eyes at him, shaking hands with him. – “Better… see we are shaking hands Barrel boy.” – you taunted. – “Shifter!” – he taunted right back.

You furrowed your brows. – “Dirty hands!” – you answered with another nickname. – “So called boy!” – he mocked with a sarcastic smile. You angered your expression. – “Idiot!” – you said with an equal sarcastic undertone. – “Loner!” – he answered firmly. – “Brekker!” – you called out to put him to a stop. – “Y/n!” – he answered, staring intensely back at you. The rating of his heart made him suddenly aware that he was still shaking your hand. For how many seconds now? Shocked, he pulled his hand back. He took his cane and stormed out of your apartment.

Kaz hesitantly glanced your way. – “I thought we could make a bit more progress after your last session.” – he heard you say, moving some mannequins aside. Kaz swallowed nervously, looking down at his hands. They weren’t trembling to his surprise. – “How about a handshake, only one we know.” – you continued to talk, still moving around. Kaz kept staring at his hand, acknowledging the feeling inside of him. For some reason it was lacking. He wasn’t feeling warm nor was his heartbeat spiking up out of control.

“Kaz did you hear a word?” – he suddenly heard, making him snap out of it. You laughed seeing the clear confused expression on him. Kaz softened up wanting to hear your laughter each moment of the day. If he could bottle it, he would allow himself to listen to it whenever he was alone. Kaz gestured at you to repeat yourself. You sighed loud. – “I said what about a handshake. Is that something you want to practice, or would you prefer another step?” – You kept staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Kaz looked down, debating a million things inside of him. When he lifted his gaze up it was full of passion. He walked over to you as you turned confusingly at him. Taking a deep breath, he leaned down, pressing his lips on yours. He felt your touch for a few seconds till his lips started to tingle. The feeling slowly disappearing. Kaz opened his eyes, blinking at the blank wall he was staring at. Looking frantically around for a sign of you. He shot up awake and sweaty in his bed.

Touching his forehead, he groaned loud. So it was all a dream. Perhaps that was the reason he did not feel affected by his trauma. He got up and got dressed. Downstairs he got greeted by the crows. – “Where are you off to?” – Nina questioned. – “A walk!” – Kaz expressed loudly. Nina quirked her eyebrow up. – “You have been going for a walk awfully long now.” – she said finding it odd he was always out on a so called ‘walk’. – “I have business to attend to!” – he said to satisfy her.

Wylan shook his head at Nina to stop poking. Nina groaned loud with a roll of her eyes. – “So sensitive.” – she sat down, plucking some food from Jesper’s plate. Jesper furrowed his brows, bothered at her. Nina could care less. – “Shall I accompany you?” – Inej suggested. – “No!” – Kaz made clear. – “This business is my own.” – she took a step back, clenching her jaw at the secrets he was so clearly hiding.

Kaz walked onto the streets of Ketterdam, making sure none of the crows decided to follow him anyways. Walking a strange pattern of streets, he hoped to confuse anyone following by stopping at the strangest of places. When he was sure no one was following him, he made his way over to your apartment. Up the stairs he made his way into your quarters.

You were working on a uniform, holding the needle between your teeth while you adjusted the fabric. Kaz closed the door behind him. – “I want to try something new.” – he said determined. You quickly removed the needle from between your teeth before you would swallow it. – “Kaz?” – you said turning around to him. – “Something new!” – he insisted. You nodded hastily moving everything aside you were working on.

Kaz looked briefly down at his hand, seeing it slightly tremble. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his beating heart. Kaz closed his hand, walking firmly up to you. You were finishing up with making room when you felt a grip on your arm. You instantly got spun around, eyes widening when his lips crashed against yours. Confused you weren’t sure if you should kiss him back. Kaz kept kissing you, waiting for you to join him.

Eventually you did, surrendering to him. Kaz moved his hand up, removing his glove while his lips kept meeting yours. Bare hand now, he moved it gently towards your cheek. Releasing his lips from yours, he dared to touch your cheek. You smiled, allowing him to smile too. – “Kaz… that… that was a huge progress.” – you told him proudly. He smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze.

You took his bare hand, lowering it. – “It was.” – you reassured him, drawing circles on his hand with your thumb. – “I wasn’t expecting this kind of progress when you said you wanted to do something new, but I am surely not complaining.”- you told him, seeing him smile back at you.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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blueroyalgirl · 18 days

Text

5yearsofRWRB

👔 chapter 4 🎉

Please be so serious, Alexander 😳 *personal* SENSUAL? Have we asked ourselves what the actual fuck as of late?!

Half naked selfies from bed, and a little autoerotic asphyxiation. Jesus christ on a bloody bicycle! 😫

This feels so child-like 🥺 But he’s talking about hiding away from a whole world’s scrutinisation. And soothing himself between huge responsibilities that he doesn’t even really want to do. The way he says ‘Alex’ at the end is so pleading with exhalation.

Absolutely despicable behaviour! Not only is it super shitty to make Alex feel like he’s less than in those moments but each parent is saying, “you are your father’s son” in this moment, not mine, and vice versa.

They have both abandoned him throughout his life. Oscar abandoned him without notice when he was a teenager and now the way Alex operates in life is informed by that abandonment, showing up in his relationships or lack thereof (and they suffer because of his fears, understandably). His mother abandons him when she puts on her president mask, and she has to put the world before him. And again when she exploits his dreams for her campaign and calls him Diaz when she’s pissed off.

The perfect amount for someone. That kind of stillness. Being able to just breathe around someone effortlessly and not mask, or try, try, try because you’re just… good enough. Henry listened to Alex and somehow inferred his needs, and found the right words.

I really liked this insight into how each of them see their parents, how aware of everything they are, and the biases they have.

June seems closer to Oscar and feels sidelined/let down by Ellen. She also can see much clearer when their mom exploits them, and pushes too much. Alex still feels hurt, and abandoned by his dad (rightly so), but would also just love for things to go back to normal (sans fighting). 🥺

His mom’s the president and it seems like he believes she did the best she could for the most part, knowing she had to sacrifice to get to where she is (to do good in the world, something he wants to emulate). It’s also often easier to side with/feel closer with the parent that stays (even when they disappoint you) and Ellen pushes him, helps him, something he thrives on. And like he said, Oscar has a more laid-back approach.

I got to this part and was all overcome with, “I fucking love the way he speaks” like, THAT’S MY BFF HENRY?! 😍🥺💙

After sitting with the book in my mind for so long, and reading so much fanfic, and watching the movie so many times, and then coming back to the source, it’s just so comforting knowing their distinct voices now. When you read something for the first time you’re learning them filled with so much anticipation and that’s exciting, and then there’s also this feeling of: the comforting sound of familiar voices that warm you up, and make you laugh, stir the butterflies, make you cry, thrill you, and bring immense, insurmountable joy! ✨💕

Tipsy, plump lips, flushed cheeks Henry hanging onto his bottle, clinging to wherever Alex is as he dances with other people.

Alex likes to show off for Henry while he watches 😇

I washed my hands of us at the club

You made a mess of me

I pictured you with other girls in love

Then threw up on the street 😭🤮

Alex feeds/thrives on other people’s energy.

Henry drains.

I love this moment so much. It’s so telling of how Alex feels already, even though he doesn’t seem to realise it himself. They’ve already trauma bonded, they’re already friends. He’s infatuated with him and can’t wait to talk to him at all hours of the day and night. He’s enchanted by him when he sees him for the first time in person again, compelled by him almost as he puts on a show for him, their eyes always lingering on each other. And now under the moonlight, after admiring his beauty, he just… want to be there for Henry. Absorb the weight of what sits heavy on his shoulders. Make him feel… light again. ✨

Soft lips, soft curls. Nobody kisses like you. <3

*screams*

(Poor Henry, running away in the snow…)

#rwrb book #rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox #rwrb chapter 4 #5yearsofRWRB #alex and henry

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crimsonrainseekingflower · 8 months

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a bingqiu star wars AU ficlet for @luukeskywalker 💫

Luo Binghe senses Shen Qingqiu’s presence an instant before his father does. It’s a shiver up his spine, a spreading warmth that is not to be found within the familiar chill of the dark side. He stops dead in his tracks, overcome by a sharp pulse of anger-love-hate-desire.

“It appears we have a visitor.” Tianlang-Jun spares a glance over his datapad, piercing red eyes alight with an unreadable emotion. “Take care of it, will you?”

Luo Binghe nods. He holds his hands behind his back, gloved fingers slowly curving into fists. It has been…a very long time since he last saw Shen Qingqiu.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

“The Imperial Palace does not often house such an esteemed Jedi Master. You cannot imagine how happy I am to see you.” Luo Binghe lightly grips Shen Qingqiu’s chin, tilting his face towards the dim glowpanel doing its best to illuminate the dreary little cell. It hadn’t taken much effort to trap him. If Luo Binghe didn’t know better, he might think his master came here with the intention to be caught. “To what do we owe the honor?”

Shen Qingqiu releases a soft breath, eyes falling closed in barely concealed antipathy. Of course he doesn’t wish to look at the monster he threw away. Of course he holds no more tenderness in his heart for Luo Binghe.

This is something Luo Binghe knows very well. He was forced to come to terms with his master’s conditional love when the truth of his birth came to light.

But still, he yearns.

“Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu says quietly, “it is not too late.” He looks up through long eyelashes; Luo Binghe wants to carefully run the tip of his index finger along them. “The dark side of the Force is seductive but you can still—”

“I hope Master can forgive the last minute accommodations,” Luo Binghe cuts him off. He can’t allow Shen Qingqiu’s words to sway him. His master is not to be trusted. “For some reason, I did not receive a transmission alerting me of your intention to visit.”

“Would you have allowed it?”

“What use is asking such a thing now?” He stands, feeling the ache from the loss of proximity intimately. Luo Binghe’s movement is far from abrupt but still, Shen Qingqiu’s arms tense in his stuncuffs. What does he think Luo Binghe will do? If anyone should fear harm from another person in this room, it should not be Shen Qingqiu. “I was under the impression that you threw such formalities away at the same time you left your apprentice to fend for himself in Wild Space.”

Shen Qingqiu’s expression shutters, a strange blankness overtaking his features. It’s enough to give Luo Binghe pause, to make him linger at the door. He shouldn’t chase this. He shouldn’t ask the question that has burned within him for all the years they’ve been apart. It will hurt.

Exactly, something whispers to him. The dark side is never quiet.

“Do you regret it?” Luo Binghe asks, the unwanted words tripping from his tongue. He waits.

Shen Qingqiu says nothing. He won’t even meet his former Padawan’s gaze. Luo Binghe nods to himself, a sardonic smile on his lips. Of course. Why should he have expected anything else?

He leaves his master, before the pull of the dark side can compel him to act in ways he will regret.

#svsss #the scum villain's self saving system #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #bingqiu #tianlang jun #star wars au #my writing

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hyunsuks-beanie · 2 years

Text

Shower

Pairing: Soft Dom-ish! Felix x afab! reader

Genre: Soft smut

Content Warnings: Shower Sex; fellatio; unprotected sex

Word Count: 1.8k words

Mellow speaks: Hey lovelies! Today, I bring you an adorable soft dom Felix because we all need him, don't we? This request has been sitting in my inbox for a while but I hope you guys will like this!

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedamology @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi

You had it coming for a while, you knew in the back of your mind. And it's not like you weren't looking forward to it, but just that the urges that were slowly growing stronger inside of you took a backseat as real world deadlines threatened to overcome you. Felix had been staying home a lot more than usual since coming back from the tour, the tiredness from all the performances, coupled with the need to be with you and make up for the lost time causing him to not want to leave the house.

Coming back from work every evening, you were greeted with the sight of him whipping up something simple but delicious for you to feast on, his eyes getting all crinkled up as a smile covered his face whenever he heard you yell, "I'm home!," his arms snaking around your waist. He was playing the part of a doting boyfriend to the T, and you really couldn't have been more thankful for all he was doing for you, even though you couldn't always say it out loud.

But behind his loving exterior was something he wasn't really telling you, for fear of coming across as selfish when he could clearly see the amount of stress you were already in. You weren't blind though, and just like him, you too could see that he was in need of some affection and some attention, was in need of someone telling him he did well on tour and was still doing well at home, and you also knew you were that someone.

You could feel it in his touch, lingering just a second longer than necessary, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your skin. You could feel it in his kiss, turning hot and fervent despite starting out as soft and gentle. You knew he needed it, and you knew you he wasn't going to be explicit enough and say it out loud. No, he wasn't going to pressure you into doing something you didn't have the energy to do.

Yet upon hearing the slow pitter-patter of water as you came back home today, you had found your feet leading you towards the bathroom, your heart picking up pace at the thought of Felix taking a shower. And taking a shower he was, the door unlocked as always, a steamy silhouette to be seen through the glass. You can't tell what came over you in that moment, but before you could stop yourself, your hands were moving on their own, getting rid of your clothing piece by piece, till you were naked to the bone.

That's how you are now, your hand resting against the glass as you peek inside, taking in the sight in front of you. He looks gorgeous, the water trickling down his body and hugging him at all the right places, his shoulders and hipbones making you want to lick the wetness away. It's enough to make your press your legs closer together, a need growing inside of you as you take your time admiring the beauty that is your boyfriend.

That is, until a voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting Felix's as he calls you out. "You know you can join me, right?," he says, a slight chuckle lacing his playful tone as he sticks his hand out for you to take, pulling you inside and pressing you flat against his chest. He can tell what you're planning, and while it's something he's been craving all these days and weeks, now that it's right in front of him, you're right in front of him, he feels as if just having you so close to himself is enough.

And so he decides to show you, placing the softest of kisses to your crown as his grip tightens around your waist, the sensation making you lift your head up from his chest, a smile on your face. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, and that's all you need to lose your footing. Before either of you can realize, your lips are moving in sync with his, a rhythm both familiar and new being set up as you dance around your desires. You don't know who started it, but it's not like it matters anyway.

All you can think of in that moment is the way his tongue explores every inch of your mouth, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you get lost in the love only he can give you. And it's the same for Felix too, his senses getting overwhelmed as he finds himself getting high on you, on the way you make him feel. You're all he could ever want and more, and every time you touch him, it feels like you're reminding him of the reason he's alive.

So he takes it in his stride, finally letting go of his fears and his worries, completely losing him in you, in the love he feels for you. His hands roam all over your water-covered body, from your cheeks to your neck to your breasts and hips, and he takes his sweet time caressing and feeling every single one of them, just like you do too, your own hands lying pressed flat against his toned body. You touch him everywhere, letting your focus shift from his hair to his biceps to the round cheeks of his butt, and as you do so, you also find yourself pulling away from the crouching lower and lower till you're on your knees.

The sight makes something turn on inside of your boyfriend's conscious, his hands making their way to your cheeks again. But this time, he's just a little more assertive, pulling you closer to his crotch, because he can tell you already have eyes for his "friend." "Want a taste?," he asks, his voice gravelly and a lazy smirk playing at his lips. You can only nod at that, biting your lip as you lean in, placing a kiss to his tip.

And from the sigh that escapes Felix at the small gesture, you know it's just like the first time for him, over and over again. "Then suck on it, babe," his voice calls out again, pulling you out of your thoughts. With that your, your hands are quick to get wrapped around his shaft as you take him into your mouth, making him throw his head back in the slightest of pleasures. As your tongue begins to roll around his girth, you make sure to savor the heavenly taste of his finest delicacy, your teeth grazing against his flesh as you decide to make up for the the time, and the rounds, you've lost out on.

As you pick up pace, your surroundings fade away, the sound of the water acting as BGM while you continue to give head to Felix, enjoying the effect you have on him. His hands guide you along, resting at your temples as your own take to massaging his balls, your cheeks hollowed out to the max. Maybe it's the lack of touch that he's been forced to go through for the past weeks, or maybe it's the way you seem determined on bringing him to his knees, but Felix can't seem to control the urge to cum right then, his body involuntarily thrusting his dick right down your throat and making you choke.

"Go faster," he groans, pretty sounds emanating from deep inside his chest as you oblige, going faster and harder as you begin deepthroating him. Count down from ten in your head, and that's all you need to have him lose it, his seed seeping into your mouth as you lap every bit up. He tastes just as you remember, or maybe even better because it's been so long. As the last drops trickle down your throat, you let out a sigh of satisfaction, licking your lips before gripping his thighs to pull yourself back up.

Your eyes meeting his, you don't miss the way he smiles at you, and despite yourself, you can't help but ask, "Was I good?," and make him chuckle at your cuteness. "Amazing as always, my love," is what he says, leaning in to catch your lips in another kiss, his bodyweight pushing you flat against the glass. Maybe it's you imagining things, but he somehow tastes even sweeter now, the aftertaste of his cum still fresh on your tongue as you make out with him once more. Parting your mouth open with his own muscle, he doesn't leave a single spot untouched as his cock prods around your heat, silently seeking entrance.

And you're only too keen on granting him that, a whimper making its way out of you as your wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than closer. "N-need you," you whine, kissing him harder as you feel yourself grow more needy by the second. Lucky for you though, your boyfriend is a great listener, listening to your demand as he thrusts himself into you, penetrating into your pussy at long last. He feels so delicious like that, moving in and out of you as your thighs squeeze around his, your walls tightening around his length as he fills you up with himself.

You're a moaning, struggling mess within seconds, the water making everything foggy and slippery as he continues to thrust, entering all the places you didn't even know exist inside you. Every move of his hips as they rolls against yours sends you into a frenzy, gibberish rolling off your tongue as he starts speeding up more and more. Your bodies mold into one as you claw at each other's skin, wanting to be as close to the other as possible. You're in bliss in that moment, the pent up serial frustration finally coming to fore and bursting like a bubble as you make love, Felix never one to slow down.

He cums first, his cock still sensitive from your lip-service as his load fills you up to the brim, his thrusts not stopping as he leads you to your own orgasm. It feels like an eternity, and like a single second at the same time, your sense of being completely distorted as you focus only on the pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as he pumps into you one last time, making you ride out your climax in style and leaving you panting for air.

As a new slew of moans racks through your body, he vows to drown them out in a kiss with his hands holding you in place. When he pulls away, the expression on his face is the most lovesick one you've ever seen. "Thank you," is all he says, but it's enough to fill your heart up with warmth as he pulls away, ready to dry you up and lead you to the bed, and to another round.

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sailorshadzter · 7 months

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Could you please, please, please do an AU where Ned told Catelyn the truth about Jon and everything ending with Jonsa. Please 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

WHOOO BABY DID THIS SPIRAL INTO SOMETHING.

anon, thanks for this. long as it's been in my inbox, i really REALLY enjoyed writing it.

send me prompts

“Cat, we must speak.”

It’s the day he’s returned from war, battered and tired, but not from battle. His lady wife, young and beautiful, is tearful in her smile, their infant son asleep in his cradle across the room. It strikes him at that very moment that these two boys are but weeks apart in age, the one who sleeps in the room and the one who waits in the hall, cradled by a faithful maid. “You’ve just returned home, Ned,” she murmurs, shaking her head, hands outstretched. “There is more than enough time to talk.” She’s thinking of the morning after her wedding to this man, when he’d rode off into war, casting her but a single glance across his shoulder as he went through Winterfell’s gates. For the next nine months, she was burdened with the weight of pregnancy, carrying within her their son, their firstborn, Winterfell’s heir. “Come, you must meet your son.”

Ned sighs, but knows he cannot argue that, so he follows her across the room, so he might lean over the cradle and inspect the child there. He’s of good size, with a shock of dark auburn hair, certainly a boy who favors her Tully looks, rather than his own Stark. “A handsome lad,” Ned says a moment later, reaching into the cradle so he might take the baby into his arms, carefully as he can so as to not disturb his sleep. Beside him, Catelyn smiles, overcome with emotion at the sight of her husband finally meeting his son. She has done her duty by him and on the wedding night, no less. “He will grow into a fine boy.” He turns to face his wife, knowing he should feel something more, but he can think of little else than the other child he must bring to her. They are strangers, he and his wife, so he’s uncertain as to how she’ll take the news of another child, but he can only hope she’ll be delighted to take on the role of mother to a boy who has lost his. “Cat… Really, there is something I must tell you.” His wife, noting his tone, finally gives in with a single nod.

And so, he plunges into the story only he knows, of the birth of Lyanna’s child and her untimely death in childbed. Catelyn feels the familiar sting of pity, of horror, at hearing of the younger woman’s demise- it was a fate any woman could face and one they all feared. “I promised her… As she lay dying, I promised I would care for the child and protect him.” Ned swallows, recalling the grip of her hand in his, the smell of bloodstains and roses still lingering in his nose. “I must protect him with my name, you see… Or else I fear…” He stops speaking, fearful to say anymore, even here in the privacy of their own chamber. Even if it was his greatest friend on the throne now, that same friend would not pause in slaying even an infant, if he thought him to be a threat to his newly obtained crown. “I don’t mean to dishonor you with this, but you understand… I must claim him as my bastard, to keep him safe from the world.” Cat is staring back at him with her wide, blue eyes, lips parting as if she means to speak but cannot find the words. “I am trusting only you with this truth, Cat.”

She lets out the long breath she’s been holding and gives a single, solemn nod. “Then I shall accept him as your bastard, Ned. I will raise him along with our son as brothers.” If there’s one thing she knows about her husband, it’s his belief in what’s right and his love for his family. Lyanna was beloved by him in a way that no one else could ever compare to and the loss of her would be something he’d feel for a lifetime to come. This one thing she could do, simply to ease the burden of his grief.

So then, Ned opens the door and gestures for the maid to step inside, bringing with her the sleeping baby she carries. He takes the babe from her and bids her to go, turning to face his wife only when they are alone once more. “Lyanna wished to call him Aegon,” his wife wrinkles her nose at the name and he can’t help but to chuckle softly, the first laugh he’s felt in the weeks since Lyanna’s death. “I thought we might call him Jon, after Jonnel Stark, my ancestor.” Cat leans over his arm so she can peer down at the face of this baby he’s brought, surprised to see a face quite like she imagines her husband’s must have been at this very same age. He was a Stark, even at this young age.

“Jon. Jon Snow,” Cat tests the name upon her lips and she nods, finding it fits.

Just like that, they’ve gone from one child to two.

[ x x x ]

“I don’t like where things are headed.”

They are standing on the battlements, overlooking the courtyard where their six children play. Cat looks grim as she touches his arm, the gesture forcing her husband’s eyes back to her instead. “Is it that bad, Ned?” She asks quietly, fearful of the answer.

To her horror, he nods.

“Robert will die and the boy will inherit the throne,” Ned mutters with a shake of his head, letting out a sigh as he straightens his spine. “Sooner, rather than later I fear.” He thinks of his friend, the king, once a warrior of the mightest strength, now a fattened pig who drinks until he must be carried to his rooms more nights a week than seemly for any man, let alone the King of Westeros. “A bastard,” he continues, speaking the words he’s thought about for all these years, since he first laid eyes upon the child. “All of them.” Those golden haired children were certainly not Robert’s, but rather begotten from the twisted relationship between his queen Cersei and her own twin brother.

“There is another…” Cat prompts, softly, so softly he scarcely hears her over the gentle breeze.

Ned turns his dark gray eyes upon her, hand sliding over hers. “Let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to such a thing,” he says and she nods, casting her glance back out over the railing, focusing on the single dark-haired boy among the other auburn ones. A boy with Targaryen and Stark blood, a royal born boy that the world doesn’t even know exists. Her eyes move to the others, over Robb, who’s laughing heartily at something Jon has said, over Bran who’s dancing around his older brothers, to Rickon who’s clinging to his sister’s skirts. Sansa, her second born and oldest daughter, beautiful even now at just ten-years-old, is smiling as she puts her hand to Rickon’s curls, like a mother might do. And of course there’s Arya, her other daughter, her only Stark looking child among them. Cat feels sorrow tug at her heart, fearful for the world these precious children of her’s might have to grow up in. She can only hope it doesn’t come to what Ned thinks it might.

“I’ll keep them safe, Cat,” Ned speaks suddenly, drawing her out of her own thoughts and back to him. It’s as if he’s aged twenty years standing there, but she clings to his hand and nods, knowing he was a man of his word. Through and through, Ned Stark was a man who kept his promises.

“I know,” she whispers and his arms come around her, the one place she feels at home.

[ x x x ]

When Robert dies four years later, his sour tempered, violent natured son ascends the throne.

At first, everything seems to fall into place, as if somehow, things will work out. He’s a young man after all, perhaps he will be guided by his council to become a good king. But then, Ned is thrown out of his place as Hand to the King, replaced by his imp uncle Tyrion Lannister. The council of this young king is his grandfather Tywin and a gaggle of loyal Lannister men. Whatever hope Ned has of a young king coming into his own as a good, honorable man, are thrown out the window just several months into his reign. The people of King’s Landing revolt, starving and dying in the streets, while their king eats hearty in his golden palace. And what’s more, Ned has heard the rumors of his behavior… frightening rumors he knows, deep down, are far more than simple gossip.

He sighs, sinking into his place beneath the heart tree, the silence of the godswood all he needs right now. There is so much to think of, so many possibilities, so many worries, so much going through his mind that he thinks he’ll go crazy before nightfall. But then, as he sits there, he hears the drifting laughter of his children, reminding him of all he has to protect.

Then, deep within the recesses of his mind, a plan begins to formulate.

[ x x x ]

“Jon, come, we must speak my boy.”

The young man looks up, surprised, but swings his legs over the bench so he might rise up. His siblings all giggle at his expense, thinking him to be in trouble, giving Ned a moment of respite- this must mean Jon was responsible for the latest Stark children hijinks, which had resulted in mud all through the main hallway. Ned smiles in spite of himself and puts his arm around the boy’s shoulders, drawing him out of the great hall and into the corridor. “Father, I didn’t mean-” he begins, solidifying Ned’s thoughts, but he only shakes his head, as if it means little to him. “Please don’t be cross with me.”

“I’m not cross, Jon, we simply must talk.” Ned says as they step out into the bright morning sunshine. “You remember once asking me about your mother…?” He asks when they’ve settled themselves into the godswood, beneath the very tree he often sits beneath himself. Jon’s gray eyes widen and he nods. “I have decided now is the time for me to tell you the truth, Jon. About your mother. And your father.” His confusion is palpable and Ned reaches out, hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Soon, all will make sense.”

And then, he begins to talk, telling this boy the same story he’d told only his wife sixteen years before.

[ x x x ]

That night, Jon is somber at dinner, perhaps far more than he usually might be.

Of all of the children, Jon has always been the most solemn, most like Ned than any of his true born sons. And the only one who notices, truly notices, is the girl standing at his door now.

Sansa raises her hand, knocking twice, rocking on the balls of her feet as she waits for his response. From behind the thick door, she hears the muffled sound of his footsteps, then comes the creak of the door as it swings open, revealing his face to her. “Sansa,” he greets, surprised, Stark colored eyes widening at the sight of her there. “Come in,” he says next, stepping back to allow her entry.

It’s not often she comes to his rooms, as what sister comes so willingly to her brother? But, then he remembers and his heart sinks. She notices, of course, reaching for his hand without a word. For a long moment they stand there together, silent and still, her bright blue eyes staring back at him as if they understand everything he’s not even said yet. “Tell me, won’t you?” She asks, head tilting, red hair a cascading waterfall over a shoulder.

Jon peers back at her, wondering if to her, only to her, he could divulge what their father- her father- had just told him that morning. He decides, if just for now, to keep things as they’ve always been. “It’s nothing,” he finally says, forcing a smile, hoping it pays off. She eyes him skeptically and he damns her for being so perceptive of his thoughts, his feelings. “Really Sansa, I’m fine,” he goes on, stronger now. He knows that Ned plans on revealing the truth to the rest of his siblings soon, when the time is right, so he chooses not to spill his guts. Besides, of all of them, Sansa’s never been able to keep a single secret.

“If you’re sure…” She says a moment later, sighing, not really believing him. But, she knows Jon well enough to know that he would speak of it when he was ready. “I’m here if you need, you know,” she reminds him, softer now, her smile reappearing. He’s struck by the sight of it, by the realization that of all his siblings, she was the one most worried, the only one who noticed there was even something slightly off with him. And for that, for her, he’s thankful.

“I know,” he grins, feeling it for the first time all day. “Thank you, Sansa.”

She nods, giving his hand one last tender squeeze, then she’s gone, slipping from his room, her scent lingering long after she’s gone.

[ x x x ]

The day King’s Landing riots violently, Ned knows he must tell the North.

So, he calls his council, the most loyal heads of the Northern houses, back to Winterfell for a single meeting. There, in the great hall, he presents Jon Snow to them, not as his bastard born son, but as the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. It takes convincing of course, it takes many hours of conversation, of adamant reminders of what was happening in King’s Landing. It would soon overflow into their own space, if they were not careful.

In the end, they accept their lord’s word as truth, as they always do. And in the end, Jon is proclaimed the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms, a prince with Targaryen and Stark blood, a prince they would support until their very last breath. He will be called King in the North, for now, until they can make their move, until they can do what they must to secure the peace and safety of Westeros. Then, one day soon, they will march South and he will take his rightful place as King of the Iron Throne.

[ x x x ]

“I imagine you’ll leave soon.”

Sansa’s voice cuts into his thoughts, bringing him out of the silence he’s fallen into. “Aye,” he nods, glancing her way, only to find she’s already looking his way. Once siblings, then cousins, now betrothed. What a strange turn of events, he supposes. But, a marriage match with her would be the most advantageous of them all, all things considered.

It’s been six months of fighting and they’ve suffered their greatest loss of them all- Robb. Jon cannot think of that day, of that moment, so he pushes it away, choosing instead to focus on anything and everything else. His new place as King in the North, as the true King of the Seven Kingdoms, has his thoughts quite occupied after all. “You’ll come back, won’t you?” She asks softly, so softly he wonders if he’s only just imagined her words. He turns his stormy eyes to her and takes her hand, nodding.

“I promise,” he vows, a man of his word, like the one who raised him.

She smiles, nodding, trusting him because if she doesn’t, all that’s left for her is misery.

[ x x x ]

It’s two long years of fighting.

Battle after battle, neverending it seems, a war sometimes he thinks isn’t worth fighting. But, Jon knows it is his duty to do what he’s done, to fight a war for the crown that should have been his from the moment of his birth. They’ve come a long way in these last two years, losing good men to battle wounds and losing hope on their darkest of days.

But somehow, someway, they win their way into King’s Landing.

As he walks into the throne room for the first time, battle worn and bleeding, he sucks in a breath; it’s far different than he imagined it to be, but it’s his all the same. The throne sits ahead of him, daunting and dark, the place his grandfather had once sat, the place his father would have sat.

The sound of footsteps and he turns, sharply, thinking it to be Lannister men come, but instead it is Ned standing there, panting, a cut above his left eye bleeding fiercely. “Jon,” he speaks his name and Jon is reaching for the man he’s called father all of his life. “You’ve done it.” Ned says with a smile, thinking of all it’s cost them to get to where they were now, thinking of all they’ve lost, of all they’ve gained.

“We’ve done it,” Jon amends softly, knowing that he’d not be standing there if it wasn’t for this man. For the man who raised him as his own, who protected him with his name, who has loved him all these years. “Thank you, father.” Ned looks up with tears in his eyes but he smiles, nodding. Ned Stark was his father, no matter what his blood might have said.

[ x x x ]

Sansa runs into his arms, holding onto him as she’s never done before.

“I was so worried,” she whispers, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, her traveling clothes telling him she’d come straight to him. Behind them, in the doorway hovers Catelyn Stark, but she swallows and ducks out of sight, the door closing behind her. They’re alone, if just for this one moment. “They said you were injured.” She draws back, inspecting him, taking in the sight of his few bandaged injuries, though he looks well enough. “And father…” That awkwardness returns, the between of who they were and who they are now, but she shakes her head. “He will recover, the maesters say.” Jon nods, for he’s heard such a thing himself, despite the Stark patriarch's wounds. “You swear you’re alright?” She asks next, softly now, blue eyes finding gray.

“I swear,” Jon says quietly, drawing her into his embrace, something he’s not done before, something that quickens the pace of her heart. “I can’t believe you’ve come so soon…” He’s not expected her for weeks, months even. But when she draws back, she’s grinning, shaking her head as if she can’t believe what he’s just said.

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admits, thinking of the begging she had to do to get her mother to bring her here. She can’t explain it, but she knows this was where she was supposed to be- at his side.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he pulls her close once more, wondering when the feel of her in his arms had begun to feel so right.

So like home.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #anon prompts #anon asks #writing prompts #my writing #i wrote this

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esther-dot · 10 months

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Besides Jonsa, I like Ned-Cat relationship. Which one the pairings you like besides Jonsa and NedCat?

Sam and Gilly! I think how Martin writes Sam trying to protect Gilly in spite of his fear is very sweet, and presents a rather idealized view of what love can do for a person.

He did not want to wake up at break of day to find that their horse had frozen to death during the night. Gilly would keep going even if that happened. The girl was very brave, not like him. He wished he knew what he was going to do with her back at Castle Black. She kept saying how she'd be his wife if he wanted, but black brothers didn't keep wives; besides, he was a Tarly of Horn Hill, he could never wed a wildling. I'll have to think of something. So long as we reach the Wall alive, the rest doesn't matter, it doesn't matter one little bit. [...] "I have the knife. The dragonglass dagger." He fumbled it out as he got to his feet. He'd given the first knife to Grenn, but thankfully he'd remembered to take Lord Mormont's dagger before fleeing Craster's Keep. He clutched it tight, moving away from the fire, away from Gilly and the babe. "Paul?" He meant to sound brave, but it came out in a squeak. "Small Paul. Do you know me? I'm Sam, fat Sam, Sam the Scared, you saved me in the woods. You carried me when I couldn't walk another step. No one else could have done that, but you did." Sam backed away, knife in hand, sniveling. I am such a coward. "Don't hurt us, Paul. Please. Why would you want to hurt us?" Gilly scrabbled backward across the hard dirt floor. The wight turned his head to look at her, but Sam shouted "NO!" and he turned back. The raven on his shoulder ripped a strip of flesh from his pale ruined cheek. Sam held the dagger before him, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows. Across the longhall, Gilly reached the garron. Gods give me courage, Sam prayed. For once, give me a little courage. Just long enough for her to get away. [...] There was no time to think or pray or be afraid. Samwell Tarly threw himself forward and plunged the dagger down into Small Paul's back. Half-turned, the wight never saw him coming. The raven gave a shriek and took to the air. "You're dead!" Sam screamed as he stabbed. "You're dead, you're dead." He stabbed and screamed, again and again, tearing huge rents in Paul's heavy black cloak. Shards of dragonglass flew everywhere as the blade shattered on the iron mail beneath the wool. Sam's wail made a white mist in the black air. He dropped the useless hilt and took a hasty step backwards as Small Paul twisted around. Before he could get out his other knife, the steel knife that every brother carried, the wight's black hands locked beneath his chins. Paul's fingers were so cold they seemed to burn. They burrowed deep into the soft flesh of Sam's throat. Run, Gilly, run, he wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth only a choking sound emerged. (ASOS, Samwell III)

Becoming a hero for a girl is something Theon does as well (link), so it's clearly an idea Martin wants to highlight, and since Sam has dealt with such self-loathing over his cowardice, it's particularly meaningful that Gilly's safety is enough to make him overcome that in the moment:

Sam lingered long enough to give Gilly's hand a squeeze and promise to return again after supper. Then he hurried after. There were guards outside the door, queen's men with spears. Jon was halfway down the steps, but he waited when he heard Sam puffing after him. "You're more than fond of Gilly, aren't you?" Sam reddened. "Gilly's good. She's good and kind." He was glad that his long nightmare was done, glad to be back with his brothers at Castle Black . . . but some nights, alone in his cell, he thought of how warm Gilly had been when they'd curled up beneath the furs with the babe between them. "She . . . she made me braver, Jon. Not brave, but . . . braver." "You know you cannot keep her," Jon said gently, "no more than I could stay with Ygritte. You said the words, Sam, the same as I did. The same as all of us." (ASOS, Jon IV)

There's the singing before the fight, where you get the sense that Gilly appreciates Sam for who he is even though Sam was shamed by his father for singing and dancing, so I love that Sam sings for Gilly, at her request. Martin uses singing to touch characters and have them connect emotionally which is beautiful.

Of course, fans have laughed a lot over the fat pink mast in their sex scene, but Sam's feelings for Gilly are very real imo, and that struggle between what he wants and what he foreswore, the "forbidden" element to their relationship is another trope Martin likes as do I:

"I am your wife now," she whispered, sliding up and down on him. And Sam groaned and thought, No, no, you can't be, I said the words, I said the words, but the only word he said was, "Yes." Afterward she went to sleep with her arms around him and her face across his chest. Sam needed sleep as well, but he was drunk on rum and mother's milk and Gilly. He knew he ought to crawl back to his own hammock in the men's cabin, but she felt so good curled up against him that somehow he could not move. (AFFC, Samwell IV)

Although, he tries to be honest with Gilly and explain the situation before this and after:

Sam looked despairingly at the haze that marked the distant shoreline. He could never swim so far, he knew. He went to Gilly. "What we did . . . if I could take a wife, I would sooner have you than any princess or highborn maiden, but I can't. I am still a crow. I said the words, Gilly. I went with Jon into the woods and said the words before a heart tree." "The trees watch over us," Gilly whispered, brushing the tears from his cheeks. "In the forest, they see all . . . but there are no trees here. Only water, Sam. Only water." (AFFC, Samwell IV)

I find Sam's earnestness compelling at all times, and I loved what Gilly has meant for him here even though it's a complicated situation. Jonsa is what got me into fandom and keeps me here, NedCat is my favorite canon ship, but Sam/Gilly is very dear to me.

What are some of your other favorites?

#sam x gilly #dot chat

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goroaix · 1 year

Text

〘 He loved with his whole heart. He admired with a passion. He worked to absolve himself of all selfish desires... 〙

Xiaojun x gn reader. Obsession. Yandere-ish feelings.

Dejun had always liked to believe that he was a moral person.

From a young age he had been taught right from wrong, the virtues of humility, acceptance and respect being things that his Mama had ingrained into him. Being someone who acted on impulse and without consideration for others had been vilified, deemed an immoral stance on life that would drag him down.

So it was this stance that he took on his actions. Dejun was not tailing them unnecessarily - he was determined to make sure that they were safe after being followed by someone off of a bus. He wasn't sending them gifts to nurse affection or fear - they were really there to brighten up an otherwise dull day.

He didn't hold himself in a high regard, nor did he want for things he knew were not suitable for him.

But every person had their unshakeable desires, didn't they?

There was no helping how loudly his heart thundered when they walked by, a beautiful smile dancing on their soft looking lips. Never before would he have thought himself as the kind to be utterly smitten with the bare minimum but Dejun had learnt that he was a romantic at heart. Little more in the world was more satisfying than laying in his bed and concocting images of a loving relationship with the person of his desires.

He found nothing wrong with his actions. Everyone wrote their name with their beloved's and surrounded it with hearts. He had pages and pages full of this, unable to overcome the urge devote his time to them.

He was just so lucky that he worked close to them, could see their pretty face whenever he looked out the window and into the ambient café. There wasn't a day that he wouldn't spend his lunch there, fingers circling the grain of the table while his chamomile tea ran cold.

Dejun noted here that their favourite colour seemed to be red. They wore jewellery that had brilliant crimson jewels, wore accented pieces of clothing that had scarlet parts. So he did too, making sure to leave a bitten and red look to his lips and delighting whenever he felt pretty eyes meander towards them.

This wasn't selfishness, it was mere admiration, Dejun told himself.

What would have been selfish was to imagine that they were the ones kissing him and making his lips take on a pink tint; if he wished that their attention would only be on serving him rather than the worthless dross that took them away from him. Dejun was raised better than this.

It was selfless of him to invite them for a chat, wanting to know the reason for the slight frown that had been lingering on their visage since he'd arrived.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, praying his voice didn't break. "You don't seem as happy as usual."

"Oh." They sighed, shoulders slumping and he wanted nothing more to hold their hand, to tell them it was okay. "It's just typical work stress. I'm sorry for making you worry."

Making me worry, he thought in bewilderment. How can someone be so lovely?

"You don't need to apologise." His knuckles were white under the table. "I know we are strangers but sometimes it's helpful to say things to someone who can offer a fresh perspective."

They nodded, perfect lips pulled into a slight pout. "You're right."

And he waited patiently, willing himself to swallow down the compliments that he had always wanted to tell. Their skin always looked softer than a flower's petal.

"I don't mean to complain but sometimes I feel overwhelmed. I enjoy working here and talking with regulars but the labour isn't worth the price."

Somehow, this didn't feel like everything. "Are they not paying you enough?"

"..." The glance at their lap said enough.

"Are there no promotions or raises available?"

"I'm never eligible."

He prided himself on his lack of impulsivity, the control he had over his own actions and emotions. "I think you're an exceptional worker."

"Thank you..."

"Dejun."

"Thank you, Dejun."

He wanted to say that it wasn't selfish that he wanted them to repeat his name until their voice went hoarse, to record it and listen to it on repeat for hours on end until that was the only thing his mind could focus on. But, Dejun forced these thoughts away and replaced them with something more helpful.

Like how he would make sure that this promotion would happen for them. Simply sitting and listening would provide temporary relief but Dejun knew that things like happiness should be more permanent, pervasive.

He would get them this promotion (if only to see the smile on their face).

#wayv x reader #nct x reader #xiaojun imagines #yandere nct #yandere #nct imagines #wayv scenarios #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun fanfic

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aissa-snapped · 9 months

Text

The Heathen and The Christian final part

Summary: Ivar finally finds out what happened to his servant, and more exactly WHO did it. But when he finds out it`s his own brother, how will he react?

A/N I apologise deeply for the wait. I simply wasn``t in the mood for writing and I finally got some inspo to do so. I hope all are still interested in this. Anyway thx for the comments, those really made me wanna write more. I love you all.

@kens0world0of0imagine0nation there you go :))

Days have passed. Frigyth was still fearful of stepping out of her and Ivars chamber, but did it carefully whenever she had to. The king was struggling to squeeze any information out of her in order for him to punish the doer of his slaves traumatic experience.

The redhead however was still afraid of the consequences that might follow in case her master was to find out she had been meeting with his brother behind his back after specifically telling her not to do it, which by extension led to the unfortunate consequence.

Ivar, sitting angrily in his throne, overlooked the great hall, giving him the opportunity to scan over anyone who was sitting in there. He could only guess who did it, since he had no clue whatsoever. Glaring at the mass of people in the hall, he tried observing their behavior. Any clues as to who might have been brave enough to come after his beloved slave right under his nose. Any abnormal behavior, that could hint towards the rapist.

As much as he tried, he simply failed. He could`ve easily held a trial and hang all accused men, but he wished for a grander finale. He wanted to torture them to insanity, not just kill them off.

Ivar allowed Frigyth to stay within their chambers, for her safety, hopefully waiting for her to open up to him and tell her.

Days passed, and then weeks, and Frigyth seemed to be overcoming the past trauma, or so she wanted to lead on. Ivar was still pestering her about the subject, giving up each time after the girl simply changed the subject.

Hvitserk was scared the first few days, assuming the stupid girl surely must have run straight to Ivar to tell him, but to his amazement, she never did. That gave him some hope, knowing he was safe from Ivar`s wrath, or, at least for a lingering moment.

Frigyth, though she tried masking her fears related to men whenever Ivar was being close to her, could only do so much. Ivar, of course noticed how she flinched each time he was inches away from her, or when someone would raise their voice. This observation led him to an idea: maybe he could notice her behavior around certain men, and surely, if the rapist was around her, her body would give her away and expose the monster.

'' HVITSERK. Come. I am in need of your help.'' He called upon his brother one morning, urging him to approach the throne.

Curiosity linked with a hint of hidden fear engulfed Hvitserk, but nevertheless, he joined his brother`s side, wondering what sort of crazy idea he has come up with now, and knowing him, there could be many.

''How may I help you?'' He crossed his arms, rubbing on his grown beard.

Ivar shook his head annoyed, and motioned with his fingers for him to get close to his face, indicating this was not a matter he wished to be overheard by the other townies.

When Hvitserk was barely a few inches away from Ivar, the youngest brother whispered in his ear: '' I want to find out who raped my girl, and then punish him with everything that Ive got.'' And with that, he pulled away from his ear and rested back again on the throne, smirking at his brothers almost terrified expression.

His heart was pumping blood all throughout his body as if preparing for a race, causing Hvitserk`s cheeks and ears to catch a violent red color.

A few moments passed, silence filling the air between the brothers, and then after a long debate that took place in Hvitserk`s mind, trying to conjure a non-suspicious response, he gulped lightly and furrowed his brows, maintaining eye contact with the intense pair of deep blue eyes of his leader.

'' And how are you going to do that?'' He questioned curiously.

Ivar chuckled, shaking his head at his silly question.

'' Well you see… That…Hvitty… Is for me to know only.''

Hvitserk nodded his head, accidentally letting a look of fear cover his eyes, which didn`t go unnoticed by the hypervigilent and smart Ivar.

'' Ástin mín. Come on It`s alright. I just want you to come in contact with other people. You have been hiding in here as if some disease was spreading around town.'' Ivar gently dragged Frigyth out of their shared room, intending to find out the evil person once and for all. (My love)

His plan was coming into action, seeing as he had gathered most of the towns men inside the longhouse under the pretext that they were to feast that night.

Reluctantly, the spooked girl took a seat next to Ivar`s throne, where someone had previously placed a wooden chair for her to sit on under the order of Ivar.

With prey like eyes, the Anglo-Saxon girl scanned the full room, sensing an overwhelming feeling resting in her gut, at the sight of all those people. Crowded places were never her favorite thing. Ivar himself sat on the throne, with his right hand resting on the shaky knee of his servant.

The Ragnarsson was working on the plan, however now that he had gathered all these people here, with the girl as well, he only just realized he had never thought of the next step of the plan, and now he had to improvise.

Knowing that everyone was awaiting his orders to allow the feast to fully take place, he stood up, proud and tall above all men, with a horned cup in his left hand, giving an encouraging speech to the villagers, telling his future plans for raiding England, hyping up every viking and shield-maiden.

The feast was at its peak, the sight of drunken falling and stumbling men being everywhere. Ivar himself was feeling a bit tipsy, but he refrained himself from getting wasted remembering his intentions. '' Maybe now is the right time.'' thought Ivar, wondering if their intoxicated state would make men more vulnerable and honest.

Eyeing the room, he saw some familiar faces, including Hvitserk, gulping down cup after cup full of mead. Frigyth was constantly shifting in her seat, not only because of the hungry stares she would get from men, but also because she hadn`t moved from her seat in almost two hours, feeling her butt getting numb from all that sitting.

'' Are you alright my love?'' Asked a concerned Ivar, noticing the uncomfortable state she was in.

'' Ye- yes. I am. Just tired.'' She smiled tiredly at him, hoping he would let her go to sleep.

Cupping her chin with his right hand, he moved closer to her face, his breathing tickling her face. '' Just a bit longer and then we`ll go to sleep. I need you here with me.'' He explained softly. Nodding in understatement, she huffed slightly, and put on a fake smile.

Ivar didn`t know where to start, or how to approach the situation. There were so many people here, and there was also the chance that the culprit might not even be present.

But it seemed as if the God's were working in Ivar`s favor, since Hvitserk seemed to be more wasted than ever, and when he approached the two, he unknowingly was about to experience his downfall.

With his mind intoxicated, his vision blurry, he lost all his senses, unaware of his actions, which he would later on regret. He climbed the platform clumsily, on which the throne was placed, and drunkenly got closer to Frigyth. Ivar furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion and disapproval at his gesture, his hand on his dagger ready to take it out if needed, but what happened next shocked him beyond repair.

Hvitserk almost launched at the girl, who seemed to be going in for a kiss. Frigyth squirmed in her seat, and for the first time during the night she got up from it, rushing over to the other side of Ivar`s throne, instinctively seeking his protection.

The cripples heart fluttered at the gesture, feeling honored she was feeling safe around him, but quickly regained his thoughts, focusing on his brother instead. It was the more terrying face Frigyth had ever seen. Ivars eyebrows were creased to its limits, mouth tightly shut, and the eyes seemed to be the biggest give away for what he was feeling. Rage, pure rage was seeping from his normally deep blue eyes.

Ivar exhaled sharply, sort of like a bull ready to attack, and grabbed the frightened girl`s hand in reassurance. He kissed the top of her rather soft hand and ushered her to go back to their shared chamber.

By the time she left, the great hall was silent, everybody fearing Ivar`s next moves. Hvitserk seemed to be sobering up quicker than ever, slowly backing away from his dangerous brother, stepping backwards down the steps and into the crowd.

Ivar`s face showed a thousand different levels of anger, growing stronger and stronger by the second. It was obvious this much that nothing good would come of this.

Using his incredible force from his arms, he used the crutch to lift his body up, now fully towering over Hvitserk, and took slow, steady steps towards him, who was moving backwards as far away from the youngest brother as possible. '' You-you think I wouldn`t find out huh?'' He gave a dark chuckle, continuing his way towards him. '' That you can have MY servant as your whore? Hm? YOU REALLY THINK THAT?! '' Ivar was raising his voice with each word.

'' I am going to TORTUER YOU! FOR WHAT YOU`VE DONE TO HER!''

Hvitserk was at the end of the hall, right up against the doors, no escaping. There was no point in running. He had been caught. ''Ivar--''

'' DO NOT SPEAK. YOU BROTHER, HAVE CHOSEN YOUR FATE. THE MOMENT YOU DECIDED TO LAY A HAND ON HER. AND IN THE NAME OF THE GODS, I MUST PUNISH YOU.''

Ivar was making sure everyone understood the situation, him not wanting to personally explain the whole thing to the people. But by the looks of all, it seemed they all understood what had happened.

Hvitserk looked mortified, his life flashing before his eyes, knowing there was no escaping Ivar`s wrath.

Frigyth had been sent to their chamber, but that didn`t stop her from hearing everything that was said, or more like yelled, by Ivar. When he returned to their room, she was scared he would yell at her, but to her amazement, she was engulfed in a hug, and during the whole night, he had an arm wrapped around her torso, which made her feel physically and emotionally warm.

Hvitserk had been captured and thrown into a temporary prison, for Ivar wanted to make sure he would not escape the following morning`s events.

Ivar felt rape should be punished with the worst and most painful of all: The blood eagle. And so the next morning, Ivar showed up in the center of Kattegat, accompanied by his Escort guards and the other curious folk, and brought out Hvitserk for his torture.

Frigyth had tried talking Ivar out of doing it, suggesting he`d exile him, but he said nothing would bring him more pain than this. At the failed persuasion, the Saxon asked Ivar to let her stay inside, for she could not bare watch such barbaric acts.

Around noon, Ivar was one brother short, but half of his heart mended, knowing he did the right thing. Hvitserk`s body had been left hanging in the middle of the village, with blood still dripping on the muddy ground. It was a morbid scene to say the least, but as more than half of the townsfolk were used to going on raids, nothing unusual.

Frigyth was in her room, quietly crying. Why, she didn`t know. She felt bad. Because she met up with him. Because it happened and Ivar was forced to kill his brother. It was weird. Though she was the victim here, she felt guilty for his death. Maybe it was some sort of twisted game the God's were playing with her. Maybe that God that loved to play games, what was his name… Loki? Maybe he drilled his way into her head, making her think she should feel bad.

Ivar entered the chamber, with the purpose of checking up on her. When he saw her crouched down in a corner, he immediately went behind her, placing his hands over her shoulders, rubbing up and down. Kissing her temple, he put his head on her right shoulder, trying to be as close to her as possible.

'' Why are you crying love?'' He asked quietly. Sniffing, she slightly turned her head in his direction, taking a shaky breath in, preparing to talk. '' B-because… I dont know. You killed your brother...because of a servant. It was my fault. I shouldve never met up with him.''

'' You were the victim. He should`VE known better. He deserved it. You think he would have stopped?! He could have done it again, had he not been caught.''

''Yeah but… I don`t know… I am not used to people killing each other like this… and especially not because of me…'' She sighed sadly, another tear falling down her cheeks.

Ivar used his thumb to wipe it away, and then grabbed her chin softly, turning her face towards him fully now.

'' You… Are not at fault. You didnt know what could happen. I locked you in here. You maybe wanted to..have someone who would properly care for you. And then he betrayed your trust. I shouldve looked out for you more…'' He trailed off, looking into the distance, trying to blink away the tears that were making his eyes glossy.

Without hesitation, Frigyth turned her body, now both of them being almost chest to chest, and she climbed into his lap, hugging him.

It was such a new form of affection, Ivar had not experienced before. Startled for a few seconds, he just stood with his arms out, processing what was happening, but then he quickly wrapped them around her whole body, feeling her delicate figure, and enjoying the warmth that was radiating off of her.

A few minutes had passed, and she was the one to pull away. She kept her hands on his shoulders, whilst his were resting on her waist. Both staring deeply into eachother`s eyes, Frigyth realised this man was capable of loving, he just needed guidance.

'' Ivar, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to have someone be by your side, not out of fear but rather because of support. ''

Ivar was truly touched by these words. He had never heard them before, and there was this fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach, not the kind he`d get when he would murder someone, but rather something that made him melt, become soft and drop his angry facade.

The Viking got closer to her, their lips berely inches apart. '' Will you show me, love?' He whispered, glancing at her lips ever so often. Frigyth nodded slowly, right before Ivar gave her the most passionate kiss that made her feel like she was in heaven. The simple kiss turned into one with tongues interlocking, wrestling one another, and eventually they both pulled away, breathing heavily.

Frigyth blushed, feeling overwhelmed by the love she was feeling. Ivar however, allowed her a few deep breaths, before pulling her into him again and kissing her a second time.

It felt like hours before they pulled away again, and without hesitation, Ivar bravely asked the girl.

'' Will you be my woman, my equal partner, the one whom I share my success and failures with? Say yes and you will be more than a free woman. You will be the Queen of the most feared Viking.'' He asked, interlocking their fingers, squeezing her hands.

Frigyth laughed melodically, nodding her head vigorously, and engulfing her future husband into a strong gripped hug.

#ivar #vikings #ivar the boneless #ivar x oc #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #fluff #first kiss #tw death #protective #ivar ragnarsson #vikings fic #ivar imagine

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dark-frosted-heart · 1 year

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Villainous Love that Unfolds on a Moonless Night - Alfons Sylvatica (premium end)

Alfons: Oh? Have you "woken up"?

Kate's unsure what he means. Oh, he notices that she hasn't completely come to her senses yet. She seems to have a pretty strong psyche. His ability isn't all-powerful either - Kate's unsure what he's talking about.

Alfons asks how her first time pretending to be "lovers" in body and soul was - Kate's having a hard time keeping up. What Alfons means is that he's been toying with her with his ability. But since she's started to figure it out all on her own, he'll explain his ability. While he did say "whisper with 'intention'", he also needs to touch the back of the person's neck in order to alter their perception of reality.

Kate's noticed that he's touched her neck many times today. So every time, her senses were being distorted. Alfons asks if it felt good to be caressed so lovingly by a phantom lover in her sweet dream. Kate pulls away as she feels her bare legs being touched. Alfons chuckles and tells her not to look so appalled. Her "dignity" wasn't violated. He's the one to blame. Kate asks if this means everything they did as lovers was a lie. Did they really go to the bar or the workhouse? Was everything she saw an illusion?

Alfons says that what was an illusion and what was reality don't matter. Let him show the poor little robin whose lost her way in the den of evil another pleasant illusion. Kate tells him to stop and slaps his hand away from her neck before jumping out of bed. Still, Alfons remains amused. Now she reminds him of a feisty cat and reminds her that he's a cat lover. Kate throws her clothes on and runs out of the room.

Kate wanders around aimlessly in town as she tries to suppress her tears and wrap her head around the day's events. The feelings she had and his touches still linger, and her heart's in a disarray as if she just lost her lover. She needs to know what was real and what wasn't.

Kate winds up going to the bar and asks the bartender if she came here earlier that day. The bartender laughs and reminds her that she drank a White Lady. So that was real. Now if only she could remember when Alfons had touched her neck and what he had said at that time. The bartender then notices Alfons. Kate turns and sure enough, there he was heading toward the back of the bar. With a guy she doesn't know. Kate follows them and peeks through the door. There's a doll in front of the man?

While touching his neck, Alfons whispers to the man that "his dear lover has come to see him". The man calls his lover's name with tears in his eyes. He goes to hug the doll and sobs. The strange sight before her brings a sense of fear. Kate unconsciously clutches at the door, causing it to creak. Alfons notices her and asks why she's here. Did she come to investigate what was real? He moves the conversation outside so that they don't disturb the man.

Once outside the bar, Kate asks about what she just saw earlier. Alfons explains that the man sees the doll as his lost lover. Kate would like to know what really happened today. She's a weird one for going out of her way for this but he'll tell her the "truth".

The mission at the workhouse today was actually a success. There really was something shady about their business. Alfons supposes that the director was blinded by the high price corpses go for. So he worked with criminals to kidnap people, kill, and sell them. The lover of the man that Alfons was with earlier was one of the victims. He had found her name on a list. By order of Her Majesty, the director of the workhouse was disposed of.

Alfons had told Kate that he could only hear the sound of birds chirping so that she wouldn't hear the director's screams. He didn't want her to come after him so he had her play with a "cat". And the smell that was on him...Kate realizes that it was blood. Alfons hugs her as she's overcome with a sense of fear. She was happier when she didn't have to face reality, wasn't she? He says that she should've just masked over her feelings of discomfort with pleasure and forgotten about it, but she's a fool. Life's a tragedy and the painful reality can't be changed no matter what, so is it so wrong to escape into dreams?

Kate remembers how earlier that day she was afraid of stumbling upon another bloody scene. The very scene was happening just next to her while at the workhouse but she was lost in a sweet dream. She spent her day in bliss until now. If she didn't try to find out the truth, maybe she wouldn't be feeling the way she does now.

She asks if Alfons had been showing her illusions the whole day for her own benefit. The man laughs and says it was all for his own enjoyment. He loves toying with pitiful people tormented by reality. By the way, he had told the man from before that what he'd be seeing would only be momentary. Even with that knowledge, he clings at the doll and sobs. Kate finds Alfons cruel and glares at him as he stares at the door to the inn. Only then does she notice something off. His smile didn't reach his eyes. Said eyes were cold and empty. It feels like the real Alfons and she can't take her eyes off of him.

Kate couldn't help but ask if he was actually enjoying himself. Alfons looks at her with the smile still on his face. Of course he is, he replies. But his eyes still don't reflect that. If Alfons had truly meant what he had said earlier, then he'd be a walking nightmare. But she can't make that conclusion since she doesn't know the slightest bit about him.

Alfons offers to show Kate more sweet dreams if she wants, but Kate would rather get to know the real him instead of the one in her sweet dreams. Hearing this, Alfons calls her an admirable toy. When he sees a pitiful person like her tries to face reality in earnest...it bothers him. He wants to play with them until they're broken.

There was not time for Kate to prepare herself. He asks if she wants to be involved with him like this. The amused smile on his face tells her that the crazy, sweet nightmares are not over yet.

#ikemen villains #ikevil summary #ikevil #ikevil jp

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cieloclercs · 1 year

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sliding doors , chapter two

pairing: joão félix x fem!oc part: 2/? warnings: swearing, fluffff just lots of fluff, kind of dumb esperanza word count: 4.8k

SLIDING DOORS, "Seemingly inconsequential moments that nonetheless alter the trajectory of future events."

02. in which they both fear their newfound feelings are unrequited

previously: chapter one

read it on wattpad!

"UGH, THIS IS so confusing."

The sound of Esperanza Cabrera's head hitting her desk caused at least a dozen eyes in the lecture theatre to snap towards her curiously - but she didn't care. Her brain was a muddle of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings, all centred around one person: a certain dark-eyed Portuguese footballer to be specific. João Félix, and the lingering feeling of his lips on her cheek, was haunting her.

"I don't understand why you won't just ask him." Doutzen Van Aalsburg huffed in her seat beside Esperanza, growing increasingly frustrated with her friend's dramatics, "You have his number, right? Just text him!"

It was true, she did have João's number. Only hours after they had parted at the tube station following their kind-of-but-not-really coffee date, he had texted her, just as he promised he would. That had been three days ago. For three days his text had remained unanswered in her otherwise empty inbox. Esperanza simply didn't know what to say. She must have planned out hundreds of responses in her head, but none of them ever felt quite right. If it weren't for the fact she'd seen him briefly a couple of times since (nothing beyond waves across the road and fleeting 'hello's' as they passed each other in the hallway, though), Esperanza was sure the guilt would have eaten her alive. She just had to hope that João wasn't offended by her thus far lack of response.

"You're overthinking it, Anzi." Doutzen told her with a tired sigh. She felt like she'd repeated those words a million times over the past three days, since Esperanza had recounted to her, breathless and with flushed cheeks, the events of that morning with João. "From what you've told me, it's pretty fucking obvious that he's into you. What more do you want me to say? Now text him before I lose my mind."

Esperanza groaned, slumping down into her chair in defeat, "I can't do it, Doutzy. I'm too scared. He's famous for fuck's sake! How do I know he's not just looking for a friend to show him around London - or worse, he's playing with me? I mean, have you seen him? He could have any girl he wants, so why would he possibly be interested in me?"

Doutzen could tell Esperanza was beginning to spiral. It had been like this for three days - she would get herself worked up, and start to question João's motives; over-analyse every little thing he had said or done whilst they were together. Then she would descend into a pit of self-deprecation and doubt. That was where Doutzen drew the line. She was perfectly happy to entertain Esperanza's crush (Lord knows the poor girl needed to spice up her love life a little bit), but not when it put her in such a state as that, convincing herself she would never be good enough or pretty enough for someone like João. Doutzen knew she either had to get rid of this guy once and for all, or help her friend overcome her self doubt. And considering it sounded as though Esperanza genuinely liked him, she chose the latter option.

"Do you want me to text him for you?" Doutzen offered. Almost immediately, the Argentinian woman shook her head.

"No, I need to do it myself." she spoke gravely, "I just need to figure out how."

Once again, her friend let out an exasperated sigh, "Anzi, I really think you're stressing about this too much. It's just a text."

"But it's not!" Esperanza shot back. She dropped her head into her hands in despair, "I need to know what he wants before I do anything. I need to know if it was a date or not! I can't go getting my hopes up that he wants to be more than friends until I know - imagine how embarrassing it would be if I flirted with him or something, and it turns out that he doesn't even see me like that. I would genuinely die."

It didn't really help Esperanza's predicament that in the short time she'd known João Félix, she'd grown to really like him: much more than she'd ever liked any other man. So while her struggle to contact him may have seemed dramatic to some people (aka Doutzen) to Esperanza, it was a kind of method of self-preservation. If he rejected her, she would be much more upset about it than she'd like to admit. Besides, genuinely having feelings for someone, however fleeting and fanciful those feelings may have been, was exciting. Esperanza didn't want to give that up just yet.

"Well if you won't ask him, you're just gonna have to take the risk." Doutzen shrugged, as if the solution to her problem was obvious (to her, it really was), "But it's no use asking me whether he saw it as a date or not. I'm not exactly very qualified in that area."

She certainly wasn't - Doutzen had had her fair share of admirers in the time Esperanza had known her, but beyond a casual hook-up or two at parties, she'd never given any of them the time of day. She had too many years of liberty ahead of her to even consider the idea of committing to one person: that was what Doutzen always argued, anyway. Esperanza thought it was bullshit.

"Or you could ask Millie what she thinks." the Dutch woman went on when her friend fell silent, "She has a boyfriend, doesn't she? If you don't trust my word, hear it from her instead - João Félix is definitely into you."

Hours later, after their international law lecturer had finally let them go, Esperanza found herself doing exactly that. Milagros Vallejos, or Millie as she had been affectionately named by her best friend's family ever since they first met at age five, was the kind of person who always seemed to know exactly what to say, no matter the situation. As well as being her closest friend, Esperanza was convinced she doubled up as some kind of therapist or life coach - she honestly wasn't sure what she would have done without her growing up.

It had been hard for Esperanza to leave Millie behind in Bariloche when she moved to London. They'd barely spent a day apart for thirteen whole years, after all. But Millie had a different path already laid out for her. She'd always wanted to give back to the community in some way; to help improve the lives of young, disadvantaged children like she had once been, so that no one would ever feel abandoned in the way she had growing up. Who was Esperanza to stop her from doing that? Though it meant they'd been apart for the past three years, neither of them would have changed anything for the world - Millie was fulfilling her dreams and making a difference in Bariloche's most disadvantaged communities, and Esperanza was finally seeing the world (even if it was only London for now).

"I know this probably isn't what you want to hear right now." the voice of Millie Vallejos sounded through the tinny speakers of her best friend's laptop. Their face time call read two hours; that was, two hours of Esperanza explaining all of the ways in which she could have misread João's signals, whilst Millie tried to get a word in edgeways to convince her she was being stupid, "But I think Doutzen is right. You just need to text him."

Esperanza groaned loudly. That wasn't the answer she'd been hoping for. She'd been hoping for a clear solution, some kind of step-by-step guide illustrating exactly what to do in the event of either situation: rejection, or reciprocation. Unfortunately, Millie couldn't give her that.

She remembered, a year before she had left Bariloche, having a similar conversation to this one with her best friend on one of their weekly sleepovers. The roles were reversed in this conversation, but the message was eerily akin to their first one years prior. Millie had recently met who would become (and still was to this day) her boyfriend, Cruz Muñoz Acosta. For a while, their relationship had hung in the strange limbo between friendship, situationship and something more - that was, until that conversation in Esperanza's bedroom in which she encouraged her to simply take the plunge and be honest with Cruz about her feelings. She probably should have taken her own advice in her situation with João. But the difference between Esperanza and Millie was that Millie could put herself in such a position of vulnerability and bounce back from it if it didn't go her way - Esperanza couldn't.

"I don't know why this is so hard." the young woman sighed, rubbing her temples in exhaustion, "He's just a guy! I've dealt with loads of those before and I've never been so stressed about something as simple as a text message. What is wrong with me?"

"Oh cariño, there's nothing wrong with you." Millie smiled sympathetically at her through the screen, "You just like him. That's all. It's normal to be scared when you genuinely have feelings for someone."

"How can I, though?" Esperanza shot back, "I met him what, a week ago? I barely know anything about the guy."

"Feelings don't have a time limit, Anzi." came her friend's swift reply, "Sometimes it only takes a few minutes, or even a few moments to form a bond like that. And from what you've told me about him, I can kind of see why. He seems like he treats you well. Isn't it worth taking the risk if you think there's a possibility he could like you back?"

In an ideal world, Esperanza would have just been honest with João. He'd been stuck in her head, whether it was on the periphery or right in the forefront, invading her thoughts to the point where she couldn't even focus on her university work because of him, for as long as they'd known each other. It was driving her crazy.

"I don't know, Mils." The young woman sighed, "It's not just because I like him – yes, I'm admitting it, you don't have to look so shocked – I really don't understand what he could possibly see in me that would interest him. Don't say I'm being self-pitying here, because I'm not. Just think about it. He's famous and good looking; I know pretty much for a fact that he has a lot of girls chasing after him. He could quite literally date supermodels if he really wanted to. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

It was something that had been weighing on her mind for a while. Though Esperanza didn't view João any differently just because he happened to be good at football, she did fear however that João would view her differently.

"Do you know what would be even worse than him rejecting me?" the young woman asked; mostly rhetorically, but Millie prompted her to elaborate anyway, "If he took advantage of me. You know what I mean, right? If anything did happen between us, I think I'd always be scared that he'd find someone better than me – a model, or an actress or something. I wouldn't even blame him, that's the awful thing. I wouldn't even be surprised." Esperanza trailed off sadly. Her gaze dropped to the floor, "But it doesn't matter anyway. We're not together. I don't even know why we're having this conversation, it was stupid to think he would ever –"

"Esperanza Ines Cabrera Ríos!" Millie interrupted her with a sharp hiss. Esperanza's head snapped up, her eyes widening in shock, "Stop saying things like that! He would be lucky to even have you speak one word to him!" she sat forward with her phone in her hand, bringing her face closer, furiously furrowed eyebrows and all, to the screen, "I know I can't pretend to know what he's thinking right now – but he is clearly interested in you. Isn't that enough to tell you you should at least give him a chance? I think you'll regret it if you don't."

Esperanza fell silent. Her gut instinct had told her, when João had kissed her cheek and left standing in a daze outside the tube station, that he wasn't just humouring her for the fun of it. She'd felt a genuine connection with him, and at the time, she'd been almost certain he felt it too. With the benefit of hindsight, Esperanza had been able to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't quite so simple. But maybe Doutzen and Millie were right; maybe she just needed to take the plunge. Personal pride be damned — sometimes the best things came when you took a risk to attain them.

Never mind that he was her neighbour. She'd just have to find a strategic way of avoiding him if things went pear-shaped.

"Maybe you're right." Esperanza spoke up after what felt like hours. Her best friend internally rejoiced, "I'll end up dying alone if I don't learn to take some risks."

Millie frowned, "Well I think that's a little bit dramatic, but —"

The sound of the doorbell ringing cut her off. Esperanza's head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing. She listened out for a second ring for a few moments, but it didn't come.

"Are you expecting someone?" Millie questioned. The young woman shook her head.

"It's probably just the postman. I ordered some stuff last week. I didn't think it would be arriving until Sunday, though." Esperanza shrugged, before swinging her legs over the side of the couch and standing up. She padded softly in her fluffy white socks to the door, bringing her laptop, and by extension, Millie, with her.

It was lucky Esperanza didn't bother to take a look through the peephole at the person on the other side of the door. If she had, she may have been tempted to run and hide, or simply pretend she wasn't home. Instead, Esperanza opened her front door completely unprepared, mid-yawn, and with eyes that widened to the size of dinner plates as soon as they caught sight of the person waiting for her outside.

"João!" Esperanza squeaked. She flushed bright red, cleared her throat, and tried again, "Uh — João. Hi. What are you doing here?"

João opened his mouth to speak, but a high-pitched screeching noise coming from Esperanza's laptop caused the words to die in his throat.

"Oh my God, is that him?!" Millie squealed excitedly. Her friends eyes — if such a thing was even possible — widened even further. Esperanza slammed the laptop lid shut in a split second.

"Sorry." she mumbled sheepishly, "That was my friend from back home — uh, Millie. I think I mentioned her when we...uhm." she trailed off. João nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Esperanza had mentioned her briefly; and part of the problem for him was that he remembered that fleeting mention perfectly. In fact, João remembered every single word she had spoken to him three days ago like they had been etched with a hammer and chisel into his brain. How could he possibly forget?

Ever since he'd left her standing outside the tube station, João had been unable to get her out of his mind: the faint pink flush in her cheeks, her shy smile, the way she'd looked at him, even if only for that moment, like they were the only two people on Earth. He was surprised his teammates weren't losing their minds with him — João had barely been able to concentrate on the ball beneath his feet for more than two seconds at training recently, because, though football should have been the only thing occupying his brain, he'd found himself coming back to her over and over again. Like some kind of broken record stuck on the same old melody; Esperanza Cabrera was stuck in his daydreams.

At first, when she hadn't replied to his text message, João had begun to worry he'd done something wrong. It was surreal: normally, he wouldn't even consider such a thing. Every girl he'd met since becoming João Félix, young football prodigy had practically fallen at his feet anyway. But with Esperanza he was conscious of everything he did, fearing that just the slightest wrong move would scare her away. Seeing 'read' by the text message he'd sent her three days ago filled him with dread. He all but convinced himself she must have changed her mind.

That was, until he began to see her more regularly. João couldn't lie — he'd taken to setting off on his morning runs a little later than usual, just so he might by chance intercept Esperanza on her way to a class. Sure enough, they'd passed each other in the corridor a few times since then. She would always stop to say a quick 'hello' or, if she was in a rush, shoot him a little wave and a shy smile as she hurried past. João noticed, her eyes were the same as when he'd kissed her cheek three days ago. Their bright, intrigued spark hadn't faded in the slightest. They didn't, to him, seem like they bore the look of someone who wanted to be left alone. He couldn't describe it — they looked wishful, yet sad and reserved at the same time. Try as he might, João simply couldn't decode what exactly that meant.

It was only due to that half-baked optimism that he found himself standing outside of her apartment door, fresh out of the shower after training, his heart beating like a drum inside his chest. Once again, it was purely impulsive. João had checked his phone (for what felt like the millionth time) in the hope that she might have replied to his message, just as he had done every night since it was sent. When he found nothing but 'read' staring back at him, something had changed, like the flip of a switch. He wasn't the kind of person to back down from a challenge easily. João was sure Esperanza had felt the spark he had felt when his lips touched her skin. He was sure of it. It had been so long since he'd felt anything remotely like that, anything that could give him the kind of nervous butterflies he felt now, standing outside of her apartment — that had to be worth fighting for. He needed to at least try.

"Uhm, is there something you needed?" Esperanza asked, prompted by his sudden silence. She picked nervously at the stitches of her jumper, thinking that, if only she'd had some warning he would be turning up at her door, she would have changed into something a little nicer.

"Oh, right. Yeah." João cleared his throat awkwardly. He hated it, but he turned into some kind of teenager with a high school crush whenever he was around her. The words he felt the need to express simply wouldn't come to him, and he'd end up speechless; looking like an absolute fool. Esperanza was stood still, waiting expectantly for him to elaborate. He cleared his throat again.

"I was wondering if you'd like to maybe go out for dinner some time?" João rushed out. The words tumbled over one another like a waterfall crashing over a cliff face, but she heard him loud and clear, "With me, I mean." He flushed crimson. Why he felt the need to clarify that (as if it wasn't obvious), he would never know – João decided to blame it on her. She looked like an angel in the faint golden hour glow of late afternoon. He couldn't focus on anything except the way it lit up her eyes.

Esperanza was all but losing the ability to function. She only became faintly aware of her long silence when João's hopeful face seemed to fall just a little. Like it had three days ago. There were a thousand words on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill out; a thousand ways she could have said yes, of course, I'd love to, yet none of them were voiced. Esperanza couldn't fathom why. She blamed it on him: his slightly damp hair, like he'd just got out of the shower, and his obsidian eyes, which looked more like melted chocolate in the golden sunlight. João Félix left her – for the first time in her life – utterly speechless.

"Dinner?" she repeated in a barely audible whisper, "You want to go out for dinner... with me?"

The absurdity of it all baffled her. A famous footballer, a national team's golden boy, on her doorstep, fidgeting nervously as he awaited her answer to his proposal. João's brow furrowed for a moment in confusion.

"Yes..." he nodded slowly.

"Like – as a date? A date date?"

Again, he nodded. Esperanza fought of the urge to laugh out loud. It wouldn't have surprised her if she'd woken up in her bed in the next moment and realised it was all a dream; a lovely, yet very much fantastical dream. As if things like this ever happened to girls like her. She wasn't Taylor Swift – her life wasn't embroiled in romance and tragedy. Yet it felt a little like it was now.

"Ok, good. Thank God." Esperanza sighed, pressing a hand to her chest in relief, "Sorry, I just had to ask – you know I've been trying to figure out if last time was a date since Tuesday? It's honestly really stressed me out. So uhm... thank you for clarifying that."

João eyebrows raised a little, "Did you want it to be a date?" he asked suddenly, without really thinking too much about it before the words were leaving his mouth. Esperanza looked away shyly.

"I mean... kinda." She shrugged, then seemed to rethink, "No, not kinda. I did. But I wasn't sure you did."

His lips parted in surprise, "Do you think I ask every girl I meet out for coffee?" a faint chuckle escaped from them next, "Of course I wanted it to be a date. I was just – I guess I was scared you didn't."

The realisation hit them soon after. They'd been skirting around each other for the past three days, afraid of exactly the same thing, when the reality was the opposite of those misplaced doubts. They shared a quiet, tentative laugh. Esperanza's cheeks flushed pink, but she held his gaze this time. She knew what he wanted, finally. Her hours of fretting and debating and doubting had been pointless, and she never would have thought she'd be so happy about something turning put to be such a waste of her time.

"Is that a yes, then?" João prompted with a raise of his eyebrow. Esperanza giggled.

"Yes, it is." she smiled shyly, "What day did you have in mind?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

That was a lot sooner than she had been expecting. João didn't want to have to experience the agony of waiting any longer than was absolutely necessary — he'd been left on tenterhooks by her unanswered message, after all. He would have taken her out at that very moment, fluffy pyjamas and all, if logistics and common sense hadn't made it implausible. Tomorrow night was his best bet after that.

"Yes, I am." Esperanza returned with another faint smile, "What time?"

Again, booking a restaurant in advance would have been a smart idea, but what with his recent impulsiveness, João hadn't even thought about it, "Uhm... I'll text you the details. Let's say... around seven thirty?"

"Sounds good."

"You won't leave me on read this time, right?" He teased. She rolled her eyes playfully in response.

"No, I won't." Her feigned annoyance didn't last long — it simply couldn't have, with the way he was beaming down at her. They stayed like that for a minute, comfortable, familiar silence engulfing them, like how João's eyes engulfed Esperanza's when he looked at her. He knew he should leave her in peace, but he was rooted to the spot.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he asked, reluctantly breaking the silence. She answered yes, breathlessly, as if he’d stolen all the air from her lungs with his sweet smile. They laughed in unison, and João took a single step away from her door. “I’ll come to you – pick you up out here, yeah?” he confirmed as he began to walk backwards.

“Ok. Just text me when you’re outside.” Esperanza agreed. She was pulled in too deep when he ducked his head shyly, before looking back up at her through his long eyelashes. It gave her goosebumps, the way he watched her. João was reluctant to leave, but he knew he had to at some point. His lips turned upwards into a soft smile, in the hope she’d answer it with one of her own – the one that made his heart race.

“Alright, well – uhm…” João stammered. He felt his cheeks burn as they no doubt turned a very obvious shade of crimson, “Until tomorrow then, I suppose.”

Esperanza giggled lightly, “Until then.” She returned. Her smile blossomed into something more, something as bright as the sun; and something utterly beautiful, in João’s eyes. He had to force his feet to move along the ground, or he would have been stood there, at a loss for words, for all eternity. Esperanza whispered a faint goodbye as he turned to leave. This time, when he glanced back, unable to stop himself from taking one last look before retreating to the solitude of his apartment, her eyes were still fixed on him. João beamed.

As soon as he was around the corner and out of sight, he punched the air. This victory tasted sweeter than almost any he had experienced on the football pitch before. Perhaps that should have scared him. Or perhaps he hadn’t realised the implications of it yet.

Esperanza shut her apartment door, and placed her burning forehead against the cool wood. She could hear her heart beating. It seemed to come from every part of her body; thrumming inside her veins. She grinned widely, feeling nothing short of delirious – what had just happened? Esperanza knew it wasn’t a dream, because she’d pinched herself the moment João had turned the corner out of sight to check. No, this was very much real. Completely unbelievable, perhaps, but nonetheless, real.

The panic would set in later, no doubt (despite now being twenty-one years of age, she’d never actually been on an actual date before), but for now, all Esperanza could feel was a mixture of shock and delight. If Doutzen or Millie had told her even yesterday that João Félix would turn up at her apartment and ask her out on a date, she would have told them to, in much less polite terms, get lost.

Picking up her discarded laptop, she opened the it in a daze, having almost completely forgotten the face time call she’d been on prior to João’s surprise visit. Millie’s expectant face stared back at her through the screen.

“That was so fucking adorable.” She blurted out. Esperanza’s lips parted in surprise.

“You heard?” she asked.

“Yep. Every single word.” Millie smirked back at her, “Can you admit now, I was right? The poor boy’s completely whipped already! And you left him on opened for three days!”

“Mils,” Esperanza groaned, “He’s not whipped. He barely knows anything about me.”

“Yet.” Her friend countered with a sly wink. She blushed furiously.

“I swear to God. Stop teasing me!”

But no matter how much Esperanza complained, she couldn’t deny that the thought of João feeling as strongly about her as she did him already made her feel fuzzy inside. The thought of him laying awake at night, unable to sleep because the only thing on his mind was her; or the thought of him talking to his teammates about the situation, asking them what they would do in his shoes – it scared her a little how much she hoped that was the case. Yet still, it felt like nothing more than a silly fantasy. If only Esperanza knew he’d done all of those things in the past three days, and more.

“I don’t think he’s the only one who’s whipped you know,” Millie went on again after a pause, “You really like him, don’t you? Really like him. Much more than you ever liked Antonio.”

Esperanza’s gaze dropped to the floor. It never ceased to amaze her how easily her best friend could read her. Even when she thought she was subtle, nothing ever got past Millie.

“Maybe I do.” She shrugged, “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

The woman in the computer screen smiled, almost sadly, but not at the same time – a strange kind of smile that was difficult to read, “Give him a chance, ok?” she murmured, “He seems like he could be good for you.”

“I will.” Esperanza nodded. She intended to stand by that promise, too. There was just something about João Félix that pulled her in, and she didn’t think she could break out of that now – even if she tried.

— author’s note

first date timeeee

#joao felix #joao felix imagine #joao felix x oc #joao felix fic #football imagines #football fic #atletico de madrid #chelsea fc

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