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averagestudent03 · 1 year

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I Know The End: Chapter Nine, The King's Gambit (Pt. 1 & 2)

Masterlist

I Know The End: Chapter Nine, The King's Gambit, Full doc.

Series Warnings: swearing, jealousy, fear of abandonment, era-relevant homophobia, mentions of nausea, mentions of blood, mentions of death, angst, One use of Y/N, canon-level gore, etc.

More warnings included in future chapters.

Word Count: 13.5k

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21/01/1984 - Hawkins Public Library, Town Centre

Robin Buckley was loved.

She thought she knew that.

She thought that she could ignore the glances and freakish stares from her peers and replace them with memories of her mother's loving looks as she traipsed aimlessly across the living room.

She thought that the careless remarks from her bandmates would stitch her heart back together, masking over the hurt of the slurs sprawled over her locker. Painted across her notebooks until they all moved on.

She thought that people like Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan were better than this. That they were awful, awful human beings, but would never hurt her like this. Not when the girl hadn't done anything.

If she tried hard enough, she thinks that she could just stop existing at all. Shrink down into a corner, curl up and just die. Dismiss all the stupid rumours about her and stupid Abigail Parish, rid herself of the nasty words crawling over her skin.

Tainting her.

Staining her.

Ruining her for good.

Robin Buckley didn't feel very loved right now.

Not when Carol Perkins had her shunned from every inch of the school, keeping Robin's name fresh in her mouth as she spread bitter words about how she had tried to kiss Abigail, infect her with some kind of lesbian disease, sending Robin spiralling and forcing her to break down in the school toilets.

She hadn't tried to kiss her (although Abigail Parish was very pretty), and Abigail knew that. She knew that although the longing glances were absolutely intended for her, Robin Buckley had never come closer than arm's length, wanting to preserve what remained of her dignity.

Abigail Parish didn't care all that much for Robin's reputation if it threatened her own.

Rather than sticking up for the Buckley girl, Abigail doubled-down on the rumours, promoting herself as the innocent victim who tried desperately to push Robin Buckley away. She'd watched without care as Robin stumbled from the bathrooms, tears streaming down her cheeks and dashed to the library, ignoring the sneers and vicious chuckles from her peers. The world had stopped, pausing to accommodate the girl's rushed breathing and watering eyes as she clambered her way to the back of the library, curling in on herself in the corner of the room.

Robin Buckley didn't feel very loved, and she wasn't sure she ever would again.

The world began to close in on itself, the air thickening as she started to gag; grasping desperately at her throat, as if it would make a difference. The world had started turning again now, spinning faster, like it had been knocked off its axis. It was rapidly hurtling through the air, rocking the very ground she lay sprawled across as she forced her fingers into the side of one of the shelves, clutching desperately and gasping to regain any control she could possibly manage.

She rested her head against the wall, wincing as she recognised the trembling in her hands and the pounding in her skull, screwing her eyes shut.

The world had only ever felt like this once before, when she caught Steve Harrington with an arm around Tammy Thompson's waist. The feeling was a parasite, slowly worming its way into her stomach, writhing against any knowledge that the rumours would be null in less than a week as Hawkins High's most recent gossipers found their newest target.

The consolation didn't stop Robin Buckley feeling any less terrible.

You'd noticed the girl sprinting in and recognised her as the object of your silent affections for the past few months, eyes narrowing in confusion as the tears against her cheeks fell faster and faster still.

In your eyes, sad wasn't a good look for her. Not for any malicious reasons, or a mockery of the fact that somehow she still looked gorgeous when shaking and hyperventilating, but that Robin Buckley didn't deserve to cry. Not now, not ever.

She deserved to smile, because you couldn't think of anyone more deserving of happiness than the sweet girl that sat a few seats away from you in class.

"Are you alright?" You muttered, sitting down opposite her as she bolted up, frantically wiping at her eyes whilst you reached out with a box of tissues. She froze, an air of familiarity gracing her eyes as she looked over you. Scanning and flickering over any minute change in your façade, any reason for her to believe that you were genuine and not just another one of her peers coming to taunt her.

She tried to speak, tried to force herself to tell you to just leave her alone to curl up and die because that was all she was good for, but she found herself unable to answer. Completely and utterly tongue-tied, stunned at the kindness of a total stranger.

" 'S alright," You whispered, keeping your voice as quiet as possible as you shuffled in front of her, blocking her from any prying eyes; not that there were many, besides Melissa who had come to enjoy your little quips and sarcastic comments whilst you both worked.

"You don't have to talk or anything, I'm just worried- can you breathe alright now?" You asked, slowly moving backwards, careful not to startle her in the manner of which you'd treat a skittish animal.

She nodded, unable to do much else.

"Okay! Great, that's- well that's a bonus then, d'you want a tissue or anything?" You questioned, handing her over the box of tissues and a small water bottle you'd fetched when you saw the state she was in.

She nodded again, and although tears still fell, she began to smile.

"You wanna talk about it?" She paled and frantically shook her head, terrified that you would run away too. You would when you learned, and she just needed someone to cry with. Just for a moment.

"We don't have to, then." You reassured, grin wide as you glanced over her, seeing that she'd stopped shaking.

"So, why the library? You need to get started on anything? Want to find a book? I've been told I'm pretty good at that-" You chuckled and she joined in, slowly regulating her breathing as she tried to answer you in a shaky voice.

"O' Donnel's English project." She croaked out, and you shook your head, laughing slightly. She didn't understand why, and she struggled to comprehend how you even recognised the name. As far as she knew, she didn't know you.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'll finish up your half, you look like you've had a rough day." You grinned, and in a moment, she knew where she recognised you from. The girl that she'd been paired with for the latest project, the girl who couldn't stop smiling when she found out she'd been paired with The Robin Buckley.

She nodded, slightly happier now; it was a silent 'thank you,' and acknowledgement of the favour you'd done her. You'd taken her mind off of those ridiculous rumours and you'd done the unthinkable.

You'd made her feel loved, surrounded by cobwebs and dusty bookshelves.

The girl couldn't thank you enough for that.

You'd finished the afternoon by pushing a small chessboard towards the girl, neatly lining up the pieces and allowing her to make the first move. As you expected, Robin Buckley gravitated towards the horses. The horses were fast, and often subtle, but prideful when they wanted to be. Aggressive, sometimes lonely, following the constant promises of the future. Waiting for the right moment to strike. You'd heard her conversations with her friends, and you'd slowly begun to pick words out of it, roughly translating them in the late hours of the night.

They'd talked about her plans to flee to France, ice cream, about how she loathed dresses and the colour pink, and how she wished that she could tell the world to piss off for just a moment so she could comfort the girl beside her. How she wished that Tammy Thompson would gaze back at her, just once (that one had stung, but you weren't entirely sure why at the time), and how she wanted someone, anyone to tell her how pretty she looked. How even though she wished for all of these things, she knew it wasn't real; so she left well enough alone, and returned to dreaming about her life in France. Looking forwards and acknowledging her regrets, but never looking backwards. Not Robin Buckley. So yes, you guessed that she would like the horses.

She gravitated towards the horses and pushed them forwards, chasing your pawns across the board and quickly checking your king. She caught onto the game quite quickly, with your guidance and hands brushing over hers as you helped move her pieces, and she returned the favour in endless stories and wise-cracking jokes. You managed to teach her three moves in total, but only one stuck.

The King's Gambit.

You'd referred to it as 'self-sacrificial,' uttering that a boy you knew had taught you it the weekend you spent at his trailer. He'd taught you everything you knew, and then spent the rest of the time forcing you to read The Silmarillion, following the enthusiastic discussions you'd had regarding Tolkien's other works. You'd remembered the move because it had been his favourite, it had then become your favourite, and now Robin was able to recognise it as her own favourite, too.

"It's simple," You had whispered, re-setting the board and slowly reaching for your pieces, "...you move the pawn first, and you move him two spaces. That leaves your king vulnerable and your pawn to be taken by your opponent. If your opponent takes the bait, it leaves their King vulnerable to a checkmate; it's almost a guaranteed win in like three moves."

She looked puzzled, unable to follow the complicated steps, so you explained it in a way that she'd understand.

1) The Distraction. This was only temporary, and simply a setup for a grand finale. It was practically useless, given that the initial move was recognisable in so many other strategies, and left your opponent reeling when considering what your next move could be. You'd compared it to one of the pep rallies your school held before a large game, and how the band was just an introduction to the main event. Important, but not always useful to the game itself.

2) The Sacrifice. This was the most important step, and the metalhead's favourite when explaining it. 'Shoving a man to the starving dogs,' he'd called it. Deciding that one life is worth more than another. A sacrifice for the greater good.

Playing God.

Robin Buckley didn't like this stage, but she was absolutely captivated by the way you unfolded the story, laying detail upon detail about what was to happen next if the move was accepted. Your eyes sparkled with a certain intensity, and she couldn't allow herself to look away, not even for a moment. She wondered if you spoke about everything you liked this much.

Wondered if you'd ever spoken about her like that.

(You had.)

3) The Attack. The final step, and by far the most powerful. By throwing someone else into the limelight you prevented a larger world at stake, leaving yourself vulnerable for a second and taking a few hits, but gaining the upper hand substantially. It reminded you of Steve Harrington and the way he used to play you at Monopoly, nights spent in the dark with candles lit in your living room, pieces scrawled out across the board as you imagined your parents there with you. The way he would head for Mayfair as quickly as possible, risking himself for a few rounds as he slowly built up an empire.

You always lost. No matter what.

Like a simple rule of life; you would always, always lose to Steve Harrington, and that was that.

Robin had fixated so closely on the way you'd explained the move that she'd forgotten what had made her feel so awfully alive to begin with. The words that she felt had been branded into her skin, permanently claiming her were now nothing more than a few carefully strung-syllables with no venom behind them. They were just words now. You had made sure of that.

You had made sure that she walked away feeling loved.

Robin Buckley often thought back to that day. Thought back to that feeling bubbling in the pit of her stomach, the flush of her cheeks whenever she saw you. It flickered across her mind when she was doing something as insignificant as cleaning, serving as a nice reminder of the girl who'd spent the rest of the week checking on her and making her feel special.

It had plastered itself over every thought in her head as you slept beside her, trapped in the cold, steel box stuck in the elevator shaft, reminding her of how often you'd had her back. The memory wouldn't, couldn't, remove itself from her brain in the middle of the night as she tossed and turned, replacing every fantasy or piece of affection she'd ever held for Tammy Thompson.

She liked to think that she would've found you, regardless of the monotonous ice-cream scooping or the evil Russians that had overtaken your entire summer. She liked to think she would've found you, because when she'd been looking at you, you'd been looking right back.

You always had been. Even when she was nothing more than a stranger in your class that had sought comfort in you. You'd always seen Robin Buckley for who she was, and you had always made her feel loved.

"I'll have you know that I looked at you for quite a while, Buckley. But yeah, total dud, and she sounded like a muppet." Your voice spluttered out, echoing off the freezing tiles and the cold plastic walls.

Steve Harrington's jaw was wide with shock as he scrambled to your side, Robin still frozen against the wall. It reminded her of a simpler time, where she hadn't wanted to have been found, but you'd found her nonetheless. You'd always find her.

"Christ, Jones! You scared the shit out of us-" Steve murmured, words rolling into one another as his eyes scanned over you, breath hitching in his throat as he caught sight of the dried blood on your white vest.

"C'mon though, she was like, a total dud." You propped yourself up against the stall, coughing slightly and then wincing, bringing a hand to clutch as your side, eyes falling to the abandoned safety pin on the floor.

That'd probably be an issue later.

"She was not." Robin butted in, eyes watering as she realised you were here, alive, and mostly safe in the bathroom of an ice cream parlour. You were safe enough, and that's all that mattered.

That singular thought gave Robin the courage to move, practically racing to your side and slumping down beside Steve as your hand clutched your side tighter, trying to hide the injury. They didn't need to know for now, and the adrenaline was slowly coming back in waves, minimising the stabbing pain that shot through your nerves each time you flinched.

"Yes, she was! She wanted to be like, a singer! She wanted to move to like, Nashville and shit-" Steve chuckled, lazily agreeing with you as he caught your gaze. You knew that he knew, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt as though you and the Harrington boy were on the same page. The scene in the alley was distant history, every fight, every snap, every conversation about Nancy Wheeler was hidden in the past and all that existed was the three of you underneath the flickering fluorescent lights.

He gave you a small smile; a silent apology, a reminder that he was going to be better. He was going to do better, even if it killed him, because damnit, you deserved better.

You both did.

"She had dreams!" Robin defended, eyes still fixated on you and your busted lip, bruises slathered across your face and dried blood splattered across your shirt.

"She can't even hold a tune." You grinned, pleased with every second that you got to spend with them. Every moment was precious, and you'd be damned if you would waste even a fragment of a minute not looking at Robin Buckley.

"She's practically tone-deaf, have you heard her?" Steve questioned, watching as you laughed, gently resting your head against the back of the wall, allowing yourself a minute to rest.

Robin shook her head and he immediately burst into a rather untuned version of 'Total Eclipse of The Heart,' mumbling along and mimicking the voice of Tammy Thompson. He was remarkably close, given the fact the girl couldn't hold a pitch to save her life.

"She does not sound like-"

"She sounds exactly like that! That's a great impression of her," They both babbled, interrupting each other with a wide smile on their faces, and you relished in the domesticity of the moment. Maybe it wasn't all bad. Maybe, just maybe, you'd survive this, and your life would be followed by more moments like these rather than cut short in the back of Scoops Ahoy.

You could only hope.

"You sound like a muppet!"

"She sounds like a muppet!"

"See? Steve gets it!" You chuckled, slowly leaning your head against his shoulder, vision blurring slightly. He noticed, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze, a promise to get you both out of there alive, at least.

"She sounds like a muppet giving birth! And if you could hold me tight-" He started, moving onto an awkward Kermit impression as you and Robin continued.

"We'll be holding on forever-" You both giggled, bursting into a fit of laughter amongst the remarks, and the joy of being accepted brought tears to your eyes.

Steve Harrington didn't hate you.

Not now, and maybe not even then. The things you'd battled with for years had pushed you to the brink, thinking that you were alone and that your best friend loathed you for simply existing, only to find out he didn't hate you at all. You laughed and laughed, chuckles reverberating off the walls as they wrapped you in your own little world, oblivious to the downfall of Starcourt mall happening only metres away.

"Okay. What the hell?" Dustin shouted, bursting through the door, quickly followed by Erica and setting his sights on the three of you, staring you down as a parent would a child. The silence settled in, and you all glanced at each other before falling into another pit of giggles, Steve slumping to one side and falling into your shoulder as Robin reached for your hand.

Meanwhile, Hopper, Joyce and Murray sat slumped in Hopper's car, clinging desperately to the walkie-talkie they'd found. It crackled and static blared from it, but Murray's trembling hands kept a steady grip on it nonetheless.

"Alexei?" Hopper dared to ask, and Murray quickly turned back to him, tears welling in his eyes. He'd come to like the young Russian, bonding over their inability to cope with the tension-filled couple, their love of old cartoons and slushies. It practically killed him to watch the Russian slump to the floor, bullet piercing his heart from the very men he'd managed to escape from.

Murray shook his head, and Hopper's smile fell.

"На нижнем уровне," The walkie-talkie blasted, and Hopper scrambled to take the device from Murray's hands, holding it closer to his ear as he begged Murray to translate.

"On the lower level." He murmured, waiting for the next set of instructions.

"мы нашли детей"

"We've found the children."

"Они все еще находятся в торговом центре. Нижний уровень."

"They're still in the mall. Lower level."

Hopper's eyes widened as the colour from Joyce's face faded to a ghostly white, both of them coming to the realisation that they knew exactly who would be stupid enough to find themselves trapped in a mall with evil Russians.

"Держите все входы запертыми."

"Keep all the entrances locked down." Murray muttered, repeating the phrases over and over, matching the Russian cursive currently radiating from the device. Joyce quickly pushed her foot down on the pedal as far as it would go, watching the counter slowly begin to rise as the car moved faster.

She'd almost lost you all once, she refused to let it happen again.

At the same time, the empty carcass of Billy Hargrove stalked the halls of Starcourt Mall, finding a trail of thick crimson coating the floors of an abandoned supermarket aisle, just barely missing the footsteps and grating voice of the Russian man whispering into his own walkie-talkie.

You'd always felt sorry for the boy, if you were being honest. You recognised quicker than most what tell-tale signs of abuse looked like, and although they were incredibly unhealthy outlets, he was looking for an escape. The same way you did, sometimes; be that chess, or old movies, or swinging at broken vases in the forest with Steve's bat. Hell, you didn't blame him for breaking your fingers when he found Max with you and Harrington, if you'd found Dustin held captive by two nearly-grown adults in an abandoned house, you'd be inclined to beat them bloody too. You knew more than anyone how bad the situation looked.

That didn't mean you excused his actions, because you'd seen how he'd treated the little girl. You'd seen how he'd treated Lucas, and you knew how he'd treated you. Long before the incident at the Byers house, when rumours began to spiral about your own interactions with girls at parties. He'd set his sights on you when he'd worked at the pool over the summer, suggesting slyly that he could 'fix' whatever had gone wrong in your brain to mess you up in such an awful way. Billy Hargrove was a dick, there was no doubt about it.

However, Billy Hargrove was a dick, but he was also Max's family, and you wanted to protect him as much as possible.

Unfortunately, you didn't have all that much time. Not when it came to the several Russians scouring around the Mall, looking for four individuals that had since gone missing from the back of Scoops Ahoy. Instead, you found yourself hunched down below a counter, keeping a hand over both Dustin Henderson and Erica Sinclair's mouths to keep them quiet.

Not that you didn't trust them, but you couldn't risk a slip up. Not with them.

So there you stayed, trembling below a counter as one of Robin's shoes peeked out from behind the side. Fortunately for the Russians, they caught sight of it, quietly whispering and gathering their men across the devices as they slowly began to approach one of the long-emptied stores.

They kept their guns trained on the counter, slowly beckoning his men forward with a slight flick of his hand, assuring that none of you could move. You'd humiliated the man, and that would not pass with him. Not when he could get rid of you all so easily.

Dustin looked up at you, eyes glossy as he gently reached out to squeeze your hand, a desperate attempt to stop himself from shaking.

This was it, he was convinced. He was going to die, and his mother would find his remains in Starcourt Mall when it opened on Monday at 5am. Or worse, they'd drag his body down, do something awful like use that green, bubbling acid to melt his remains, and his mother would spend the rest of her days looking for him.

This was it.

You caught Robin's eye for just a second and gave her a small smile, as much of one as you could muster, and she felt like cracking all over again.

It was a 'thank you,' a 'goodbye.'

It was a 'If I could do this with anyone, if I had to do this again, I'd want it to be with you. I'd always, always want it to be you.'

Robin Buckley had never been wanted before, and she had to admit; despite everything, just knowing that you wanted her made it that little bit better.

She saw the goodbye in your eyes first, the way you slowly moved to subconsciously shelter Dustin and Erica, in the way that you hoped would protect them for a few moments longer. The way you slowly moved your hands to the floor, as if to push yourself up and tell them where you were. To give yourself in; a sacrifice for the greater good. For them.

She wanted to beg you to stay, to do anything but this, but she found herself unable to move. Frozen with fear, unable to watch anything but the horrifying sight unfold, the way you were so willing to give up everything. She was certain you were going to do it, you looked so ready-

And then a blaring car alarm rang out across the Mall. The scarlet Mercedes quickly drew their attention away and you let out a small sigh of relief, hearing them train their guns on the newest target. You shuffled slightly, wanting to know the reason for the disturbance, and you caught sight of a small little girl stood atop one of the balconies, arm stretched out and pointed at the car as it began to rock back and forth.

None other than the girl you helped rescue, helped shelter and take in when no-one else would. The girl the boys took to you in order to fix her up, and the girl you watched disappear from your life for a year.

A girl you thought you were never going to see again.

El.

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El.

There, the girl stood above it all.

Blood dripping from her nose, surrounded by the likes of the party. The kids stood behind her as if a defence as she carefully flicked the end of her hand, watching as the car flung with ease straight into the group of Russians, crushing them beneath its weight, shattering the pane of glass beside you all.

She'd never looked more inhumanely powerful, and she'd never felt it, either. She could do this- she could protect her friends. Just this once, she could be a hero.

You smiled, and the girl smiled back.

You crept out from behind the counter, followed by the others, watching as smoke hissed from within the car and Russians lay strewn across the floor. You didn't waste a second, rushing towards all of them as Mike helped El down a temporarily-paused escalator, immediately watching as El ended up in a hug, ambushed by Dustin.

"Ha, you flung that thing like a hot wheel!" He cried, wrapping his arms around her as Max and Lucas came to you, watching as you crouched down to hug them.

" 'S okay, it's alright, I promise-" You murmured, bringing them close and watching as Will sprinted to your side too, quickly pulled closer by your free arm. You practically giggled, ignoring the sharp pain radiating through your side and just focusing on the group of kids in front of you.

"Lucas?" Erica shrieked, looking over at her brother as he broke himself free from the hug, approaching her with a puzzled look on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Ask them," She started, pointing to the four of you, "It's their fault!"

"True, yeah," Steve interrupted, rambling and nodding quickly, "Totally true-"

"Our fault, our fault completely-" You joined in, nonsensical rambling.

"I don't understand, what happened to that car?" Robin asked, glancing hesitantly between you and Steve, quickly muffled by the uproar of the kids, muttering to themselves with their scrambled theories about where you, Steve and Dustin had been.

"El has superpowers!"

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, superpowers, she threw it with her mind, c'mon, catch up-" Steve mumbled, wincing slightly as you elbowed him in the side.

"That's El?" Erica cut in, seemingly amazed by the girl beside her.

"Who's El?"

"Yeah, little one in the yellow shirt's got like telekinesis or something." You started, quickly mouthing 'they're back?" to El in order to confirm that she was no longer powerless, met with a small nod, "Her name's El. Speaking of!" You interrupted, rushing to her side and quickly hugging her.

"Where the hell were you? Are you alright?" You gave her a once over, gaze fixed on the giant cut in her leg. She simply nodded again, wiping the leftover blood from below her nose, happy to see you all and learn that you were safe.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Nancy cut in, eyes widening when she noticed the state you were in, giving you a shy wave. You returned it immediately, mentally making plans to catch her up on everything the second this was over.

"I'm Robin, I work with Steve-"

"She cracked the secret code!" You grinned, smiling over at her as she quickly smiled back, eyebrows still furrowed in order to piece together the situation.

"Top-secret code." Dustin mumbled, subtly correcting you.

"Yeah, which is how we found out about the Russians." Steve muttered nonchalantly, eyes darting between you all, allowing you to lean on him and let him carry some of your weight as you both held the other steady. It was a given scenario, one you'd learned well after the several beatings you'd both taken over the years and the stumblings you took as children, wrapping a loose arm around the other's side to prevent either of you from fainting.

"Russians? Wait, what Russians?" Jonathon started, quickly taking in the state of both you and Steve, eyes catching on the dark crimson staining your white vest, raising an eyebrow.

"The Russians!"

"Those were Russians?" Max cut in, eyes widened and mouth open, the danger they were actually in starting to settle in the pit of her stomach.

"Some of them," Erica tossed in, gaze still focused on how calm her brother was seemingly acting.

"What are you talking about?" Lucas questioned, looking between you, Dustin and Steve for any possible answers.

"Didn't you hear our code Red?"

"Yeah!" Mike yelled, "And we couldn't understand half of what you were saying!"

"Godamn low battery," He cursed, immediately scolded by Steve.

"How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery!"

"Well everything worked out, didn't it Steve?" He looked up at him condescendingly, sarcastically smiling before shaking his head.

"Worked out?" Erica cried, "We almost died!"

"Yeah," Dustin turned to face the screaming child, "But we didn't, did we?"

"It was pretty damn close," You mumbled, watching carefully as El trudged to a corner, slowly spinning as the ringing in her ears increased, quickly turning to a high-pitched whining sound reverberating around inside her skull. She clutched her hands to her ears, screwing her eyes shut as the others continued to bicker.

Eventually she collapsed, letting out a small grunt as she hit the floor, the rest of the party immediately rushing to her side.

"El!" Mike questioned, quickly turning her on her side to face him, wincing at the girl's whimpering, "What's wrong?"

"My leg. My leg-" She breathed out, blood leaking from both sides of her nose as she hyperventilated, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Her leg, okay-" Jonathon muttered, Nancy helping him by quickly unwrapping the bandages around her leg, mumbling incoherent nothings as the crimson soaks through the white.

They winced, watching black and ivory lines pulsed inside her leg, stretching the skin as she screamed.

"God, that looks awful." Robin muttered, suddenly much closer to you than she'd been before. Her hand chased yours, brushing past each others for a few seconds, and Steve hesitantly moved away from you both, smiling at the lack of distance and the look in Robin's eye.

"Yeah, 's not fun seeing them in pain. Any of them, really." You mumbled back to her, trying to keep her distracted. All of you freaking out wouldn't help anyone, and it would only make El feel worse. Eventually, Jonathon returned, and all of them started panicking, watching her skin begin to writhe again.

"Okay, okay," Mike started, "Let's get her on this side- easy, easy," He mumbled, instructing all of you as you rolled her over onto her side, watching her curl in on herself.

"Y'know, it's not actually that bad-" Robin interrupted and your eyes widened as you realised Robin was about to start rambling. Jonathon looked stressed enough already, having practically shoved something wooden between her lips to bite down on, preparing to freely dig around inside her leg as the spoon muffled her screams.

"There was a- the goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and her bone like came out of her knee, the whole bine, six inches or something, it was insane-"

Nancy's mouth fell open, staring over at you and Steve as Steve turned to Robin.

"Robin."

"Yeah?"

"You're not helping."

"I'm sorry-" Robin rushed out, trying to ignore El's muffled cries, her hand digging further into yours. You let her leave crescent marks on your skin as you figured another person, touch, anything, was something you desperately needed the first time around. You could give her that, at least.

"This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?" Jonathon tried to reassure, giving her hand a small squeeze as the others averted their eyes.

She nodded, screwing her eyes shut again.

"Need you to stay real still, alright?"

"Okay-" She sobbed, grabbing onto anything she could as Mike made sure the spoon Jonathon had grabbed from a nearby store was secure between her teeth.

"Do it." Mike insisted, hating seeing her in pain for a second longer than necessary. She whimpered, the others murmuring small phrases and quickly looking away as Jonathon dug the knife into her swollen leg,

She screamed immediately, Nancy having to cover her mouth with her hand as she gagged, watching the blade sink deeper into her skin. Jonathon winced before putting on gloves and jamming two fingers inside the wound. She twisted and writhed on the floor, as if trying to escape some terrible fate, and Robin looked like she was about to be sick again. You quickly grabbed her hand once more, pulling her behind you slightly, wanting to shield her from the sight. A horrifying mix of guilt and nausea settled in the pit of your stomach as you came to the swift realisation that the girl wouldn't be in this mess if not for your own selfish choices of wanting someone.

You were going to get her out of here the second it was safe to do so, and she was never, ever coming back. You'd drive her out of Hawkins if you had to. Even if it meant that you would never see Robin Buckley again, at least she'd be safe.

A sacrifice for the greater good.

"Stop! I can do it," El sobbed, "I can do it-"

Jonathon immediately backed off, scrambling beside Nancy and abandoning the knife, leaving them scattered on the floor as El raised her hand to her leg.

She hovered it above the cut for a second, gritting her teeth and screwing her eyes shut, clenching her fist and screaming louder than you'd ever heard. You wondered if she'd ever screamed like this when she was stuck in the lab.

Probably.

The windows around you shattered, leaving broken glass scattered everywhere and a floating, writhing creature coated in tar floating mid-air; quickly disposed of by a flex of El's fingers, tossed carelessly to the other side of the hall, crushed beneath a large shoe.

Hopper's shoe.

He stood guarded besides Joyce Byers and Murray Bauman, staring down your little group, tossing you a careful smile as he set eyes on his daughter.

Within a few minutes, you'd already formed a little circle, several of you pacing and trying to out-think the others, approaching the subject from any angle. You'd found that Billy Hargrove had been chosen as a host for the Mind Flayer, The Mind Flayer was back, and the others were now effectively caught up to speed regarding your little Russian adventures.

"The Mind Flayer," Mike started, taking a step towards everyone and weaving the tale as if it were a story, "it built this...monster, in Hawkins; to stop El, to kill her, and to pave a way into our world."

"And it almost did," Nancy weighed in, still trying to grasp the enormity of the situation, "That was just one tiny piece of it."

"How big is this thing?" Hopper asked, glancing over at Dustin as he stood closer to the rest of the party.

"It's big. Thirty feet, at least." Jonathon mumbled, looking up at Nancy as she confirmed.

"Mhm, it sorta destroyed your cabin." Lucas chipped in, eyes catching on Hopper as he attempted to gauge any sort of reaction.

"Sorry."

"Okay, so just to be clear, this- this big fleshy, spider thing that hurt El, it's some kind of gigantic...weapon?" Steve tried, looking slightly confused about the whole scenario.

"Yeah." Nancy answered, eyes locked on Steve for a moment longer than normal. She'd missed the boy, to say the least. He was comfort, a reminder of how she used to live, or who she was before all this. It was nice to just have him around. Same with you, a permanent reminder that despite everything, Hawkins still existed in the way it did before. Hawkins High was still Hawkins High, the kids were still the kids, and everything could be normal when this was over.

It didn't stop her eyes from leaving Steve's silhouette, though.

Robin had taken an entirely different approach to the oldest Wheeler, keeping her eyes trained on the ground rather than any of you. She'd curled herself up on the small fountain, knees tucked to her chest as she tried to regulate her breathing, still coming to grips with the whole 'Evil Russians and alternate-dimensional monsters' thing.

You noticed quicker than others, and you carefully made your way to her side, slowly pulling her to a nearby bench and sitting down with her as she looked up, confusion painted across her face.

"Sorry- you just looked a little stressed. We all get weirded out the first time." You reassured, smiling as she looked over you eyes catching on every scratch and cut that the man had left on you.

She decided that it would be a conversation for another day.

"So, the first time, huh?" She started, drawling off into the beginnings of a ramble as the other's voices slowly faded, "You make a habit of going 'round, fighting space monsters?"

"Upside-down monsters, Jesus, come on Robs, get it right." You corrected, chuckling as Hopper pulled El closer to his chest, Joyce sitting beside him. She caught a glimpse of the two of you, eyes flickering down to where your hands brushed, and made note of how you looked at each other. She smiled, and made a note to talk to you about it later, if you felt comfortable enough.

She hoped you would.

"But yeah, some shit went down like two years ago that started everything- then it came back last year, and now it's back again."

"Do you think we'll be able to stop it for good this time?"

You hesitated.

You didn't want to lie to her; to give her false hope the same way you'd fed off the blissfully ignorant words Hopper had whispered.

"I hope so." You said, and you meant it. You did hope so, but you couldn't promise her anything.

"So when you disappeared from Click's class for like a week last year?"

"Recovering from a bite on my shin, I was in hospital passed out for three days, scared the shit out of Steve. Dude stayed by my side the whole time and wouldn't stop apologising when I finally woke up."

"Harrington is..." She started, "something else, isn't he?"

You glimpsed over, seeing him debate so casually with Jonathon and Nancy, a genuine smile on his face when he took in the kids' state. Watching carefully as Hopper ran a spare hand through El's hair, and catching Dustin giving him a sly thumbs-up when Nancy stood a bit too close.

He'd begun getting better, and that was a start.

"Yeah. He's definitely something, Buckley."

He caught your eye, smiling slightly, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely smiled back at him. He felt the air shift, and when Robin looked away for a second, he raised his eyebrow, giving you an awfully suggestive look.

You glared back at him and he simply chuckled, returning to his previous conversation with the rest of the group.

"How you feeling about all this, then?" You questioned, looking across at her, whispering amongst the mumblings of the others, in the midst of a plan beginning to form.

"And by this...you mean?" She trailed off, small smile flickering over her lips as she finally caught your eye.

"Well, the whole 'Harrington's not as bad as you think he is,' thing, that can be a tough one to sink in-" The older boy shot you a quick glare, replaced with a sigh of relief as he saw the corner of your lips quirk upwards in a gleeful grin. Robin elbowed your side, giggling along with you at the utter ridiculousness of the situation.

"The evil Russians were definitely a shocker, but the twelve-year-old with superpowers, that one's my favourite so far." She chuckled, hand creeping closer to yours on the bench with every passing second. You were hidden from most of their sights, (Not Steve, but you had to admit, with the way he'd been acting he seemed to be overjoyed at the thought of you two together), which made it slightly easier to show the subtle affection you had for the girl. You wanted nothing more than to slip an arm around her shoulder and tell her how safe she was, but you'd wait until the end of the night before you even considered an act so selfish.

"Having her show up at the Byers in the middle of the night wasn't exactly ordinary, but she threw a Lego spaceship at Dustin's head once, that was funny." You smiled, recalling the sweet memory. He'd whined about it the rest of the evening, but was utterly infatuated with the supernatural abilities the girl possessed, and with the way he was practically vibrating on the spot, you could tell that excitement was back.

"Are you gonna be safe?" Robin blurted out, taking both of you by surprise, eyes widening at her admission of nerves.

You hesitated for a moment, mulling the words over in your head before coming up with a suitable response.

"Define...safe."

"Not throwing yourself at supernatural monsters, safe."

"I uh-" You started, scrabbling to find the right words, no longer worried about impressing the girl, "I'll try to keep safe. Can't promise you anything at the minute, but I've got a lot to stay alive for if you hadn't noticed, Buckley."

"Good. It'd be really difficult to take a corpse out to dinner." She mindlessly babbled, only realising the true intent of her words a moment after she'd said them. She looked you over, shoulders relaxing almost instantly as she saw the sudden spark in your eyes, the intensity of your smile.

"Obviously not dinner, dinner," She began, starting to ramble, "Because dinner would be a bit hard given the fact that we're both, y'know, but like, dinner? Maybe you and I could go watch a movie, or order something in? If you wanted?"

You had never wanted to kiss the girl more in your life.

You squeezed her hand reassuringly, making sure to look her in the eyes as you said this. Your eyes darted to the others, making note that no one was watching, bringing your face to the side of hers and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, mumbling under your breath.

"Buckley, I'd love to go to dinner with you after this. Whatever dinner looks like to you, I'll love it. I'm sure." Her grin widened and a thick blush spread across her face as she caught Steve's eye, smirk growing on his face as he took in the scene, both of you separating almost instantly.

"But, yeah-" You continued, "I'd love dinner. But that means you have to survive too, Robs. Stay safe and whatnot."

"Oh no," She whined, sarcasm heavy in her tone, "A gorgeous girl wants to take me out to dinner and all I have to do is live past tonight, what an awful thing-"

You chuckled, mimicking her friendly elbow from earlier as she giggled, evidently pleased with the situation. She'd never had this, before, or anything like this, and she was certain she was going to keep you.

No matter the cost.

"Yoo-Hoo!" The moment was broken by the ramblings of a rather bald madman, Murray rushing in waving large maps of Starcourt and other nonsensical scribbles. He rushed past, slumping down besides you all as you all surrounded him, pleased to hear whatever he had found in the moments he was away. You and Robin stood on other sides of the circle, avoiding each other's gazes as you tried not to burst into laughter at the absurdity of the thoughts.

"Okay, this is what Alexei called 'The Hub'" He started, pointing aggressively at a corner of the roughly sketched map, "Now, The Hub takes us to the vault room."

"Okay, so where's the gate?" Hopper interrupted, stood behind his shoulder like a proud parent.

"Right here. I don't know the scale on this, but I think it's fairly close to the vault room, maybe fifty feet or so." You took a step closer to Hopper, him running a hand up your back in a reassuring manner, something he'd done thousands of times before. Whether it was your shoulder, or a ruffle of your hair, he'd always made you feel seen and respected, even when you disagreed. (Or when he had to put you in handcuffs thanks to the few bottles of rum you'd smuggled into the back of a friend's Steve's car that one time.)

"More like 500." Erica cut in, stepping forwards slightly to face the almost-bald man.

"What, you're gonna waltz in there like it's Commie-Disneyland or something?"

"I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, irritation painted over his face as the child began to waste even more of his precious time. Murray Bauman didn't have any time nor respect for small annoyances.

"Erica Sinclair. Who are you?" She retaliated, eyebrow raised, staring the man down as Dustin smirked behind her.

"Murray...Bauman." He spit out in confusion, eyes darting back and forth between you, Nancy, Jonathon and Hopper. He figured that you lot would rid him of whoever this pest, was, especially after your adventures together in the years prior. He'd been the one to push Jonathon and Nancy together in the first place, and had run into you at the bar a few times over the years, having arrived both with friends and individually between fighting monsters from a parallel universe. He'd been surprised when Jonathon and Nancy first mentioned your name, but then thought back to the unexplainable stories you'd told him, presuming they were imaginary, and he began to piece bits together. Since then, you'd taught the man how to make a few cocktails on his own (He'd slowly come around to Pina Coladas, not that he would ever admit that,) and how to win at darts. He was a fan of your sarcasm and quick wit, leading to short yet interesting conversations between you both.

Surprisingly, he was one of the first people you'd told about Robin. The only person, really. You'd gotten tipsy and started rambling about a girl, hesitantly giving him her name, and thus leading to an elaborate file created with his P.I experience hidden underneath a chest of drawers at his humble abode.

Just in case of an emergency or if she broke your heart, or something.

"Listen, Mr Bun-man," Erica started, "I've been down in that shithole for 24 hours, and with all due respect, you do what this man tells you to do, and you're all gonna die."

He looked over to you, and you simply shrugged, allowing the younger girl to have the floor for her moment. Lucas looked as confused as the rest of the group, eyes fixated on his sister that he had no idea was embarking on these ridiculous adventures.

"I'm sorry, why is this four-year-old speaking to me?" Murray questioned, looking expectedly at Hopper before being interrupted by the menace.

"Um, I'm ten, you bald bastard!"

"Erica!" Lucas cut in, eyes widened at his sister's behaviour.

"What? Just the facts!"

"She's right," Dustin began, "You're all gonna die, but you don't have to. Excuse me." He muttered, pushing his way to the front in order to address everyone.

"Sorry, may I?" He asked Murray, an aghast look on the man's face.

"Please." Murray grinned sarcastically, stepping back in order to give him access to the map.

He began his little rant, explaining all of the details of what he'd seen inside the Russian base, making you wince every time the place was even mentioned. Every other word turned to a flicker in your mind, an image of the man you'd stuffed into a cupboard after knocking him out. You wondered if he was still alive, whether or not he had a family. They weren't all monsters, you supposed.

Hopper looked expectedly between Dustin and Joyce, trying to formulate some kind of response, stepping closer to the boy to interrupt him but immediately dismissed and waved away by the boy's hand.

Dustin Henderson hadn't finished talking yet, and to hell with anyone who tried to stop him before he was done. Literally.

He was, however, interrupted by Hopper throwing a Walkie-talkie at his face.

"You can navigate, just do it from someplace safe."

"It's not that simple, Hop." You added, stepping in momentarily to try and make him understand.

"The signal won't reach." Erica confirmed, scoffing with Dustin as if they were aware of something that none of the rest of you were.

"Not with this. You'd need, what, something with a high enough frequency hand to relay the Russian's radio tower, but for that to work, you need someone who's both seen their comms room, and has access to a super-powered, hand-crafted radio tower, one already situated at preferably the highest point in Hawkins."

Oh.

"Oh wait, that's me."

Cerebro.

Fucking Cerebro, and Suzie Bingham, and his summer time adventures. Dustin Henderson had really outdone himself this time.

"If you want us to navigate, you've got us. But we need a head start."

Hopper nodded, seemingly pleased with his co-operation.

"...And a car."

Hopper still nodded, gritting his teeth, although notably less pleased than before.

The four of them began to head out, keys in Steve's hand, before Robin noticed your absence. She rushed back, pulling you to one side.

"You're not coming?" She seemed hurt, borderline abandoned at your lack of trust in her.

"What can I say, Buckley? They need me here. Keep yourself safe, alright? Tell Harrington and the other two I say the same thing." You muttered, sad smile on your face as you pulled her into a quick hug.

"...alright." She accepted, pulling away with more hesitance than she wanted. Robin Buckley didn't often get scared, but when she did, she was terrified. And right now, Robin Buckley was really, really scared.

"You'll be okay. Still gotta take me out to dinner, don't you?" You chuckled, looking over at her as she nodded.

"Yeah. It's gonna be one hell of a dinner, so you have to stay safe, too." The reassurance was more for herself and to ease her worries rather than yours, but you'd let her have it. Steve would keep her safe, you knew that much.

"Robin!" You exclaimed, watching her turn her back before spinning on her heel to face you.

"If everything else goes wrong- I just- you look really pretty tonight."

She smiled, nodding slightly with tears welling in her eyes.

With one last glance back at you, you let Robin Buckley walk away.

In the meantime, the others prepared for the very worst, and you made time to sit beside Will and have a small chat. He was older now, and you hadn't had as much time with him over the summer as you wanted. He was scared, too.

You practically pulled him away from one of Joyce's iron-grip hugs, apologising profusely, grabbing a spare milkshake from one of the abandoned shops for him. Chocolate chip, the same flavour he'd had every other time you'd taken him over the years.

"You okay?" You asked, even though you knew the answer.

"Yeah, you? You look like you got dragged through a hedge backwards." He quipped, sarcastic little smile on his face despite it all. It made you chuckle, which made you wince, hand moving to clutch the remaining makeshift-stitches in your side.

"Gee, thanks. Russians aren't nice- but you're real funny, kid. Should be a comedian, or something."

"I know." He left it at that, simply resting his head on your shoulder and enjoying the remaining quiet. He could feel what was coming.

Eventually, the adults herded you all into separate directions, the three of them preparing to take off. You knew Hopper had spoken to El, but that didn't mean you were ready to let him go without saying goodbye.

You engulfed him in a quick hug, throwing your arms around him as he chuckled into the top of your head, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"You're gonna be fine, alright? You're gonna be fine." You muttered, and it sounded scarily like a goodbye.

" 'Course I am. I always am. Even when kids like you force me into going senile with your arrests and all that shit."

"Hop I swear on my life, I'll never drink again if you come back entirely unscathed."

"I'll hold you to that. See you soon, kid." He ruffled the top of your head, as per usual, before heading to the tunnels with Joyce and Murray. You offered the other two a quick wave, which they returned, before they walked away.

You could feel the stitches loosening, and a trickle of blood crept out from underneath the makeshift bandages.

You were a pawn in this game, and you weren't going to last long.

At least Robin didn't have to see it, if you did go, you thought. She'd be safe with Steve, and you'd have to rain check that dinner. All in all, it was better you than them.

It took roughly half an hour for things to start to fall apart. Mike had begun pacing around the Mall, rambling angrily into the walkie-talkie as you sat beside Lucas, watching as he aimed his slingshot, drawing it back with ease.

"Scoops Troop, do you copy? Billy has found us. He has disabled our car and we are trapped in the mall. Repeat: Billy has disabled our car and has us trapped in the mall." He trailed off, as you moved to crouch beside Nancy.

In the half an hour, you'd been graciously filled in on all the gory details, including the untimely possession of Billy Hargrove.

"You're gonna kill him, aren't you?" Max chimed in, looking down at the overly large gun in her hands. You had to admit, you see what you saw in the girl before you moved onto Robin. Not that you'd ever try anything, but she was absolutely gorgeous- Steve had been an idiot to let someone like her go. Though, you were happy she seemed content with Jonathon. She'd filled you in on all the other details too, and you'd let her know exactly how hard you'd slapped Steve after you heard about the incident at the cinema.

She seemed rather pleased with that.

"This is just a precaution, okay?" Nancy reassured pulling herself to her feet as you wandered around aimlessly, trying to keep pressure on your side.

"Do you copy?" Mike begged in the background, voice fading in and out of range as he slowly paced the size of the mall. It was interesting to see how long you could go before you had to hear his voice again, timing it so you didn't snap and break the walkie in his hands.

"No chance that thing'll drive, right?" Nancy chuckled, responding to one of the queries the kids had made. Something clicked in Jonathon's head as he looked it over, eyebrows furrowing as he stepped closer.

"We don't need it to drive- we just need the ignition cable." He grinned, watching as everyone ran over to attempt to flip the car onto it's side.

You all groaned, moving backwards as the truth sunk in; you couldn't move this car alone.

Fortunately, you all turned to a girl in a yellow shirt, more than happy to help. She stepped forward, raising her hand and attempting to flip the car, struggling slightly.

Her nose began to bleed and the car shook slightly, but didn't move in the way you needed it to. Luckily, her attempts seemed to dislodge it, and with some help, it tipped over. She shook her head, rushing over and rifling through a bin as you all looked confused, watching her. She eventually found a small, red, Coke can, placing it on the side and staring intensely at it.

Memories flickered back and forth of her in the lab, crushing the can with ease in her mind, but quickly interrupted by the grating sound of Mike Wheeler's voice.

"El! Are you okay?" He muttered, rushing to her side with Max trailing behind him. You ignored their antics for now, choosing to hang back and rifle through the car's engine, searching desperately for the ignition cable as the burning in your side began to grow.

Will reached for the back of his neck, feeling an indescribable cold wash over him; before he had a chance to warn anyone, the mall went silent, disturbed only by the terrifying thudding of something crawling over the glass ceiling.

You glanced over at Will, and he nodded, providing all the confirmation you needed.

The Mind Flayer was back.

You rushed to anywhere, hiding in the shadows of an abandoned store towards the left, crouched behind the car with the others, Will shuddering beside you and burrowing into your side. You bit your tongue, swallowing the pain, and allowed him to continue. He felt the blood slowly begin to coat your vest again, and looked up at you; you only shook your head in response, willing him not to mention it. It'd be over soon, anyways.

Dustin desperately pleaded through the walkie-talkie after their long-awaited arrival to the hill, crowded in a circle as Robin felt her stomach drop. Something was wrong, she could feel it. Steve caught her eye, and she could tell he could feel it too.

"Griswold Family, do you copy?" He begged, over and over, getting only a demonic screech in return as the Mind Flayer tossed it aside.

"Shit." He muttered, suddenly scrambling to get everything done a lot faster.

"Anyone, answer! Please, anyone just answer! Confirm your safety!" He begged, the voice falling on deaf ears as the Mind Flayer smashed it into pieces, stopping the transmission altogether. You all held your knees to your chest, prepared to bolt at a moments notice, not even breathing.

It moved to the right, stalking over to a large group of shops, sludging along and dragging limbless parts of its body behind it. It stopped directly over Max, El and Mike, hesitating for a moment before continuing, leaving a trail of black tar in its wake.

Rolling and twisting its joints, if you could even call it that, it slumped beside the gap, falling to the ground in order to comfort the small twitching organism that had been flung out of El's leg only an hour or so before. The smaller black mass grimaced in pain, squealing as the larger black mass screamed, shouting incoherent mumbles at the seemingly empty mall.

Dustin yelled at his own walkie, still pleading endlessly for any of you to pick up, and after a particularly nasty snarl echoed over the comms, Steve decided that he had had enough. Rather than explaining, he simply stood up, rushing back to the car.

"Where are you going?" Erica shouted after him, and Steve didn't pause his swift jog, only yelling back as he turned his head.

"To get them the hell outta there! Stay here, contact the others!"

Robin shook her head, gritting her teeth before standing and rushing after him, Dustin screaming after her.

"Robin! Stay in touch!" He yelled, quickly tossing her one of the spare walkies in order to allow her to contact them, her nodding and racing after Steve, locking herself in the car.

Meanwhile, the Mind Flayer paced back towards the car, and each of you took turns to stiffen, leaning back against the car, eyes wide with terror. Will began to hyperventilate and you took his hand in yours, feeling the energy seep out of you with every extra second you spent awake. It reminded you of the nasty gash across your leg that a Demodog had left, and the way you felt close to death in the tunnels, unwittingly accepting your fate.

At least this time, you had a chance to save someone. Even if it killed you, you could get Will Byers home and safe. In turn, keeping Robin safe, too. You could make up for bringing her into this mess in the first place.

That would be enough for you.

Nancy glanced over, risking a sneaky look in the direction of one of the car's wingmirrors, wincing as the Mind Flayer carelessly tossed a Russian's body into the wall. For fun, you presumed. Predators always liked to play with their pray before they killed them.

"It's turned away," Mike started, catching a glimpse of the monster before lowering himself back down, "if we run upstairs now, we'll make it."

"No way, not with El's leg." Max insisted, gesturing to the hurt girl.

"We have to try!" He whisper-shouted, glaring at the redhead, getting increasingly aggravated by the second. You managed to find them in a shop window's reflection, noticeably getting more agitated with staying still.

You knew they were going to move, and you prepared yourself to run, just in case.

A large metal rod that had been used to pry the car from the wall had been left alone near your feet, and you quickly leant forward to grab it, breath hitching in the back of your throat. They could use a distraction, if everything else were to go horribly wrong. Nancy seemed to notice your sudden movement, narrowing her eyes in confusion before turning her glance to the crimson slowly seeping out from the bottom of your vest.

She was aware that you were unlikely to make it, too.

"There's another way," El muttered, weighing in on the conversation.

"Out," She started, "Through the gap."

She gestured to the large store around the corner and Mike began to nod, a plan coming to mind. You could see them preparing to run, and moved yourself to another corner, out of sight from the mind Flayer and away from the others, as far as you could go. You refused to bring them down with you.

You remembered the raven-haired boy's words, the way he'd so carelessly knocked the pawn from the board as he taught you.

"Painless, swift." He'd muttered, as if the pawn had a mind of its own. He almost felt sorry for knocking it from its place. At least you knew that it would be swift, as the Mind Flayer didn't attempt to toy with its victims, as far as you knew. Even if it did, you wouldn't last long, now with two of the three makeshift stitches out.

The three of them bolted, rushing quickly towards the large doors of the store, brushing past a mannequin in El's clothing. This was really, truly, incredibly bad.

If you'd known where they were headed, you wouldn't have moved. In reality, they'd sat themselves down, tripping over broken glass less than five feet away from you. The distraction wouldn't be that useful anymore, especially if you were just leading it straight back to them.

"You little shits!" You whispered, pulling them close as the Mind Flayer stepped closer, hushing them as they hugged you. It quickly flung the yellow-coloured mannequin into the wall, and you muffled El's mouth to keep a surprised yell from escaping.

A tentacle reached out, large teeth protruding from the end, and it winded through the aisles of the store in search of the noise. You all kept deathly silent, and Lucas from his position behind the car, began to pull his slingshot back.

"What are you doing?" Nancy hissed, glaring up at him. He only nodded, mainly to reassure himself, and then turned and let the small stone go, hitting a balloon and causing the tentacle to retreat back to its body. You all breathed out a sigh of relief, clutching the three of them closer than ever.

You were more than aware of the dizzying feeling approaching, looming over you in waves, but your priority right now was the kids and keeping them safe. Though, you had to admit, you were incredibly pleased at not having to sacrifice yourself.

You were really looking forward to that dinner.

All of you, including Nancy, Jonathon, Lucas and Will, used this as a welcome distraction, rushing out the closest exit and dashing up the stairs. You had to clutch the railing, but you were safer than before, so that was a start. The four of them raced out the front exit, heading towards the nearest car at Jonathon's command.

Unfortunately, the rest of their collective silence was ruined by the roar of a 1979 Chevrolet Camaro.

More importantly, Billy's Camaro.

"Shit." Jonathon whispered, quickly interrupted by Nancy.

"Go, get the car started! Go!"

She loaded her gun and steadily pointed it at the car, preparing to shoot as Jonathon climbed into the Driver's side, trying desperately to start the engine. In another car, Billy Hargrove revved his own engine, slowly pressing his foot down on the accelerator.

Nancy shot once, and then twice whilst the car headed directly at her, splintering the windshield and shattering the windows. that didn't phase him, and only seemed to anger him more while the others began to panic in the backseats.

She shot again, and again, him speeding up with every second, and Nancy Wheeler prepared herself for the end. Much like you, her one goal was to protect the kids, and at least she was going out doing that. The impact would most likely kill Billy on the spot, and they would be able to escape safely.

This was it, she decided. She breathed in, out, relaxed her shoulders and shut her eyes, firing as many rounds as she could.

Though unfortunately, her body had not come to the same conclusion, letting out a sharp squeal as the girl ducked to protect herself, met with the crashing sounds of two cars colliding and shattering glass.

Steve Harrington had come to save the day, once again. He'd rammed Billy's Camaro head on, breathing heavily as Robin clutched the door.

"You okay?" He muttered, panting and still riding the adrenaline high. Robin Buckley, albeit terrified, managed to compose herself slightly and whimpered out a short response.

"Ask me tomorrow?"

Before either of them could fully acknowledge what had just happened, a snarling interrupted them, echoing from above. The shadow of a deformed creature sprinted across the roof of Starcourt Mall, stopping them where they stood.

In the meantime, Billy Hargrove pulled his broken body from the burning wreckage, grimacing with every step as he slowly trudged into the Mall. He didn't want to do this, but unluckily for him, he was no longer in control. A bone-chilling numbness had seeped into every pore in his body, flooding his senses with a freezing cold that he no longer recognised. Billy Hargrove was no killer, not ordinarily, but he wasn't the one pulling the strings anymore.

Billy Hargrove was whatever this thing wanted him to be.

So whilst you, Mike and Max helped El limp back to a safer place, Billy Hargrove roamed the halls of Starcourt once more. This time, he wasted no time in finding you all. He slumped through the white corridors, quickly facing Max in an empty room in order to get to El. You stepped in front of both of them, and he chuckled.

"Why's it always you?" He asked, a dark laugh slipping from his lips despite the obvious discomfort in his face.

"Billy, you need to leave."

He simply tutted, shaking his head as if he weren't in pain at all. The black veins crawled up his neck as he arched his head backwards, smirk growing and relishing in the silence.

"You're not taking these kids, Hargrove." You pushed, holding your ground.

"Shame, that's not up to you."

He quickly tried to push past you, and you retaliated by smacking him in the face as hard as possible. He recoiled, bringing a hand to the side of his cheek and wincing before bringing his fist back, hitting you in the face. You didn't even flinch, still chasing the adrenaline high before returning to fight him, pushing him further against the wall and bringing your knee up to hit his crotch, watching him grimace before digging two of his fingers into the wound in your side.

You cried out, still scratching desperately at his skin, before he caught onto the third and final staple, ripping it from your skin. Your eyes widened and he pushed you against the wall, giving your leg a sharp stomp for good measure, hearing something crack. You let our an ear-piercing wail, sobbing as he moved past and began the long walk to Max.

You tried to move but found you were unable to, stuck bleeding out on the floor, your ankle once again bent the wrong way.

"Billy," Max tried, "You don't have to do this- your name's Billy, Billy Hargrove," She begged, pleading with every syllable.

"You live on 4819 Cherry Lane, Billy please, I'm your sister-" She cried as he approached, backhanding her across the face and watching as she slumped to the ground too.

Mike tried next, rushing over to him and shoving Billy as hard as he could, and Billy retaliated by slamming his head against a metal pole before turning to El. She screamed, raising a hand up to try and do something, anything, but was quickly manhandled and shoved against a wall, things going black rather quickly. He picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder and began the walk back to the middle of Starcourt.

"Shit." You breathed out, making note of the way he'd abandoned the other kids, focusing solely on El, with tears slipping past your eyes. You could feel yourself fading but didn't want to give up yet, not entirely done helping.

You could let yourself be a pawn later.

You found an abandoned piece of cloth besides a mass of pipes, reaching for it and gritting your teeth, tying it around your waist. If you could stop the blood loss, you'd be fine. You'd deal with your leg later.

You glanced around desperately, trying to move yourself or at least prop the other two up, but found that quicker than you'd liked, it all went black. You spent a total of twelve minutes in-and-out of consciousness, eventually roused by the sound of Max attempting to wake Mike (and failing, miserably.)

You mumbled something incoherent, feeling the sharp stabbing pain in your ankle but finding yourself much more mobile, dragging yourself to your knees. She noticed your sudden commentary and breathed a sigh of relief, helping you up with a makeshift pipe as some sort of crutch as you both tried to wake Mike.

"Mike, can you hear me? Mike! Mike!" She yelled, practically pushing him over. He whispered in response, murmuring El's name as he woke, pushing himself up with his hands as his skull felt just about ready to split in half.

"C'mon-" She helped him up and you trailed after them, using the wall to help steady yourself, feeling slightly better now blood wasn't leaking from your side with every step.

"You okay?" She asked, Mike simply shaking his head in response, looking around to try and get his bearings. He stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced over at both of you.

"Where's El?"

"He's got her." You chimed in, coughing slightly before moving to a different position, attempting to walk as quickly as possible. You wanted to help, even like this.

You rushed in, steadying yourself on a corner joined by Mike and Max at your side, staring as Billy Hargrove approached the Mind Flayer. Whatever El had said, perhaps the reminder of his mother or the fact that he was capable of good, something he hadn't known for a long time, had broken whatever possession the Mind Flayer had over him.

Now, he faced the creature as Billy Hargrove.

Just Billy Hargrove, and that was enough.

The creature came for him early, digging its limbs into his side as he fought it off, and he came to the untimely realisation that he wasn't scared. He figured he would be, when the time came, after all the drugs and the cigarettes, the drinking and the sex- he figured he'd want to feel something.

It was a substitute for the numbing cold he'd felt settled into his bones over the last few weeks and so just feeling anything was okay. He was protecting Max, something that he should've done this entire time but was too cowardly to do so, and that was okay.

He hoped this would make up for it in the end.

El scrambled backwards, and Dustin screamed commands into Cerebro from the top of the hill. Hopper saw the opportunity, and in what he believed to be his final moments, he saw all of you. He saw him and Joyce, dancing in the kitchen at midnight and fighting over useless things in the spring. He saw him and El, the Miami Vice flickering in the background accompanied by nights on the sofa. He saw you and him, watching you grow up and finally move out of Hawkins, escape to somewhere, anywhere; to finally just be happy. He saw him and Will, bonding over his drawing and talking about everything they could find.

He saw all of you, and Jim Hopper realised that he wasn't scared either. They were both going to go out protecting the kids, and that's all that mattered.

That didn't mean that Hopper didn't still want one last look at the woman he loved before he went, though.

Joyce watched as the flames engulfed everything, raging across the room as the gate sealed itself shut, slowly cutting off the connection to the other world. The rest of you saw the Mind Flayer slump to the ground, leaving an almost dead Billy Hargrove in its wake.

He chuckled, watching you and Max scramble over to him, pleased to see you all for one last time.

"Did I do good?" He mumbled, looking up at you as you held Max, bringing tears to your eyes. You didn't like it when anyone died, if you were being honest. Watching the life drain from a person's eyes- not a pretty picture. You saw it happen with Bob Newby, and even managed to get a good look at Barbara Holland's rotting corpse during your time in the upside-down.

It never got any easier.

"You know damn well you did, Hargrove. Ever the cocky son-of-a-bitch." You choked out, smiling slightly at the joy in his eyes when he saw Max. He wanted to apologise, to spend the rest of his days grovelling at her feet for the way he'd treated her. He wanted to make amends, but would never get a chance.

"Billy, please get up- please, please-" Max begged, whimpering at the sight of her older brother in pain. Despite it all, he was still her brother, and most of the family she had left.

"I'm...sorry." He slipped out amongst coughs, holding her hand and trying to pull her closer to him in his final moments. He really did mean it, this time.

"Billy? Billy, c'mon, wake up- this isn't- this isn't funny, Billy- wake up! Please, Billy you have to get up-" She sobbed, crying into your chest as you held her, rocking her back and forth, the both of you a mess.

She wept into his chest, pulling him closer before slumping back into you, and El, who'd walked over to comfort Max too.

"It's okay-" You both murmured, hugging her tight to your chest, sobs wracking through her body with unimaginable force. It only confirmed one thing in your mind; you never, ever wanted to see Max Mayfield like this again. You'd do anything.

Within twenty-five minutes, you'd all been escorted out of the building, and Robin Buckley was itching to find you.

You'd promised- You'd promised her, that you would stay safe. So, you had to be safe, she reasoned.

Eventually, her resolve came crashing down when she found you in the back of an ambulance, finally getting some proper stitches with tears streaming down your face, lollipop jutting out the corner of your lips with a sad smile. You caught sight of the Buckley girl rushing over to you, clutching and holding you close as you pulled her tighter to your chest.

"Hey, Robs." You whispered, chuckling into her shoulder as she let out a small laugh, leaning back and resting her forehead against yours. In the background, Steve Harrington watched the two of you closely and finally put two and two together. Or started to, at least. You looked happy, for the first time in a really long time.

"You stayed safe." She muttered, hugging you once more as the reality of the situation finally set in.

You were okay, and so was she.

You just about, despite the agony in your leg drove the both of you home after that, refusing to part with her until you knew that she was alright. Neither of you spoke on the way to yours, only living in a state of blissful silence as she escorted you to the door. She helped you inside, fully prepared to walk home, and you waved from your window. You slumped onto the couch with a small glass of water, turning the TV on to some mind-numbing channel. You'd heard about Hopper but unfortunately, had run out of tears to cry this evening. You'd let yourself feel all that tomorrow.

You had a feeling you wouldn't be sleeping much tonight. You never did, especially after nights like these. The monsters came for you in slumber, proving that you could've been faster, should've been stronger, and you got shown the kids splayed out on the concrete a thousand different ways.

You didn't want to sleep all that much.

You heard a knock at the door twenty-three minutes later, and figured it would be Steve- he often came after a fight, just so you could brave the night terrors together when you inevitably passed out. What you didn't expect to find was the Buckley girl stood at your door again, sucking in a breath.

"I don't know if you wanted to, but um- I don't have anything on tonight, and I just- fuck," She started, "I didn't realise it would be this hard. Okay, uh, dinner?"

She held out a large tub of vanilla ice cream and a small chess board, looking more beautiful than she'd ever looked before.

"God, you really are something, aren't you Buckley?" You grinned, pulling her in by the wrist and tumbling onto the couch together, her quickly pressing her lips to yours. It was far better than in constant duress underground in a Russian base, but was jaw-dropping then, nonetheless.

You winced, forgetting about the pain in your eye as she pulled away, looking down at you and laughing slightly.

"Oi, don't be mean-"

"I'm not! I'm not, I swear!" She chuckled, resting her head in the crook of your neck. You brought a hand up to run through her hair, and she relaxed, moving to a more comfortable position on the sofa where both of you could face the TV.

"Told you my dinners were good." She grumbled, grabbing the nearest spoon as you flipped through the channels, preparing yourself for a long night.

"Yeah, yeah, we're not finished yet- don't go getting cocky on me now, Buckley."

She smiled, and you smiled, and you spent the whole night watching Miami Vice, eating ice cream and playing chess.

You were alright, and in Robin's eyes, nothing else mattered.

Not anymore.

----------------------------

Taglist: @onceandfuturequeenofthecats

#robin buckley x reader #robin x reader #robin buckley #platonic steve and robin #stranger things reader insert #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dustin henderson #enjoy your day #its done #erica sinclair #i know the end #chapter update #merry christmas

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honnelander · 7 months

Text

tart

HERE WE GO EVERYONE. the long awaited jealous!Sanji fic!! AKA a prequel to the main go fish! storyline!! this fic takes place before the main events in go fish! but after they met at the Baratie. and don't worry, part 3 for the main series will be on the way. enjoy!! request: i was wondering if you’d consider making a lil imagine/blurb about sanji being jealous of someone flirting with the reader? like imagine zoro and the reader just talking and then zoro suddenly leans closer and whispers to her “it seems we’ve got an audience” or smth like that

WARNINGS: none

word count: 3.7k

pairing: jealous opla!sanji x fem!reader

summary: Sanji watches Zoro and reader talk and gets jealous. Nami tries to calm him down but fails.

go fish! series: part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @nimtano @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera

“Reading that garbage again?” a voice called out.

At hearing the question, you glanced up from your well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, your favorite book, only to see a calm Zoro casually stroll over to you with a hint of amusement on his face.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Don’t knock it till you try it, oh great sword master,” you playfully jabbed as you shook out the book to him as he leaned his back against the ship’s front railing, resting his elbows on top of it. “The almighty Zoro isn’t allergic to reading, is he?”

Zoro snorted, glancing down at your cross-legged position on top of a crate before returning his sights to the Going Merry’s deck and the open ocean. “Yeah, I am allergic,” he agreed. “Allergic to reading that monstrosity you call a book.”

“Ooo, ‘monstrosity’. That’s a mighty big word for a non-reader like yourself, Zoro. Good job,” you teased as you marked your page before closing the book and joining your friend in looking across the deck and out towards the ocean.

The green-haired swordsman crossed his arms. “I read.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, not convinced. “Sure you do.”

“I do,” he defended in a gruff voice.

“Oh yeah? Here, I’ll make it easy for you: tell me about one book you’ve read.”

Zoro scoffed. “I can tell you about way more than one.”

You couldn’t help the surprised noise that came out of you. “Oh, yeah? ’More than one’?” you asked with a raised brow and glanced up at your fellow straw hat, trying to wipe off the grin on your face.

You were certainly surprised that Zoro has read more than one book in his lifetime, but you weren’t surprised that he took your earlier question as a challenge. Classic Zoro, you thought in amusement. The guy could never pass up a challenge, no matter what it was about.

So, you repositioned yourself on your crate, making yourself comfortable for the discussion ahead. “Alright, come on,” you said and sat up straighter, urging Zoro on, “let’s hear it. Tell me all about them.”

From the back of the ship, on the upper deck above the kitchen, a certain chef took a long drag on his cigarette as he watched you and his least favorite swordsman be engrossed in conversation. Sanji removed the butt of his cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and index finger, keeping the smoke in his lungs for as long as he could, before slowly exhaling the smoke from his nostrils, his eyes never leaving the two of you.

“Daaamn, Sanji,” Usopp drawled as he messed with the sails on the ship’s mast nearby, glancing at the chef for a second before returning to his knots. “You look like a smoking dragon. All ferocious and mean. And....extra smokey.”

Sanji’s gaze didn’t budge, Usopp’s words not fazing the cook in the slightest. “Oh yeah? And what of it knot-boy?” he asked with a slight edge to his words, taking another drag on his cigarette and exhaling through his lips.

At Sanji’s snarky question, Usopp recoiled and looked back at Sanji more closely with a confused expression. It was rare for Sanji to lose his cool or be in a bad mood for no reason, unless he was going back and forth in an argument with Zoro but even then, the blonde chef usually took those in stride with a smile, much to Zoro’s annoyance, so this was new.

“Aren’t those things supossed to calm you down?” Usopp asked as he nodded to the cigarette in the cook’s hand.

“I am calm,” Sanji rebuked a little too quickly to be true.

Usopp then noticed how intent Sanji’s stare was towards something at the front of the ship and raised an eyebrow. Whatever he was staring at must be pissing him off because the chef’s gaze looked absolutely lethal. What the hell could be making him so mad? Usopp followed Sanji’s gaze, looked towards the front of the ship, and saw....y/n and Zoro talking?

To Usopp, it looked like they were just having a normal conversation, but when he saw y/n laugh at something Zoro said, hitting his arm with a grin and Zoro having a slight smile, he heard Sanji scoff loudly in disgust and mutter something under his breath.

And in that moment, it dawned on Usopp what was up, and it was hard for him to contain his shit eating grin: Sanji was jealous. Sanji was jealous of y/n and Zoro. To Usopp, it looked like a completely normal conversation between friends since he knew of y/n’s affections for the blonde cook. But to Sanji? It probably seemed like a complete flirt fest, and he was jealous.

Up until this point Usopp had thought y/n’s crush was only one sided. Sure, he’s had his suspicions ever since Sanji seemed to stare at y/n more often than not, but Usopp was still just a guy at the end of the day, so he never considered if Sanji might actually have feelings for y/n too.

But now? Oh boy- Usopp was all caught up to speed and he couldn’t wait to meddle in their budding relationship and tease the heck out of them both for it (when the time was right, of course).

Usopp looked back over at Sanji and wiped off his grin as best he could. “You say somethin’ Sanji?” he asked innocently, knowing damn well the chef said absolutely nothing. “I thought I heard you mutter something.”

Sanji flicked the ashes off his cigarette. “No.”

“Oh. Must just be the wind then...”

Suddenly, y/n’s laughter could be heard from the ship’s front and Sanji nearly snarled in disgust and shook his head. “What the-” Sanji started but let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s not even funny,” Sanji complained before taking another hit on his cigarette.

Usopp couldn’t help himself, he had to poke the bear. “Who, Zoro? I think he’s funny.”

The blonde chef let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, funny looking.”

He also had to twist the knife. “Well, y/n seems to think he’s funny.”

Sanji chuckled to himself and stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating Usopp’s words. “You know what? It doesn’t matter,” he muttered and took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out and immediately lighting up a fresh one.

Unbeknown to the cook and slingshot fighter, standing underneath them and near the tangerine trees was the Going Merry’s orange-haired navigator, who had heard their whole conversation.

------------- -----

“Zoro!” You laughed loudly and hit your crewmate on his bicep. “Reading books on how to dismember your opponents doesn’t count as real reading!”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Zoro’s face as he raised an eyebrow at you. “Says you. Can you tell me fifty different ways on how to cut up a body? No? I didn’t think so.”

“Fair enough,” you relented good naturedly with a small laugh as you shook your head. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

A comfortable silence fell over you both as you let out a small sigh, watching the waves crash.

After a few quiet beats, however, you felt Zoro lean into your personal space as he lowly murmured, “Don’t look now, but it seems like we have an audience.”

You blinked in confusion as your eyebrows pulled together. “What? An audience? Where?” Completely disregarding Zoro’s instructions, you immediately started looking around the ship. “Watching what?”

“Us,” Zoro said simply and returned to his full height.

You shook your head in disbelief. “What? Us? Now who would be watching-” you started to say but the rest of your sentence died in your throat when you saw piercing blue eyes staring right you both. “...us?” you finished slowly.

Sanji? Sanji was your audience? But- why? What? You were so confused. Even from this far away, you could tell something was off with him. His posture was stiff and the usual smile that adorned his features whenever he saw you was nowhere to be seen.

“When did he get here? I didn’t know he was on deck...” you trailed off, about to move to hop off the crate and make your way over to Sanji to see what the matter with him was when something stopped you.

Before you could hop off the crate, you saw Sanji put out his cigarette and make his way off the deck and head down into the kitchen, not sparing you another glance. As you made your way across the deck, about to follow him into the kitchen, Usopp quickly called out to you from up on the ship’s mast, asking for your help with knot tying since ‘yours were so much better than his’. You agreed with a small sigh, not wanting Usopp to struggle by himself, so you made your way to the mast and started climbing, but not before sparing the entryway to the kitchen one last glance.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Sanji flittered around, grabbing random ingredients he saw at first glance. Mushrooms? Grabbed. A block of cheese? Sure. Corn? Ok. Tomatoes? Sure, whatever.

As he looked down at the growing pile of ingredients on the counter, he stopped for a second to examine the pile, putting his hands in his pockets. What the hell was he supposed to make out of this? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight, and it was bothering the absolute hell out of him. The kitchen had always been his sanctuary, a place where he could always rely on to decompress and escape from his thoughts as he got swept away in the act of cooking that came so naturally to him. Usually.

But today? His natural instincts weren’t there. He felt his chef’s mind drawing up a blank on how to mix all of these items together and the longer he stood there, the more ticked off he became. On a normal day, he’d have thought up of 15 different dishes he could make and already have been busy at work making one of those ideas come to life. But now? There was nothing. No ideas swirling around in his head, nothing.

He could feel his face twist up in irritation the longer he was standing there until finally, he let out a short, brusque sigh, muttering, “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with all this?”

“You’re the chef, aren’t you supposed to figure that out or something?”

The blonde chef glanced up from the pile and saw Nami casually strolling in from the deck and up to the counter opposite of him, hands clasped behind her back, with a curious eyebrow raised.

Instantly, to cover up his sour mood, the cook plastered on a fake smile. “Well, it seems my mind is a little blank at the moment, Darling. Why don’t you come over here and help me come up with an idea or two?” he offered with a wink, taking his hands out to lean against the counter.

But Nami saw right through him. “I’m good, thanks,” she declined bluntly. Nami wasn’t sure when she had become the Going Merry’s pseudo-therapist, especially since this crew hadn't been together for more than 3 months at this point, but someone had to be, and she figured the only way to get Sanji to talk right now would be if he was doing something he loved: cooking. “Actually,” she started offhandedly, “I have a request for you.”

Now that immediately got the cook’s attention. “Oh?” he asked with a raised brow, straightening up as he dropped the fake flirty persona.

“Yeah,” she said aloud, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself that she actually had a request for the cook. From behind her back, she pulled out a couple of tangerines. With a slight smile and raised brow, she said matter-of-factly, “If I remember correctly, I believe I was told I could ask for a tangerine tart anytime I’d like?”

A genuine smile came across Sanji’s face at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, as he laughed with a nod. “The Madam is correct.” He took the fruits from Nami’s hands and placed them on the counter, pushing away his bizarre pile of ingredients to make room. “One tangerine tart coming right up,” he said and started bustling around the kitchen with purpose this time, pulling out the necessary ingredients, a far cry from his movements a couple of minutes ago.

Seeing Sanji occupied, Nami took a seat at the table, sitting where she had left her charting journal and reading glasses from breakfast that morning. She opened her journal back up and put her glasses on, flipping through the pages and resuming her sketch of her latest map.

Both of them worked in silence for a few minutes, both engrossed in their respective activities until Nami broke it. Before speaking, she snuck a glance at the chef, making sure he was preoccupied before she started prodding and sure enough, he was. Perfect.

“You know, I never told anyone this before,” Nami started, laying the groundwork for Sanji to open up, creating a tit for tat sort of thing, “but I actually love tangerine tarts.”

Sanji huffed slightly with a slight smile, not looking up from his work. “Oh yeah? Well, be prepared to fall in love with them all over again.” He started pouring heavy cream into a separate bowl, adding sugar before whisking it all together. “Even Zeff used to say I made a mean tangerine tart.”

Nami hummed. “Maybe you can make Zoro fall in love with them too,” she said casually, sneaking a quick look at Sanji, only to see him press his lips together in a firm line and start to whisk the cream harder at the mention of the swordsman. “Or y/n,” she added quickly. “I don’t think she’s ever had one either.”

At the mention of you, Sanji’s face and motions relaxed slightly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I...think you’re right about that.”

The orange-haired girl rotated her journal ninety degrees. She decided to prod a little harder. “I think I saw them talking earlier.”

Sanji simply hummed in agreement, cracking eggs into a bowl, staying silent. With the third egg, however, he cracked it a little too hard on the counter, causing the raw egg contents to splatter everywhere and onto his black blazer.

“Ah- fucking hell,” he muttered in disgust, throwing the broken eggshell into the trash before cleaning his hands off in the sink.

Nami looked up from her work and quirked an eyebrow at her crewmate. “You good?”

The blonde cook shook his head once with a sardonic smile. “Never better,” he quipped.

Ok, she couldn’t do this dance anymore. Nami closed her journal and took off her glasses, looking straight at him. “Alright, you want to tell me what the hell is going on? You’re acting weird, even for you.” Sanji opened his mouth to protest but Nami spoke before he could. “And don’t lie to me.”

Mouth still open, Sanji exhaled slowly and deflated. “I- I’m fine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sanji-”

Upon hearing his name, Sanji blinked and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Nami rarely called him by his name.

“Cut the bullshit,” she continued. “I heard your conversation with Usopp and you certainly didn’t sound ‘fine’.”

Sanji was caught red-handed. With what exactly? He didn’t really know but he did know he was caught in a lie because he definitely did not feel fine. He shrugged his shoulders, at a loss for words. “I...” he sighed and took off his ruined blazer, draping it over the back of an empty chair, rolling up his sleeves as he avoided Nami’s expectant stare. He grabbed a dirty rag and started cleaning the egg off the counter. “I don’t know...”

“Sanji, you can barely crack an egg.”

That brought out a short bark of laughter from the chef. “Yeah,” he relented. “Obviously.”

“Is this because of your jealously over y/n and Zoro?”

“My- my what? My jealously?” he sputtered and scoffed, still not looking Nami in the eye. “I, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why on earth would I be jealous over that stick in the mud?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Nami played along, tapping her temple, pretending she was deep in thought. “Maybe because you saw and heard them laughing from all the way across the ship?” she pointed out. When Sanji tried to wave off her accusations with an unconvincing smile, Nami decided to just go in for the kill. If Sanji wasn’t going to admit his obvious liking towards her female crewmate and friend himself, then she’d have to do it for him. “Maybe....maybe because you might have a little crush on y/n?” she offered with a raised brow, staring right at him.

“Wh-what?? A crush?” Sanji quickly rebuked, jerking his head back. “What are we? Little kids?”

From her spot at the table, Nami could swear she saw a faint dusting of pink appear on his cheeks. She smirked to herself. She got him. “Well,” she shrugged, “it doesn’t matter how old we get, we all get crushes from time to time.”

You? A crush? Sanji shook his head as he resumed making the tangerine tart. Labeling whatever feelings he had for you as simply a ‘juvenile crush’ didn’t feel right to him. You were more than that, and you didn’t deserve to be labeled as such. “No, she’s not a crush.”

“Oh, so you like-like her?” Nami said like it was obvious. “You like her as more than just a friend.”

“I-” Sanji started but stopped himself and sighed, feeling his irritation grow the longer this conversation went on. Now even the kitchen wasn’t bringing him peace? First, smoking and now this? What was next? “Why does it matter? All of a sudden, my love life is interesting to you and up for debate? I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

Nami watched his jaw tense and his body become stiff as he started zesting the tangerines. Clearly whatever feelings Sanji was dealing with, he wasn’t ready to openly talk about them, so she decided to back off.

She put her hands up in surrender, slumping back in her chair as she said, “Hey, I’m...I’m sorry. You’re right.” Deciding to give the chef his space, she gathered her belongings and stood up, making her way to the counter. “If you ever need to...talk or anything, I’m here,” she offered quietly. In a normal tone, she added, “Let me know when the tarts are ready. I really do want y/n and Zoro to try one.”

Speaking of the devil, you came into the kitchen from the deck, eyes lighting up at the sight of Sanji cooking. Seeing Sanji cook was one of your favorite things and you always loved to guess what he was making. “Sanji! Ooo, what are you making?”

Nami watched as Sanji’s whole demeanor change at the sight of you, like a switch being flipped on. She couldn’t help but smile knowingly between you both. “I’ll be in my room,” she announced before making her way out of the kitchen, leaving you both alone.

Sanji had a wide smile, shoulders relaxing as his eyes lit up. “Why don’t you guess? Give it your best shot.”

“Oh! I love this game. Ok, let’s see,” you said as you surveyed the ingredients laid out before you. “I see flour, sugar, butter and tangerines...are you making a tangerine cake or something?”

Whatever jealousy or anger he had been feeling all day just instantly disappeared once he was with you. He felt like himself again, all carefree and lighthearted as he chuckled at your guess. “Not quite, Missus. But nice try,” he said as he looked into your eyes with a crooked smile.

Missus. You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname and you felt your insides became all warm. You hoped your face didn’t give away your swooning. He's never called you that before and you hoped to God that he would never stop.

“Ah, my bad,” you laughed embarrassedly. “What are you making then?”

“I, am making a tangerine tart,” he proudly stated as he grabbed another egg, perfectly cracking it this time. “At the request of the ship’s navigator.”

A wide grin broke out across your face. “No way!!” you squealed eagerly, causing Sanji to laugh. “I’ve always wanted to try one!”

The blonde chef nodded. “Yes, she did mention that actually.” After a beat, he added, “I hope you like it.”

“Of course I will,” you said without hesitation. “I know I haven’t known you for that long, but it seems like everything you make is phenomenal. You’re the best cook I know.”

Normally, nearly everyone compliments his cooking (except for Zoro) and he never really thought anything of it. He knew was the best cook in the East Blue and someday, the whole world when he found the All Blue. But hearing that compliment from you? How you said it so easily and with such certainty? He felt a funny, warm feeling deep within his chest and when he looked at you, just like how you knew for certain that he was the best chef around, he knew right then that you really were the most beautiful woman he’s ever known.

So, yeah. Nami was right. He guessed he did have a little crush on you, or ‘like-liked’ you- whatever she was saying.

“Do you mind if I watch?”

Your question broke the little staring trance he was in, blinking and tearing his gaze away from you as he tried to refocus on the task before him. He truly had to make sure this was the best tart he’s ever made.

He nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. God, he was probably acting like an excited puppy, but he couldn’t help himself. “Of course you can,” he agreed with a small smile.

As you pulled up a stool to sit on the opposite side of the counter, Sanji realized something: him cooking in the kitchen with you sitting nearby? That’s something he could get used to and get used to very quickly.

#sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #sanji x y/n #opla!sanji x reader #sanji #sanji fanfiction #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece live action #opla!sanji #opla fanfiction #fluff #jealously #mutual pining #idiots in love #go fish! au #friends to lovers

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old-lorarri · 4 months

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꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟐𝐍𝐃 ─ 𝐅𝟏 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ after the tragic death of your dog barty and your grid mates look to cure your sadness by any means necessary ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ platonic! f1 grid x fem! mercedes! f1 driver! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ author note . . . ❨ merry christmas people this had me crying a bit but anyway enjoy and hope you guys have an amazing day full of gifts and love! ❩

❨ taglist | masterlist ❩

yourinstagram

liked by lewishamilton charles_leclerc 98,453,863 others

yourinstagram dear barty I can't belive this is goodbye I'm gonna miss you so much from our early morning runs, to dressing you in matching costumes, and cuddling with you till I fell asleep I don't know what I am going to do without you nothing is going to be like it was before and nothing is going to be able to fill the fuzzy lovable shaped hole inside my heart but you I will miss and remember you forever - Y/N

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THE PAPAYA CHILD 🧡

link

I have an idea 💡

MAD MAXAMILIAN

god I'm scared 😦

the only time lando has an idea it normally goes to shit 💀

IL PREDESTINATO 🏎

max has a point lando 😭😭

you aren't exactly known for your ideas 🫣

HOT CHILLI POT 🔥🌶

I have to agree with them amigo 👍

BIG D DANNY 🤠

yeah mate god gave you many gifts 🫡

but brains is not one of them

THE PAPAYA CHILD 🧡

traitors 💔

HAMMER TIME ⚒️

lando why is that link of a tweet that says

"at this point I just want to buy Y/N all the dog's in the world just to make her happy"

I know we are all rich but isn't this pushing it 💀

THE PAPAYA CHILD 🧡

no no no

your missing my genius 🫤

MAD MAXAMILIAN

your right

your genius has been missing since the day you were born mate 😭

THE PAPAYA CHILD 🧡

did yall hear something?

anyway my idea was that we buy Y/N a puppy for secret santa 🥰

IL PREDESTINATO 🏎

that's actually a good idea?

HOT CHILLI POT 🔥🌶

yeah

are you sure you feeling alright?

BIG D DANNY 🤠

yeah normally you ideas are like brain farts

stinkers 👃

HAMMER TIME ⚒️

yeah

anyway moving on

I know someone that breeds doberman

I can give them a call

THE PAPAYA CHILD 🧡

sounds like a plan

we also need someone to get

collar

bed

toys

treats

and cute dog outfits

IL PREDESTINATO 🏎

if my banana costume is anything to go by 😭

I should be the one getting the cute outfits

HOT CHILLI POT 🔥🌶

agreed

and since I have the best taste 💅

I'll get the dog treats

BIG D DANNY 🤠

I'll get the toys

MAD MAXAMILIAN

and as the father of jimmy and sassy 💪

I know all about how to keep your pets comfy so I'm okay with getting the doggy bed

THE PAPAYA CHILD 🧡

and I'll get the collar

so now everyone knows their jobs

avengers assemble

MAD MAXAMILIAN

I knew his brain cells could only last so long

yourinstagram . 2hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton maxverstappen1 78,838,924 others

LAN DICKHEAD

if you got a new dog

what would you call him

Y/N

well hello to you to sir

bit soon to be making dog jokes

don't ya think

at least let my beloved boys body go cold

LAN DICKHEAD

no genuine question

if you got a new dog what would you call him

Y/N

bartholomew apophis hector the 2nd

but barty the 2nd for short

why are you asking

LAN DICKHEAD

nothing okay

goodbye

Y/N

okay you werido...

let me go back to looking at old vids of my barty

yourinstagram

liked by charles_leclerc landonorris 63,627,927 others

yourinstagram he would have loved you ❤️‍🩹

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sycamorelibrary754 · 20 days

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Happy Easter

Summary: You are three weeks from your due date, but the thought of you and Natasha missing Easter at the Barton’s farmhouse in Iowa was simply inconceivable. What will you do if your little bundle of joy makes an early, unexpected entrance?

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Avengers x reader (platonic).

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: Happy belated Easter! I wanted to post this fic on Easter, but there wasn't enough time. This is part 3 of Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas! I recommend reading those stories first, but it can be read as a stand-alone story as well. This was so much fun to write. I hope you enjoy it!

"Does anyone know where the purple egg dye is?" you inquired, scanning the table as you addressed the Barton kids. "I could have sworn we had two cups of every color." Cooper and Lila were fully engrossed in the Easter egg decorating contest, meticulously crafting their designs, while Nate seemed to relish in using every color available on the table. "Oh, it's on the counter.”

You were just about to rise from the kitchen table, no easy feat at this stage of your pregnancy. It felt like yesterday when you surprised Natasha with your pregnancy at Thanksgiving in front of her family and announced to the team that they would all be aunts and uncles at Tony’s annual Christmas party. Your due date was three weeks away, but missing Easter with Clint’s family in Iowa was out of the question.

“Don’t get up, Y/N. I got it!” Nat said as she jumped up to grab the paper cup of purple egg dye behind you.

"Thanks, sweetheart," you said as Nat placed the cup on the table.

"How are you feeling?" Natasha asked as she gently caressed your cheek. "Maybe you should take a break?”

“Nat, I promise I’m okay. Come sit back down and color some Easter eggs with us,” you replied, trying to put your wife at ease.

Natasha was looking forward to Easter, too, but she was more focused on you and the final weeks of your pregnancy. Dr. Cho had given you the green light to go, with the condition that you'd have daily check-ins by phone and go on bed rest as soon as you returned home.

"Auntie Nat, look at this!" Nate proudly showed off an egg with Natasha's symbol on it.

"Look, Auntie Nat," you echoed with a smile.

"This is amazing! Maybe I should have you design my next suit instead of Stark," she said.

"Shall we start the judging?" Clint asked as he entered the room with Laura.

"Yep, all set," Cooper confirmed.

"Just a sec," Lila said, focused on decorating her egg. "There, done."

"Where are Yelena and Kate?" Laura asked.

"We're coming!" came a shout from the living room.

"It's not a Fabergé egg, you two, come on!" Nat yelled.

"Tada!" Kate exclaimed, revealing a beautiful purple egg with green and orange stripes.

You whispered to your wife, "So that's where all the purple dye went.”

You placed your egg on the table with all the others. Pink and blue with red polka dots. Symbolic of your current anticipation over the impending arrival of your bundle of joy. You and Nat both agreed you wanted to be surprised.

“Hmmm, this is going to be a tough decision,” Clint said, stroking his chin. “As you all know, you will be judged on creativity, technique, and presentation.”

Walking back and forth in front of the kitchen table, you couldn’t help but giggle at his mock seriousness.

“Allow me to confer with my fellow judge,” he said. After a few moments of hushed whispers with Laura, Clint returned to the group. “We thank you all for your participation. You all decorated beautiful Easter eggs. The competition was tough this year, but one egg stands head and shoulders above the rest,” pausing for dramatic effect. “The 2024 Barton Easter Egg Decorating Champion is Nathaniel Barton!”

You shouldn't have spent so much time on the sketches!” Yelena said, slapping Kate on the arm.

“Yes!!” Nathaniel cheered.

“You are hereby awarded this Lindt Milk Chocolate Gold Bunny,” his father said, handing him the gold-wrapped chocolate as big as his head.

“That you will share with the rest of the family and not eat in one sitting,” Laura added.

“Aww!” Nathaniel whined.

*^~^*

You spent the evening on the porch, surrounded by the laughter of the kids playing on the lush green lawn as the sun set over the farm. Laura served her delicious homemade Lemonade as you shared stories and reminisced about old times. The air was filled with nostalgia so vivid that you could almost reach out and touch it. Natasha sat next to you, holding your hand gently, her calloused touch a reminder of the strength and resilience she had acquired through years of training.

You were taken by surprise as you felt the baby begin to kick.

"Wow!" You exclaimed as you gently placed your hand on your belly.

All eyes turned to you. Though unspoken, everyone shared the same nervous anticipation as your wife for the approaching due date.

"Are you alright, malyshka?" Nat asked, her eyes filled with concern as she squeezed your hand.

"I'm okay. The baby is kicking. Here, feel." You said as you took her hand and gently guided it to your stomach, trying to find the right spot.

“Oh,” Nat squeaked. “I’ll never get used to that feeling.”

“Think how I feel!” you teased.

“Move aside, sestra; I want to feel my little plemyannitsa or plemyannik.” (Niece or nephew).

Yelena playfully bumped her sister out of the way with her hip and eagerly reached to touch your stomach.

"Wow, that's amazing!" she cried out. "Hey there, little one. I'm Aunt Yelena, and I will spoil you rotten!"

"Have you two settled on a name yet?" Kate inquired.

"No," you sighed. "We just can't seem to agree. Since we both want to be surprised, it's been twice as hard to come up with two names."

"Don't worry, you'll know when you see the little bundle of joy," Laura reassured.

"This wouldn't be an issue if either of you were open to any of the names I've suggested," Yelena added with a grin.

“Yelena is not an option,” Natasha frustratedly replied.

“What about—“

“Neither is Alaska! That isn’t even a name!” Your wife is exasperated.

“It could be!” Yelena said. “What about—“

“Or Wolfgang!” Nat interrupted.

“You lack all originality, sestra,” Yelena berated.

^*~*^

The soft glow of the table lamp reflected off your glasses as you delved into the pages of your latest beloved read. You placed your bookmark between the pages at the sound of your wife closing the bathroom door and crawling into bed beside you.

"Did you get a chance to talk to Helen today?" Nat asked as she helped me fluff up my pregnancy pillow.

"Yeah, I did. She was glad to hear that the swelling in my ankles went down and suggested taking a warm bath to help with the discomfort," you replied, shifting to get comfortable against the pillow.

"Mmm, a warm bath does sound amazing," Natasha hummed as she settled down on her side, facing me.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d be joining me?” You said softly, with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Of course I would, detka,” leaning over and kissing your baby bump.

You gently squeezed Nat's hand, feeling a wave of anticipation as your due date drew near. Thoughts of what your baby would look like and who they would become filled your mind. Would they inherit Nat's fiery red hair, or perhaps have your Y/E/C eyes? The anticipation was almost overwhelming, but knowing that Natasha was by your side made it all feel possible.

"Are you looking forward to the Easter egg hunt tomorrow?" You asked, pulling yourself out of your daydream.

Nat giggled, "You make it sound like I'm the one participating."

"Well, you might as well be. I can never tell who's more excited, you or the kids," you replied.

Natasha glanced down at our intertwined hands and then back up at you. Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds.

"I think it's because holidays in my childhood weren’t real. We filled the photo album with fake pictures and empty boxes. But this," looking around at the small details of Clint and Laura’s farmhouse, "Is real, and I’ve always done my best to help ensure that Cooper, Lila, and Nate have everything I didn’t. A carefree childhood filled with love," Natasha explained.

"You’ve done a wonderful job with Clint’s kids, Nat. They love you so much, and I know you’ll be just as amazing with our little one," you said, doing your best to reassure her. “Goodnight, Natasha,” kissing her lips.

“I hope you're right, detka,” Nat said, kissing your lips in return and laying a hand on your stomach. “Goodnight, malen'kiy (little one).

*^~^*

The following day, you awoke to the sun shining through the window and a soft breeze that caused the curtains to dance gently on the wind. Your back was aching, and you were tired, but you were determined to make it through today. You slipped into the most comfortable maternity outfit you had. Natasha helped you with your shoes, and you both went downstairs to the kitchen.

“Happy Easter, you two!” Clint said upon seeing you two enter the kitchen.

You sat down at the kitchen table as Laura placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of you and Nat, along with two glasses of orange juice. The kids were already eating and arguing over who would find the most Easter eggs this afternoon.

Yelena and Kate walked in a few moments later, clad in bathrobes and their hair disheveled.

“Against the idea of showering and dressing before breakfast, were you?” Natasha asked.

“Kate Bishop kept me up all night with her snoring, and Lucky and Fanny woke me up by sitting on my face,” Yelena mumbled as she flopped beside you.

“Hey, that’s how dogs shows affection,” Kate interjected.

“So, I should consider your snoring a Valentine?” Yelena deadpanned.

After breakfast, the kids ran upstairs to prepare for the Easter egg hunt while Clint got a head start on hiding the eggs. Nathaniel insisted Nat accompany him to help find his Easter basket, but she hesitated to leave you.

“Go ahead, babe. I’m fine.” Motioning for her to follow her namesake.

“So, how are you really feeling?” Laura asked, now that Nat was no longer in the room.

You let out a deep sigh, “Tired and sore,” resting your head in your hands. “But this quality time with you all means so much to both of us. I can make it one more day before going on bed rest.”

Laura rubbed her hand softly on your back, “Why don’t you sit in the family room with Kate and Yelena until the fun starts.”

“Okay, that’s a good idea. Make sure Yelena and Kate haven’t snuck into the Easter candy,” you laughed.

Laura helped you to your feet and then began to clear the table. As you started to walk, you felt a minor twinging pain in your stomach. You winced but thought nothing of it. With the amount of shifting the baby was doing these days, you had every spasm and cramp in the book. Unfortunately for you, you were in a house full of spies, and Laura picked up your discomfort. She made a mental note to watch you as the day progressed.

*^~^*

"Look, there's one!" Cooper exclaimed, pointing at the leather seat of the tractor in the front yard. He dashed towards it, but Lila beat him by a step. "Ha! Slowpoke," she teased.

From your spot on the porch, you glanced over and saw my wife hoisting Nathaniel onto her shoulders to carefully grab an Easter egg from the crook of an old sycamore tree.

After about 15 minutes, everyone's baskets were full of eggs. Now came the fun of opening them all. You watched as all three kids dug into their baskets, opening the eggs to find mini Hershey bars, M&M's, jelly beans, or starbursts.

Nathaniel walked over to you and placed an Orange Starburst in your hand. "Here, Aunt Y/N. I know the Orange ones are your favorite."

"Aww, thank you, Nate," you said, kissing his forehead.

As you were about to open the soft toffy candy, a sharp contraction cut through my stomach. “Aaah!” you reached for your stomach as you bent over at the knees. Much stronger than anything you had felt before.

Natasha rushed to your side. “Y/N?! Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Reaching for your hand.

"I don’t know," you grunted.

Natasha's voice quivered with anxiety as she tried to rationalize the situation. "This—this can’t be it. We’re still three weeks out," she said, her mind racing with worry. "Maybe it’s just false labor."

That was the moment when your water broke. "Oh God—" you took a sharp breath as another contraction hit.

"Okay, not false labor," Nat conceded.

"It’s okay, Y/N," Laura reassured you calmly, gently taking your hand. "Most first births are a long labor. But we’re going to get you inside, okay?"

You felt a surge of panic. "What? No, no. I can't have the baby here. I'm not ready. We had a birth plan; I don't have my overnight bag!" you started to ramble, the anxiety rising in your voice.

"You're not boarding a Quinjet now. “I'm going to call Helen,” Clint said as he started to run inside.

"What's wrong with Aunt Y/N?” Nathaniel asked.

"Nothing, sweetheart, but the baby is coming a little bit earlier than we thought," Laura said calmly as she and your wife Nat gently guided you up the steps and into the warm and welcoming embrace of the house.

"Cooper and Lila, please grab a soft, warm blanket and clean towels from the linen closet?" Laura called out to the older children, her voice steady and reassuring.

I'l boil some water and tear up some sheets!" Kate announced frantically.

"This isn't Little House on the Prairie," Yelena quipped. She looked at you and Natasha with a warm yet nervous smile. "I’ll call Mom and Dad.”

"I thought you said this was a long process?" you managed to say between deep breaths, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Yes, but there's nothing wrong with being prepared, honey," Laura replied with a comforting smile, her hands steady as she and Nat helped you onto the bed.

Natasha gently grasped your hand and locked eyes with you. "Y/N, look at me," she said reassuringly. “You’re okay, and I'm right here with you. Let's take a deep breath together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to follow Natahsa's lead. The air came out shakily as it moved around the sharp pain of the contraction.

"Do you remember your Lamaze breathing?" Nat asked, her voice calm and reassuring.

"I think so," you replied, trying to focus on the breathing technique you had practiced during the prenatal classes.

*^~^*

Contractions came and went over the next few hours. You were thankful that childbirth was part of the first aid classes all SHIELD recruits were required to take. Otherwise, the prospect of giving birth in a farmhouse in the middle of Iowa would have been more terrifying than it already was.

You heard the front door open and the screen shut behind it as footsteps hurriedly approached the bedroom. When you saw Dr. Cho, you just about burst into tears.

Helen! Oh, thank goodness," you exclaimed just as another contraction began, your face twisted in agony.

"Y/N," Helen responded, rushing to your side and gently pushing the sweaty strands of hair away from your eyes. "Clint and Laura briefed me. They said that you're handling this wonderfully. Let me take a moment to set up, and then we'll check your dilation progress.”

Okay," you managed to say, catching your breath. "Where's Bruce?"

He's in Kamar-Taj with Wong. Something about ten rings? I'm not entirely sure, but don't worry, both of you," she reassured, meeting your and Natasha’s fatigued and apprehensive gazes. "I have a backup.”

Thor strode into the room, effortlessly carrying a collection of Helen's equipment that seemed as light as a feather in his hands.

"Thor? What are you doing here?" Natasha asked, clearly puzzled.

Thor glanced at your wife, then at you, then at Laura, and then at Helen.

"Hello, everyone," he said shyly. "I was, uh, Helen and I—Dr. Cho. She invited me for Easter, and we were enjoying a nice glass of Asgardian Mead when—"

"When Clint called," Helen finished. "Anyway, he's here to help, right?"

"Of course," Thor replied. "I've never witnessed a human birth before, but I've been present for the births of many Gods and am well-versed in many newborn blessings."

You and Natasha locked eyes, your nervousness quickly replaced with gratitude as you realized the significance of having another close friend by your side during this pivotal moment in your lives.

Natasha expressed her gratitude to Thor, finally breaking the silence. "We're both thankful that you're here," she said, her voice filled with sincerity.

You nodded in agreement, silently acknowledging the sentiment.

"It's my pleasure, ladies," Thor replied warmly.

“Thor, can you bring the rest of my equipment in from the Quinjet while I check to see how far Y/N is dilated?” Helen asked.

“Sure, and do either of you need anything? He asked.

Some ice chips would be great, you said in a tired voice. “Thank you.”

“Water,” Natasha said.

Shortly after Thor departed, Yelena entered, engaging in small talk as they crossed paths in the hallway. "What's the God of muscles doing here?" she inquired.

"It's a long story," Helen responded.

"I spoke with Melina. She and Alexi are en route and should arrive by morning. At least, I think that's what she said. It was hard to hear her over Alexi's ecstatic screams in the background."

"Okay, Y/N, you've done most of the hard work in my absence. You're just about at 10 centimeters. It’s time to start pushing. You two are going to parents soon," Helen announced with a smile.

“Oh my God,” you said, looking over at Natasha.

“Hey,” your wife said, running her hand through your hair, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said.

*^~^*

“Push. Push, just a little more! Come on, push for five seconds. 5…4…” Helen counted down.

Gasping for air, you exclaimed, '3-2-1 oh!!' as you fought to catch your breath.

Thor gently wiped away the sweat from your forehead with a cloth.

“You're doing great, Y/N. The next contraction should be coming in about twenty seconds," Helen encouraged, glancing at the monitor.

“I can’t,” you cried. “I can’t push anymore, I can’t.”

Natasha reassured you, "Yes, you can, Y/N. You're so close," she reached out and firmly took hold of your hand.

“Oh God, twenty seconds, my ass!” You shouted.

Natasha screamed in pain and fell to her knees beside you as you squeezed her hand. “Fuck, detka!”

"Here, Lady Y/N," Thor said, taking her hand in his, "Give my hand a good squeeze; you won't hurt me. And when you reminisce on this moment, you will remember that a God has faith in you. You can do this!" Thor's voice was solid and reassuring, his eyes filled with genuine belief in your strength.

Your eyes shone with tears as you held Thor's hand tightly, feeling the strength in his grip while Natasha enveloped you, her arm supporting your back.

I can see the baby's head. Are you ready to push one more time, honey?” Helen asked, “Here we go, on three: 1... 2... 3!”

You let out a final scream and then collapsed back onto the pillows, trying to catch your breath. As the room fell silent, the innocent cries of your and Natasha’s baby filled the air.

"It's a boy!" Helen exclaimed with joy.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Natasha, who was also crying. It was more emotion than you had ever seen Natasha show before.

Helen held up your son for both of you to admire. His little head was adorned with the beginnings of red hair.

"He's absolutely perfect," Nat exclaimed with a radiant smile as she affectionately kissed your temple.

Thor carefully cut the umbilical cord, and then Helen gently passed the newborn over to Laura, who began to clean him up.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you exclaimed, "He's so tiny! Where'd he go?"

Natasha reassured you, "It's okay. They're just wrapping him up," as she wiped away her tears. Concerned for the baby's well-being, you cautioned, "Okay, well, be careful with him. He's really tiny!”

Moments later, Laura tenderly announced, "Here he is," and placed your precious son on your bare chest, swathed in a soft blanket.

"Hi, baby boy," you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I know you."

As your voice reached his ears, his little Y/E/C irises opened, revealing a world of innocence and wonder.

At that moment, gazing at your son, you experienced a love so profound it felt as though your heart had been laid bare.

Natasha tenderly kissed his head and softly murmured, “Dobro pozhalovat' v mir, moy malen'kiy mal'chik.” (Welcome to the world, my little boy).

We’ll give you a few minutes," Helen said with a reassuring smile as she closed the door behind her. In the serene stillness that followed, the only sound was the gentle cooing of your precious newborn son.

“I can't believe he's finally here,” you said.

"I know. He’s so beautiful," Natasha said, her gaze fixed on the newborn.

"It looks like he’s going to take after his Mama," you chuckled, running your hand over the delicate red hairs sprouting from his scalp.

"Yes, but look at his eyes—sparkling Y/E/C like yours. Wow," Nat said.

You remarked, "I guess this narrows the names down, then."

Nat sighed in relief, "Thank goodness I don't have to explain to my sister why we didn't choose Yelena."

Looking into your wife's eyes, you asked, "So what do you think?"

*^~^*

A short while later, a gentle knock on the door signaled Helen's arrival as she peeked inside. "Hey, you three. I need to conduct a few routine tests, and there are some eager people outside who can't wait to meet your son."

"Please, come on in, everyone," you welcomed them.

You couldn't hold back the tears as you witnessed the heartfelt expressions on their faces as they laid eyes on your baby boy. It was as if he instantly captivated them, just as you were when you first saw him.

"Oh, my goodness," Laura exclaimed as Clint enveloped Natasha tightly. Tears glistened in his eyes as he held his best friend close.

"He's beautiful, Natasha," Yelena said, her eyes brimming with tears. "Privet, malen'kiy plemyannik," she whispered (hello, my little nephew).

"He's so cute, Y/N! Oh my gosh," Kate exclaimed as your son wrapped his tiny hand around your finger.

"He is lovely," Thor added, his voice filled with warmth. "Strong and brave, like his mothers."

Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel gathered around you, admiring the newborn in your arms.

"Everyone," Natasha began, her hand resting lovingly on your back. "We have someone special we'd like you to meet.”

“This is Nikolai Odison Romanoff," you announced with a proud smile.

"Nikolai! What a beautiful first name," Clint exclaimed, wiping his eyes. "It suits him perfectly."

"Oh, my, Odison," Thor said wide-eyed. "Ladies, this is an honor fit for someone else. I wasn't even supposed to be here, I—"

"But you were, Thor. You were here when I needed someone the most," you said, looking at him with gratitude. "We'll never forget what you did for us."

The God of Thunder exhaled, visibly touched by your kind words. "I'm truly honored, Y/N. Thank you," he said, kissing your cheek.

Excuse me, ladies," Helen said, "May I borrow him for a moment? We'll be right back.”

Nikolai began to cry at the loss of contact with you, and the sound tugged at both your and Natasha's heartstrings. "It's okay, little one. It's okay," Helen soothed him.

Then, looking up at your wife, you added, "There is something else we wanted to ask.

“Clint and Laura, we would be honored if you would be Nikolai’s godparents,” Natasha said.

“Of course!” Clint declared.

“Nothing would make us happier,” Laura added.”

The couple hugged you both in appreciation as Helen returned with Nikolai.

“You have a healthy little boy on your hands! Born March 31st, 2024 at 7:23pm. He weighs five pounds and eight ounces and measures 16.5 inches long," she said as she gently placed your son in Natasha’s arms. "He's a bit small, but that is because he was impatient and arrived a bit early," Helen explained with a warm smile. "Nothing to worry about.”

Natasha cradled the baby in her arms, swaying gently back and forth as a soft yawn slipped from his tiny lips.

“We’ll spend the night here, but I want to bring Mom and Nikolai back to the compound tomorrow. I want to perform a thorough examination in my lab before sending you all home.” Helen explained.

"Of course, whatever you think is best," you agreed.

Natasha nodded in approval before a sudden realization struck her. "Oh, Mom and Dad! They're on their way here."

"They can join us if you'd like," Helen suggested.

"That would be great," you said. "Right, Nat?"

"Yeah, great," Natasha said, her mind racing as she tried to imagine the chaos of the Quinjet flight home with Alexi and Melina.

Yelena couldn't help but burst into laughter, fully aware of what her sister was thinking, until Kate elbowed her in the ribs.

"We'll leave you all to get some rest," Helen said. "I'll be outside if you need anything, and I'll be back in a little while to help you with breastfeeding him.”

"Thank you, Helen, and all of you, for everything," you said, feeling the exhaustion and emotions of the day overwhelming you as tears began to fall.

After exchanging warm embraces, everyone exited the room, leaving you and Natasha in peaceful solitude with your precious newborn son, savoring the tender moment.

Natasha gently settled Nikolai in Nathaniel's bassinet, a family heirloom lovingly retrieved from storage by Clint and Laura. As your little one drifted into a peaceful slumber, you both couldn't help but marvel at the miracle of life, watching his tiny chest rise and fall with each breath. It was a moment you never wanted to forget.

“Rest, detka. I'll take care of Nikolai," Nat offered, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

"I can stay up; it's fine. You should rest," you insisted, determined to take responsibility.

"Y/N, you've just brought new life into the world. You deserve to rest for the rest of your life," Nat chuckled, her eyes filled with affection and concern.

She settled beside you on the bed and enveloped you in a comforting embrace.

"Look at your face," Nat suddenly remarked, her expression softening with genuine admiration.

"I must look a mess," you replied, a tired smile tugging at your lips.

"No, Y/N, you look absolutely beautiful," Nat insisted, her words filled with sincerity. "I've never seen your face more radiant than it is right now.

Natasha's soft lips met yours in a tender kiss, and in that moment, you felt the truth of her words resonate deep within you.

*^~^*

The following day, Laura prepared a delicious breakfast and brought it to you and Natasha in bed. Both of you had barely gotten any sleep with Nikolai waking up every couple of hours. Despite feeling utterly exhausted, you didn't mind one bit. This weariness stemmed from the joy of caring for your precious newborn son on his very first night.

Twenty minutes later, the tranquil moment was interrupted by familiar voices outside. Natasha gently pulled the curtain back to glimpse her parents making their way up the front porch steps.

Yelena strode into the room with her arms folded and a mischievous smile on her lips. "Brace yourselves," she teased, "The grandparents have arrived.”

"Where's my little guy?" Alexi eagerly shouted as he entered the room.

"Shh!" Natasha hushed him with a grin, motioning to Nikolai nestled in her arms. "Oh, look at him!" Alexi whispered in awe.

"Mom, Dad, this is Nikolai,” Nat said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"He's beautiful, Natalia," Melina murmured.

"May I hold him?" Alexi asked eagerly.

"Of course," you replied, carefully passing the baby to Alexi. The sight of the mighty Red Guardian tenderly cradling your newborn son made you smile.

"Hello, Nikolai. I'm your dedushka," Alexi said affectionately. "You're so adorable; yes, you are."

As he spoke, Nikolai slowly opened his eyes, and you could have sworn you saw your father-in-law's heart swell with love.

Alexi gently placed the baby in Melina’s arms. Your mother-in-law had always been a complex and enigmatic figure. She was one of the longest-tenured widows, and her resilience made her one of the strongest women in your eyes. As she cradled your newborn son in her arms, a single tear traced its way down her cheek, revealing a depth of emotion and vulnerability that you had never seen before.

Yelena inched toward you and whispered, “He won them over faster than you did.”

*^~^*

The next morning, Thor joined in to assist with packing while Clint hurried to the store to purchase an infant car seat for Nikolai. You were a family of two when you arrived, and you were leaving a family of three.

After a swift diaper change, Natasha placed your precious bundle of joy in his carrier. "Time to head home, Nik," you said, taking his tiny hand in yours.

You bid farewell to everyone and securely placed Nikolai's carrier beside you on the Quinjet.

Nat smiled as she prepared the Quinjet for takeoff. Your first Quinjet ride," she said. "You're already an overachiever, moy sladkiy mal'chik" (my sweet little boy).

Your phone suddenly vibrates with a flurry of notifications.

"The team group chat is blowing up, sweetheart," you informed Natasha, showing her your phone.

Nick Fury: Congratulations on the arrival of your precious son, Nikolai! It's heartwarming to see the Avengers family welcoming the newest member. Everyone at SHIELD looks forward to meeting him and supporting you and Natasha.

Steve Rogers: Hey, Y/N and Nat, huge congratulations! I'm so excited to meet Nikolai, the newest addition to our Avenger family. 🎖️

Wanda Maximoff: Congratulations to you both! All those cliches, those things you hear about having a baby and motherhood—all of them are true. And all of them are the most beautiful things you will ever experience. I’ll drop off some food for you both in the morning. 🥰

Clint Barton: Hey, Y/N! Make sure Nikolai is securely fastened in his infant carrier. I hope he sleeps the whole way back. If he gets fussy, let Nat know to ask FRIDAY to turn on the cabin pressure stabilization. It's a feature I insisted Stark add to the Quinjet after SHIELD found out I had kids. You're welcome. 😏

Laura Barton: I know things didn't go as planned, but I'm grateful we could share in your special day, Y/N. Nikolai is absolutely beautiful! Please let Nat know that I'll give her a call tomorrow. 😊

Tony Stark: Rushman! Y/L/N! Congratulations on the arrival of your precious son. Nikolai will bring you endless joy and fulfillment and become your favorite reason to lose sleep for the rest of your lives. 😉

Pepper Stark: Congratulations! I'm so happy for you and Nat. I can only imagine how incredible it must feel to look into Nikolai's eyes and feel like everything is right in the world. Please don't hesitate to reach out if there's anything I can do to help. Sending lots of love! ❤️

Bruce Banner: I'm truly sorry I couldn't be there; I’m thrilled for you and Natasha. I can't wait to meet Nikolai! 💚

Maria Hill: Congratulations, Y/N and Nat, on the arrival of baby Nikolai Odison! I can't wait to meet the little bundle of joy and see those tiny fingers and toes. The name Nikolai Odison Romanoff is absolutely beautiful. I spoke with Thor this morning, and the honor deeply moved him. 🥹

Thor Odinson: I am incredibly grateful to have been present for the birth of your son, Nikolai Odison Romanoff. Your decision to include me in this momentous occasion is a great honor, and I want to assure you that I will always be there to support and care for all of you. The arrival of Nikolai is a joyous event, and I am committed to being a steadfast presence in his life. ⚡

Peter Parker: Y/N! Congratulations on the arrival of Nikolai! I'm so thrilled for you and Nat. What does he look like? Does he have your hair or Natasha’s? What color are his eyes? I'm already thinking about all the adventures we'll have with him. I'm going to text Nat right now. I can't wait to meet him! 💙

Yelena Belova: Give my little nephew a kiss and hug from me. Also, heads up - Mom and Dad are considering staying with you for eight weeks to help care for Nikolai. Happy Parenting! 😂

Kate Bishop: Yelena is sitting next to me, and she can't stop laughing, so I'm going to assume that everything is going well. Please give Nikolai a kiss and hug from me! 🩵

*^~^*

You and Natasha stood together at the front of the Quinjet, the hum of the engines surrounding you as the aircraft soared safely through the sky.

“Nikolai is sound asleep. I don't think your parents have taken their eyes off our son since they got here,” turning around to see Melina and Alexi lovingly admiring their grandson.

Nat lovingly reached for your hand. “Our son,” she repeated with a big smile.

Nat took her place in the pilot's seat and turned off the autopilot as you settled in beside her.

"Come on, Y/N. Let’s go home.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #avengers x reader #mcu #fluff #clint barton #Laura Barton #cooper barton #lila barton #nathaniel barton #yelena boleva #kate bishop #helen cho #thor odinson #platonic #easter

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periprose · 9 months

Text

Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too.

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself.

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad.

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember.

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that.

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing.

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age.

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it.

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry.

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.”

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too.

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick.

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice.

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.”

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included.

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient.

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone.

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late.

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt.

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all.

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees.

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small.

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust.

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you.

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again.

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are.

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said.

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod.

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something.

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb.

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours.

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security.

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far.

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you.

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that.

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this.

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough.

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too.

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance.

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often.

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too.

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him.

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better.

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about.

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?”

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other.

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do.

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further.

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

1K notes · View notes

kerrslvr · 4 months

Text

reward // mary earps

summary; in which, after she wins SPOTY, you give mary a reward like no other.

warnings; dom!mary, sub!reader, cocky mary, cunninlingus, fingering, mary loves to manipulate reader into saying i love you, strap-ons, grind pads, reverse cowgirl, spanking, daddy kink (blink and you'll miss it), nipple stimulation, fluff at the end. probably missed some warnings and probably made typos, sorry. also… take this as a christmas present. merry christmas u filthy lesbians x

pairing(s): romantic mary earps x scott!reader, platonic jill scott x sister!reader (r is about 24/25 in this… mary & jill are their current ages at the time of writing - 30 & 36 respectively)

based on this request x

"this is live on the BBC and you're wearing a dress with a slit that deep?"

the frown in jill's voice was clear as you stepped out of the taxi and into the chill of the manchester air, the immediate swarm of camera flashes turned your way.

"can tell you're getting old," you replied as you adjusted the skirt of your dress, "you're starting to sound like mum."

your oldest sister was not amused by her likening to your mother. shelly couldn't make it to the spoty ceremony, and seeing as most of jill's friends were going anyway, she'd invited you. originally, you'd been invited by the company you work for, but being a sports journalist in-training, they'd found someone more qualified than you to do the job; and jill didn't like that.

"just make sure your dress doesn't malfunction and cause headlines tomorrow," she said, waiting patiently for you to catch up as you scurried along beside her, "otherwise mam'll have a breakdown."

you shrugged your shoulders at your sisters worry, you weren't wearing the dress for her, or the cameras. there was only one person you were wearing it for, and you could see her in your peripheral vision, stepping out of her vehicle, dressed to the nines in what can only be described as a revenge dress on you.

she spotted you instantly, your pretty hair and your not-so-innocent eyes and the way they twinkled as they met hers across the carpet. your dresses almost matched, the gaping neckline, the peeks of skin through the lacy mesh, the long black skirt.

you had to fight your jaw so it didn't drop to the floor, and it seemed like everyone else around you also had to fight their urges. people screamed mary's name and you struggled to keep your composure as you and jill eagerly waltzed over to see her.

"i'm so proud of you," jill sqeaked eagerly as she wrapped her arms around mary's shoulders. the look she gave you when your sister wasn't looking almost let your knees give way. "and you look lovely."

"very similar to your sister, come to think of it, jill," mary pointed at your dress and scanned you up and down, "minus the obscenely high split."

you cursed mary with a knowing look before jill turned to compare. if she found out you and mary were frequent flyers in each others beds she would probably wring you out herself, let alone your mother.

"i was just about to compliment you, earps," you shrugged off her devilish eyes and knowing smirk, "but i think i'll just keep my mouth closed."

the two of them did press for a little while, and you watched from the sidelines, admiring mary's demeanor. you couldn't remember how long ago everything started between you and mary, although the euro's final was the first night you spent entangled between her sheets. you didn't even know you were into girls - let alone mary - when you first started sleeping together, and at first, that's all it was, until it wasn't.

she started picking you up from the station, inviting you to games, date night after date night, after date night. one morning things changed and you both realised there were painfully strong feelings of love underlying, but she was thirty and you were twenty five, and she was your sisters best friend, and you were a sports journalist. you both knew how bad it looked.

but, the feelings of love outweighed the feelings of lust, and that was the worst part.

"don't you fancy asking me some questions then, love?"

mary's voice lulled you from your daydream, and she met you in a less crowded corner of the carpet. you could see jill mingling with leah and jen, the three of them chatting politely while they waited for mary to finish up with her interviews - at least, thats what she told them.

"surely you've had enough of questions, mary."

she tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and let her hand rest on your shoulder. the heat from her skin on yours sent burning flashbacks rushing through your brain.

"maybe i have," she leaned down and tilted up your chin with her fingers. even without her heels on she towered over you, but with her heels on she was even taller, nearing six foot, and it made you squirm. "but i've not had a single question from the person i want to speak to."

you couldn't help but let a smile come to your face, and mary admired your fluttering eyelids, "and who might that be, earps?"

mary's thumb traced your lip, and you couldn't help but pucker your lips. "i think you know exactly who it is, princess," she laughed, and for a moment, she thought about kissing you, but she wanted to have her fun tonight, "you can unpucker those lips and ask me your first question."

you sighed and looked at her with soft eyes - of course she was in one of those moods tonight. mary got off on you when she put you in these situations, it drove her absolutely insane. "don't you want to kiss me in public?"

mary rolled her eyes and leaned in, her lips pressing against yours softly as the breeze of manchester air blew across the two of your bodies. a storm was coming, and the chill sent goosebumps across your skin, mary's too, but she was much better at composing herself.

you wanted to deepen the kiss, to outstretch your arms and pull her closer, to guide her hand up into the slit of your dress, but you knew better than to draw attention to your escapades.

mary was first to pull away, and the pink hue of your lipgloss had tainted her light brown. it was a sight to behold.

"better?"

"hm," you shrugged, "what do you plan on doing if you win the award tonight?"

"finally a question i can answer without lying," mary hummed, "if i win tonight i'm going to be taking my girlfriend back to my hotel room, and doing many, many inappropriate things with her."

you shivered at her words, and had to fight the urges running rife inside your bloodstream.

"oh, really?" you questioned, a raised eyebrow. jill noticed you two were standing together in a quiet corner, "and what do you plan on doing if you don't win?"

"oh, well, lets see," mary faked a thought, and you spotted jill walking towards you both with an excited grin, "oh, yes, i'll be taking my girlfriend back to my hotel room and doing many, many appropriate things with her."

you couldn't help but blush, and you opened your mouth to reply but jill stood in your way. "ceremony's gonna start soon, we really should think about going in, Y/N," she gave you a questioning look, silently asking if you were okay, and you nodded. "they want you for a few more pictures, mary, we'll see you in there."

jill was quiet as the two of you walked behind leah and esme, and you were petrified she would bring up the question and ask you what's going on between you and her best friend, and you didn't have an answer.

"she's your type," she said after a while, nudging you with her shoulder, "mary, i mean, not the girl you were telling me about in the car earlier. mary's the best, hilarious, good with her hands -"

"okay, jilly, thanks," you hit her on the shoulder, "i don't need you to play matchmaker, especially not with mary earps, now c'mon, my heels are killing me."

mary couldn't quite believe she'd won the award, and as the night lingered on, her body consistently kept gravitating towards yours. you didn't mind, it seemed everybody in the room kept themselves occupied, if they weren't pulling mary away for five minutes, they were mingling with each other.

jill noticed you and mary spending more time with one another than what she thought acceptable as two people who don't know one another all that well, and she knew she ought to bring it up, but when you began to say your goodbyes approximately ten minutes after mary did at almost midnight, her intuition kicked in.

"leaving already?" she asked, coming up to you before you could show up in front of her, "you and leah are almost always the last two on the dancefloor singing shania twain, or... do you have something better to do?"

you knew that look, the look she was giving you. it was the look she always gave you when she was disappointed you didn't tell her things, like when you failed your driving test and told her you'd passed just so she'd let you drive her new car, or when she'd swung open your bedroom door when you were nineteen to find you in bed with your first boyfriend, much to her disgust.

"if you're galivanting off to sleep with mary, i don't mind," she said, brushing the hair out of your face, "i've watched the way she's looked at you all evening, i noticed the brush of her hand on your thigh and the way you look up at her. i don't mind, y/n, really, i don't."

you knew mary would be on her way to the hotel by now, if not, already there, waiting for your arrival. as much as you wanted to spill your two and a half years worth of secrets to jill, you couldn't bring yourself to do it in this moment.

"then why do you sound so disappointed?"

"i'm not disappointed, i just wish you'd tell me," she ruffled your hair and kissed your cheek, "i'll see you at the buffet for breakfast, and please, for the love of god, stick a do not disturb sign on mary's door."

you slipped into a taxi, and within fifteen minutes you were knocking at mary's hotel room door, and the time it took her to answer the door felt like forever. she swung it open, only so you could see her from the neck up, but you could tell by the angle in which she was standing that she was hiding something.

"took you long enough, love."

"i could say the same for you," you replied, watching mary as her eyes trailed right down to your exposed leg, the slit higher than she remembered, "what're you doing in there?"

she smirked, simply allowing the door to swing open, and when it did your knees almost buckled again. your eyes weren't really sure where to look, it seemed the lace top of her dress was detachable from the long black skirt, and there she stood before you in a lacy bodysuit which made your mind reel.

this was far from the mary you knew, usually with her hair in a messy pony, more often than not, a face with faint green stains of grass, and the familiar smell of either the pitch or the training room, her dominance unrelenting.

although she was in a lacy black bodysuit, the latter statement about her dominance still stayed the same.

"are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to come in and let me get my reward?"

you stuttered, struggling to get the words to travel from your brain to your mouth. it was too late for you to answer, though. mary had lost her patience, and she pulled you in and - for lack of a better word - you slammed into the nearest wall.

mary kicked the door and her lips devoured you as if she hadn't kissed you for months, her hands struggling to find a place to rest. your hands settled on resting around her shoulders, your heels giving you just enough of a height boost to be able to stand in that position comfortably, your lips moving together in perfect harmony.

mary's hands found a place to rest on your hips, but she wasted no time in parting the split in your dress and letting her hand explore. a blush crept its way onto your cheeks when she clocked that you weren't wearing underwear.

"oh, sweetheart, really?" she pulled her lips away from yours and gave you that look, the one that accompanied the 'you're not smart, so don't act like it' talk, and you gave her your best innocent eyes, "no underwear, sweetheart, why's that?"

"because you told me not to," your voice was shaking as you spoke, "last week, you told me i couldn't, y-you told me if i did that you wouldn't be very happy."

mary pushed the split in the dress apart and the fresh air touched your cold pussy, sending goosebumps across your skin. it was even worse for you when she knelt down, the heat from her breath juxtaposing the goosebumps and sending your skin into overdrive.

"have i ever told you how pretty of a pussy you have, darling?"

"once or twice," you pushed the hair from her face so it didn't tickle your skin and push the goosebumps further, "but you can tell me again if you - oh."

mary couldn't help herself, her eager tongue needed to taste you. she licked along your slit as you spoke, and reduced your words to a slur of moans. she parted your legs further and scooted closer to your body until you were practically sitting on top of her face, her tongue slipping further and further into your folds.

"i should be the one d-doing this to you, surely," you hummed, hoisting your dress across your hips and allowing her much easier access to your pussy, "you have just won the best award in your career to date."

mary pulled away and you could see her chin glistening with your wetness, causing her makeup to go patchy. her fingers traced the space that her tongue had just been, circling your hole teasingly in only the way she could.

"yes, i have, and you can keep stroking my ego by telling me that again as you take off your dress," she raised an eyebrow, halting the movements of her finger until you did as she asked, "but, your pussy is my reward and i expect to get as much of a reward as possible this evening, do i make myself clear?"

"y-yes," you nodded, allowing your dress to slip straight down your frame until it pooled at your ankles, showing your naked frame to the woman kneeling before you, "i understand."

mary's finger slipped inside of you, albeit ridiculously slow and with nowhere near enough friction to make you cum, but it felt great nonetheless.

"you're such a good little girl for me, aren't you, y/n?" she asked, stretching you out with another finger and curling her fingers in an excruciatingly slow come hither motion, "leaving the afterparty like i asked you to, following me back to my hotel room so i could look at this pretty pussy and hear those innocent little moans all night," she kissed your clit softly and it sent a fluttery feeling scattering through your stomach, "anyone would think you love me, darling."

you opened your mouth to speak, and right as a word began do leave it, mary added a third finger. the stretch was painful, but delicious at the same time and you bunched a hand in her hair, fighting all your urges to cum all over her fingers. she smirked, "cat got your tongue, sweetie?"

"oh, fuck," you hissed, "fuck mary your fingers feel unbelievable."

"that's not what i was looking for you to say, angel, but i'll take it."

she smirked again, this time her lips pursing around your clit and causing a long, breathy moan to tumble from your mouth. the feeling bubbling away in your stomach grew with each flick of her tongue, each curl of her fingers, and it left you a wriggling mess.

you knew what she was waiting for you to say, her body was practically fizzing with the anticipation of hearing you tell her you loved her. it was her new favourite sound of yours to get off to, and she had plenty; but something about your voice was so soft, so subtle.

neither of you ever anticipated it would turn into this, loving each other, you weren't even sure how to love somebody. you both thought that hiding the relationship would be much harder, but it was significantly easier than you realised, less pressure, less worry. and mary didn't ever want you to stop saying it.

"you know you're not allowed to cum until you say it, darling, so you might as well get it over with."

"i love you, mary," every single time you said it, the words slipped out of your mouth easier than any other words ever did, and you hated how much it affected you both. "i love you, now, please - f-fuck - make me cum."

the smirk on mary's lips was unfathomable, and her fingers stretched you out deliciously as she continued to fuck you with them, desperate to stretch you out so she could slide her cock inside you. she stood up, her free hand wrapping itself around your neck instinctively, temporarily halting the bloodflow to your lungs as she squeezed in rhythm to her thrusting fingers.

"you really wanna cum that badly, huh?" she asked, lips scraping your ear with every word, "said you loved me twice in one sentence."

you were unsure whether mary was in a mood nice enough to let you cum now, and while you craved it desperately, you were there for her pleasure this evening, not the other way around.

"god, m-mary, please just let me cum, p-please," you choked, "i-i know you're gonna want my pussy nice 'nd wet, so p-please let me cum."

the noise mary made was akin to a growl, and she sped up the movement of her fingers, moving the angle so her thumb was rubbing your clit frantically. your legs threatened to buckle and you locked your hands around mary's neck, a moan tumbling from your mouth as a trail of her spit lingered on your bottom lip.

"god, not so fuckin' innocent now, are you? can't believe i found myself such a naughty little girl," her teeth nipped at your earlobe and she noticed the bead of sweat trickling down your forehead. "are you going to stand there moaning or are you going to cum for me, little one?"

the use of your favourite petname sent your head spiralling, and with that, your legs shook and your entire core tensed as your orgasm peaked. mary's name fell from your lips and she couldn't help but groan as your wetness flooded her fingers, trickling down her knuckles and the palm of her hand, and the sound of your release was music to her ears.

as mary pulled her fingers out of you, she gave you time to breathe, despite the look of disapproval on your face now that you weren't full. you watched her tongue slide across the skin of her palm and it made you feel dizzy.

"look at those little puppy eyes, my love," she held her fingers out in front of your mouth and let you suck them clean, "how could i ever say no to that face?"

your eyelids fluttered as you tasted yourself on mary's fingers, and when you licked them clean they pulled out of your mouth with a pop. she slipped her arms out of her bodysuit and you watched with eager, desperate eyes as it fell down her hips and to the floor. your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the sight of mary naked, it never felt real.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"hmm?"

"i know that look, it's the look you give me when you want to ask a question," she gave you the smirk again, "so, ask me the question."

"i, uh," you straightened yourself up, "i thought as your reward you could let me ride you."

mary leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, "oh, my darling girl, you can't ever be without my dick inside you, can you?"

you shook your head sheepishly, and mary said nothing as she walked to the bed around the corner of the room. there, on the corner of the bed, lay mary's favourite toys. a strap and its harness, lube and her grind pad, which was a lifesaver when she fucked you. it meant she could feel every sensation, and cum when you did.

"why don't you get my pussy nice 'n wet, darling, hm?" she tucked a curl of hair behind your ear, "and then we'll think about letting you ride my cock, okay?"

nodding, you sunk to your knees and steadied yourself between her legs. she was already preparing the strap harness, fiddling with the grind pad and waiting in anticipation for you to taste her.

she shivered when your tongue made contact with her clit, allowing herself to soak up the feeling by pausing her movements and letting a hand rest on your head.

you did exactly as you were told, getting her pussy nice and wet by smearing your spit all across her clit. she pulled you off, your enjoyment of eating her out short lived, but mary knew if she let you carry on a minute longer she would cave to her instincts and let you eat her.

"if i don't fuck you within the next five minutes, i think i'm going to die," mary hummed, "so please, my love, wait patiently for my cock."

as you sat and waited, you reached down to take off your stiletto's, but mary stopped you.

"don't you dare," she stood up, tightening the loops on her harness and leaning down, "you know how much i love fucking you in heels."

she sat back down on the bed, pulling you down - not completely, just so you were leaning over her frame with your hands on her thighs - and pulling you in for a kiss. it was hot, searing, and your hand instinctively pumped at the lube until you got enough to stroke the strap up and down, soaking it in the liquid so your descent would be easier.

mary groaned as if she could feel the friction through the strap-on, and it made you whimper.

"do you want me to face front or back?" you asked, pulling away for air. the answer was clear when mary's hand came down hard on your arse, the sting brutal but desperately needed. she rubbed the spot she slapped before repeating the action sequence multiple times.

"as much as i love looking at your pretty face, and that insane rack," mary chuckled, "you know i'm an arse girl, love."

you hummed, shifting your body and allowing her to get into position on her back. a whimper left your mouth when you saw her pumping the cock with her hand. she patted her upper thighs, a silent signal for you to lower yourself down, and as you got into a comfortable position, you threw your head over your shoulder and gripped the base of her cock with one hand.

the noises you made as you sunk yourself down on her cock were like music to mary's ears. the grind pad gave her the perfect friction, and as she grunted while you rocked to get comfortable, it felt as if the whole notion of you riding her dick were real.

"c'mon love," she pinched your hip, "don't have all night to waste rockin' back and forth on my cock, you know what i wanna see you doing."

"mhm," you slowly began to pull your hips up from the base of her cock, "yes daddy."

your reply earned you a slap to the bum as you sunk back down, and a sharp moan left your lips. "say it again, love, just once."

"y-yes, daddy."

slap.

"one more time," she stroked the reddening cheek with the palm of her hand, "for daddy's sake."

"yes, daddy."

slap.

mary let out a deep grunt, throwing her head back as you began to bounce up and down to a solidified rhythm, your knees already beginning to ache but this was your reward for mary, and she was not going to take over unless you collapsed from an orgasm; but with her grind pad in use, it was only a matter of time until mary's orgasm crept up on her anyway.

with every bounce of your hips, the pad stroked at mary's clit with a perfect amount of pressure, and a perfect angle, that everytime you pulled up she would whimper, or draw a sigh of relief that her orgasm hadn't hit her yet.

"fuckin' hell, love," she slapped the other cheek this time, "you really do have the most perfect arse, don't you?"

she couldn't help herself, her fingernails digging into the skin of your hips as she began to raise her own off of the bed, fucking up into you and watching your arse ripple with each thrust of her hips. your moans grew louder, unable to control your noise as you gripped onto mary's ankles.

she bent her legs at the knee to help take the weight off of your legs, allowing you to rest on her thighs a bit more. the change in angle of mary's legs changed the deepness of her cock, and it was so deep inside you now it almost made you feel sick.

she reached her hand around your waist so her fingertips brushed your stomach, "can you feel my cock in your stomach, baby? hm?" she waited for you to nod, and her fingers lowered to your clit, "want you to make yourself cum all over my cock, darlin', can you do that for me?"

"not gonna last much longer, mary?" you questioned with the little sarcasm you had left in you. a loud smack echoed the bedroom, and you immediately regretted your question.

"say something stupid like that again and you won't cum at all tonight," she pinched your stinging bum, "understood?"

"yes, mary."

she sat herself up now, so your back was pressed flush against her stomach, and instinctively you wrapped your arms around her neck. the angle of her legs changed again, spread out ever so slightly on the bed so she could hold her balance within her core.

with this angle, mary's fingers were able to pinch at your nipples, and you were so caught up in the feeling of rocking back and forth, and the sound of mary's moaning that you completely forgot you were supposed to be rubbing your clit.

"don't see much going on with your fingers, love," she teased, "please don't make me pull out of this tight little cunt now, and just do as i say, hm?"

you nodded, your index and middle fingers immediately circling the bud of nerves that had you whimpering immediately. mary's lips traced your neck, and without even giving you time to complain, her teeth sunk into the skin and softly nibbled. mary's tongue soothed the burn of her teeth on your neck right as she dragged her fingers under your nipples, making you yearn for an orgasm.

you could tell she was close, her core was beginning to become lose and her legs were beginning to twitch, and your orgasm was on the cusp.

"m-mary-"

"-wait," she breathed, her lips trailing back up to your ear, "wait for me, love, 'nd we'll cum together."

"i-i don't know if i can hold -"

"-you can, and you will," she pinched your nipples, "i'm close, but the longer you talk, the longer this will take."

you nodded, biting down on your lip to fight the urges of begging. a few more rocks of your hips and mary would be toppling over the edge.

"oh, fuck, Y/N," she hissed, "ready to cum all over my cock?"

you nodded aggressively, a feeble 'yes' tumbling from your mouth in a desperate attempt to cum. mary stilled when her orgasm arrived, allowing your hips to do the friction work against her clit, your name falling from her mouth in a desperate groan.

her noises triggered your orgasm, and as much as you tried to ride your way through it, your hips stilled and your fingers on your clit carried you the rest of the way through. you didn't even clock that mary had moved her hands to your hips so she could steady you, and her lips kissed soft lines along your shoulders.

"i'm never going to get over that sound," she said, her hands moving from your hips to around your waist, hugging your body close to her, "i can't believe you're mine."

you managed to wriggle from her grip and lay down against the pillows, with mary following suite. her body cocooned you from the cold air, and her hands resumed their position across your waist.

"i can't believe you're mine," you repeated her words, and turned your neck to the side so you could kiss her nose, "but, i, uh, i think jill knows about us."

the look on mary's face didn't change. in fact, she was relieved she didn't have to hide you anymore. she wanted to show you off, and she was thankful it was almost out in the open now.

"i don't care," she hummed, "maybe it's a good idea for us to get it out in the open now, we've been doing it long enough."

"i like that idea," you spun your whole body around in her embrace at this point, and the smile on your face told her all she needed to know. "i'm so proud of you, maz, nobody deserved to win tonight more than you, i love you."

a heartwarming smile came to mary's face, and you relished in the way you still made her cheeks blush.

"i love you too, darling," she kissed your nose and nuzzled her head into your neck.

"now please, lets get under the covers because i'm freezing my tits off."

#mary earps #mary earps smut #mary earps x reader #mary earps fluff #mary earps fic #mary earps fanfic #woso fanfic #woso fic #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso #engwnt

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worldlxvlys · 4 months

Text

snaps w/ platonic! nick (part 1)

nick sturniolo x reader (platonic)

no warnings y’all, enjoyyyy <3333

lmk what y’all want more of :)

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE <333

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo

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tinydeskwriter · 1 month

Text

LOVE HOLD| ⟮private⟯

lando norris x wolff!reader | f1 grid x wolff!reader (mostly)platonic

A/n: just a little peak at y/n private ig account...

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liked by lilymhe, landonorris, susie_wolff and 43 others

noty/n.wolff it all started when my mom met my dad, they fell in love, and they had me! hi, i'm ryan... dude, those are my parents, I came from them, talk about winner genes...

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alex_albon you did not inherit they height though...

↳noty/n.wolff your opinion is irrelevant...

↳charlesleclerc midget😊

↳noty/n.wolff i going over there to cry on my many grand slam trophies from my many wins, comforted in the fact that I'm still number one in the world, not that you guys know what this feel like...

↳charlesleclerc uncalled for...

↳noty/n.wolff don't come for my height and I won't come for your lack of wins🙂

↳landonorris ankle biter

↳noty/n.wolff i am going to ignore you

Aug 12th 2022

liked by lilymhe, landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 65 others

(tagged: francisca.cgomes; charlottesiine; elizaabrams; cassandra.blanchard; benshelton)

noty/n.wolff men ain't shit, like the goddess cher once siad, man are like dessert, you don't need them... stick to your girls (+benny)

btw pierregasly, thank u for introducing me to kika, i think i am keeping her😘

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francisca.cgomes you can keep me😍

↳pierre gasly wait a minute...

↳noty/n.wolff💍alexa play boyfriend by dove cameron

Oct 30th 2022

liked by lilymhe, francisca.cgomes, landonorris, susie_wolff and 52 others

noty/n.wolff go shawty, it's your birthday, we gon' party like it's your birthday... congrats landito! you manage to survive for 23 years, and i am so proud of you! there were a few close calls(at least a few that i witnessed) but you made it! i hope you feel blessed and special, not everyone gets a appreciation post from yours truly🤍

jokes aside...happy birthday lan, i wish you a world of happiness, because you deserve it, thank u for making my life happier by being in it 🤍 we have been in each others lives for nearly fifteen years now, here to more fifteen, i hope you know, through thick and thin, i will always be by your side 🤍😘

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lilymhe I love the third photo, who took it??

↳francisca.cgomes I thought the same when I saw the fourth photo

↳noty/n.wolff 😘

alex_albon just friends, she says

↳georgerussell63 the best of friends, she says

↳alex_albon we are being ignored

↳georgerussell63 I noticed

landonorris❤️❤️❤️

↳noty/n.wolff 🤍🤍🤍

Nov 13th 2022

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, landonorris, susie_wolff and 49 others

noty/n.wolff last trip of the year before going home for christmas, touring with local carlossainz55, Madrid may have become one of my favorite cities in the world, thank you the Sainz family for welcoming me and for the 5⭐hospitality, congrats on the newlyweds, beautiful wedding a wish you guys a long and happy life together🤍

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carlossainz55 come back whenever you want

Dec 9th 2022

liked by lilymhe, landonorris, susie_wolff and 43 others

noty/n.wolff Merry Christmas folks🤍

view all 32 comments

Dec 25th 2022

noty/n.wolff half a century + 1 looks good on you🤍 the man who always encouraged me to follow my dreams and do twice as much to make them come true, who never let me give up, and who, even though he couldn't physically be present, never lost any of my matches. #1 dad in the world, best team principal in F1, a example to be followed, I honestly could not wish for a better father.

love u daddy. happy birthday🤍

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susie_wolff you made him emotional

elizaabrams girl sometimes I forget that your dad is the king of dilfs...

(liked by lilymhe, susie_wolff and francisca.cgomes)

noty/n.wolff 👀

Jan 12th 2023

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#f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 grid x reader #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris x y/n #pierre gasly x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

Text

Shameless: 1/3

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,285

(Image Source)

Synopsis: You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Eustass Kid. It was meant to be a one-shot, but it quickly got out of hand very fast. Looks like a two or three parter. afab!reader - but can be read as gn.

Themes: senseless flirting, mature themes, NSFW language, choking, vulgarity, promiscuity, shamelessness, heart-pirate!reader x captain!Eustass Kid, this reader is a perpetual and shameless flirt, heart pirates x reader, partial zoro x reader, platonic law x reader.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @since-im-already-here

Song Suggestion: It's Cuffing Season - Dj Rehan, JW Velly

Within the rotund chasm of the crew dining quarters rung a loud and rambunctious melody. The sway of your hips and the lyrics falling from your smiling lips alongside Shachi and Penguin had the mood of the hour joyful and merry. The speakers ignited with the crackle of the powerful ballad screaming over the powered mounted system bordering the ceiling. You swayed your body with Ikkaku’s, your lips relaying the lyrics to the rambunctious melody with a suggestive smile, a smile mirrored by her own elevating to her lips.

These were the cool-down hours: where the Heart-Pirate crew were able to complete tasks they had set aside, or wind down after a hard day's work of following Captain Law’s orders aboard the Polar Tang. Despite his tired and lackluster expression constantly painted across his exhausted face, your captain, Trafalgar D Water-Law, encouraged his entire crew to engage in some lesser restraint as they quiet down before the changeover in shift.

Law was yet to join in on the celebrations, opting to remain behind in his office for reasons you were yet to become privy to. Although he never allowed himself to truly let go and sway his hips, cry tactless lyrics into the air; he truly enjoyed witnessing the crew join together like this. There were only a few songs he would ever mutter the lyrics along to, most of which were harder in musicality, angst-driven in their choruses, and distorted in tonality. Yet, he would always have a soft smile elevated on his lips when the few of you would gyrate, sway, sing and scream alongside the music over the speakers.

As Shachi drew a stainless steel whisk up to his lips and began to shout the lyrics into the crossed tip, the music cut out from its place within the electrical power system. In its stead, Captain Trafalgar Law’s voice dictated a few short and curt orders.

“All hands above deck. Repeat, all hands to the deck. Prepare the Polar Tang to be boarded for a Nakama encounter,” you snapped to the direction of the speaker, Ikkaku’s dancing movements halting beside yours as you listened for further instruction over the system. As no further orders fell from the mechanical mesh, you readjusted your fallen zipper of your white, boiler jumpsuit and spring into action.

“Ohh, a crew boarding? I hope it’s the Straw-Hats! I want to see that little reindeer again,” Bepo noted politely, the thump of his heavy feet stomping along the iron floor beside your smaller steps almost comical.

“Oh, the crew with the green-haired swordsman coming aboard again?” You asked him, brow quirking and smirk rising at the corner of your lips. Ikkaku laughed at your comment, clapping you on the shoulder and walking with Shachi and Penguin in tow behind you.

“The one that was almost your type?” Ikkaku’s smile quirked up at Shachi’s question, his arm hooking over your neck as he spoke down into your ear.

“But not quite, remember?” You giggled at him, playfully extending the sharp secondary knuckle of your index finger into his ribcage, his breath huffing out a hasty exhale at the jolt. Ikkaku and Penguin laughed at Shachi’s wince of pain, his laughter also rising with his crewmates’ and your own.

Amongst the Heart-Pirates, the crew were not unaccustomed to your unrestrained flirting with them. From your close proximity, to the brush of your fingertips, to a warm embrace offered from your arms, to you lounging against them in the quiet hours. But most of all, your vulgar and unwithheld language going far enough to make the most hardened members of the Heart-Pirates’ cheeks tint crimson.

It was a game to you, keeping things lively and interesting aboard your ship as you served alongside them as Law’s chief tinkerer. Nothing ever came of the suggestive conversations and provocative language you offered aside from a friendly kiss, alongside the words, “Sorry, love. You’re not my type.”

As your feet met with the grated bars of the steel steps leading to the deck, Law’s voice cut over the speakers once more to address the crew.

“All hands to the deck, aside from my tinkerer. Go to your workshop and await further instruction,” the distorted crack of his voice did very little to mask the disdain in his voice. There was something bothering your captain - such a bother depicted in his bored and aloof tone. The harbor which anchored such a dirge-like expression which you had very little explanation for. That was, until, the snickering beside you hissed through the smiling teeth of the three human crew members beside you.

“What’s so funny?” you spat, shimmying from the crook of Shachi’s arm and facing the four of them with your hands on your hips.

“Oh, nothing,” Ikkaku giggled before sucking her lips into her mouth to stifle more of her laughter from freely falling from between them. You glanced between the other three, all raising their hands in defense to your pointed gaze.

“Alright, keep your damn secrets to yourselves,” you scoffed, turning your nose up in the air at them before snuggling into Bepo, who eagerly returned your brief embrace, “I’ll see you after the Nakama meet up, I suppose.” They bid their farewells to you, snickering and giggling as they exited the iron hatch of the Polar Tang to rise above decks.

After sculking the halls down the long and lonely corridors to your office, you were shocked at the sight greeting you upon opening the large door. Although he depicted further instruction was awaiting you, you were anticipating private instruction to be carried through your personal Den-Den-Mushi rather than meeting with your Captain himself.

Captain Law was sitting at your desk, his ankles hooked on top of your workbench with his hands laced behind his head, cradling his neck. He lazily glanced through the corner of his eyes at you before slowly unlacing his ankles and rising to his feet. His fingertips clasped his impressive sword, the smoothness of his scabbard reflected in the dim light of your office.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Cap? Shouldn’t you be-?” you began, your words halted immediately by Law’s response.

“-Cut the shit, Tink,” your titled nickname falling in lieu of your real name or formal title from Law’s lips. You relaxed your shoulder against the doorframe, folding your arms across your chest while pursing your lips. You tapped your index finger on your bicep while you awaited further direction from the man in front of you.

With an exasperated sigh, he elevated his slender, tattooed, fingers to his brow and pinched the center between his index and thumb. He huffed a final growl before he bore his honeyed eyes into your awaiting features.

“It seems I will be unable to keep you distracted for the entire time they’ll be here this time,” he muttered to himself in a voice almost impossible for you to catch. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to question him further. He halted your words by removing his fingers from his brow to face his palm out to you.

“I am going to say this one time, and one time only,” he continued to hold his intense and stern gaze into your eyes, “Don’t.”

“‘Don’t’ what, Law? What are you talking about-?” you began, halted again by Law’s dictation once again.

“-Just...” Law turned his face slightly away from you, “...-Just don’t, okay? I know you, I know what you’re like, and I’m just letting you know now, and know once. Don’t.”

You were unable to form an adequate response before he stormed out of your workshop and wordlessly gestured for you to follow behind him above deck with his index finger, a hooked motion calling to you. Your captain’s words swirled in your head, your eyes locking on to his neck and tracing his skin with your inquisitive gaze.

Your relationship with your captain was as close a friendship as you could ever muster with such a person. He sought out your skills as a tinkerer, your reputation preceding you when you demonstrated your skilled hands to him. You both bonded over unique collections, his coins and comics, your rocks and pinned insect and arachnid display. Both having a unique place to relay information about your special and unique interests with one another was sacred, and so incredibly special to the both of you.

Where Law and you differed was in how you chose to display your humors: Law holding his hand close to his chest before he truly displays how unhinged his humor was with dark commentary, whereas you were a perpetual flirt with provocative language and sultry advances. You both held each other in a professional standing, before your words took a turn for requited flirtation. Law would reciprocate your vulgarity, and you would mirror back that darkness he expressed, if ever your conversations became flirtatious and humorous with him.

And that is where, like the others, you ended the flirtatious rapport with a simple utterance of: “Forgive me, Cap. You’re not my type,” which threw the captain and crew into an uproar of outrageous laughter. Speculating on what exactly your type was, you finally gave into their incessant interrogation after being offered your fifth drink for the evening from the hands of Shachi.

“Fine,” you spat, your arm swaying as you handled your filled pint, “I like them big. And I truly mean big. Like, throw me over the shoulder big. Like, ‘will it fit’ big. Especially if they’ve got that feral twinkle in their eyes that looks at you like they’d want to kill you,” you confessed, your voice swooning at the thought. After taking a heaping gulp from your drink, you added, “You’re all very beautiful, handsome, and spectacular. But, I just need someone who looks like they could lovingly and desperately break me in half. Bonus points if they’re good with machines, so we can bond.”

After coming down from your whimsical confession, you glanced at the crew. Bepo’s ears were covered by both Shachi and Penguin’s hands - all three of their jaws comically slackened. Law’s teeth were clenched in an awkward, cringe-like, straightened smile with lazy, half-hooded eyes. Ikkaku’s cheeks were tinted red with the elevated hue of rushed blood, her lips broken into a wide grin with her eyes twinkling at the confession.

All of these things were true. You were a person of refined taste, a taste which seemed scarce to come by with the crew you had found yourself working beside. There was Jean Bart, but he was not overly interested in tending to a relationship with you. There was Uni, but your interests fell short when he only depicted gentleness and kindness towards you in lieu of your craving for something more brutal.

Both men remained high spirited and friendly with you despite your attempt at a fling with them falling through. You needed something more. Something more unhinged. Something a little unpredictable, feral and dangerous.

As Law led you above deck, the voice of Jean Bart called for all crew to fall in line to welcome the Nakama crew above deck. Without looking up, you hastily drew yourself between Penguin and Ikkaku, Shachi on the other side of Penguin and Bepo beside Ikkaku as you all stood alert with your arms by your sides.

“At ease, Heart-Pirates,” Law commanded, shooting you one more pointed and narrow-eyed look before turning back to speak with the foreign captains and their crews. It seemed two crews had joined the deck of the Polar Tang: The Straw-Hat Pirates alongside another crew you did not recognise. You quickly examined the First-Mate of the Straw-Hat crew, who met your eyes with a small smirk before returning back to fix his gaze on his captain alongside his crew.

Zoro was almost your type. A night you shared with one another, being evidence enough to your crew, that you had nearly found someone you deemed feral and hulking enough to share in your company. When your lips met his: his actions were closer to timid and gentle as they joined with yours. The fires of passion were there, the small amount of danger also present, but he was still not your type. He was handsome, sure enough. He was aggressive, absolutely. He reciprocated your flirtations with a small elevation of flush tinting his cheeks a warm hue of pink, which you found endearing.

The night concluded with a few deepened kisses, roaming touches from your hands holding each other firmly beneath the stars aboard the Sunny. However, nothing further ever came between the two of you. After that night, the you both remained quite good friends and shared in each other's company, with unhinged and illicit conversation, each time Law met with his captain. He kept pace with you when you drank, spurting dark vulgarity subtly into your ear at the dining table when your crews met; but it was all in good humor and never truly to initiate anything rising further between you.

A small pull at the corner of your sleeve from Ikkaku broke you away from your reminiscing, your face turning to look at her with your brows knitting in confusion. Her lips were sucked into her mouth, her eyes wide in excitement as she bore her gaze directly ahead.

“What’s wrong with you?” your hushed whisper growled at her. She removed her grip on your sleeve and raised her hand to your chin, turning your head without pulling her eyes away from their fixed point in front of her.

“This is who the Captain was keeping from you. Ever wonder why he’d been working you so hard when we meet up with certain crews? He’s why,” she muttered, her lips still sucked within her lips to stifle her rising joy. You allowed her to turn your jaw ahead, your eyes meeting with a hulking figure of a man with fiery red hair.

Your jaw fell slack before your lips pulled up into a broad smile as your eyes fixed themselves on him. He was intimidating, he was hulking, and he was big. Your eyes shamelessly raked themselves over his body, halting on his calves, his thighs, his ass, his arm, his metal arm, his broad chest, his grimace, his makeup, his blaster goggles hoisting his untamed locks away from his face-.

-You hastily drew your eyes back to his left arm, metal in make and incredibly large. It looked heavy, intricate, and mechanical. Your interest deepened at each sway of his arms, flex of his muscles and wind of cogs and bolts within his intricate piece attached to his severed limb. Starstruck, captivated, and interest immediately peaked; you continued to rake your eyes over this foreign man aboard the Polar Tang.

“O-Oh? Oh m-my-...” you couldn’t find the words to form a cohesive string of sentences, your eyes fixed on his arm as you studied it. His mechanical fingertips were clenching, his grimace splitting his scarred face, and his hair bobbing beneath blaster goggles each time he opened his mouth to speak.

“I know, right? Law has been trying so desperately to keep you from meeting him,” Ikkaku added, prompting you to hum deeply in interest with your tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip.

“That’s your type, then?” Penguin and Shachi uttered in unison, their downturned smiles through gritted teeth cringing through the question.

“That’s-,” you took a moment to collect your thoughts, swallowing a lump of dry saliva within your mouth, ”-Exactly, my type,” you gasped, nodding as you spoke aloud.

“And this is why each time we see the Victoria Punk, we have to keep you below deck and distracted,” Ikkaku managed to stutter out through her giggles. You quickly snapped your eyes back to her, your gaze narrowed and accusatory.

“We’ve had him,” you snapped your eyes away from the hulking gentleman to stare at Ikkaku, “On the Polar Tang more than once?” You snapped your eyes from Ikkaku to turn to Penguin on your other side, “And you managed to keep me distracted?” you uttered through gritted teeth. Ikkaku shrugged her shoulders, puffing out her cheeks to halt an uproar of laughter from falling from her lips.

“Captain’s orders,” Shachi confirmed with a curt nod, stooping out from falling in line to meet his spectacle-covered eyes with yours, “He knows what you’re like, and how you’d react.” He stepped back in line and grunted out a soft cough to clear his throat.

You turned your eyes back to the redhead, quickly looking over his hulking crew before hardening your resolve and humming deeply.

“I am-...” you began, raking your eyes back over his body again, “...-I am going to climb him like a tree.”

Snickers began to fall through the nose of Ikkaku, a small giggle elevating in Penguin’s chest, a huff of air snorting through Shachi’s nose.

“I gotta know what that hand does,” you confessed, your eyes full of wonderment and your tone full of longing desire, “What it feels like. Is it smooth? Does it have different settings? Is it cold? Can he control the pressure? I have to know, for science. I want him-...” you trailed off before dreamily adding: “...-To choke me.”

More laughter and teeters from your friends around you threatened to break through the seal of their clenched lips, Penguin raising his palm to halt his laughter.

“Look at his eyes. He’s got so much pent up hate in that twinkle,” you continued, a whimsical sigh exiting your lips, “I hope he’s the type that scowls into your face while he fucks you hard. Or maybe he’s the type to bend you over a desk while he frantically rams himself into you.”

Ikkaku’s higher pitched whimpered laughter almost broke through her lips, elevating both her hands to clench over the bottom half of her face to stifle her laughter. Penguin was not faring much better, his teeters boiling close to breaking point. Shachi pulled his hat over his eyes in an effort to hide his blush.

“I wonder if all of him is as big, hard and angry as the rest of him,” you hummed, deep in thought. A choked snort threatened to break through Shachi’s nose, Ikkaku held her breath while Penguin cringed behind his palm.

Zoro immediately drew his eye away from his captain and examined the five of you all huddled together in a line. He focussed on your lips moving, reading the unhinged commentary you were entertaining your crewmen with: noticing your gaze was fixed on Eustass Kid. His smirk immediately broke up his lips, his eyes closing as he huffed out a subtle laugh he disguised with a cough.

“And the scars. Are they sensitive? I wonder if he’d writhe when I lick them,” you spoke with wonderment, “How far do they go down? Is it just his face, neck, arm, and chest - or do they go all the way down his body? I would happily lick, kiss and suck my way down while mapping his flesh beneath my lips. Oooh, I wonder if he’s ticklish.”

Zoro’s gaze was now fully fixed on your lips, relaying every word of your hushed conversation lowly to Nami standing beside him. She began holding in her own laughter, choking back stifled whimpers while hearing the repetition of your vulgarity from the first-mate beside her. Nami was also a crewmate you enjoyed spending time with when the Nakama meetings drew the Straw-Hats and Heart-Pirate crews together, appreciating how effortlessly you relayed your desires and flirtations to your crewmen.

“And his face paint. Does it smear when it's coated in sweat and saliva? His face looks like a comfortable place to sit,” you raked your eyes over his face, focussing on his grimacing lips, “He looks like he’d be an aggressive kisser. I wonder if he bites when he eats pu-.”

That was the comment that broke the seal, the three companions by your side finally breaking into an uproar of laughter. The three crews and their captains snapped their attention over to you. You held a look of absolute innocence, your eyes finally meeting with the intimidating presence of the feral, redheaded captain.

His intense rage directed at you had you swooning, your knees buckling and your breath sighing at him. Heat flushed your cheeks the longer your eyes were locked with his. The flutter of your heartbeat and deep sigh departing from your lips perplexed him, depicted by the rage-riddled confusion knitting his brows together deeper.

Without warning with a few quick strides, your captain strutted over to your position among your crewmates.

“Tinkerer,” he spat, your body doing little to hide your longing as you desperately attempted to look behind Trafalgar Law to return your gaze to the Nakama behind you, “I said don’t.”

“Sorry, sir,” you apologized sincerely, snapping your eyes up to his intense gaze,and assuming a more formal position. Your hands were clasped behind your back, your chin elevated in the air and your expression hardened and practiced.

“I just-...” he growled, his eyes clamping shut tightly before reopening, “...It was a suggestion, Tink. Not an order.” He straightened his posture, swirling his neck to relieve it of tension, “At ease, but keep it quiet. Alright?”

“In that case, Cap,” you smiled, relaxing in your stature and beaming a brilliant smile up at him with a shrug, “I am going to test out how loud I can make him roar my name while he fills me full of his hot, sticky cu-.”

“-TINK!” Law scolded you with an exasperated growl, the remainder of the Heart-Pirates bursting into a large, unbridled gaggle of laughter.

Far enough away to not hear the conversation Law was holding with you, Zoro’s smirk cut his face wider at Law’s roar. A low, rumbled chuckle shook Zoro’s shoulders, alerting Luffy and Eustass Kid of his amusement.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Kid’s voice cracked through the air, causing Zoro’s chuckle to halt but his amusement remained.

“Go ask Cap’n Law’s crew,” Zoro suggested nonchalantly with a shrug. Luffy quirked his head to the side, his wide eyes holding mild curiosity. Nami clapped her hands over her lips and shook her head, while Robin’s knowing smile drew itself up to decorate her face with her humor.

“Why would I do that?” Kid growled, turning his intense auburn eyes back to the scene befaling Law and his crew. Law turned back to the two captains, a rise of a pink hue dusting his cheeks as he fixed his hat atop his head.

Behind the tattooed captain, you stood with your brow raised and following your captain’s retreat. He examined you briefly, noting you were holding a hushed conversation with your crewmates behind your captain’s back that had a blush rise to their cheeks, lips curling up into broad smiles, and shoulders quaking in laughter. You were confident, that much was sure.

As Kid met his eyes with yours, he saw your cocky smirk and half-lidded eyes glancing at him with a beckoning taunt. He watched as you shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, pausing on a few key areas and your lips moving with a smile as you spoke.

Kid immediately rose to your challenge, striding immediately over with haste and brushing his shoulder heavily past Law’s - who was too late to halt the meeting of an impossible force colliding with an immovable object. Law held out his arm in warning, an action falling short as the hulking figure covered your body in the shroud of his shadow. His presence sucked the very breath from your body, his intense, piercing gaze burned you as you gazed into them. Lips curling back into a snarl, he scrunched his nose alongside his brows.

“The fuck are you all laughing at?” He roared, his hard gaze stealing the air from within your lungs. He was even more spectacular at his closer proximity, holding you briefly starstruck under his dangerous aura.

“Aww, nothing to say? Something clamping down on your tongue to keep it from moving?” he grimaced his lips up into a cruel snarl. At his taunt, your brief awestruck expression was replaced with a channel for your vulgarity.

“Why, are you offering?” You bite back, your eyes dark with their challenge, “I bet you have an array of things you could use to keep my tongue occupied.” His eyes widened, his grimace falling a little at your words.

“Come again?” He asked, hunching over to draw his face close to yours. He bore his teeth at you, his shock written all over his face.

“I hope so, Sir,” you smile dreamily up at him, “As many times as you can handle it.”

Your crewmen beside you sucked in whimpered breaths, hoping and praying the larger man at least found humor in your comments if not anything else. You continued to hold your half-lidded eyes, glazed over with unwithheld lust and need meeting with his wide eyes, pupils shrunk small and expression angry.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he spat, his brows creasing in the middle of his forehead as his scowl returned, “I should gag, choke and flog you for that.”

“And I would say ‘thank you’, Sir,” you hummed in affirmation, stepping your body closer to his towering form. Reactionary, he stepped further towards you, completely ignoring your crewmates beside you witnessing your interaction. You could feel the waves of tension elevating and igniting fury beneath his hulking form.

“If this is your way of pissing me off,” he snarled, the rumble of his voice echoing within his chest shot a delightful shiver to your spine, “Believe me, it’s fuckin’ working, Sunshine.”

Your heart swelled at his bestowment of such a sweet title onto you, your comrades in arms staring at you in horror as you swooned. Shachi and Penguin were rapidly shaking their heads from side to side in an attempt to warn you to cease your shameless advance of the foreign captain. Ikkaku stifled a smaller gasped whimper, while Bepo covered his ears.

“So violent,” your voice shuddered in delight with an airy breathiness, “Don’t threaten me with a good time unless you intend on seeing it through, Sir.”

Eustass Kid was stunned.

He had not received such provocative and forthcoming flirtation in this way before, and he truly had no idea if your crude words were just a depiction of your humor to entertain yourself, or if you truly meant what you were saying. If your expressions were just an act to draw a laugh from your crewmen, he no longer wanted to take part in engaging with you in this way. However, if you were truly interested in him - your shameless and tasteless salaciousness was indeed igniting something within the tinkerer-captain.

“You don’t even know who I am, Sunshine,” he informed you, drawing up his mechanical left hand and threatening to cage your neck within its cool, steely grip.

“Then educate me on the name I’ll be blissfully crying praises for, Sir,” you groaned, leaning your neck against the index finger of the mechanical contraption.

“You got a lot of nerve to be talking shit about me in front everyone,” he pressed the heel of his metallic palm further into your flesh and curled the digits around your throat, “I’m not a fan of being the butt of some fucked up joke.”

“They’re not laughing at you, Sir. It’s ridicule at my expense,” you confessed, groaning at the feeling of cool metal pressing dangerously hard against your jugular, “They’re laughing at how much I want you, which I do. I really do, if you’re up to the task.”

Kid’s breath was now taking its turn in being stolen from his lungs, your confession weighing as heavy on his heart as his mechanical arm was on his shoulder. He took a moment to process the words falling freely from your lips before he calculated an appropriate response.

“The fuck did you just say-...?” Kid asked you quietly, his arm faltering its grip around your neck while his balled fist clenched tighter to stifle his rising anger.

“You heard me,” you taunted him further, not tearing your eyes from his for even a moment. Your smile never faltered, your eyes displaying their unbridled lust and craving for him within your blackened pupils, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that needs to be told twice.”

“And what kind of guy do I look like to you?” he spat at you, wringing your neck between his steel fingers.

“A big one,” you gasped a whimpering moan, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt every movement offered by the mechanical contraption. You would adore taking the time to study such a beautiful object in your workshop, but for now; your curiosity was satisfied by the feeling of the hulking larger man caging you beneath its cool grasp.

“You want me to show you how big I really am, Sunshine?” his face split into a broad grin, his brow creasing in the center to deepen his sinister expression, “At least you already know how to call me ‘Sir’.”

Before you could utter another word, Law pulled the captain’s attention away from you with a grasp of his hand on his right forearm. Before he could squeeze his metal fingers around your neck further, he drew them away from your flesh as Captain Law interrupted your building tension.

“Captain Kid,” his stern voice cut through the air, the redhead’s eyes snapped over to meet with the yellow irises of your captain, “I apologize for my tinkerer’s obscenity. They know better,” he shot you a pointed look, one you returned with a stubborn huff of breath. “Tink, I warned you. You’re dismissed. Workshop, now.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” you spat, your heels clicking together as you saluted him with your index and middle finger. You marched yourself below decks, mentally scolding yourself on your shamelessness in front of someone who was finally your type.

As the door closed behind you, Law released a breath he didn’t know he was withholding. As he opened his mouth to speak, Kid spoke over him.

“Did you say tinkerer, Traffy?” his eyes were still fixed on the door you just exited through, his voice almost soft in curiosity.

“That I did,” Law confessed with a huffed breath, “Let’s get back to our meeting so we can get this bullshit over with, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Kid exhaled, turning back to meet his gaze with Luffy and his own crew. He spared one more glance over his shoulder towards the lower deck door of the Polar Tang. Curiosity had you plaguing his thoughts, swirling within every crevice of his mind as he attempted to engage in the fruitless Nakama meeting with the Heart, Kid and Straw-Hat pirate captains.

Pausing just before joining up with Luffy, Kid turned once more to Law and grunted out a small cough. Law lazily turned his face over to him, angling his chin upwards to stare at the larger man. Kid’s cheeks dusted with a small tint of pink, elevating his right hand and pressing it against his lips while grunting through his next choice words.

“They single?”

Law groaned, throwing his head back as he and Kid rejoined themselves next to Luffy to discuss the next aspect of their meeting: no words finding anchor within the Straw-Hat captain’s mind, as he was too busy contemplating when the next meal was to be presented. Will Sanji cook it? Will Kid’s crew, or Law’s provide it? Will it include meat? He hoped it would.

Part 2

#one piece #x reader #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #kid pirates #heart pirates #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #shachi and penguin #op eustass kid #supernova trio #my writing #eustass kid is a secret softie #eustass kid is also a flirt

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honnelander · 7 months

Text

go fish! part 3

here we are everyone! we made it guys! the much anticipated part 3 of the go fish! mutual pining series!! i cannot express enough how much this series means to me and that i am constantly blown away with how much you all love it too. it amazes me every day. i hope this lives up to the hype and that you all love it. and don't worry, there will be a part 4! disclaimer: i tried tagging everyone that had asked but a few users don't come up when i try tagging them, so i'm sorry :(

WARNINGS: none

word count: 4k

pairing: opla!sanji x jealous!reader

summary: reader sees Sanji get cozy at the bar with someone else and you get jealous as hell. Zoro sees the whole thing.

prequel part 1 part 2 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @abracarabbit @commanderfreethatdust @lordbugs @sweet-little-nothings @geisterfvhrer @kenkenmaaa @dazaisfavgf @fan-goddess @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @sapphireonline @dory-98 @redskull199987 @teenyforestfairy @acupnoodle

It really shouldn’t bother you...but it did. You couldn’t help yourself. Sanji wasn’t even yours, he never would be, and yet...you couldn’t help the wave of jealousy and annoyance that crashed over you every time he would be a little too friendly with other women. (At least, too friendly by your standards and, of course, you thought your standards were pretty reasonable.)

But Sanji wasn’t even yours (he never would be). You weren’t his wife or his girlfriend, hell, you were only just crewmates to each other, so there really should be no reason why you felt as angry and jealous as you did.

That still didn’t stop you, however. In fact, it just enraged you even more and you didn’t know why.

It was just a stupid crush you had on him, right? So why did it bother you so much when he would cast that perfect smile of his towards someone else? When he would wink at another woman and say some suave innuendo that he would never say to you? Or even touch their shoulders or give a hug to someone else when he’s never even touched or grazed your arm or shoulder by accident before?

“If you stare any harder at that glass, it’s going to shatter from all the daggers you’re giving it.”

You blinked, looking up from the drink in your hand and to the left, only to see an ever calm and nonchalant Zoro take a swing of his beer, keeping his gaze towards the bustling nightclub/bar you all were currently visiting.

It’d been a couple of weeks of straight sailing on the open ocean and everyone on board was going a little stir crazy, even the ever-happy-go-lucky Luffy. So, when the Going Merry’s captain had smelled a whiff of food in the air midafternoon up on the masthead that wasn’t Sanji’s doing, everyone had collectively decided to follow Luffy’s nose and see what lied ahead.

After a half hour of sailing, you all had stumbled across another ship-like restaurant that, admittedly, even looked better than the Baratie. So, it was an easy decision for the crew to decide to dock there for a couple of hours and give Sanji the night off from making dinner, much to the chef’s annoyance.

But it had all turned out to be the right decision in the end, apparently, since Sanji had made a point to visit the kitchen and give his compliments to the chef.

Now, all of the straw hats had made it to the outdoor bar area to ‘drink the night away’, as Usopp had so jovially put it, and you’ve been here ever since.

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, looking back at the nearly full drink you had in your hand. “Very funny Zoro. You know, you should quit piracy and be a standup comedian.”

Your green-haired crewmate turned his face to you with an unamused expression. “You’ve been nursing that drink all night.” He arched an eyebrow. “You ok?”

At that question, your eyes immediately went to Sanji, who had been at the bar for a majority of the evening, chatting with the bartender but, of course, as if on cue, another gorgeous girl slinked right up to him, batting her eyelashes and ever so casually rested her hand on his bicep, sliding it all the way down to his forearm as she giggled at something the chef said.

Sanji, on the other hand, flashed the new woman, the tenth this evening at least, you thought sourly, one of his dazzling white smiles, leaning forward slightly as if he was telling her some sort of inside joke, causing her to laugh louder and place her other hand on top of his. Sanji’s smile only grew wider.

You couldn’t help the stab of pain your heart felt at the sight.

“Never better,” you replied to Zoro bitterly as you quickly downed your drink.

His gaze didn’t budge. “You don’t look fine.”

“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out Captain Obvious,” you quipped sarcastically under your breath, stealing another glance at the object of your affections. He was still chatting with that other woman, and you couldn’t help letting out a small breath as you felt the familiar sting of jealously deep within your chest.

God, it hurt. It hurt so goddamn badly, and you didn’t know why.

Zoro followed your line of sight and when he saw the Going Merry’s cook at the end of it, he hummed to himself, hiding his sly smirk behind his beer as he looked back at you. “Sounds like you need another drink then.”

“I guess so,” you sighed, sitting up and leaning over to grab the bottle of liquor that sat in the middle of your small table to refill your glass when Zoro stopped you.

“Nuh-uh,” the green-haired swordsman said as he put the heel of his boot on the table to block off your reaching hand. “If you want a refill, then you have to go to the bar,” he explained, nodding his head towards the bar, and, coincidently, Sanji. “This bottle is mine.”

“What?? Aw come on Zoro,” you whined. “I don’t want to go over there.”

“Oh? Any particular reason why not?”

It must’ve been the liquor, because you could’ve sworn you heard a knowing tone laced in his voice but when you looked at your friend, he looked as nonchalant as ever. Maybe you were imagining things.

“No,” you lied, your cheeks heating up slightly.

“Good,” Zoro said, taking a long swing of his beer, finishing it up and slamming the empty bottle on the glass tabletop lightly. “Then when you’re up there, get me another beer.” You opened your mouth to protest again but Zoro spoke before you could. “Since, you said there’s no problem.”

Shit. You were backed into a corner. And the only way out was to go up to the bar and be face-to-face with Sanji.

You looked back towards the crowded bar and felt another wave of emotion come over you. But these feelings were hard to discern. The pair was still talking at the bar, the woman still being a little too touchy towards him for your taste. You sighed slightly. Maybe when you got over there, he would just ignore you, since he was so engrossed in conversation it seemed. Part of you didn’t know if you wanted that wish to come true or not.

“Alright- fuck it, whatever,” you grumbled as you snatched your empty glass and made your way to the bar, leaving a smug Zoro alone.

As you made your way across the small dance floor and towards the bar, you felt your heart fill with dread with every step you took. You prayed to whatever God was out there that Sanji didn’t notice you but, of course, when you neared the bar, you noticed that the only open spot was behind him.

How fucking perfect.

“One beer and a refill please,” you quickly ordered, handing over your empty glass to the bartender.

“Y/n?”

Your heart clenched at hearing Sanji’s voice. Why did you think, for even a moment, that Sanji would ever ignore you? The man seemed to always notice you no matter what, even when no one else did, so why would he ignore you now?

But you couldn’t look at him. “Oh, hey,” you quickly greeted.

Sanji, however, didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think you were a big drinker,” he commented curiously, turning his body fully to face you, leaning against the bar, and unintentionally removing the woman’s grip on his arm.

“I’m not,” you answered, casting a quick glance up at him.

The blonde chef blinked in confusion, his brows pulled together slightly, but before he could question you further, his ‘date’ for the evening quickly made her presence known.

“Sanji?” the woman called out sweetly, stepping to the cook’s right, placing her hand on his right bicep and the other on his shoulder as she looked up at him with a coy smile. When she looked down at you, however, you could see the look in her eye that was anything but sweet. “Who is this? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” she commented, tilting her head in fake misunderstanding.

Immediately, both you and Sanji straightened up, shaking your heads quickly.

“No, no, she’s not my girlfriend-”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you both denied simultaneously.

You quickly looked away from them, hoping to hide the rush of embarrassment that crashed over you and, to be honest, the sting of his quick rejection. It was just another reminder, you thought bitterly, that even though Sanji always acted like a complete gentleman towards you, you weren’t his girlfriend. He was just being nice, like always, and he would never like you how you liked him.

You looked down at your hands, quiet for a moment as you knocked a knuckle against the bar top. “No,” you said after a beat. “We’re not dating.”

The woman blinked, clearly unfazed by your admission, like she expected nothing less. She still had a fake look of curiosity on her pretty face. “Oh, right! Of course not,” she laughed slightly, in a way that made you feel small. “You must be one of the straw-caps then, right?”

“It’s straw-hats, actually,” you bit back, straightening up and turning to face this jerk of a woman, chin up high, sending her what you hoped was one of your meanest stares. This girl could be mean to you all day if she wanted to, you didn’t care, but you’d rather drop dead than to ever let her bad mouth Luffy and the wonderful pirate crew he put together. “And yes, I am one of them. I’m a pirate,” you stated proudly.

Sanji must’ve been drunk or stupid, because he didn’t seem to pick up on this girl’s bad energy. “Don’t you remember, darling,” he started, sending the girl a small smile, “I was telling you about my crewmates?”

“OH right!” She hit her head in an exaggerated manner. “I remember now, pookie. You said there were two girls on your crew, an orange-haired map girl and another one...” she trailed off, tapping her pointer finger on her chin like she was deep in thought. “Oh!” she exclaimed brightly and looked down at you, her smile sweet as candy but her words as sharp as a razor. “You must be the potato girl!”

Whatever air of pseudo-confidence you had was immediately snuffed, her words quickly cutting you down to size. “The- the what?”

“Yeah, don’t you like potatoes or something?” she laughed, acting like it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.

And to her credit? It definitely sounded stupid if you didn’t know the context behind the story. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to fight the urge to either cry or deck this girl in the jaw over her making fun of such a special moment between you and Sanji.

You opened your mouth, ready to shut her shit down when she beat you to it. The next words out of her mouth immediately sucked the air out of your lungs.

“Or is just because you look like a potato?” she asked, laughing her about ass off as she lightly hit Sanji in the chest, keeping her hand there, expecting him to laugh along with her but Sanji just stiffened at her side.

You, however, were too busy keeping your breathing under control and trying your hardest not to cry to notice Sanji’s reaction, or lack of. You could feel red hot shame bloom across your chest, the heat crawling up your neck and flushing your face as you looked down at the floor.

Normally, another girl calling you ugly would sting, sure, but not cause you to literally break down in tears on the spot. So why now? Deep down, though, you knew exactly why. It was because of Sanji. She had literally called you ugly in front of Sanji, the person you had a major forbidden crush on, and what if Sanji just laughed along and agreed with her? You didn’t know if you’d be able to handle it. If he did, you would have to quit the straw hats because there was no way you could ever look at him again.

Not wanting to wait and see what his reaction would be, you started shaking your head, ready to mutter up some lame excuse to get the hell out of there when you felt an arm snake around your waist and a warm body press against your side, pulling you against them.

“Now, Madam, I don’t think those are the right words to describe the most beautiful woman in all of the four seas now, is it?” a deep, familiar accented voice asked from above you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you whipped your head up towards the voice with wide eyes, only to see the ever-beautiful Sanji look down at you with a small, soft smile, his eyes full of wonder and another emotion you couldn’t decipher, as you felt his thumb rub small, comforting circles on your right hip.

His look and touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. Your heart hammered in your ribcage as you searched his eyes for a lie, but all you could find was the truth, strong and unwavering, staring right back at you.

“I said: is it?” Sanji repeated himself, tearing his eyes away from you, looking straight on at this awful woman with his eyebrows raised slightly, like he was daring her to say something else.

Clearly not expecting Sanji to rebuke her as blatantly as he did, the woman started sputtering. “Well, I- I didn’t mean it like that, Sanji-bear, really-”

The blonde man raised his left hand in the air, immediately silencing her. “Yeah, I gotta be honest- I highly doubt that, sweetheart.”

At his condescending tone, you saw the woman bristle and nearly foam at the mouth, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. She huffed, looking back and forth between you both for a moment before scoffing and shaking her head in disbelief, saying, “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” She looked Sanji dead in the eyes, glancing at you, her eyes filled with hatred, before taking a step closer to Sanji, filling in the gap between them, as she whispered something into his left ear before stalking off and leaving the bar without another glance.

You quickly looked up at Sanji as she was whispering into his ear, confusion apparent in all of your features. Whatever she said to him, you couldn’t hear since they were both taller than you and the woman wore the highest heels you’ve ever seen, but whatever words she had spoken had left the chef completely stunned because you felt his body become rigid, the comforting circles his thumb was rubbing on your hip stopped, and you saw the muscles on his face freeze as he kept his stare straight ahead.

“Sanji?” you call hesitantly, instantly forgetting your own muddled emotions as you looked up to your heart’s desire. “Are you ok?”

At the sound of your voice, you felt him relax. He let out a little laugh (it sounded fake to you), as he looked down at you with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of, of course. I am.” But as quickly as he looked at you, his attention was stolen by the bartender placing your order on the bar in front of you. “Thanks, man,” he called out, removing his arm from around you and stepping away to grab your drink order.

Instantly, you missed the warmth he provided. You felt cold all of a sudden.

You shook your head once, clearing your head of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to analyze things like that. “Sanji-”

“How are you feeling?” he asked with his back facing you, beating you to the punch. When he turned to face you, drinks in hand, any trace of inner turmoil was gone. His eyes, instead, showed concern for you. “You know you’re beautiful, right?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning your face before looking back into your eyes.

The look in his eyes nearly took your breath away. For a moment, you had completely forgotten what he was referring to. “Uh, w-what?”

He must’ve mistaken your confusion for disbelief because his next action nearly stopped your heart. “Oh, my love,” he started softly, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He placed the drinks on the bar, freeing up his hands, and placed them on either side of your head, along your jawline, as his thumb rubbed your cheek soothingly, his fingers gently entangled in your hair. Sanji gently tilted your head upwards, so your eyes connected with his, and the look on his face was filled with such tenderness and radiated a warmth that touched your soul. His gorgeous, tanned face filled your entire field of view, and you could feel his minty breath fan your face.

When the hell did he get so close?

You felt your cheeks heating up at the proximity, your eyes tried to look at anything but his crystal-clear blue ones. Your brain was sure to short circuit if you didn’t get ahold of yourself. You were going to do something incredibly stupid if you didn’t get space immediately. “San-”

“Y/n,” he said, his tone soft yet commanding. “Look at me, love.”

Your heart rate skyrocketed and you felt your breathing quicken. God, you could feel yourself getting a panic attack and you didn’t even understand why. There was nothing more you’d rather do more than look at Sanji but you didn’t know if you had the strength to do it.

You placed your hands on top of his wrists, fully intending to peel him off and push him away, mumbling, “Sanji, I can’t-”

“Please.”

In an instant, you looked into his eyes and what you saw nearly made your heart stop. His gaze was so intense, so piercing, his blue eyes seemed like they were staring directly into your heart and soul. Could he feel your rapid pulse through his fingertips?

When you locked eyes with him, you saw his soft smile grow. “You, y/n, are the most gorgeous woman to ever sail the four seas. You are the most beautiful woman in the world, I promise you that.”

With each word out of Sanji’s mouth, you could feel your heart breaking and it was dawning on you as to why.

But Sanji continued, his eyes sparkling. “And I'll be damned if I’d ever let that horrible woman make you feel otherwise. Alright, Missus?”

At the nickname, you let out a shaky breath and quickly blinked back tears. It was right then you knew, you knew it from the depth of your soul, just like you knew for certain that the sky was blue and the earth was round: you loved Sanji. You didn’t just have a crush on him anymore, but you were completely head over heels in love with him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, which might’ve been your heart, because you realized that even though you loved him, you could never have him. He was your crewmate, your friend, another one of the straw hats. He was someone that you promised yourself you would never cross “the line” for. Who you vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t risk anything for feelings-wise because you didn’t want the rest of the crew to suffer if you both didn’t work out.

But despite all of that, it didn’t make the truth any easier to swallow because now you were stuck. You were stuck with your stupid feelings and all it did was want to make you cry. You should’ve been happy right now at this sudden realization but no, instead all you wanted to do was go hole up in your room and sob.

And besides, Sanji would never return your feelings anyway.

“Y/n?” Sanji repeated, a hint of worry laced in his tone the longer you kept staring at him unblinking.

You quickly blinked, unable to stop a few tears from escaping your eyes, but managed to hold back the rest. You tried your best to fake a smile for him, but you could feel your lips quivering. “Sanji,” you breathed but quickly cleared your throat. “That, that was beautiful.” You looked at him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

At your thanks, Sanji’s whole face lit up and he winked. “Ah, anything for the Missus.”

The blonde cook didn’t make an effort to move, however. He kept his hands on your face and with each stroke of his thumb you felt tingles shoot down into your stomach (and to other inappropriate places), and felt goosebumps erupt across your skin.

You had to get out of here.

Carefully, you squeezed his wrists and slid your hands over his, gently prying them away from you, pulling them down and giving them one last quick squeeze in appreciation before dropping them. “Thank you, Sanji,” you repeated softly. You looked towards the bar, at the two forgotten drinks placed there, because you just couldn’t look at Sanji right now. “I, uh, should go bring these over to Zoro.”

“Of- of course. Right. Mosshead is probably quite pissed off at us but, ah, who cares what he thinks.” Ever the gentleman, Sanji went to reach for them. “Here, let me help you-”

“No!” you quickly intervened, grabbing them like it was a pot of gold. “No, no. I got it. Don’t worry about it. You should, uh, stay here and keep talking to the bartender. I think he was looking for you,” you lied and without waiting for his response, took the drinks off the bar, leaving a crestfallen Sanji standing there, watching you walk to Zoro and then, promptly, out of the nightclub altogether.

As you walked over to your green-haired friend, your legs felt like rubber and that you would collapse at a moment’s notice from the sheer weight of your thoughts. You, however, were so far gone that you completely missed Zoro’s Chesire cat grin.

“You and the waiter seemed pretty cozy over there, huh?” Zoro jabbed, his arms resting on top of the seat cushions and knees spread out like he had no care in the world. “I thought you guys were going to kiss or something for a minute there, but instead-”

“Shut the fuck up, Zoro,” you practically growled at him as you put his beer and your glass on the glass tabletop with much more force than necessary.

The swordsman lifted his hands slightly along with his eyebrows. “Whoa, hey now no need to-”

Instead of taking your seat back and sitting back down, you started walking past him and towards the exit without waiting for his response. “I’m heading back to the ship.”

As Zoro watched you leave, a clearly drunk Usopp slid in right next to him, gnawing on a toothpick, watching you as well. “Daaamn, Zoro,” the slingshot shooter drawled loudly, leaning against his crewmate and completely disregarding the other man’s personal space. “Did you see Sanji and y/n? I thought they were going to- pft, start making out or something!” Usopp exclaimed as he waved his hands in the air, mimicking an explosion and two people kissing. “Do you think they know they like each other?”

Zoro hummed, watching your retreating form and then looking towards the dejected waiter, who looked like a kicked puppy. “I don’t know Usopp,” he replied, leaning forward to grab his beer and take a swing. “But if they don’t tell each other soon I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

“Yeahhh,” Usopp agreed, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at the swordsman better. “You said it- oh! Is this drink taken?” he asked, not waiting for Zoro’s response before taking the beverage and sipping on its straw.

Zoro shook his head with a small smile. Sometimes his friends were too predictable for their own good. He just hoped that you and Sanji would start being predictable soon so you two could finally be together and put everyone out of their misery.

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