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the-writer-ofthe-fandoms · 4 months

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Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 2.8k+

Warning(s): Two gross dudes, sexual verbal harassment (not towards reader), swearing,

A/N: omg chapter 3 is finally here. I apologize for the wait. I thought my semester this time around would be forgiving but NOPE. I had so much to do and read, I could hardly write for fun or draw either. I hadn't realized how long it had been since I last posted. I want to try a new method when writing series. I tried with my kpop writing blog, and its where I write a few chapters at a time then periodically post them. Helps keep the flow and motivation going, but that may have been a one off there.

Series Masterlist

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"O star of strength! I see thee stand And smile upon my pain; Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, And I am strong again... The Star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed. -- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "The Light of Stars"

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Edward hasn't been in school for the past few days.

You admittedly felt a little lonely without his presence, though Emmett and Alice have made it their mission to become your new best friends. Jasper tried but he still kept his distance from you, which you didn't mind. Rosalie helped when no other Cullen was around, although she kept a lot of conversations at a minimum, which you also didn't mind.

Alice had told you Edward had gotten a bad cold, so he is staying home. You had offered to bring him your notes the first time so he could copy them down, but Alice told you their father has him basically on lock down until he is deemed healthy. So, after you've done your homework, you've been making copies of your notes to give him when he comes back.

It's the start of a new day and once again, Edward wasn't there. You were at your locker with 15 minutes to spare. You placed the spare folder with Edward's notes on the shelf while your mind went back to that moment you two shared at the welcoming party for your uncle. You felt happy telling him all the stars and constellation you could see, and even happier when he seemed thoroughly interested in your rambles. However, you feel an inkling of guilt when you remember he gave you his jacket. Maybe he got sick from that?

"Dude, I got this weird spot on my dick."

Well, there goes your musings of guilt. You glance to your left and see two guys near you, just chilling against the lockers. You've never met them, though you do remember sharing a class or two with them separately.

"Are you really airing your business out when someone is standing right their?" The shorter one, with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes gestures to you.

"Relax, Mark. That's the deaf student." The taller one with deep brown eyes and brown hair says with a laugh. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and choose to just focus on the inside of your locker. Maybe you should get more decorations- "Anyways, I have this weird spot on my dick. It almost looks like I have a weird mole there. I'm hoping it's just a new mole and Cindy didn't give me something."

Gross.

"I'd get that shit checked out then. You don't want it to turn into something worse if it is an STD." Mark says with a sigh. "I told you not to sleep with her, Tony. She made my balls itch like crazy. They still fucking itch."

"I think its just a weird mole. You wanna look?" He cackles while his friend fake gags. They both push off the lockers and walk away to who knows where.

You let out a deep sigh and close your locker. At least the ignorance of other allows you to hear some gossip.

"What's with the sigh, Tiny?" Emmett calls out as he and Rosalie approach you. He has very quickly taken to the nickname Tiny for you. You suppose anyone shorter than him would be considered tiny in his eyes. Rosalie simply opened her locker as you and Emmett conversed.

"Oh, just overheard two people talking about something that should have been a private conversation." You respond with a slight shrug.

"Gah, Forks High is full of a bunch of weirdos, huh?" He grins and raises his brows a few times, crossing his arms while leaning on the locker next to you. You silently chuckle and nod, though you wondered if there was an underlying joke there.

"No Edward today?"

"Nope. Carlisle still hasn't cleared him." He sighs with a sympathetic smile. "Between you and me, Tiny, Edward is still shitting his brains out." He signed that last portion to you.

You gave him a scandalized look and playfully slapped his arm with a small chuckle. You were surprised to feel just how hard his muscles were.

"What was that for?" He gripped where you slapped and pretended to be hurt. "It was a private conversation, no one else here except Rosalie knows sign."

You roll your eyes and shake your head with a smile. You could always count on Emmett to get you to smile.

"C'mon, Rose and I will walk you to first period, like always." He grins and gestures you to follow him. Rose simply came along since she and Em were in the class next to yours. You nod and follow, happy to have good company.

---

It was a passing period and it was just you and Rose at your lockers. You grabbed a new pen and pencil since the last two you had broke and ran out of ink. Rosalie was fluffing up her already perfect, blond hair in the mirror of her locker. She and you didn't converse much, but you still liked her presence. Like the rest of the Cullens, she didn't tiptoe around you or treated you differently. She acknowledged your presence and would answer you if you had questions.

You were about finished in your locker when you heard two familiar voices keep up their gross conversations behind you.

"Dude, Rosalie has the hottest ass." Tony practically jeers, his voice intentionally loud. You glance to the blond next to you and she still keeps fixing her hair, though you can see her brows are a little more furrowed and her lips are more in the shape of a frown.

"Her tits, man, her tits are where it's at." Replies Mark and when you shift just enough to see him in the corner of your eyes, you see him make an obscene gesture.

You hear the slight creek of metal and when you look to Rose, you see her grip is so tight on her locker door that her fingers made indents which made your eyes widen for a moment. She closes her locker and you can see by her side profile she is pissed, and rightfully so.

So, you do what you think would make her laugh at the expense of those two guys.

You tap her arm to get her attention and she looks at you with a glare. You don't let it faze you. If those two are going to be gross about your friend, you'll just air out their business that they so willingly aired out by you this morning.

"You know those two jackasses?" You intentionally look to them as you sign and look back at her. "Well the brown haired one has a spot on his penis that he isn't sure if it's a mole or an STD. And his buddy likely doesn't wash right since he's had prolonged itchy balls."

Rosalie looks almost scandalized until her eyes widen for a moment as she looks at the two dudes and then back to you. She covers her mouth as she laughs when she realizes what you're trying to do.

You were about to sign some more when the two dumbasses approach.

"I know you were talking shit. What the fuck did you sign?" Tony glared, pointing an accusatory finger at you. He gets in your face and you swear you hear Rosalie growl.

You swallow thickly and decide to open your mouth. Your aunt always said you got your stubbornness from your mom.

"I said..." You try not to wince at the pain in your throat, your voice sounding hoarse. "You had a weird spot on your dick and your friend... has itchy balls." They looked at you with wide, horrified looks. "Don't talk about someone's body if you don't want yours talked about either."

"You little shit." Mark hisses and Rose steps closer to your side, an arm just barely in front of yours.

"What's going on here?" Emmetts voice grows louder as he approaches, his usual, carefree smile no longer on his face. He looked scarier than you've ever seen him. Mark and Tony looked at each other before slinking off.

Once they were gone you let out a dry, painful cough. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and quickly grab your water and drink, soothing your throat. You could taste a tiny bit of iron in the back of your throat as you drank.

Rosalie calls your name softly. "Are you okay?"

You nod in response and take another sip of water. You didn't catch the look they gave each other or Rose gesturing for Emmett to speak.

"What happened, Tiny?" He asks in a quiet tone. You close the cap of your bottle and place it back in your bag. Your throat still ached but you knew the pain from using your larynx will linger.

You start to sign to him everything that occurred, from what you overheard in the morning to him approaching. You can see a flash of anger on his face but he goes back to that small smile. Once you explained your words to Rose and why you said them, a huge grin breaks out on his face.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Tiny." He laughs and pats your shoulder a little too firmly.

"Come, I'll walk you to class." Rosalie said with a soft tone. You nod and wave goodbye to Emmett. You both start heading down the hallway, the blond next to you tense.

When you got to your class a pale hand stopped you. You look to Rose with a questioning look while her gold eyes avoid yours.

"I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." Rosalie says, the tense look she had fades into a small smile, her eyes meeting yours. You see some vulnerability in her usually guarded gaze. She gives your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. "You didn't have to do that. I'm... admittedly used to that."

"No need to thank me, Rosalie." You smile back at her.

"I do, because not many would step up like that." She softly sighs and her smile grows a bit. You felt her words had more meaning to them, but you decided to not linger on them for now. "I know I've been slightly avoiding you but I have a hard time trusting hu- new people. But, after today, I think I want to open up a bit and be friends."

"I'd like that too." You beam. "Alice has been begging me to do a shopping trip, maybe the three of us can plan a trip soon."

"I'd... I'd like that." She almost looks like she is relieved and less guarded.

"Is your hand okay?"

"What?"

"Well, I saw you grip your locker and you dented it."

"Oh. Yeah, it's fine. I work on cars and my grip is strong. It's nothing." She holds out her hands and you saw just flawless skin. "Well, I will see you soon. Class is starting."

"Talk to you later." You wave and go to class. You sit down at your usual spot and start preparing. You sigh, irritated at the way those two spoke about Rose so loudly. But you also felt happy you and Rose were close now. Her bending the locker was suspicious... there were many things off with the Cullens that you've picked up, however, you don't linger on it. They have their quirks much like you have your own.

---

Edward lounged on the couch reading, back from his trip up to the Denali clan to clear his head. After witnessing that nightmare from you, he needed a moment alone to sort his thoughts. He wasn't sure what he felt afterwards but once he took some time to sort out his thoughts, he came back to Forks. None of the others knew what happened. He didn't tell them those details of your life, as none of them were privy to it. He wasn't either but that bridge has been crossed thanks to his ability and curiosity of the galaxy protecting your mind.

He felt guilt initially when he realized he deeply invaded your privacy. Then, despair and immense sadness followed when he recalls back to your nightmare, your past. Edward had seen many horrors in his long life, he even committed some when he'd hunt those men. However when he witnessed what you went through, he couldn't help feel a spark of protectiveness. You were nice. He found you a joy to be around despite it not being long since you transferred. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to you.

Edward couldn't help but smile when he thought back to you and him outside the fire station. It was a peaceful moment. He couldn't help but linger on the sight of you in his jacket, pointing out the stars and constellations. It was silent other than your internal thoughts. And when he got to witness your galaxy so at peace? He also felt a sense of tranquility he longs for.

Edward quickly put those thoughts away and resumed his attention his book when he heard his adoptive siblings come in. Alice and Jasper pass without saying to him, which he was slightly thankful for. However, Emmett and Rosalie lingered by him.

"How can I help you both?" Edward sighs, snapping the book closed as he looks at both of them.

Rose crosses her arms. "You need to come back tomorrow."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Yeah, Tiny happened." Emmett grinned and gestured to Rosalie. The blond sighed and let the memory replay of you standing up for her so Edward can see what happened today. He furrows his brows, setting his book down. He stands up from the couch and looks between the two.

"My guess is those two will probably retaliate against our friend one way or another." Rosalie says softly. Edward chooses not to point out how she said 'our friend.' "You spend the most time with them, they'll need you to stick around them the most."

Edward nods slowly. He recognizes Mark and Tony, and he knows they each have a class with him and you. He's heard the thoughts that spew from them both like garbage and he knows they aren't above getting back at someone.

"I'll come back tomorrow." He confirms. He wanted one more day to himself, but tomorrow is good as ever to face you again. He knows how you lost your voice and how you ended up living with your uncle and aunt now, but you don't know he knows. And he'll have to keep that in mind.

Although, Edward couldn't help but smile at the sound of your voice in Rosalie's memory. It was rough and hoarse, and it caused you pain, pain he doesn't want you feeling again... but it was nice hearing that voice that matches to the one in your head... when that space of yours is dropped.

---

You make your way to your locker first thing in the morning. You get yourself situated, grabbing the things you need for your classes before lunch. You set aside the folder where you kept your copies of notes for Edward down on the small shelf. You huff softly, throat still feeling sore from using your voice.

A familiar voice calling your name has you spinning around quickly, a smile instantly growing on your face. Edward approaches you with a small smile, looking the same as he did the last time you saw him.

"Glad to see you're feeling better." You grin, your mind flashing back to what Emmett signed to you in regards to Edward's health. You catch your friend's eyebrow twitch, a flash of annoyance on his face that he quickly recovered.

A Cullen quirk, you muse to yourself.

"Yeah. I'm doing a lot better now." He replies softly, standing a little closer to you than usual.

"I have something for you." You see his eyebrow quirk as you turn back to your locker. You pull out the black folder and hand him it. "Notes for the classes we share."

Edward stares down at the folder before chuckling. He looks up at you and gives you brilliant smile, one that makes your heart flutter for just a moment. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Of course."

Suddenly, you feel hand on your back. Edward was standing much closer to you with an expression akin to a scowl as he stares off a little. He looks to you and smiles softly, though you can still see the tension on his face.

"We should get to the classroom. I'll probably have questions about what I missed." He says in a low voice. You nod, a little confused by his demeanor. You finish up with your locker and let him guide through the hallway, his cold hand still resting on the middle of your back.

You weren't aware of Tony's and Mark's presences until you both were walking by them to your first period classroom. You paid them no mind, keeping your focus ahead of you. Doing this, however, has you missing the deep and threatening glare from Edward towards the both of them.

As you both walked through the hallway, Edward felt that his non-existent blood boiling at the degrading, violent, and nasty thoughts those two were thinking. He knew they both weren't the best that Forks has to offer, their thoughts sometimes louder than others.

That protective urge he felt after witnessing your nightmare? It's working overtime now and he isn't completely sure why.

What Edward does know that he won't let them try anything towards you.

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Taglist: @buckybarnes-1917, @trawberry-fire , @dreamy-caramel, @urgirlfriendspage @azazel-nyx @stinkii-boii @vanessalovesonedirection @sunnyisntthere @theatrenerd101601 @awesomebooklover17 @esposadomd @whichwitchisthebitch @bofadeezs @gons-dad-is-gon-e @kathsuhki @aoi-targaryen @srh-006 @onlyheretosimp

#edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen imagines #edward cullen imagine #twilight #twilight saga #twilight edward #twilight edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight x y/n #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #silent cosmos

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soapyghost · 1 year

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Comrade, I humbly request Graves being a lovesick goober. Just an absolute mess for fem!reader and, if you’re feeling silly, the 141 and Los Vaqueros roasting him mercilessly for it.

Southern Comfort- Graves x F!Reader

A/N: Now this. This I can get behind. This is gonna be in the same AU as Snow- but pre the betrayal! Because I HC graves to be an absolute smoosh southern boi (and he deserves just some adorable lil fluff before the trauma) Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of violence if you squint and then a liiiiiiil bit of nsfw at the very end. nothing insane. just some smoochin

“Ye-fuckin’ ha 3-1 copy that. All Shadows, Oscar” Graves voice over the radio instantly bringing a smile to your face. He was coming home. You knew it was silly to worry every time Graves went on a mission without you but you couldn’t help it. You felt truly useless sitting at base and not out in the field; but he had insisted on you staying back and keeping your ear to the radio signal for el Sinombre.

It was incredibly hard to not tackle Phillip the minute he stepped foot of the plane, and it took every ounce of self control to keep yourself in line. You knew Graves felt the same, it was written all over his face “Shadows! 141! Los Vaqueros! Mission success- drinks on me” Graves whooped and the entire base erupted into cheers and “yup yup”’s.

After what felt like an eternity you two were finally alone. You had an hour to decompress before it was time to meet everyone at the bar outside of base. After a quick shower you and Phillip settled onto the couch in the lounge just enjoying the presence of each other. His strong arms around you, the feeling of home. You had just closed your eyes to soak in the moment when you heard Alejandro yell “Holy shit Hermano! I didn’t know you even knew how to relax. Let alone have a-“

“Shut up Alejandro” you mutter, snuggling deeper into Graves chest. You hear him chuckle as he walks away. You knew you were about to get absolutely grilled at the bar, but that could wait for 15 more minutes of bliss.

You didn’t know when but the rhythm of Phillips heart and breathing lulled you to sleep. He moves slowly to lean down and kiss you on the forhead “My love, we have to go” his southern accent thick, just like it is when he first wakes up. He must have fallen asleep as well, “mmmm 5 more minutes” you murmur as you nuzzle him. “Sugar, we’re already late. They’re gon’ come in here n’ drag us” he whispered, peppering you with kisses. He moved from your forhead down to the tip of your nose, finally landing to give one of his honey sweet kisses. “I could just carry you” he muses. “Absolutely not. We’re already going to get so much shit” you sigh.

The bar was packed to the brim with drunken happy bodies. Missions that were successful without any casualties were far and few between. You and the whole squad decide to do some shots in honor of a mission well done. Of course it’s fireball, which makes your eyes water as it goes down. You sputter and catch your breath as Graves’s calloused hands grab on to your shoulders “ya alright doll?” He asks, leaning down close. Chuckles escape from behind you, but he doesn’t move. His face turns a bright red, maybe from the alcohol or maybe from embarrassment. You force a laugh and nod your head, as you shoot the 141 task force a dirty look.

“I’m surprised you even let her out yer sight Graves” soap laughs, “if she’d get a paper cut your world might fall apart!” Soap and Gaz burst out laughing. Phillip roles his eyes as he lets you go and settled back down on the bar chair.

“Yeah Graves, what would you do if she ever got hurt?” Price asks. He tilts his head as Phillip turns an even brighter shade of red. “Sh-she can handle her own” he stutters out. Which only sends the task force into another round of chuckles. “And what about that snuggle sesh in the common room earlier!” Gaz shouts out. This causes Graves to groan and put his head on the table. “At least he gets some, unlike some people here” you spit back as you take a sip of your drink.

Halfway through your third drink you stand up to excuse yourself to the bathroom and Graves stood up to escort you. The table of 141, Alejandro and Rudy all nearly burst out laughing. You both turn and shoot a look at Price- “what?” Graves growled. The two of them widen their eyes and hold their hands up in mock defeat. You roll your eyes as you turn around head towards the bathroom. As you reach the door you feel a familiar grip on your waist as you’re shoved against the wall. A giggle escapes your throat as you look up in those beautiful blue eyes.

“They want a show? I’ll give ‘em a show” he growls, his lips crashing int yours. You can taste the cheap beer and fireball on his lips. It’s not often that he shows this much affection in public so you’re going to soak it all in. You part your lips for his tongue and whip up one leg onto his back as the whoops from your table grow louder.

You break away first to catch your breath, “You know they’re going to give you shit for this” you whisper, another giggle escaping your throat. “So what? They don’t get to do this” he replies as he grabs your hand and pulls you into the bathroom door and clicks the lock.

#philip graves #graves #graves x reader #phillip graves mw2 #commander phillip graves #commander graves #mw #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #commander graves x reader #phillip graves x reader #mw2

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fanfic-is-a-godsend · 7 months

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Hello my loves! I'm so down bad for Leon, and also I feel like he would be into overstimulation. Hope this satiates some of your guys' thirst for a little while <3

Scenario: Leon has been on a mission for a while, and you decided to tease him relentlessly for the entire time. He comes home after all that time and decides to eat you out like it's his last meal.

Leon Kennedy x FTM!reader (reader is referred to as Leon's boyfriend)

Content: porn without plot; smut; crying (it's from being overstimulated but I thought I should add it); Cunnilingus; established relationship; usage of the pet names baby/babe, sweetheart, and love; use of good boy; cockwarming mention; honestly Leon is very soft as he overstimulates you

MDNI PLEASE READ SOMETHING ELSE

The day had been rough, but in all honesty there wasn't anything that should have made it that bad. Sure there were a few annoyances: a flight delayed by an hour, paperwork that lasted for longer than an attention span could handle, a favorite fast-food place being closed for major repairs. None of it was that bad; at least not compared to what Leon dealt with on a practically monthly basis.

But there was something else. Something that gnawed at the back of the back of his mind and seeped, sluggish and heavy, into his chest.

Longing.

All day Leon was antsy, on pins and needles, wishing he could get home faster. If he could only just finish that last bit of paperwork faster, if only that flight hadn't been delayed, if only he hadn't had to go find a different place to grab a bite, then he would have gotten to see his boyfriend faster. He would've gotten to feel him faster, to taste him faster.

It had been so long, four months to be exact, since you had seen each other. Of course he stayed in contact when he could, but you had been such a tease recently. Pictures that were provocative but not quite nudes became the norm, and late night calls where you were already two fingers deep inside yourself when Leon answered had gotten more and more frequent.

It all left Leon feeling incredibly frustrated, wanting his boyfriend so badly yet not being able to have him. That frustration lingered beneath his skin for the entire time you two were apart. The last place he needed to be was in some country halfway across the world for a mission. He wanted, no needed, to be between his boyfriend's legs.

By the time he finally got back to your shared apartment, he was bursting at the seams with frustration and desire. The entire day he had been wishing he had your warm skin on his, fantasizing about making you cry out his name. Leon needed you, and he needed you now.

Hard boots hit the floor, and a heavy leather jacket was thrown haphazardly at the coat rack. The smell of something savory cooking on the stove filled the air, mixing with Leon's already strong hunger for things he knew he'd have.

You were on the couch reading something Leon didn't catch the title to when you turned around to see who had just walked into your apartment. Curiosity was quickly replaced with joy as you caught sight of Leon. A bright smile cracked across your face, and you moved to stand up. Leon was already right there, pushing you back down onto the couch.

You opened your mouth to ask what Leon was doing, but were promptly cut off.

"You can't do the shit that you've done for months and not expect to be pinned to something when I get back, babe." Was the answer to your unasked question. Leon's words came out in a huff. The irritation that had built up all day was evident in the slight gruff quality of his voice.

You, in turn, snorted and rolled your eyes, threading your fingers through Leon's hair and pulling him closer. "Well hello to you too, my love." You snickered before leaning up to capture Leon's cracked lips in a kiss.

You should have never agreed to indulge in Leon's desperation. That thought , though, was barely a musing when Leon circled his tongue around your puffy red clit over and over and over again. Your brain was foggy, so deprived of reprieve that you could barely think anymore. As your body burned, nerves screaming out for Leon to stop, all you could do was weakly, pathetically attempt to push Leon's face away. Did you really want him to stop?

"Ngh... Leon," you muttered out breathlessly, voice raw from screaming out in pleasure for the last hour. Tears streamed down your cheeks from how overwhelmed your senses were. "Can't- can't go anymore. Don't have another one in me."

And for a moment, Leon stopped. His mouth hovered mere inches away from your sopping, abused cunt and looked into your eyes with a more relaxed expression than he had all night. Strong arms looped around your thighs, holding them open yet close enough that Leon could feel their warmth on his face

The sight of Leon's relaxed yet hungry face, glistening with the tangy slick of your arousal caused a wave of pride to wash over you. God damn it Leon really knew how to make you do what he wanted without even trying.

"Awh, but sweetheart," Leon began, his voice a slow drawl of honey and syrup. "You know you do. Can I please just get one more? After that you can sleep or cockwarm all you want."

A sigh escaped your lips and you laid back against the couch, the springs creaking under your shifting weight. You gave a whiny noise that was something akin to a "fine..."

Leon frowned at that, reaching out and gently grabbing your jaw. His hand, worn and calloused, held you as though you would break. The touch was a stark contrast to the way he was completely devouring your poor pussy just a few moments ago.

"Is it 'fine' or is it 'yes', love?" Leon asked, soft and gentle in a way that made your stomach fill with butterflies.

And you crumbled like burnt gingerbread cookies. Despite your overwhelmed senses, you really did love it all. Beneath the overwhelm that scratched just under your skin was glee, waterfalls of joy and pleasure that you just couldn't get enough of. You would honestly probably beg for Leon to continue if you weren't feeling so prideful that night.

"Y-yes, you can." You looked away like this was the first time you two had done anything together. Your face burned a pretty red color, only made prettier by the way your face glistened with tears.

"Thank you, baby." Leon hummed, the noise sounding similar to a purr. "You're such a good boy for me." Leon gave you a light pat on the cheek and a kiss on the thigh before leaning back down.

He pressed his tongue between your folds, savoring the taste like he hadn't gotten the chance to before. Once satiated by just holding his tongue there for a few seconds, he unhooked an arm from one of your thighs and slid two fingers into your warm pussy.

The action caused your hips to jerk up and a whimper to escape your throat. The cold of Leon's fingers was a sharp contrast to the searing warmth of your pretty cunt. You squirmed and writhed, overwhelmed whines spilling from your lips as Leon relentlessly thrust his fingers in and out of you.

"Good boy. You're taking it so well." Leon cooed before dipping his head down. His lips captured your clit as he lapped at it like a starved man.

The only real way you could respond to the assault was to arch your back and cover your face as you sobbed in pleasure. Your legs trembled, trying desperately to close around Leon's head. Yet Leon held them open.

You were practically melting. Or were you exploding? You couldn't tell the difference. Maybe there wasn't a difference at that moment.

Your body dug into the rough fabric of the couch. It creaked and groaned under the movement, threatening to break as it did every time anything remotely heavy was placed upon it. Maybe it was just as worn out as you were, taking in some of the exhaustion for you.

God this was just what Leon needed: his face buried between his boyfriend's thighs as he made him come undone over and over and over again. Everything about this just made everything else worth it. He couldn't get enough of the way you sounded, so overwhelmed with pleasure you were whining like a dog. He couldn't get enough of the way you looked, face contorted in ecstasy, tears streaming down your face, taking everything just so well.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your clit. The vibrations of his voice made you cry out in surprise. "You're so fucking perfect..."

Then you were coming again, your cunt clenching hard around Leon's fingers. Your palms dug into your eyes as you screamed for the uptheenth time that night. Of course, Leon led you through it, cooing soft praises as he gradually slowed his fingers.

You relaxed, the couch giving out it's last creak for the night as you did so. Your hands slid from your face up to your hair then moved to Leon's shoulders. The glow of the shitty, dim lightbulbs in the apartment made the sweat on your skin glint with the rise and fall of your chest.

You were so close to just passing out, fatigue weighing down on your body like a weighted blanket. To your surprise, Leon pulled away, giving your thighs a little kiss as he did so.

"Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart." Leon reached out and gently grabbed your hand, pulling you off the couch. Leon was a man of his word, always.

Your body felt like jelly, shaky and unsteady. Leon gladly shouldered the full weight of his boyfriend leaning on you as he led you to the bathroom, his feet shuffling on the hard, carpeted floor.

"Once we do that we can go to bed, okay?"

You just mumbled something close to an "okay" In response. You tried to nuzzle your face into Leon's neck, but the angle made it difficult. Instead, you gently rested your head on Leon's shoulder as Leon nudged the bathroom door open. Once inside, you sat down on the floor as Leon started a bath, the cold tile floor uncomfortable against your bare skin.

"Hm, thank you for letting me do this, baby."

"Of course, my love. We both needed it."

Edited for formatting reasons. Idk what the fuck I was doing.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x male reader #resident evil #spicy #my posts #ftm reader #male reader

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thirstydiglett · 7 months

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IT’S FINALLY HEREEEEEEEE

@badly-drawn-doflamingo asked me for some Corazon x male!reader like a month ago and I SWEAR it was just gonna be a little thing but it got out of control and anyway here it is

————————NC17 minors DNI———————

To Know, To Not Be Known

Summary: You’re a new Ensign at headquarters, fresh from the Academy but not nearly as strong as your fellow Ensigns. Thankfully your kind and very handsome Commander is here to help you train and work on those deep rooted self esteem issues of yours… but only if you muster up the courage to let him in.

Characters: Marine!Donquixote Rocinante, male!reader, Bellemere and Sengoku get cameos because I love them

Pairings: Rocinante x male!reader obivously

Warnings: Graphic violence, minor (original) character death, major character injury, small amounts of homophobia, discussion of trauma especially starvation, sex with an authority figure, oral sex, rimming, minor cum play, anal, Diglett has a size kink so that’s in here too, I think that’s everything but I might have missed something pls let me know

Word Count: 14k hahaha what is wrong with me

———————————————————————

“See ya later, Bellemere!”

You adjusted the collar of your uniform, inspecting it for any stains, and walked out of the dining hall. You waved to your best friend as she bussed her tray and headed the other direction. It would have been nice to have her, you mused, especially today of all days. Frustratingly, you and Bellemere had been put into different squadrons after graduating the academy. There, you’d been attached at the hip, The only two queer (or at least openly queer) infantry in your graduating class.

But now it was a whole new world, and everything was different. Marine Headquarters. Who would have guessed they’d place you here of all places? True, you had a devil fruit and that was interesting, but you’d never worked particularly hard back at the academy. Too busy goofing off with Bellemere and having crushes on boys who invariably turned out to be straight, in all honesty. You’d always done decently despite your slacking off, but never in a thousand years would you have guessed you’d end up at Headquarters. Fucking Headquarters.

Bellemere, on the other hand? That girl deserved it. She was up at 4 every morning to work out before morning workout. She could recite marine history from the end of the void century up until fifteen minutes ago. And her sailing skills? Top notch by anyone’s standards. All while getting more pussy than most of the boys you knew.

When you found out both of you were heading to headquarters together, you’d almost asked if she had pulled some kind of string to bring you along with her. But no—they’d requested you specifically. How the hell could you deserve to be here, with the elites?

Well, you were about to find out. Day one of training with the big boys was about to commence.

As you headed over to the training grounds where your squadron was scheduled to meet—6 AM on the dot—you couldn’t help but be in awe of the men and women around you. A man with hair at least three feet tall was deep in conversation with—holy shit, was that Monkey D. Garp?? And you could have sworn you just walked past a literal giant…This place was going to take some getting used to.

Arriving at your squadron’s assigned training fields—a grassy expanse littered with boulders and submerged in a thick early-morning fog—your heart leaped to realize that everyone else was already there and standing in ranks. Oh shit, were you really late on your first day? Frantically, you glanced at your watch. Nope, still 5:59. Then why…?

“Hey, recruit!”

A truly huge man was staring at you from the field, his coat around his shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, and not just because he was glaring at you with a vengeance. The man was truly… well, gorgeous. Tousled blond hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring large, lidded red-brown eyes. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his white shirt barely obscuring his well-defined musculature. You could feel your jaw drop a little as you took him in.

Oh shit. You should probably say something back.

“Uhh—y/n l/n, reporting for duty, sir!”

You jogged over and fell into line, saluting the man who was clearly to be your superior officer. He slowly walked in front of you, towering over you as he glared into your eyes.

“And you’re here thirty minutes late because…?”

You flushed. You couldn’t deny, the way his eyes bored into yours was sending lightning bolts through your stomach. “I, um, I was told to be here at 0600 hours, sir!”

“And unlike all the other ensigns, you didn’t get the memo I sent to the barracks last night that I wanted you here at 0530?”

You gulped. You’d actually snuck into Bellemere’s room last night to smoke the weed she’d snuck in and watch old cartoons on her visual Den Den Moshi. And you hadn’t gotten back until almost 1, far too late to receive a message.

“I was asleep, sir!” You blurted out, the lie slipping between your teeth with surprising ease. The man staring down at you raised an eyebrow.

“Asleep, eh?”

Oh, shit. He doesn’t buy any of this, does he? Am I about to get killed on my first day? Yeah, this guy looks like he could kill me…

“Be here on time tomorrow.”

The man turned and walked away without another word, leaving you stunned. Did I… Did I just get away with that?

Facing the line of ensigns, most of whom were barely hiding their snickering at you, the man raised his hand. With a quick glance at you and a—was that a smile?— he snapped his fingers.

The world went silent.

Out of nowhere, the voices of the other ensigns were deadened. The sound of the wind, the grass—holy shit, even your heartbeat—had completely disappeared. The ensigns looked around at one another, baffled and frightened. Suddenly, a voice cut through the dense silence.

“Calm down. It’s my devil fruit.”

You and the other ensigns looked up to see your superior officer watching you, a small smile on his face.

“I’m Commander Donquixote Rocinante. I’ll be leading this squadron. We’ll be working here to start with, but we may be going to sea on missions within the next year or so.

The powers that be want me to tell you that you all are here because you’re elite, the best of the best that the academy has to offer. Personally, I think that’s a load of bullshit. You’ve yet to prove you have anything to offer on the battlefield and you certainly haven’t proven that you know anything about executing Justice.

It’s my job to keep an eye on you, and if I see any shit I don’t like, you’ll be up for reassignment in a heartbeat.” (Oh shit, was he looking at you when he said that?)

“Understood?”

Rocinante snapped his fingers, and with a gentle woosh the sound returned to the world.

“Now, let’s get started. Ensigns, give me 100 push-ups!”

The peaceful morning shattered as over two dozen of the Marines’ finest dropped to their hands and toes, yourself included.

____________________________________

The first three weeks of training passed in a blur. Commander Rocinante pushed your squadron hard, working mostly on hand-to-hand combat skills and marksmanship, Rocinante’s two specialties. Everyone else was obviously in the right place—your compatriots were strong and tough, pushing themselves well past their limits for their commander.

And he paid them back in kind. Commander Rocinante was proving to be a surprisingly charming, supportive superior. He often bought the squadron drinks after a long day of training, and his goofiness and clumsiness off the battlefield put everyone at ease. While fighting, like many of the Marines, he was serious and intense—moving quickly and elegantly and using his power to sow confusion and cripple the enemies’ senses—but as soon as training ended Commander Rocinante was the kindest, most open-hearted (and admittedly the most disaster-prone) leader that anyone could ask for.

Except he appeared to hate you specifically.

You knew why—you were by far the weakest member of your squadron. You worked hard, sure, but you couldn’t quite do as many pushups, run as many miles, dodge as many punches. If you were Commander Rocinante, you would have been annoyed too. Of course you would have. But he was just so—so cold to you.

He greeted the others with nicknames, arms around shoulders, jokes about whatever was in the news. You got a chilly nod; you weren’t even good enough for him to call you by your name. After training he was quick to call out the other ensigns for their hard work and improving skills with swords or martial arts. You got a criticism or you got nothing at all. Other ensigns ragged on the commander for his famous clumsiness and he laughed right along with them. You cracked one joke when he tripped on a rug and got nothing more than a dead-faced scowl.

It wasn’t like you didn’t get it. But still, it hurt like hell to be the only one who didn’t have some inside joke with him, the only one who he didn’t personally invite to sit with the squadron at meals, the only one who was this weak and useless and—

“Ensign! Keep your head up!”

At the sound of Commander Rocinante’s voice, you shook yourself out of your thoughts with just enough time to dodge a kick aimed at your left ear. Henri, one of your fellow ensigns, cursed as he barely missed you. “That won’t happen again, y/n!”

You swallowed and tried to clear your head. Maybe this was why you were always fucking up during training—couldn’t stay focused to save your life.

You returned Henri’s kick with a right hook, but he ducked before you could hit him. Losing your balance, you were left wide-open, and Henri used the opportunity to strike at you with his short sword. The tip of it brushed your skin as you leaped back with a shout.

“Come on, Ensign!” Commander Rocinante shouted from the sidelines. “Block him! Don’t just dance around like an idiot!”

Your stomach twisting at his insult, you unsheathed your own sword. What the fuck is his problem? Why can’t he cut me a break? With (frankly uncharacteristic) aplomb, you swung hard from overhead. Henri reached up to block, but your strike still had enough force to knock him back several feet.

“Yes!” It was your first solid hit of the fight, and the cheer came out before you even realized it. You glanced nervously back at Commander Rocinante, eager for his approval. Sure enough, the blond man’s lips were curled ever so slightly upward into a smile.

You grinned despite yourself. Finally, you were doing something right. Maybe now you’d feel his hand on your shoulder at the end of training today, instead of watching it touch someone else’s. Now all you had to do was—

“OOF!”

You grunted and stumbled back again as Henri swung back, the flat of his sword hitting you hard in the face. Tripping backward with the force of the hit, you felt your legs collide with something very solid—one of the large rocks that littered the training field. You lost your balance and fell onto the rock hard…

And your sword flew from your grip.

The next part happened in slow motion. You watched, upside down on the boulder, as your sword careened through the air, spinning as it did so. You watched its trajectory as it pointed downward and finally landed…hard…directly in someone’s foot.

Your face turned green when you looked up to see that the foot belonged to none other than Fleet Admiral Sengoku.

“Da-I mean, Fleet Admiral! Are you alright?” Rocinante was there in a second, helping Sengoku over to a rock to sit down. What the hell is he even doing here, anyway?

You were close to being sick with fear when Sengoku took a look down at his foot—and started laughing.

“There’s always one, isn’t there, Commander?”

“Fleet Admiral, we need to get you to the sick bay right now,” Rocinante said frantically, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull in panic as he stared at Sengoku’s wound. “Ensigns Aleppo, Kingston. Help the Fleet Admiral there immediately.”

The ensigns, a short girl with bright green eyes and a barrel-chested young man with a thick beard, obeyed quickly. As they positioned themselves underneath each of Sengoku’s massive arms, your commander turned his attention to you. With the most withering glare you’d ever seen from him, the huge man all but snarled—

“Ensign y/n. Be in my office in five minutes. Understood?”

Swallowing, you nodded. In the distance, you could hear Sengoku laughing as he was helped away.

“I remember when it was you, Rocinante! I remember when that was you!”

————————————-

Tick

Tock.

Tick

Tock.

The silence—broken only by the sound of the clock on Rocinante’s wall—was palpable, so thick you could almost see it hanging in the air. Rocinante stared down at you from the other side of his desk, head resting against tented fingers, his expression unreadable. You could feel the sweat beginning to form on the back of your neck.

Finally, you could take it no longer. “Commander, I am so, so, so sorry—“

“Silent.”

Your voice cut off suddenly. You hadn’t known Rocinante could do that—just shut off your sound like you were some kind of Den Den Moshi.

He stared at you in silence for several excruciating moments, watching you squirm in your seat. Finally, the blond’s lips parted.

“Ensign y/n… What the hell is going on with you?”

You blinked. Not what you’d expected him to say.

“They send you to me and tell me you’re one of the most promising ensigns we’ve ever had. Put me in charge of training you because for some reason they think I’m the man for the job. And this is the kind of shit you pull?”

You visibly gulped, still muted from Rocinante’s silent. What the hell was he talking about, ‘promising’?

“I’ve trained ensigns like you before, ones the Academy calls its best and brightest. They’re always cocky, arrogant little shits who put themselves before their missions and the people they’re pledged to protect. But you…” he leaned across the table, pressing his folded hands to his lips. “You’re clearly smart, strategic, yet you can’t fight to save your life. I can’t figure you out.”

Your face flushed. Him, spending his time thinking about you. The image of him lying on his bed, thoughts full of you, his hand perhaps unzipping his white jeans and —fuck, stop it y/n. Stop wanting stupid shit you can’t have.

You opened your mouth to respond, and mentally kicked yourself when you remembered that you were still muted.

“Oh!” Rocinante laughed suddenly. “Sorry about that.” With a sheepish grin (goofy and endearing despite the tenseness of the situation) he snapped his fingers. “Go ahead and speak freely, Ensign.”

You sighed. You’d felt your frustration building since the beginning of your conversation, and finally it began to spill over.

“First of all, rude putting me on mute like that.”

Rocinante looked away, traces of a smile still present on his face. “Sorry about that.”

“Second of all, what the hell do you mean calling me the best and brightest? I was like, a C student at best at the Academy. I have no idea why they sent me to headquarters of all places.”

Rocinante blinked, his expression shifting into one of surprise. “Did they… did they not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Rocinante bit his lip, as though trying to decide something. Finally, he appeared to come to an answer.

“Ensign, you scored higher on the intelligence test than anyone has in the last three years.”

Your mouth dropped as he fixed you with that intense stare.

“I’m sorry, what??”

“Problem solving, pattern recognition, navigation, strategic planning… you scored almost perfectly in all of them. People don’t just get that kind of result unless they really are something special.”

“I…” your mouth opened and shut dumbly, like a fish.

Rocinante waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t care about any of that one way or another as long as you show your worth in my squadron. Your fighting skills right now aren’t up to par, and you know it.”

Your eyes were beginning to feel hot, and you detested yourself for having such a childish response to all that was going on. Fucking hell, you were supposed to be a Marine.

“Commander—I can be better.”

“You will be. Get to the training grounds an hour early starting tomorrow.” He scowled and looked away, gritting his teeth for a moment. “I’ll be—uh—training with you privately in the mornings from now on.”

You felt yourself flush from head to toe. Private training with Rocinante? Every fucking day? You tried to ignore the image filling your head of your tall commander bending you face down over one of those boulders, filling you up with his surely massive cock, his hand tangled hard into your hair. Calm down, y/n, Jesus. The guy fucking hates you anyway.

You swallow, returning your attention to the man in front of you.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Good,” Rocinante said curtly. “Go get lunch. I’ll see you at our afternoon duty.”

You stood up, stumbling a little, unable to believe everything that had just happened. You hadn’t even gotten in trouble.

“Oh, and Ensign y/n?”

You turned back to look at him. “Y-yeah?”

“Those tests weren’t wrong. The-“ he bit his lip—“the intelligence ones I mean. Just because you’re not fighting yet doesn’t mean you’re doing poorly. Even the other ensigns can see it.”

It was all you could do to make it out the door.

Leaving your Commander’s office, your mind was filled to the brim with thoughts about him. The way he’d laughed kindly one minute—rich and melodic, like water filling a stone bowl—glared at you the next. His claims about your intellect; his judgement of your failures. Why couldn’t you get a read on him? God, why did that only make you want him more?

Sitting on Bellemere’s bed that night, you were even less sure.

“So he really didn’t even reprimand you for stabbing the Fleet Admiral? And you’re still convinced this guy hates you?”

“You don’t know what he’s like, Belle-chan!”

“I’ve heard stories about him. Everyone has. He’s supposed to be a pretty good guy. Didn’t he, like, get his promotion to commander because he helped smuggle a whole town’s worth of people off an island that was being destroyed or something?”

“And then he fought to grant them asylum and Marine protection, yeah. I’ve heard the story too.” You pursed your lips, looking down. “What I mean is, you haven’t seen what he’s like around me.”

Bellemere chuckled. “Ah. Yeah, fair.”

A moment of silence—silent like Rocinante silent like that impenetrable bubble around his office silent like his footsteps on the training field silent like his—passed before she spoke again.

“You like this guy, don’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. “What the hell are you even talking about?” You snapped, more aggressively than you intended.

Bellemere bursts out laughing. “That’s exactly what I thought.

“Look, y/n. The way I see it, you have a golden opportunity here. Personal training, every day, from a guy like Rocinante? I’d kill for that. Work hard. Be a better fighter. Show him he was right to give you the second chance he gave you today. Maybe he’ll respond to that.”

“And maybe he won’t.”

“So who gives a shit?? At the very least you’ll be way stronger than you were before. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Bellemere tilted her chin up playfully, giving you her trademark cocky grin. “I’m always right.” She turned to look at you. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Are you gonna ask me about my crushes like a ten year old at a sleepover again?”

“I’m just wondering if…like, if you’re trying to be stronger… why aren’t you using your devil fruit?”

You frowned immediately, turning away. “You know it’s not safe.”

“Maybe not at the academy. But here there’s people who might be able to help you hone it. Maybe even… Commander Rocinante?” She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly to emphasize his name.

“Look, I just can’t, ok? I already accidentally hurt someone today, I don’t want to do it again.”

Bellemere shrugged. “Alright. Work harder not smarter then. Your funeral.”

You laughed despite yourself at the face she made. “Nothing wrong with doing it the old fashioned way.”

“I guess. But if I had a devil fruit you’d bet your ass I’d be using it.” Stretching, Bellemere put her feet up on her desk. “Anyway, you wanna hear more about this girl on my squadron? We had a drunk makeout session two nights ago and I haven’t even gotten to tell you yet.”

Smiling, you shook the thoughts of Rocinante and devil fruits from your head, at least for now. “Do you care if I open this sake I brought while I listen?”

“Bitch you had sake this whole time?? Give it here!”

——————————————————————

The next morning, despite your slight hangover, you somehow made it to the training grounds fifteen minutes before Commander Rocinante asked you to be there—the ungodly hour of 4:15 in the morning. Between sips from your thermos of coffee, you stretched, twisting your arms above your head, bending from side to side. You were completely bent over into downward dog—Bellemere had gotten you into yoga recently—when you heard the sound of a throat clearing behind you.

Whipping around (and nearly falling on your face as you did so), you see your commander towering over you, an uncomfortable blush on his face, his eyes directly on your… fuck.

“I’m, uh—glad you got here early, Ensign.” Rocinante bit his lip awkwardly, turning away to look anywhere but at you. “Let’s—let’s get started then.” He jogged toward the middle of the training field, making it about three steps before his foot caught on a rock. He went down hard, directly on his face.

Why the hell was he so bumbling and weird all the time? You pondered to yourself as you ran over to help the hulking man to his feet. He shrugged you off immediately as you touched his shoulder, flinching away from your touch. “I’m fine, Ensign. Go grab one of the weapons I brought from the armory.”

There were several different types of weapons for you to choose from, a mercy you were grateful for. Headquarters was so insistent on every Ensign being able to use a sword, but you’d always preferred something smaller, something for closer quarters. Picking up a pair of short-handled broadaxes on a whim, you followed Rocinante out onto the field.

He smiled a bit when he saw your choice. “An axe man, eh? Why didn’t you go for the halberd?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s too big. Too hard to hit someone, I guess.”

“Not that you’ve been doing much of that anyway…” Rocinante chuckled.

“Hey! I hit someone yesterday, didn’t I?” You couldn’t help but grin along with him.

Rocinante laughed out loud. “That’s the most impressive thing you’ve done since you’ve gotten here. Sengoku is fine, by the way—you barely scratched him.”

“So he’s not gonna discharge me or anything then?”

“Nah. To be honest, we’ve seen recruits do worse than that.” Rocinante unsheathed his broadsword, examining it habitually for sharpness and cleanliness. “If you’re gonna fight with a weapon you like, I’ll fight with my favorite weapon too.” He set the sword down on the grass beside him, then cracked his knuckles.

Your stomach dropped. It was well-known that Rocinante was almost as deadly a martial artist as he was a sharpshooter. Crouching nervously, you balanced your weight and prepared to fight.

Rocinante struck first, a hard roundhouse kick aimed at the left ear. You just barely managed to duck, his black loafer skimming the top of your head. You swung one of your axes at his stomach (considering Rocinante’s height, this was about as high as you could reach) but Rocinante grabbed it, twisting it hard and throwing you off balance.

You hit the ground with a thud. One of your commander’s massive shoes rested on your chest, pinning you. Already??

“Get back up. Let’s go again.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand was broad and very rough—years of fighting and sailing mapped in calluses across his fingers and palm—and you suppressed a shiver as you noticed how small yours was in his.

“Fighting stance, Ensign.” Rocinante prepared himself to battle you again. Shaking off your momentary reverie, you picked up your axe.

Here we go.

The first week’s training was full of many, many losses for you. The axes were definitely an improvement to the short sword, but not enough of one to make any real difference against an opponent like Rocinante. It amazed you how agile he was, how he attacked fluidly from all sides, how he dodged your blows so effortlessly.

How he tripped and fell flat on his face the second he was no longer in attack mode.

Hard to figure out, that man.

It went on like that, day after day of waking up at the crack of dawn, heading to the training fields to invariably get your ass kicked. But oddly, you didn’t mind. Rocinante was beginning to get more and more friendly toward you, letting that indecipherable guard of his down bit by bit as the days blended into weeks. Once he even cracked one of his terrible dad jokes about an admittedly unfortunate pair of shoes you’d chosen to wear—and you laughed despite yourself. Even if you weren’t getting any better, at least you were finally forming some sort of connection with your commander outside of the suffocating tension you were used to.

It was nearly a month into your personal training sessions that you finally had your breakthrough.

Rocinante was challenging you today. Keeping his distance, always slightly out of your range. At first it had been smooth and elegant, but at this point he was basically just teasing you—sticking his tongue out at you, taunting your attacks, giving you a hard time. You were finally starting to see that goofy side of him that everyone else loved, but you were so frustrated that you couldn’t enjoy yourself. You’d been getting faster. Why couldn’t you hit him even once?

“Ensign, think,” Rocinante advised you, continuing to duck and dodge around your attacks. “Find a way to hit me from a distance.”

Oh god. He wanted you to…

“I, uh, I don’t throw things. Like ever.”

“Bet you’ll be wishing you did when you’re dead on a battlefield.” Rocinante remarked. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

“I said no, ok?”

“Fine,” said Rocinante with a somewhat childish smirk. “Then we’ll resume training as soon as you’re willing to do that for me.” And with that, he straightened up and walked over to a nearby boulder where he proceeded to sit there, staring at you, head in his hands. Fucking asshole.

With a sigh, you dropped your weapons to your sides. “Look, Commander, I… do you not know about my devil fruit?”

Rocinante blinked. “Your what now?”

“It, uh… should’ve been in my file.”

“Trust me, I read that thing cover to cover. The Academy must’ve forgotten to mention it, especially if you don’t use it very often.”

He read my file cover to cover he read it cover to cover “I, uh… I never use it, actually.”

Rocinante gestured to the boulder beside him Holy shit he wants me to sit next to him what if he puts his arm around me I will die I will truly die and you came over, dropping down beside him with none of the grace you were hoping for.

“So what’s the fruit then?” Rocinante asks, his tone not unkind.

“It’s called the Pitch-Pitch fruit, sir.”

“So I imagine it has something to do with throwing?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Wanna show it to me?”

“No, not at all.”

“Y/n…”

You turned to look at him, your mouth dropping open. He’d never called you by your name before, not without “Ensign” in front of it.

“I was terrified of my devil fruit when I got it. I was just a kid, and at first I hated the silence. When there’s no noise, your brain kinda fills in the blanks with whatever sounds you’re most afraid of. It was horrible for a long time.”

He’d never spoken to you so candidly before. Hell, you weren’t sure if you’d ever heard him speak to anyone so candidly before. While the commander was friendly and kind to all, you had to admit that you couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever spoken about his own past. Why to you?

“But my da—I mean, Fleet Admiral Sengoku—helped me turn my power into something good for me.” He chuckled and looked up, reminiscing. “I was almost a worse fighter than you are back then. Used to be as clumsy and awkward on the battlefield as I am off of it. He showed me how to use my fruit in combination with observational haki to give me a huge advantage.

“Now when I use my power, I can feel things with that haki to ‘hear’ all the things you miss out on when there’s sound. Everything from the energy of my enemies to the energy of a beetle digging a den five hundred feet away. I was so afraid of using silent for so long, but it turned out to be the thing that made me into a powerful fighter.”

You sat wordlessly for a moment, watching the towering man be more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. It was strange. But…nice.

Finally, you spoke. “So what you’re saying is, if I have this power…”

Rocinante nodded. “You should use it.”

You swallowed hard, then rose to your feet. “Alright.” Picking up one of your axes, you added, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed your eyes shut. Please, please don’t let me hurt anyone. Lifting your arm, you tossed the axe as gently as you could in the direction of the large hill that stood at the edge of the training grounds.

With the whooshing boom of the sound barrier breaking, the axe flew from your hand so fast that it was completely invisible. A moment later, a rumble and a huge crash echoed from the hill as the axe flew cleanly through it and out the other side.

You turned, cringing, back to Rocinante. “So anyway, that’s the Pitch Pitch fruit…”

Your commander’s jaw was nearly on the floor, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Y-y/n… you’ve been able to do that this whole time??”

“Like I said, it’s really dangerous…”

“Yeah, you throw an axe at an enemy like that and you’ll kick their ass, no questions asked! Shit, I kinda wish I could do that…”

“So you think I should keep using it then? Even during training?”

“Hell yes I do! It’s the coolest thing ever!!” Rocinante’s eyes were lit up like a little kid watching a wrestler or a mecha battle on TV. “We’ll have to get you something lighter to throw during training, that should help mitigate some of the damage…but you should be proud you have that ability, Ensign y/n.”

You blushed. For the first time, you actually felt kind of… ok with your power. Rocinante was the first person to tell you it was anything but a nuisance at worst, a death trap at best. Looking at the massive hole through the hill at the other end of the field, you had to admit—maybe the man was onto something.

___________________________________

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Can you believe it, y/n??”

You flinched as Recruit Aleppo squealed into your ear, appearing from somewhere behind you.

“Jesus, Aleppo, I know! First mission, very exciting. Can you maybe not make me go deaf next time?”

“Oh, yeah,” the young woman giggled. “I guess that’s kind of our Commander’s job, isn’t it?”

You said nothing, instead choosing to gaze out onto the endless sea before you. It had been nearly six months since you’d been on a ship—the last time being when you’d arrived at Headquarters—and you’d forgotten how much you loved the smell of salt in the air, the strange quality of the breeze that seemed to carry adventure on its tongue.

“Crete-de-Vague Island is supposed to be super rich and fancy, yknow,” Aleppo was babbling on blithely. “They make the world’s finest furs there! Coats and shawls and purses… ooh, maybe we’ll have time to go shopping!”

You nodded briefly but otherwise ignored your fellow recruit. You were too busy reflecting on your conversation with Rocinante from that morning.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” you’d said as he helped you load weapons and supplies onto the boat.

“Trust me, y/n,” Rocinante had grunted, lifting a box onto his shoulder, “I wouldn’t be taking you along if I didn’t think you were ready for this.”

“This just seems like a big step, y’know? We haven’t been training for that long…”

Setting down the box in the cargo bay, Rocinante walked toward you. What he did next had nearly made you swoon.

Slowly, he’d knelt in front of you, bending his knees until his eyes had aligned with yours god the shades of red in those eyes… And then he had smiled—that big cheesy grin of his that he’d only very recently started sharing with you. Throwing up a peace sign, he had loudly proclaimed—

“I believe in you, y/n!”

The high was more than enough to carry you through the morning’s tedious preparations to set sail.

So he trusted you enough to send you on a mission, then. Finally, after so much time, you were beginning to break through into him, be a person Rocinante could put his faith in.

You wouldn’t let him down.

It took you all of five days of sailing to reach Crete-de-Vague, where you’d been asked to clear out some pirates who had taken over and started stealing those famous furs. A straightforward enough mission, it would seem.

In between training sessions and briefings on the pirates you were preparing to fight, the squadron’s attitude was lively. There was no small amount of alcohol consumed in the evenings, with your commander often at the center of the festivities.

He really was a wonder to watch, that man, the way he made every person on your squadron feel valued and seen and heard. As ridiculous as he could often be—tripping over his own feet, cracking terrible one liners—every single one of you looked up to and adored him.

One night after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself on the deck, a little drunk, looking out again onto the black and eternal sea that had captured your attention so thoroughly in recent days You were so captivated by the soft rise and fall of the waves that you hardly noticed the gentle footsteps approaching you.

When Rocinante leaned against the half-wall next to you, you jumped. “Jesus, Commander, warn a guy next time!”

That sheepish grin of his again, and he spoke, words imperceptibly slurred. “M’bad.” So he was a bit drunk as well, but then you weren’t particularly surprised. There’d been a lot of sake floating around tonight, and you’d watched him go head to head with Recruit Keiryo to see who could drink more (the commander had won, of course, being twice the size of both Keiryo and everyone else on the squadron).

“Yer not seasick, are you? First time I sailed more’n a few days, I was in the sick bay more than I was out of it,” Rocinante chuckled as he lit a cigarette, his eyes on the sea.

“Oh, uh…nah, I’m good. I have a pretty strong stomach. Didn’t have a lot of food as a kid, had to eat what we could find. It sucked at the time, but now I never get sick,” you commented thoughtlessly.

You regretted the words as soon as they’d left your mouth. Not even Bellemere knew the extent of what you’d been through before joining the Navy. The pirate boss who’d controlled everything leaving and entering your island, the droughts that had left your family’s little patch of farmland barren as bones, the way you and your mother had had to pick pirates’ pockets just to feed yourselves and your baby sister—oh god don’t think about her don’t think about your baby sister—the way you’d eaten your devil fruit because it was the only food you could find. No one here was ever supposed to know any of that.

But Rocinante turned to look at you, an expression you’d never seen before on his face. “So… y’know what it’s like to be hungry too. Figures. I knew there was a reason we got along.”

Your face was burning, heart beating fast. How the hell did this man keep burrowing his way into the bottom of you, pulling out the truths you were most scared of admitting and holding them up to the light to watch the beams shine clean through them? First the stuff about the intelligence test at the academy, then your fruit, now the stuff that woke you up in cold sweats at night. This strange need for me to know him, this stranger need for him to never know me…

“M’brother and me spent around two years havin’ to dig through the garbage for food.” Rocinante said abruptly. When you didn’t respond, his face turned pink. “Just, like… somethin’ you and I have in common, I guess.”

Eager to turn the conversation away from yourself, you replied. “I didn’t know you even had a brother. He in the Marines?”

Rocinante laughed out loud, partially from relief that he hadn’t offended you. “No. My brother… I don’t think he’d be caught dead in the Marines. But we haven’t talked in a long time, so… who knows, I guess?”

“Why don’t you talk?” You ask, somewhat distractedly. You’d just noticed how close the commander was standing to you. You could almost feel the energy sparking from his arm that rested mere inches from yours.

“Oh, y’know. He’s a terrible person.” Rocinante shrugged and looked away from you again, his face now bright red. It was clear that was the only explanation you’d be getting. “What about your family? You close to them?”

As he spoke, the commander gently rested his big, callused hand over yours.

Why were the two of you sitting here, having this conversation that it was clear neither of you wanted to have? Why couldn’t you just walk away? You could feel the irritation rising in you. After all this time, now he was trying to be close to you, now he wanted to be your friend, now he wanted to do…whatever the fuck he was doing touching you like this, like you’d desperately wanted, like you were furious to admit you enjoyed in this moment.

“Look, Commander. It’s frankly none of your fucking business, ok?” You yanked your hand out from underneath his large one and turned away, walking quickly back toward the barracks. “‘M going to bed.”

“Hey, Ensign?”

Great. Pulling the rank card on you.

“What?” You all but spat at him, wheeling around. The look on his face almost melted you. Soft, slightly disappointed but much more full of a strange sorrow you couldn’t quite place. Later you would realize it was sympathy.

“Whatever happened to you… I’m sorry.” He said, so softly it was almost a whisper. You felt your eyes welling up as you turned away and stormed back to the barracks.

You took one of Ensign Henri’s sleeping pills (idiot, just leaving them out like that) when you got back, stripping down and getting into bed in record time. Thoughts pounded through your head as you waited for the drug to hit you, desperate for the release of sleep. Why do I want him so bad? Why is he so insistent on knowing me? Why do I care? Why do I want him? Why do I want him? Why do I want him?

The last thought that you remembered before the haze of pill-induced sleep took you over echoed through your head like a ghost in a very old house.

What am I so afraid of?

—————————————————————

Aleppo hadn’t been wrong. Crete-de-Vague was beautiful.

As you hopped off your ship and walked into port, you couldn’t take your eyes off the town that rose above you, built into the hillside. Flowering trees grew everywhere, sending bright red petals and an aroma reminiscent of persimmon scattering onto the breeze. Huge Tudor-style houses, packed closely together by the necessity of city living, lined the steep cobblestone streets.

But the dock was nearly empty when you’d arrived. Strangely silent for a port. No workers to help with your cargo, no other ships to give you a sense of who was present in the city.

Well, except for one.

A massive barquentine ship, built from dark mahogany, floated hulking and foreboding in the dock beside yours. The sails were a deep shade of black, and the flag flapping above the crows nest was unmistakably a Jolly Roger.

The tension was blanketlike over the squadron as you all followed Rocinante past the docks and up the hill toward the center of town (minus Rhys and Hidalgo, who were guarding the ship and keeping the cannons manned). No one said anything about the other boat.

“Don’t forget, ensigns—they probably already know we’re here,” Rocinante was warning you as you approached the first buildings. “When pirates take over an island like this, they usually put eyes everywhere. Be ready to fight at a second’s notice.”

The buildings that had looked so glamorous from the port were beginning to bely evidence of a struggle as you got closer. Smashed windows, boarded up doors, smoldering cannonballs embedded in walls. It was clear that whatever was happening here had been hard on the citizens of Crete-de-Vague.

You could feel nausea setting in as you got deeper and deeper into the city. Not out of fear at what you were about to do—Rocinante’s proclaimed belief in you had seemed to get rid of that, even if you were a bit irritated with him at the moment. No, these houses with their busted support beams and rubble on the doorstep were burying themselves uncomfortably inside your memories of childhood. The way you and your friends had played on top of rubble from a statue blown to bits. The way you’d had to bolt if the pirates were around and hope to god some neighbor was kind enough to let you in. The way they’d broken down your door in the middle of the night and taken the last of your dead father’s pension and hurt your mother and oh god your baby sister

You were starting to feel dizzy on your feet, the edges of your vision beginning to blacken. Just as you were sure you were about to collapse, a massive hand rested on your shoulder.

“You’ll be all right, Ensign. Breathe.”

And while you shoved his hand off your shoulder

asshole trying to act like he knows my business

and walked ahead of him, you did breathe. And it helped.

As you approached a flat expanse between the buildings toward the top of the hill—ostensibly the square, although it had seen much better days—Rocinante used his baby Den Den Moshi to radio in to Sengoku, his commanding officer (you weren’t even going to pretend like you knew how that worked). “Yeah, we’re here. You said the mayor was supposed to meet us?”

Sengoku’s voice, crackling over the receiver and out of the snail’s mouth. “That was the plan, in the town square. How’s the damage to the city?”

“Looks pretty bad. There’s no people around either.”

“Yes, the person who reported the pirates said that folks there were afraid to leave their houses. I’m surprised the mayor isn’t there yet, though.”

“Yeah, we haven’t s—“

A dull thud, like a bag of sand, broke the silence of the empty square, echoing just behind you and the other recruits. Rocinante stopped speaking immediately, silencing his Den Den Moshi with a click and putting it into his pocket.

Slowly, you all turned around.

There, on the ground, in a position like a broken marionette, laid an older man—or at least the body of one. Blood drenched his white shirt and tie. Getting closer, it was easy to see that his throat had been cut—or rather, ripped open. An expression of pleading terror was frozen on his creased face.

The squadron was painfully, excruciatingly silent.

Then a high pitched voice from somewhere above you broke the taut quiet—“Don’t worry, the mayor made it on time after all! Didn’t he, boys?”

At least thirty additional voices shouted out cheers from somewhere on the rooftops.

You could feel the pall as every marine’s stomach dropped out at the same time.

Rocinante, however, seemed to have no such fear. His eyes were glowing with a breed of fury you didn’t know was possible from the normally easygoing man. He was staring at a nearby chimney with intensity—his haki must have clued him in to where the first voice was coming from.

“Squadron, prepare to engage.” He spoke, gritting his teeth, never taking his eyes off the chimney. Obeying your commander, the ensigns took fighting stances and drew weapons. You pulled two axes from your belt (you’d been carrying six at a time since you’d started using your devil fruit more) and got ready. This was what you’d been training for. This was your chance to show what you were truly capable of.

“Let ‘em have it, boys!” The voice behind the chimney roared. Stepping out from his hiding spot, you caught a glimpse of the man who’d been terrorizing Crete-de-Vague all this time. Skin so pale it was almost translucent. Long black hair twisted into a hundred tiny braids. Wiry build, sharp jaw, heavy shadows surrounding his protruding collarbone and shoulders.

Torrez Diego.

He almost would’ve been hot if he weren’t so scary.

But your chances to ruminate on your enemy’s fuckability were cut short as close to forty pirates poured down from the rooftops into the square, cutlasses drawn, guns at the ready. You watched a muscular middle aged woman with a mole on her chin fling herself at Henri, laughing as he frantically blocked her attacks. Rocinante was fighting two men at once, dancing between their kicks and blows (and quite frankly kicking their asses). Kingston ducked and barely avoided having his head shot off with a…holy shit, a fucking bazooka. These guys weren’t fucking around.

But you knew your directive. You stayed still and watched Diego closely. He was dodging the occasional shot from Ensign Parvati, your squadron’s best sharpshooter, which she was barely managing to fire in between rounds of grappling with a massive, rotund man who seemed to be excellent at throwing his weight around. You waited.

And when Torrez Diego suddenly smiled and raised his left hand, you grabbed your axe tightly and bent your legs, preparing.

When he shouted, “Seam tear!” You flung it as hard as you could.

Two things happened at once, as if in slow motion. First, your axe shot at impossibly breakneck speeds through the air toward Diego, booming through the sound barrier as it prepared to knock him through the next three buildings. Second, Diego’s devil fruit power—his seam tear— began to take effect. With the sound of a thousand pieces of paper tearing at once, a massive rip began at Diego’s outstretched hand. It traveled down the building he was atop and into the square, splitting the ground itself beneath your feet. The ensigns dove into chaos, leaping out of the way of the massive chasm that formed within seconds; the Torrez pirates simply laughed as they took cover on either side of it.

Meanwhile, your axe flew and flew through the air.

And missed.

Diego felt the axe whiz by his right ear and turned back, watching as it flew through three buildings before finally embedding itself in a steel wall.

A miss, after all this fucking practice, a miss. What the fuck is wrong with me?

And his attention turned to you.

“Well look at that! It’s not often you see an ensign who’s a devil fruit user!” Diego grinned, showing long yellowing teeth. Never mind about the hot stuff… “Why don’t you take me one on one, and we’ll see whose fruit is better, eh?” With a chuckle, he climbed off the roof of the building in a single jump and began walking toward you.

You weren’t a hand-to-hand fighter. Sure, you could hold your own with the axes, but not against someone like this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

“Y/n!”

Rocinante grabbed your hand out of nowhere, pulling you along with him. With a surprisingly graceful leap forward, he tapped Diego quickly on the shoulder.

“Silent!”

You watched the now familiar blue shimmer of energy as it enveloped Diego, leaving him completely deaf and mute. His face paled as he touched his ears frantically, his eyes widening in shock.

It gave you just enough time for Rocinante to pull you into a side street. The two of you hurtled down it as Diego shook his head, finally coming to his senses, and began to pursue you.

You could feel the man’s presence behind you, sense his haki—something you were slowly learning how to do—but you were unable to hear his footsteps, his breathing, his furious jeers. The effect was jarring as you and your commander plunged deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine side streets of Crete-de-Vague.

“Commander, I let you down. I’m so sorry.” You managed as the two of you ran, Rocinante pulling you in what felt like random directions. Was he trying to throw Diego off?

“Don’t worry about it, Ensign. Happens to everyone. It just means we have to—he grunted as he yanked you hard to the right and up a small flight of stairs—“rethink our battle strategy a bit is all.”

“What about the others?”

“Y/n, our squadron is tough as nails. I have no doubts they’ll beat those pi—shit.”

A dead ended alley.

Desperately, you and Rocinante glanced around for doors, for something you could climb on to get over the wall, for anything.

There was nothing.

You could both feel Diego’s haki, getting closer and closer to you, and the man surely had only blood on his mind.

You were fucked, if neither of you could…. Wait.

Stupid.

You chided yourself mentally as you flung an axe at the wall before you. A terrific boom, and the two of you suddenly had an instant pathway right through the building and out the other side! …Even if it was a bit covered in rubble.

Rocinante laughed out loud. “Wow, very impressive, Ensign!”

You couldn’t help but grin back at him as the two of you continued forward. But as you looked behind you, your stomach dropped.

You had lost too much time on the wall, and Torrez was right on your back. Reaching for you, his lips curling to form the words. Seam tear.

A rip shot out from the man’s fingers, aimed directly at your commander.

“Rocinante!” You shouted, trying to alert him. Your commander turned back, and as if in slow motion he

Saw Diego.

Saw the rip.

Dodged it.

Tripped.

Coming in with the worst possible timing in human history, midway through his dodge to the left Rocinante’s foot hit a loose cobblestone. It sent him flying to the right somehow, too far, and you watched in sickened horror as Diego’s rip hit Rocinante hard and climbed up his inner leg, a spray of blood accompanying it.

“Commander!” You could barely even recognize your voice as your own as Rocinante went down, hard, his head slapping the pavement. You were at his side in a second, squeezing his hand (god why were you squeezing his hand after everything) as Rocinante groaned, tried to stand up, fell.

Diego was grinning at you, baring his long yellow teeth like fangs. He spoke, but no sound came out—but you didn’t need to hear him to know he was telling you all the gruesome ways he was going to kill you. If he would just let his guard down, you could throw an axe, but his attention was laser focused on you and your (bleeding semiconscious really very badly injured) commander.

And you remembered something you’d learned about the man in your briefing. He was known to be a sucker for flattery.

Thank god you’d actually paid attention.

“Commander, I know you’re hurt, but can you turn off his silent? Trust me.”

A snap of his fingers—he must have been just aware enough to hear you—and Diego’s voice boomed into focus.

“—plenty of things my crew can think of to do to little queers like you, and—“

“Jesus, you almost killed him! That’s a marine Commander! How did you do that?” You interrupted, looking up at him, cringing at your own bad acting and hoping to hell you weren’t being too obvious.

Torrez Diego paused for a moment, looking down on you appraisingly. Then he smiled.

“I’m the strongest pirate this half of the sea, kid. Bounty of 35 million, in case they didn’t mention it at pansy navy boy school. I’ve killed men twice as strong as your Commander here.”

You leaned forward, eyes wide. “You’ve killed others?”

“You’d better believe it. In pretty fucked up ways too, just ask my crew.”

“Would you, um…” you blinked innocently, pushing your ass out just slightly. Might as well play the game if you were gonna play the game. “Would you tell me about some of them?”

Diego grinned, clearly checking you out a bit in your new position. Wow. This guy was a fucking moron.

“You wanna hear about the time I keel-hauled a woman for cheating on me?”

You nodded, feigning excitement. “Grab that crate and sit down. Tell me everything!”

“Even the little baby marines are impressed by me, the greatest pirate in this corner of Paradise.” He chuckled. And he

Turned

Around.

Idiot.

With lightning speed you grabbed an axe from your hip and flung it hard. The alleyway was too tight quarters for you to miss again, and the weapon hit him right in the back, digging in so deeply that the blade protruded out the other side. With a sickening groan, Diego fell to his knees, touching the axe sticking out of his chest softly. He turned white-faced to look at you, opened his mouth as if to speak… and collapsed.

It only took a moment until the man was still.

“Rocinante!” You all but screamed, turning to your commanding officer on the ground beside you. He was attempting to sit up, his legs splayed out awkwardly in front of him, one of his white pant legs torn and irreparably stained with blood.

“Jesus Christ y/n, you really saved my ass with that one. You ok?”

“You need medical care, Commander,” you spluttered, face turning red at how casually he spoke to you in the face of such a severe injury. “Look, I’ve got my field medic kit and you know it’s one of the few things I’m really good at. Let me take a look at it.”

Rocinante hesitated, then nodded. Indicating the war-torn building to your right, he remarked, “Pretty sure that place is abandoned. Let’s do it there.”

You put one of his massive arms around your shoulder (so close he’s so close), using all your strength to hoist him up enough to make it to the door. Locked. You went to grab an axe, but Rocinante suddenly knocked it off its hinges with a kick from his good leg, leaning on you to keep his balance.

“Jesus dude, you’re fucking injured!”

“I haven’t been any help whatsoever today. Let me do something at least!”

You could feel his grin behind you. Trying to make you laugh, you knew. Keep the mood light so you don’t freak out about the fact that he might be bleeding to death. As annoying as it was, you could feel your stomach warming. Kind, that man.

You lay Rocinante down on a slightly moldy-smelling fur rug, one of the only signs anyone had ever lived here. The rest of the house was empty and covered in dust.

Quickly, you pulled your pack off and grabbed your medic kit, pulling out disinfectant, a roll of gauze, a needle with surgical thread.

“Ok, I—I’m gonna have to take your pants off, Commander.” You blushed deep red as you realized what you were saying. Sparing a peek at Rocinante’s face, his was somehow even redder than yours.

“Oh, I can—“

“No, let me do that part.”

“Fuck, ow, a little slower, y/n.”

“Sorry, sorry…”

Through an extremely awkward working dialogue, you managed to get Rocinante’s pants unbuttoned and slid them down to the floor until he was able to kick them off.

Just looking at his muscular thighs—scarred from what you assumed was years of training and battles—was enough to send blood flowing from your red face to a very different part of your anatomy. And the slight gap between those thighs and the hem of his boxers…

Fucking shit, y/n. Focus.

Swallowing hard (and hoping to hell Rocinante didn’t notice the sudden bulge in your pants), you moved to his right ankle, where the rip started. The injury was surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected it to be—instead of a leg torn in half, what you were looking at was simply a very long, very deep cut traveling up Rocinante’s inner thigh to his…oh fuck, it went nearly to his groin. This was something you could actually handle medically. It would remain to be seen if you could handle it for other reasons.

“Commander, how the hell did you avoid getting your leg completely torn to shreds here?”

“Armament haki. I’ll show you some stuff sometime.” Rocinante sat up to watch you as you examined his wound, supporting himself on his hands.

“That’s cool, Commander. I’d like that,” you said, smiling at him. He’ll be ok, he’s gonna be ok. “Ok, bite your sleeve or something. I’m putting on disinfectant, it’s gonna hurt.”

Rocinante nodded and did as he was told, grunting in pain as you splashed a liberal amount of the stuff up and down his leg, closing your eyes and thinking about anything else when you reached his upper thigh.

“Ok, I’m gonna start sewing you up. No anesthetic, but hold on, ok? Let me take care of you, Commander.”

You were almost embarrassed of the words coming out of your mouth—needy bottom shit—but you couldn’t deny how relieved you were that your friend and commanding officer was ok. And that you got to be the one to help him heal…

“You already saved my life once today, y/n. It’s kind of you that you’re willing to do it again,” Rocinante said with a grimace of pain as you began to stitch him up.

“Yeah, well… you’re kinda my mentor, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Rocinante grinned. “You think of me as your mentor??? Y/n… that’s so sweet!”

Your heart stuttered at his warm response, emotions swirling in your brain, unable to decide if you liked this or didn’t like this.

Rocinante continued. “After that fight we had the other night, I wasn’t sure you even liked me.”

“I like you. I just don’t like people bothering me about my past. I’m trying to move on, ok?”

Rocinante was quiet for a long moment, only the nauseating sounds of needle through flesh sounding in the room.

Finally, he spoke. “I know it doesn’t feel like talking about it will help. But I promise you it does.”

“What would you know about it? Other than you and your brother dumpster diving for a few years or whatever.”

Rocinante’s face was serious. “My entire family were treated as pariahs. My mother died because people wouldn’t give us medical treatment. We got attacked by both children and adults almost every day. Sometimes they’d sic dogs on us. Once they even tried to burn our whole family at the stake. And then in the end, my brother murdered my father in front of me.”

Your jaw dropped, and you stopped stitching, looking up at your commander with your mouth agape.

Rocinante suddenly smiled. “Wow, it feels so much better to talk about it! Ok, now you.”

“W-what??”

“Now you tell me yours!”

You spluttered. “It doesn’t work like that! What the fuck do you mean your brother killed your father??”

Rocinante smiled. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

You’re glared at him. “Not gonna happen. Now hold still so I can finish.” You had almost reached your commander’s groin, and while your hands were sweaty and your heart was racing, you weren’t about to quit with his wound half stitched (even if he was annoying the hell out of you right now).

In silence, you finished stitching your commander’s wound (your hand brushing excruciatingly, temptingly close to his cock as you did so) and bandaged his whole leg, neither of you speaking.

Finally, Rocinante broke the quiet. “Whatever it is, I’m really proud of you for becoming the man you are today despite it, y/n.”

You look up at him, the compliment kinder than anything you’d heard since your mother passed.

“…I’m checking your eyes for a concussion, dipshit.”

Wordlessly, you straddle him and push up onto your knees, pulling his head down to look into the taller man’s eyes. You can smell him—a mixture of blood, good tobacco, and better cologne—and you’re aware of the intimacy of the position. If you lowered yourself, you’d be sitting on his…

Don’t think about that now.

Think about the disarming reddish brown hue of his eyes. Think about the beads of sweat on his temple. Think about his hair, his golden hair that must be so soft to touch… think about…

“You’re an incredible marine, y/n,” Rocinante murmured. “An incredible friend. And a—“ he hesitated, but did not break the eye contact— “a really beautiful man.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Rocinante never looked away from you, but his hand gently touched your knee.

Don’t do it. No matter how much you want it. Don’t do it. Don’t let him in. Don’t.

Don’t.

Your lips crashed into Rocinante’s with a vengeance, your hands tangling up into that yes I was right it’s so soft golden hair, and he grabbed you and tugged you against him, moaning against your mouth as you clung to him.

“Y/n…” Rocinante gasped, his hands sliding up and down your body, under your white marine shirt to caress the newly developing musculature of your chest—all that training had been kind to you—and you should care you should stop him but you didn’t, you couldn’t, your tongue was in his mouth, your fingers were plucking at the buttons of his shirt, Rocinante, Rocinante….

“Wanted you like this for so long, y/n…” Rocinante was panting as he broke off the kiss to breathe into your ear. “I know it’s wrong, I know you’re my subordinate, but fuck, y/n… every single fucking day during training, every single fucking night when I couldn’t sleep… you’ve been stuck in my thoughts like one of your fucking axes sticking into a target…”

Raising your eyebrows, you glanced out the window at the axe sticking into (and through) Torrez Diego. Rocinante followed your eye and laughed embarrassedly.

“Ok, maybe not the best metaphor.”

“Commander, please don’t talk. Please just… take me,” you said softly. Your shirts were both off now, and you were caressing the stunning, well defined muscles of his abs and chest, your cock achingly hard in your pants. Scars—cuts, burns, long ropy deep ones of uncertain origin—littered the broad expanse of his torso, matching the ones on his legs. So he hadn’t been lying about his childhood.

As you pulled yourself closer to him, gazing up into his eyes, feeling his (holy shit it’s massive) hardening cock pressing against your ass, you couldn’t help but ask. “I didn’t even think you were into men. In fact, I’ve seen you on dates with women before.”

Rocinante shrugged, his hands sliding up and down your body, fingertips sending lightning bolts into your groin. “Gender is made up anyway. Anyone can be hot, don’t you think?”

“Eh. I’ll leave the women to you.”

Rocinante chuckled. “That means this man gets to be all mine.” With that he grabbed your ass hard with both hands, yanking you so close to him that you could feel his heartbeat reverberating through your chest.

“Fuck, Commanderrrrrr…” you groaned as he squeezed and caressed your ass, every motion sending a drop of precum leaking from your achingly hard cock, staining your standard issue uniform.

“Don’t call me that, don’t call me Commander,” he murmured roughly. “Call me Roci, y/n.”

Roci? You’d never heard anyone but his very closest friends call him that. You tried it out slowly. “Roci…”

His smile was like none you’d ever seen before from him, and it sent chills of want shimmering through you from head to toe.

“Fuck me, Roci!” You finally managed, grinding your hips desperately back and forth on his cock, trying as best you could to be careful of the new stitches but needing him inside you so badly that it hurt.

Wordlessly, Rocinante grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over, landing you back-first on the fur rug as he leaned over you, his face flushed, one hand sliding up to caress your cheek.

“Jesus, Roci, be careful—you’re still injured, y’know!”

He glanced down at his leg. “Eh. I’ve fucked people I wanted less with bigger wounds than this one. And besides, you won’t mind if I have to…readjust occasionally, will you?”

Smiling, you shook your head. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good,” he said softly. Leaning down, hand still on your cheek, Roci kissed you with a warmth and tenderness you’d never experienced before. Loving, gentle, sweet.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t help but return the kiss—and the absolutely smitten gaze he gave you afterwards.

“Can I take these off?” Rocinante’s big hands were suddenly playing at your belt, and you felt your cock twitch hard at the proximity.

“Yes, jesus, yes,” you arched your hips up to allow him to remove the garment, biting back your moans as the fabric slid over your rock hard cock.

“And the underwear?” He asked, a note of hesitancy in his voice.

Not that he needed to hesitate. You nodded eagerly, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your boxers right along with his and sliding them off, discarding them on the dusty floor. You lay naked on the rug in front of him.

“Fucking hell….” Roci breathed as he stared at your cock. “Please, y/n… please let me touch you…”

You grabbed his hand yourself and moved it to the base of your cock, not breaking eye contact. You couldn’t believe you’d ever denied to yourself that you needed this. Holy shit. You NEEDED this.

Rocinante gripped you gently and slowly began to stroke your member, bowing his head to kiss your hipbones and exposed stomach as he did so. You knew what you were working with was pretty decent—plenty of guys had complimented you on your dick before—but you couldn’t deny that in your Commander’s massive hands it looked positively small.

Not that either of you minded.

The sensation of him gently squeezing your cock as he slid his hand up and down your length was enough to make you physically dizzy. Your head fell back with a moan as he caressed you.

“Please, Rociiiiii….”

When he gently swirled his tongue around the head of your cock, you were finished.

Bucking your hips up, you wailed, gripping the soft fur rug beneath you as your commanding officer took your member into his mouth.

Gently, Roci bobbed his head up and down along your length, sucking it deeply into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the underside. He followed the motions of his mouth with his hand, stroking you, his spit as lubricant. The room was filled with obscene noises as Rocinante positively worshipped you, soft hums of pleasure vibrating against your cock as you covered your mouth and tried not to scream.

He paused a moment and glanced up at you. “This ok?”

Your vision was blurred, your head spinning. You could barely manage to nod your head in response.

“Tell me.”

Your eyes snapped open to see Rocinante smiling at you, the tip of your cock still touching his lips, a twinkle in those red-brown orbs.

“Well, Ensign? How much do you like having my lips wrapped around your cock?”

You moaned in response, unable to form words. This was maybe the hottest thing that had ever happened to you.

Rocinante sat back, the friction of his hands and mouth on your cock suddenly achingly gone. “Tell me, Ensign. That’s an order.”

You couldn’t help yourself any longer. You bucked your hips desperately forward toward him. “God, Roci, it’s so good, it’s so good, fuck, I’ve needed this so long, please don’t stop, please, please…” you were babbling now, anything to get his lips on your dick again.

Finally, Rocinante obliged. Leaning up to kiss you quickly, his mouth led a trail back down your chest and stomach, following your happy trail to your cock. Briefly, he bent deeply and swallowed you completely, sucking you into his mouth hard enough to make you cry out in a mixture of relief and pleasure.

“Roci…” you managed to gasp, tangling your fingers in that soft, wavy golden hair of his. Your lover slid his mouth from your member with a wet pop, catching your gaze for a moment before he trailed his tongue lower. Pushing back your legs slightly, he slid his wet muscle along the seam of your balls, down lower, lower, ghosting across your perineum, and finally flicked it across your hole. Nuzzling his face softly against your inner thigh for a moment, he dove in and began to devour you.

Roci’s tongue moved in eager, hungry circles over your star, lapping at it ravenously, occasionally pushing his tongue inside you just to hear the moans you made when he did it. Softly, continuing to lick and suck at you, he gripped your cock in his hand and gave it several slow, deliberate strokes.

Your balls tightened, and before you even knew what was happening you were cumming, thick spurts of white-hot cum shooting over your stomach, your legs, your commander’s face. He grinned and closed his mouth over the head of your cock, swallowing what he could as you bucked and whined against him.

When you collapsed after several excruciatingly wonderful moments, Roci pressed a soft kiss to your hip bone before climbing back up to gaze at you. Your cum still dripped from his exquisite cheekbone as he smiled, looking down at you with an expression of nothing less than total adoration.

“You ok, y/n?”

Catching your breath, you nodded. “That was incredible.”

“I’m not finished yet, at least not if you don’t want me to be.”

Weakly, you brush your hand against his. “What did you—“ pant, pant. “—have in mind?”

Rocinante took your chin in his hand, enveloping you in a deep kiss. You could taste your own cum on his tongue, enough to make your spent cock twitch again.

“I seem to recall you saying something about wanting me to fuck you?”

You gazed up at him. If the cheeky smile on his face didn’t tell you everything you needed to know, his positively throbbing cock resting on your thigh certainly did. You almost lazily brought your hand to Roci’s cheek, wiping your cum off him with your thumb. He popped the digit into his mouth without breaking eye contact, sucking every last drop of you from your finger with an eagerness rivaling your own.

“Please, Rocinante…”

Releasing your thumb from between his soft lips, your commander leaned down and kissed you deeply, lingeringly. When he broke away, he was smiling.

“Mind lubing me up a bit first?”

Breathlessly, you nodded, your heart skipping a beat as he pushed two of his own fingers slowly into your waiting mouth. You sucked as eagerly as he had moments before, sliding your tongue over the rough pads of his fingers, tasting the salt and leftover gunpowder on his skin.

“Perfect.” Roci smiled as he watched you, slowly removing his fingers, the dim light glinting off a thin stream of saliva that he twirled around his index. “God, everything about you is so beautiful…” he breathed. “I hoped so badly that you felt this way, y/n. That you wanted me the way I want you…”

You felt your face redden as he smiled at you, touching his forehead to yours as his wet fingers trailed lower and lower. Brushing his lips against the tip of your nose, he reached your hole and slowly began to massage around the perimeter, causing a groan to escape you. “Roci, I need you, fuck…”

“My y/n,” your lover smiled, nuzzling his nose lightly against your cheek. As he did so, he slid one big finger slowly inside you. Your back arched against him as he pushed deeper and deeper, then gently added a second. You felt yourself stretching around him, a soft wail escaping your lips as he scissored his fingers inside you, watching your reaction, precum leaking from his big cock onto your leg.

“How does that feel, sweetheart?”

“S-so…good…” you barely managed to stammer, too love-drunk to even notice the pet name, bucking your hips against his fingers, trying desperately to fuck yourself on them. God, you didn’t know what this meant or what this was but you didn’t care in the slightest, you needed him so bad…

Roci leaned in and kissed you gently as he slowly began to slide his fingers in and out of you, sending you moaning into his mouth as he finally pushed deep enough to hit that spot (Jesus Christ and how he hit it) far inside you, sending a frankly very un-Marinelike cry from your lips. Your lover twisted his fingers, massaging you, chuckling softly as you writhed, dug your nails into his wrist, begged him with your entire body. More, more, more, please god more…

And then slowly he was withdrawing them, leaving you painfully empty beneath him. “Roci… please don’t stop…”

“Shhh. Relax, Ensign. Gotta take these out before anything else can go in. Although… I might need you to lube up that ‘anything else’ for me a bit as well?”

You were up and on your knees in front of Rocinante in a second, practically drooling as you finally got a good look at your commander’s dick. It was massive, easily 8 inches, and thick—you couldn’t help but worry a bit about how the hell it was going to fit into you. It curved up slightly at the pink tip, oozing drops of precum.

Rocinante noticed your apprehension and blushed. “I know it’s kind of a lot, but we can go slow…”

You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, never taking your eyes off it. “I don’t care what speed we go at as long as I get to have you inside me.”

Rocinante brushed his fingers through your hair. “Let me know if you need to stop, ok?”

You nodded, and slowly licked a long stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. Roci positively shivered, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck, y/n…”

Gently, you continued to lick your Commander’s cock, covering it in your saliva, tasting the salt on his skin. When you flicked your tongue up over the pink tip, lapping up the drops of precum leaking from his slit, Rocinante’s hips bucked forward involuntarily, pushing himself into your mouth.

For a moment you sputtered, unprepared for the sudden invasion, and Roci quickly moved to pull back out. But you weren’t about to let that happen. Following his hips, you eagerly took more of him into your mouth, feeling your throat stretch as it filled with him. He was huge, so huge it almost hurt to have him so deep, and you had to fight to control your gag reflex as he gazed down at you, his face flushed.

“Holy fuck, you’re good at this, y/n…”

You smiled as best you could with his cock filling your throat and slowly began to suck him as he had you, coating his dick with your saliva, your own cock already rock hard again just from the feeling of him in your mouth. Bobbing your head, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of him—a little salty, a little musky, a little sweet. Delicious didn’t even begin to describe it.

You were beginning to find your rhythm now, a slow pattern of in and out, deep but not too deep—but Roci suddenly pulled out, his cock bumping your cheek as you released it. You were almost disappointed—sucking him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced—but that flew out the window when you caught his eye.

“Come sit on my lap, y/n.”

Wordlessly you nodded your head. Your mind was swirling. Holy shit, you really were about to get fucked by your commanding officer. Holy shit, holy fuck…

Roci sat back on the soft fur of the rug and you climbed atop him in the position you were in before—achingly, breathtakingly close. His cock twitched as he pushed it against your soaking wet entrance.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

You could only reach up to kiss him in response.

Slowly, so slowly it made your head spin, Rocinante pushed the head of his cock into your tight hole, both of you groaning in pleasure as it began to slide into you. It was so big, holy fuck, Jesus it was big, and as it stretched you wider and wider you couldn’t help but wince.

Roci paused immediately. “You ok, y/n? We can stop if this is too much…”

“No! No, please don’t stop, please don’t stop, Roci,” you managed to gasp as you adjusted to him, your nails digging into his back as you pressed your face to his muscular chest, needing him like grass needed water, like seabirds needed wind.

Gently, he ran a comforting hand over your back and pushed deeper, helping you to sink down onto his cock until it was sheathed entirely inside you.

“Fuck, Rocinante..” you hissed into his chest as he filled you. Gently, almost experimentally, you raised your hips and slid up and down Roci’s dick once. The sensation was nearly enough to have you cumming again, and Roci himself let out a long, low moan as your muscles clenched tight around him.

“Let me do it, y/n… I promise it’ll feel so good…” your Commander gasped, gripping your hips. Slowly, he began to guide you up and down his cock, brushing that spot inside you again and again. You were vaguely aware of a trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth as Rocinante pumped a little faster into you, and you dug your nails into his back as he held you close.

The two of you were well and truly fucking now, your ass bouncing on his cock as you moaned against his chest, praises and needy begging slipping indiscriminately from your mouth as Roci filled you, hit that wildly sensitive spot over and over, harder and harder, as he made you his.

You managed to briefly look up at your commander, desperate to see that he was enjoying himself as much as you were. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he gazed down at you, his eyes almost wet as he held you, fucked himself in your tight hole.

He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“Y/n… holy fuck, y/n…”

Suddenly Rocinante’s thrusts were getting harder, rougher, his grip on your hips getting strong enough to bruise, his breath coming in little gasps.

“Y/n, i’m so close…”

Your own cock was twitching as well, begging for a second release, and you slid one hand from around his waist to jack yourself off hungrily.

“Cum in me, Commander Rocinante,” you begged, staring into his eyes as you stroked your cock, eager to paint his abs white while he filled you.

And with a strangled wail, fill you he did, his cock twitching as it pumped spurt after spurt of hot cum deeply into your hole. The sensation of his seed splashing against your inner walls was enough for you to follow, burying your face against Roci’s pectorals with a long cry as you shot another load onto him.

“Baby, baby, baby, baby…” Rocinante gasped, pulling you so close you almost suffocated against his body as he finished, his hips bucking against yours with a vengeance until finally he collapsed, muscles relaxing. A moment later and you collapsed with him, and Roci lay you both back against the soft brown fur of the rug beneath you.

A moment of silence passed, Roci playing with your hair as he gazed at you, one his arms still around you.

“My y/n,” he finally purred when he caught his breath. “My sweet y/n.”

“I can’t believe we finally did that,” you laugh, nuzzling yourself against him, happier than you could ever remember being.

“I can’t wait to see what the other Ensigns will think when I tell them I have a boyfriend.”

You sat up, an indignant blush creeping up your face. “Boyfriend? Who the fuck said anything about boyfriends?”

Rocinante didn’t flinch. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious where this is heading, don’t you?”

“No!” You stood up, wobbling a little on your post-orgasm legs. Jesus, this man is going to crack me open no matter what I do, isn’t he? “Fuck buddies, or friends with benefits maybe, but not boyfriends!”

Roci just laughed, which you found very annoying. “If you say so, y/n.”

“Commander! Y/n!!”

The voice of Ensign Parvati suddenly echoed from outside the window. “Are you guys alive? …We beat back the Torrez pirates! …Hello?”

Rocinante’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, I forgot about the rest of the squadron.” Frantically he looked around, grabbing his shirt and pants, crashing into everything that wasn’t bolted down as he quickly put on his clothes. “Christ, I am such a bad commander…”

It was your turn to laugh as you stood up, grabbing your own clothes. “You’re fine! Parvati said we beat them.”

He turned to smile at you, affixing his Marine cap to his head. “I can’t say I regret getting so distracted, to be honest.”

“Jesus, you’re corny.”

“You love it.”

You couldn’t help but grin back at him as the two of you finished getting dressed, ready to find your squadron and celebrate your victory.

And although he was not your boyfriend, although he did not know you—you would never let him truly know you— although he was simply your commanding officer who happened to turn lover, nothing more and nothing less—as you walked out the door, you pulled him down to you and very gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Maybe next time you and Bellemere smoked weed and watched old cartoons, maybe you’d see if he wanted to come along.

———————————————————————

God DAMN do I love writing me some slow burn 😍 This is my first time writing mlm so please let me know if there’s anything I can improve on!

Did I invent an entire island with a fur industry just so I could make my characters fuck on a fur rug? You’ll just have to decide for yourself 😏

I think there’s enough here to warrant a part 2, if anyone wants to hear it. I had a lot of fun playing with the idea of a character trying to grapple alone with their trauma and self esteem and meeting someone as incorrigibly healing as our darling Rocinante. If this gets notes, who knows what could happen…?

Also, shoutout to my real Torrez Diego, I sincerely hope you never read this fic but you’re cool and deserve to have a scary pirate named after you 💚

As always, thanks for reading!

#Diglett writes #donquixote corazon #donquixote rocinante #donquixote rosinante #bellemere one piece #Rocinante #Rosinante #rosinante x reader #one piece marines #please read I promise the smut is worth it #read and review #feedback wanted #one piece #one piece fanfic

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blossomwritesthings · 9 months

Text

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲.

pairing: minho x felix (minlix)

genre: idol!minho/idol!felix. introvert minho & extrovert felix. literally grumpy and sunshine troupe. hurt/comfort. angst!! fluff. pining galore. slightly suggestive at some points. minho pov. confession au! minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. the angst is FELT in this one. hurt feelings and misunderstandings abound. minho is soo fucking whipped for felix it's hilarious sksk-

word count: 3.5k

summary: although they were complete opposites, minho and felix got along perfectly - fit together like the two halves of a silvery moon. at least, that's what minho had initially thought for years, until felix suddenly starts outright avoiding him.

a/n: this one's on the pure, angsty side of things ya'll. a little bit suggestive, but nothing too spicy. 🫣 I'm srsly abt to kms over this entire thing, I'm literally losing my fucking MIND over how good this shit is??? 😭😫 also, their perf at lola?? yeah, it's gonna take me at LEAST 30 full business days to get over that shit. 😃👍🏼 ANYWAYS .... if ya'll are looking for more minlix content from me, check out the series on ao3 that this oneshot is apart of... it's pretty much nsfw for now, but I plan to write more angsty/fluffy stuff for it in the future as well!! 🤡

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

It was a universally known fact that Lee Minho was a total and complete introvert.

A textbook one, to be honest.

Hating big crowds, quiet in group settings. You know, the usual traits for an introvert.

And everyone around him seemed to know this fact. They all acknowledged it and respected his boundaries. The boys always took into account his needs and his limits and never pushed him to the brink.

Even if the teasing could sometimes get a bit out of hand.

At least, everyone except Lee Felix knew about Minho's introverted ways.

Or perhaps, the younger male realized it but just failed to take into account the way he should treat Minho differently from the rest.

So instead of avoiding inviting Minho out to big parties, Felix was always the first to ask him to join.

And how could Minho ever possibly say no to him... to that face?

With that cute, little pouty mouth and those constellations of freckles and those starry eyes?

Usually, Minho almost always gave in to Felix's requests.

He was under no obligation to do so, though. They were only bandmates. Only best friends.

Nothing else.

But sometimes, when he was persuaded to go out on the town with Felix, that small voice in the back of his head would make its appearance. Telling Minho that he should just confess his feelings. That he should just admit to what he was thinking about Felix.

Yeah, he only thought about such things sometimes...

The dark, twisted musings he often had of the younger, turquoise-blue-haired male definitely didn't bubble up into his head regularly.

No, definitely not...

Nevertheless, Felix seemed to continually live in ignorant bliss about Minho's introverted ways. Almost like, his life was so bright and full of sunshine, that he couldn't see anything past his extroverted way of thinking.

This became apparent by how fucking talkative he was.

Especially at the end of the day, when their schedules were done and they had arrived home at the dorm.

Felix always seemed to trap Minho when Seungmin and Jeongin were away, either busy getting ready for bed or watching a tv show in their respective bedrooms.

Like a spider catching a wee fly in its web, Felix would corner Minho throughout their shared dorm - whether it was in the kitchen, living room, or bathroom.

The conversations were always pretty mindless, with him usually rambling off about the day's activities. And almost all of the time, Minho just listened.

Never interrupting, never stopping him.

Sure, he was really fucking tired from the workday.

And sure, he kind of wanted to unwind in his own space... get lost in his head, and stay in the silence that he loved so much.

But he also kind of loved the conversations.

Albeit, they were quite one-sided, although Felix didn't seem to mind one bit.

To be honest, he didn't even seem to notice Minho's quietness most of the time.

He'd just follow Minho around the house, chatting up a storm, gesturing with his tiny hands elatedly.

And the older male would just nod fondly and hum when he deemed it necessary.

So just like that, they fell into a routine.

A unique rhythm.

Where Felix was allowed to prattle on for hours at the end of the way, and Minho got accustomed to de-stressing with the sound of his voice in the background.

Just the sound of his deep, rumbly voice after a long day, stretching on and on, seemed to do something intoxicating to Minho's brain.

Caused an infection to spread like wildfire.

And soon enough, he found it hard to fall asleep late at night if he didn't get a chance to hear how Felix's day had gone.

It was relaxing, to hear him chat about everything. It lulled Minho into a dream-like state, softening his harder edges and making his muscles sink into a sleepy pile of limbs.

That's how the two of them ended up in the dorm's kitchen late one night, with Minho calmly cooking up a shrimp pasta dish for dinner while Felix sat on a nearby barstool, talking about his day.

"Minji said that I should try like, a neon purple colour for our next comeback..." He trailed off, the sound of Minho chopping up an onion overtaking the lull of stillness between them. "What do you think, Hyung? I don't know if I would-"

Minho stopped chopping then, staring up at him with a faint smile, "Lix, you look amazing in any colour. Don't stress about it, yeah?" And he watched, as the happiness brightened up Felix's entire face in the form of a huge grin. Minho's heart beat wildly against his ribcage just at the sight of it, thumping painfully loud in his ears and drowning out all other sounds.

"Thanks, Hyung. I can always count on you to give it to me straight..." Then he kept talking, and all the while the older male continued to prepare dinner for them.

He was used to the routine.

He liked the routine the two of them had.

Loved the habits they were forming together late into the night.

So then, months later, upon the sudden stark change in Felix's demeanor, it was like Minho's entire world shifted on its axis.

No longer would the younger boy come home and seek him out immediately.

Instead, Minho would oftentimes find him holed up in his room, playing video games on his computer or watching TikToks snuggled up in his bed.

No longer did Felix lean against the kitchen counter and tell him all about his feelings on their newest activities while Minho cooked dinner for everyone.

Instead, Minho would catch a glimpse of him hunched over at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book as he quickly scarfed up a plain bowl of rice and a fried egg.

No longer did the blue-haired man sit next to Minho on the living room couch late into the night, mindlessly commenting on the characters in the drama that they were watching together.

Instead, Minho would notice him curled up in the corner of the living room's armchair, laptop on the coffee table as he engrossed himself in the newest American action movie.

And it really fucking hurt.

To fall out of such a routine.

To realize how much he relied on it all.

How much he relied on Felix.

To miss it so much, that he could feel his heart squeezing painfully each second Felix spent his nights away from him.

Almost like, he was avoiding Minho altogether.

Minho would lie awake in bed late at night, just staring mindlessly up at the ceiling. His mind and heart racing in tandem as he tried to recall the moment when things had gone amiss.

Did he say something?

Did he do something wrong?

He knew that Felix was a sensitive soul, which was why he always treated him delicately.

He treated him differently than he did the other members.

And every night, he could never come up with a solid conclusion as to why things had gone south.

When finally, things came to a head.

It was after a painfully grueling night in the practice room that Minho came home to a dark, hushed dorm. He was exhausted - both mentally and physically.

All he wanted at that moment was to lay his eyes on him - to hear his voice, soothing all of his worries from the day away. Like dark chocolate melting in a warm saucepan.

The others were still out, finishing up their schedules for the night. And the dorm felt barren and void of all life.

Except, as Minho stepped out of the entryway, he noticed the single overhead light of the stovetop flicked on. There was Felix, perched atop the granite countertop, a white porcelain bowl in his hand.

He didn't even notice that the older male was home. He was so focused on eating his cereal that he failed to hear the sound of Minho's gym bag plopping down on the marble floor.

Just like that, Minho's weak heart finally came to a standstill. Breaking irrevocably.

The shards that he was left with stirred around inside of his chest painfully, seeming to stab his lungs as he slowly approached the kitchen.

It hurt to breathe.

Hurt to walk.

Even still, he managed to push through the agony of it all.

It was only then that Felix looked up and caught sight of him. He offered him a fleeting smile, "Oh- hi, Hyung. I didn't see you there." He said, just as he shoveled in another spoonful of cereal, swinging his legs back and forth in the air nonchalantly.

Minho remained silent for one beat,

Two beats,

Three beats.

Destroyed heart clambering in his chest, exhaustion overtaking his entire mind, shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Why don't you do it anymore?"

The words came out soft and wobbly, barely above a whisper. Minho was speaking like someone else was in the room - like the others were lingering around.

But it was just them.

With Felix sitting atop the kitchen countertop and Minho but a few steps away, at a standstill, spine completely frozen.

"W-What?" Felix asked, dark brows furrowing in confusion. He had no idea what Minho was talking about.

Of course, he wouldn't.

It's not like they talked about it.

Hell- they barely even talked at all. Hadn't in what felt like fucking months.

"You barely even give me the time of day anymore," Minho started, voice a little shaky as his hands trembled at his sides. He had to force his fists into balls, to stop them from quivering so badly. "Barely say ten words to me all day." He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to point out the elephant in the fucking room. But it was too obvious to avoid anymore. Too painful to brush under the rug. "What happened, Lix? What happened to all of those nights when we'd talk and have fun together?"

"You mean when I'd talk."

His words cut through Minho like a knife. The pointed edge of them icy against his flesh, tearing him up in a cruel kind of way.

"No, I mean-"

Felix took in a deep sigh, before placing his bowl of cereal down on the countertop next to him. He sat back a little bit so that he could get a clear view of the crimson-haired man. He leveled the elder with a serious face, brows still furrowed and that pretty pink mouth pressed into a firm line. "I was always the one talking, Minho. You barely said two words most of the time."

The use of his name caused the hurt to swish in Minho's stomach, forcing him to feel miserably queasy at that moment. Because Felix never called him that.

"I don't know what-" He began, but was cut off by Felix holding a small hand up in the air.

His eyes, which were locked with Minho's, said it all.

He was already done with the conversation. He had said all that he wanted to.

There was just... nothing there anymore.

"It's fine, Hyung. Really. You don't have to apologize or anything. I get it." He said, voice dull and lifeless.

Where was the Lee Felix that Minho had grown to love?

Where was the bright ball of sunshine that he had matured right alongside with?

Where was he?

Because this Felix- the one with a cool gaze and a deep-set frown, was not his Felix.

"You really don't get it, do you?" Minho said, tone faint and wavering. He was nearing Felix then, watching as the younger halted in his place. Spine going rigid, he sat up a little straighter.

And then Minho was just before him, placing his arms on either side of Felix's hips, palms pressing into the chilly marbled countertop. Caging the younger man in, and staring down at him with a wildly-beating destroyed heart and a huge lump forming in his throat.

Felix turned his head up, catching his gaze with wide eyes. The cotton-candy pink of a flush was already traveling up the milky skin of his neck, pooling into his cheeks and casting a bright red galaxy against his freckles. Already, he was getting flustered from their proximity.

"Do you even realize how it is for me?" The words were slipping free from Minho's mouth in the next beat. He felt Felix's warm breath fan against his face from how close they were. "I can't fucking breathe for even a second if you're not around. I can't think, I can't speak, I can't function properly." Just as Felix's mouth was opening to cut in, Minho continued his spiel. "If I don't see you- lay my eyes on this fragile little body or this pretty little face, I fucking fall apart. If I don't hear your voice, I can't sleep all night."

Minho was moving after that, and before he even realized what he was doing, he was leaning further into Felix, hand coming up to his face and fingers tracing against the line of his jaw. Gently, he cupped his chin, the pad of his thumb brushing against his puffy pink bottom lip.

Their gazes caught just then, and Minho could sense the feelings raging just beneath the surface of Felix. And Minho thought that he also probably looked quite similar in the younger's eyes.

"So you can hate me and you can loathe me and you can despise me," Minho began in a breathless whisper, "But don't ever avoid me again. Otherwise, I'll suffocate and die a slow and painful death."

He couldn't seem to pull his hand away from the younger's face, even when it grew so hot to the touch, it felt like his palm was about to burn up in a scorch of hot flames. Even when a slight, painful squeak fled from between Felix's lips.

Almost like, this hurt him just as much.

"I never hated you," he murmured back, tone registering low. The sound of it rumbled out, cascading across the shell of Minho's ears and shooting a violent shiver down the length of his spine. "I could never- not when I fucking love you so much. And I... I was avoiding you because I was scared. Scared of what you thought of me- and my loose mouth."

Minho kept silent, thumb continuing to press against his lip, soothing Felix as the feelings and thoughts started to spill out of him like a magical elixir trickling out of a stunning glass tincture.

"Someone told me about you- about your true personality, and how you're reclusive and stuff. And I- I got scared, that you hated all of our late nights together and you hated how much I talked. And then I noticed how quiet you always were and I thought that maybe it was better if I just stayed away and let you have your space after work. I didn't want to burden you anymore and-"

"Kitten, you're never a burden to me," Minho cut in, hand finally pulling away from Felix's lips and trailing towards his hair. He pushed some of the shock-blue locks behind his delicate ear, and something tiny and fiery stirred in the pit of his stomach at the mewl that he heard Felix creak out from the nickname alone. "Just because I'm so different from you, doesn't mean I don't enjoy your company. And just because I don't talk all the time, doesn't mean I hate you for talking to me after work."

At that, Felix stared up at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "Y-You enjoy my company?" His voice trailed off into the distance softly, his eyes fluttering closed at the way Minho's fingers raked across his scalp.

Slowly, he pulled at his blue roots, forcing Felix's eyes open again so that Minho could see the look in them as he finally spoke the words he had been stirring over for what felt like a fucking millennium.

"I adore it, Lix. I can't live without it, to be honest," he confessed, flashing the younger a meek smile. And at that moment, Felix looked so perfect. So vulnerable and adorable all at the same time. "Fuck- I need to kiss you right now. Can I? Please..."

Felix gaped up at him, the overhead kitchen light sparkling in his eyes like a million different constellations all at once. Like he was in complete awe of the situation at hand, and he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that everything was happening to him just then.

"Yes- yes, a thousand times yes." He cried desperately in that cute, small voice of his.

And then nothing else mattered, as Minho held onto his jaw, tilting Felix's head upwards as he connected their lips. Like they were meant to never separate, they fit each other perfectly.

In an instant, Felix was melting into the feel of Minho's mouth wrapped around his. His hands came up around the elder's waist, digging into the fabric of his t-shirt and drawing him ever closer. Minho's tongue dragged across his bottom lip, and soon, teeth were bumping against teeth as they tasted one another. Felix groaned, fingers clutching on tight to Minho as he teased him with his kisses right there in the middle of the kitchen.

The kiss was ethereal and perfect and everything Minho had always dreamed of.

And when they broke apart to catch their breaths, a messy string of saliva connecting them, Felix stared up at him with vast eyes and flushed cheeks, and a faint smile.

"Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you are, kitten?" Minho mused off, fingertips ghosting across his smattering of freckles.

The cerulean-haired male giggled softly, hands bunching up the fabric of Minho's shirt and dragging him closer so that he could wrap his legs around his waist. "Yeah, but you've never done it before."

"Well, now I'm saying it," Minho began, lips ghosting over his nose as he kissed it. "Pretty," he continued on his path, kissing either of his rosy cheeks. "Gorgeous," his mouth trailed up to his forehead, brushing the locks of blue there aside. "Stunning."

Then he stopped just at Felix's mouth again, hovering, breathing warmth against his lips.

"W-Will you c-call me that again?" Felix suddenly blurted out quietly, the words tumbling from him at a rushed pace. The way he stuttered nervously, like a young schoolboy confessing to his crush, did something funny to Minho's heart. Brought the shattered pieces back together, in a jumbled mess.

Minho could already feel the smirk spreading across his face, as he pondered over the idea. "Hmm..." He tapped a finger against his chin, to seem like he was mulling it over. When in reality, he'd give the entire world for Felix if he asked for it. He'd lasso the moon down from the night sky and gift it to the younger male if he wanted it badly enough. "Only if you're a good boy for me." His eyes flicked towards Felix's, catching the way the furious bloom of crimson erupted across his face and flooded into the tips of his ears. "You think you can do that for me? Be a good boy for Hyung?"

His head of blue hair was already moving up and down, as he nodded furiously. Teeth peeking out in a cheeky grin, he spoke in a fleeting voice. "Yes, I can be really fucking good... but only for you, Min."

That automatically made Minho's heart melt, dripping like cool water in his entire chest. The love he held for the younger male coursed through his veins then, lighting up his nervous system and making him see in full colour as he tilted into Felix.

Mouth pressing against the pulse point of the column of his neck, Minho shuttered out in a deep whisper. "Such a pretty kitten..." His lips attached to the warm flesh there, teeth sucking faintly and leaving a light violet bruise in the wake of his attention. He continued making his way down Felix's neck, loving the way the younger's fingers automatically carded through his locks, pushing him closer to his skin. "And all mine, too."

Felix squirmed against him then, moaning faintly at Minho's words. They were both suggestive and true to what he honestly felt for Felix.

And in that moment, other, dark thoughts flashed across the forefront of his mind too.

Visions of his sweet angel Felix, wriggling underneath him.

Fragile, petite limbs tangled up in bedsheets,

Skin flushed that pretty pink shade that always drove Minho so wild.

That delicate, small mouth of his, opened up in a filthy way, as the ecstasy fell from his lips in garbled sounds.

Minho knew that all of his deepest, darkest fantasies would one day come true. Would one day take place in the future.

And all because Felix had dared to talk to him late at night after their schedules.

Fin.

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timotey · 4 months

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Ficlet: Of Sucky Days

The Sign. Yai/Sand. Missing scene from ep 5. Unbeta’d.

Coming home after a sucky day.

(My first Yai/Sand ficlet, yay!)

***

“Oh, hey, hi. How was work?” That’s all that Sand manages to say before she’s enveloped in her boyfriend’s strong arms.

Yai walks into their flat, kicks the door shut and lets his bag drop to the floor, then he almost falls into his beloved’s arms, and wrapping himself around her, octopus-like, buries his face in her neck and groans.

Sand lifts her eyebrows, blinking rapidly in surprise, then she returns the hug, stroking Yai's back soothingly. “That bad, huh?” she says sympathetically.

“Today is a sucky, sucky day,” Yai whines pitifully and squeezes her tight, almost lifting her off the floor.

Sand laughs a little, simply letting Yai breathe her in, soak her in like sunshine after a cold season. “I’m all ears,” she offers.

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “No, you’re not. Which is good. I know I said I would love you in any and every shape and form but I just might draw the line at you being all ears.”

Yai pulls away from her and with a twinkle in his eyes, he sweeps her off her feet and carries her to the couch where he proceeds to sprawl lazily with her in his lap.

“Alright, alright,” Sand says, still smiling wide as she settles down comfortably - and wiggles just a little, for good measure. “Not all ears, then, just two. But ready to listen, if you want to talk.”

Yai groans again though this time for different reasons; Sand knows very well what she’s doing, squirming like that, right on top of his little friend. He orders the lively thing to behave, at least for now, and pulls his girlfriend close.

“I can’t really go into details,” Yai says, “but, well, we caught our guy. Which is great. But it also sucks. Because he's a murderer who forced innocent people do unspeakable things but he was also a victim first, before all that. And if the cops had done a better job back then, none of this would’ve happened. So that sucks too. The whole situation sucks, from the beginning to the end.”

Sand hums and she leans against his shoulder, stroking his face and listening.

“And if that wasn’t enough, Phaya had a row with Tharn. He actually hit Tharn, the bastard,” Yai grumbles, voice laced with real irritation and worry.

That makes Sand raise her head and look at Yai in concern. “Phaya hit Tharn?” she asks in dismay.

“Well, it was most likely an accident, I give you that,” Yai allows grudgingly, “at least Tharn insists it was. But I would probably be more inclined to believe that if Phaya hadn’t punched a wall first. That guy has a real temper, let me tell you.”

“Is Tharn okay?” Sand asks, worried. Tharn's always been like a brother-in-law to her, like family, and treated her with nothing but kindness and affection.

“Yeah. Yeah, he and Phaya made up, apparently. Or... whatever. After Tharn got stabbed,” Yai finishes morosely.

Sand freezes, eyes widening. “He what?” she exclaimed.

“Got stabbed. The vest deflected the hit, mostly. But, yeah, he did. Protecting Phaya. Yet again,” Yai mutters, annoyed. “Like I said, today sucks. Big time!”

“So Tharn’s okay?” Sand assures herself. “Where is he now?”

“Yeah, he is, more or less, okay, I mean,” Yai tells her. “And he’s at home. Phaya went with him.”

Sand lifts an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

“Yeah. He wanted me to pick up some clothes for him at his house, can you believe that guy?” Yai fumes. “First he punches my brother, then he allows him to get stabbed and then he wants me to play a manservant. Dude can waltz around naked for all I care!”

Sand’s lips twitch. “I bet Tharn would appreciate that.”

That stops Yai short. “Huh. Maybe I should have brought him his things, after all,” he muses, frowning a little.

“But Tharn is okay, right?” Sand asks again, just to be sure. Though she knows that if he weren’t Yai wouldn’t just be sitting here, grumbling. She knows how much Yai loves Tharn, with all his big foolish heart and then some. “Both he and Phaya?”

Yai sighs, dropping his head back against the backrest. “Yeah, they are. Just a little banged up, is all. Probably playing doctor right now.” He straightens up again, narrowing his eyes. “Wait.”

Sand laughs, seeing his disturbed expression. Then, with a wicked gleam in her eyes, she runs her hand down his chest, lower and lower - and wiggles in his lap again. “And what about you?” she whispers, leaning closer, her breath hot against his ear. “Up to playing doctor with me?”

Yai draws in a sharp breath, eyes blazing up, when Sand brushes her fingers against his belt buckle. His little friend immediately jumps to attention.

In a split second, Yai is back on his feet with an armful of a laughing girlfriend. “Yeah. We should definitely do that. I think that a thorough check-up is in order.”

And with that he rushes towards their bedroom, Sand’s laughter echoing through their flat, and all worries are forgotten, at least for now.

#the sign #the sign the series #my the sign fics #my fics #mé

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queen-scribbles · 4 months

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Unwise

Haaaappy birthday to the Blueberry Jedi, as I simultaneously embarrass her and write the last piece standing between her/Arcann and the official "begin a relationship" step. >:3 I've mentioned before that she can be surprisingly horny, right?

---

Her heart pounded in her chest, the pulses of emotion she could sense from him making it beat faster, faster. His fingers brushed the juncture of her hip and she twined a leg over his to keep them close, a kiss pressed to the hollow of her throat had his name falling from her lips on a gasp--

She jerked awake, heart actually pounding, heat still twisting in her core, and very much alone. No company, least of all him.

Stars above, where did that come from?! Endrali wondered. She ran both trembling hands through her hair, clenching them around fistfuls at her nape, then immediately let go as if it had burned her.

Not a good idea with that dream still fresh in her mind's eye. Not that he would ever...

Endrali sat up, tenting her knees, and willed all her focus into clearing her thoughts. Slow, deep breaths. In. Out. She was on a planet full of Force users, some almost as strong as she was; the last thing she wanted was for these emotions to linger long enough someone picked up on them. In. Out. Calm your mind.

The meditative quiet that usually came easy was elusive this time.

She'd never had a dream like that before...

Sparring. That's where this came from, sparring yesterday. Tank tops. More single blade practice for her. Arcann was more comfortable with it now, more convinced it was not an unwise course of action. (The fact she'd playfully shoved him halfway across the room with the Force probably helped. As reassurance.) He'd actually smiled helping her back to her feet when they finished. "You are improving."

That's what had done her in, that smile, she mused. That he was comfortable enough, relaxed enough, to drop his guard around her, if not on the base as a whole.

The--imagined, she reminded herself sternly--memory of fingers tracing skin mingled with the feel of his hand around hers as he hauled her up and Endrali bit her lip. This wasn't helping. She shoved the dream down and buried, but it kept poking through, heat shimmering in her thoughts.

That wouldn't do; someone--stars forbid Arcann or Senya--would pick up on it at this rate. She needed to do something off-planet today, and the sooner she could leave the better. Endrali flicked on the lights and pulled up Alliances messages on her datapad as she dressed.

Right at the first, there was an urgent alert, forwarded by Theron at an hour that tempted Endrali to yell at him about his sleep schedule again--a pirate gang ambushed a patrol and got their hands on Odessen security data. They were selling to the highest bidder, from their base on Tatooine.

Good distance for taking a whole day without keeping her away too long. She finished shrugging on the tan and ochre robes and turned her attention to the main conundrum.

Who did she ask to come along and how did she explain it not being Arcann?

She'd dragged him everywhere for months, because they were friends now, because he'd been first choice for watching her back ever since she realized how well they clicked, because she was comfortable with him. It was going to raise eyebrows if she took someone else along for 'no reason'.

(There was, of course, a very good reason--no way she could hide these emotions from the object of them. But she couldn't say that. 'You didn't do anything wrong, Arcann, I just had a really vivid sex dream about you--us--and need some distance to clear my head!' She valued his friendship and trust too much to blow it apart like that.)

So. She couldn't bring Arcann, for obvious reasons. Couldn't bring Senya, for equally obvious reasons. Lana and any other Sith or Jedi were probably also a bad idea; it was proving nigh impossible to banish the curl of lingering heat. Theron or Vette would notice her agitated state and badger her until she spilled details, Koth and Felix were handling something for Admiral Aygo...

Wish Nadia was here. That would be the perfect solution. She wouldn't mind spilling her guts to her best friend, and Nadia's Force sensitivity was such she'd catch the meaning of any emotion Endrali couldn't put into words.

But she wasn't here. She was Force only knew where, hopefully alright. Safe.

Endrali sighed and ran her fingers along the etched hilt of her dualsaber. Although, thinking of Felix and Nadia turned her thoughts to the rest of her old crew....

Qyzen. Qyzen was here, he wasn't Force aware to pick anything up, and he wouldn't prod for her thoughts. And they'd spent plenty of time fighting together, and he'd done several hunts on Tatooine, which gave him familiarity with the terrain.

Qyzen was perfect. Trusted ally, skilled warrior, perfectly happy following the Scorekeeper's Herald without needless personal questions. Now she just had to track him down and get out of here without running into certain people.

Fingers traced the curve of her spine, metal warm from prolonged contact--

Endrali bit the inside of her cheek, shook her head, tried to take a few deep breaths and push the thought away. And the faster she could get off planet the better. Lingering seemed unwise.

---

Qyzen was, thankfully, not hard to find. He and the Warstalkers tended to keep to the military wing. He did, however, seem surprised by her request.

[Something is wrong, that you need me?] he asked, examining her keenly.

Endrali shook her head, tucking hair behind one ear. "I have to get back some data a pirate gang stole, and they're based on Tatooine. You've hunted there several times, I thought your knowledge of the planet would come in handy."

[Whatever the Herald needs] He inclined his head. [I have all that is needed.]

Her brows twitched and she looked him over again. Sure enough, even for a quiet day on Odessen, he was armored and carried his techblade. "Alright, then."

She thought she caught a glimpse of Arcann as they headed for the Cadence, but didn't dare look, lest her tenuous, desperate grip on those thoughts unravel entirely.

The door whooshed closed behind them, the fresh air a welcome change even if she didn't slow to enjoy it. She did smile at the sight of her snow orchids bobbing in a breeze.

Scarred skin under her wandering touch, down jaw, neck, shoulder. Nails digging in to leave her own marks as they pressed close-

Stop. It. Endrali scolded herself, face hot. She wasn't sure what she'd do for all the empty hours between here and Tatooine, but hopefully she'd find something, or she was in trouble.

---

Arcann happened to reach the hanger bay just in time to catch sight of Endrali, fully dressed and geared, heading toward the door to her personal landing pad.

It was early to be starting for somewhere. Even if the purposeful stride of herself and her Trandoshan friend made it seem important. He hadn't even had time to process Endrali was going somewhere without him when a voice spoke next to him.

"Must be dealin' with the pirates." When he flinched and turned, he saw the underworld liaison. She took his glance as curiosity and elaborated. "Dust Vipers hit a patrol, stole security data. They went to ground on Tatooine while they try to auction it off. Commander must be dealing with it." She cocked her head. "Gotta say, surprised she didn't take you, way you two've been joined at the hip the past few months."

As am I. He buried the thought. "She is free to choose whoever she wishes to accompany her."

Visz snorted. "I know that. She'd just been pickin' you a lot. Guess there's somethin' makes Qyzen a better fit this time." She shrugged and kept walking. Arcann stared at the door that had closed behind Endrali and Qyzen.

He instinctively started combing his memory for anything he had done wrong, then caught himself.

Endrali was not Valkorion. On the--rare--occasions someone hurt or displeased her, she talked to them. The cold shoulder as a punishment was not her way, and it was unwise to let himself worry for no reason.

Driven by curiosity than anything, Arcann reached out through the Force for a sense of her-

-and ran into an impenetrable wall that made his brow furrow. Endrali was never so closed with her emotions. Protecting deeper thoughts, yes, but she'd never barricaded even the surface so tightly, not in all the months since he'd joined the Alliance. And even before.

The dull roar of her ship's engine came through the door, and Arcann waited for it to fade before heading that direction. He'd wanted to meditate(--with her, but that part was not meant to be now--)and she clearly wouldn't need the space.

---

However difficult it was to clear her mind during the journey, Tatooine's heat alone was enough to distract her once they arrived.

[Herald, where is our quarry?] Qyzen asked.

"Oh, um..." Endrali fumbled to pull out the datapad with information. She'd been in such a state she hadn't really focused on anything beyond 'stolen data', 'Tatooine', and that it was urgent enough to get her off Odessen quickly. She could sense Qyzen's concern as he watched her.

[To be unprepared, is unusual.] he said. [Everything is alright?]

"I'm fine," Endrali promised. "Just didn't want to waste time before leaving, this sounded urgent."

Both statements were true, even if the connection wasn't, per se.

Qyzen seemed to accept it, though she wasn't sure if his not pointing out the hours she could've read it en route was decorum or not recognizing the opportunity.

"The Dust Vipers are based in the Dune Sea," Endrali said, finally locating the info in Hylo's report.

[I follow you,] Qyzen said. [Are prepared?]

"Mmhm." She better be, heading into the Dune Sea. It would swallow the unprepared whole, and she didn't want that. So they were prepared, and she would stay focused on the task at hand. They didn't have much on the Dust Vipers and she didn't want to make assumptions of their capabilities.

Hope they're enough of a challenge to satisfy Qyzen and distract me, Endrali thought as the speeder headed out from Anchorhead.

---

She got her wish. While not as tough as Commander Tassar's forces, or fanatical as the Sith on Ord Mantell, the Dust Vipers were no pushovers--through sheer numbers if nothing else.

They must run some recruitment drives, she mused dryly before considering maybe they'd simply pulled all their forces to protect the base, knowing the Alliance would respond. Many of them hadn't been expecting her, personally, to handle it, if their panicked oaths and the ripple of shock in the Force were anything to go by.

It's their bad luck I needed the distraction. Endrali ripped a chunk of rock out of a precipice and hurled it at one set of hasty barricades. It knocked them aside and flattened the pirates using them for cover. Qyzen swept through the new opening to reach more pirates further up the slope.

The catwalks up to this point had been bad enough, doubling back repeatedly to climb the rock face in a zigzag that gave the Vipers a decided advantage. But more rock walls blocked in the climbing path, funneling them in one direction--toward a healthy scattering of pirates, beasts and barricades.

However, Endrali and Qyzen had quickly fallen back in sync, fighting together. (Even if it was a little odd fighting with someone not Force-aware after so long with Arcann--)

None of that, she scolded herself, flinging a pair of pirates into the canyon wall and spinning to cut down another behind her. Not a good idea to undermine the distraction.

They gained the summit and Endrali paused to catch her breath.

[Is all broodlings so far,] Qyzen commented, looking back at the bodies left in their wake. [Barely worth points.]

Endrali chuckled. "They do add up, though. And I'm sure we'll find someone worthy to fight soon; no way they'll let us just waltz inside the walls of their base." She fell silent, nudging the carcass of a sand tusker with her boot.

[What thoughts, Herald?]

"These are known for their hostility," she said half under her breath, "they should be attacking everything, not just us."

Qyzen nodded thoughtfully. [Agreed. Is odd.]

"Maybe if we can figure out what they're doing, we can wreck it, and then the beasts will go after the pirates, too."

[Whatever small prey uses, is unwise to stand against Scorekeeper's Herald,] he said, scanning over the bodies of men and beasts who had paid for doing so.

Endrali smiled and gave a rueful snort. "Am I still Her Herald? I did get captured, wouldn't that...?"

Qyzen paused, the scaly ridges that crested his head twitching, but the clouded eye turned toward her gave nothing away. She knew he still struggled to reconcile that she, the Scorekeeper's Herald, had suffered the highest disgrace--live capture. His reply was measured when it came. [Once, small hunter said to me, not to dwell on points lost, but on reclaiming. Now I say same to you, Herald. Not to worry for lost points--you earn many more. And defeat one who captured you, make him serve.]

She shook her head and chuckled. They'd had this terminology debate before. "He doesn't serve, Qyzen; Arcann's an ally now. A friend."

One she was trying very hard not to think about right now, so they really should change the subject.

[Is sign of strength, boldness, to trust one so long an enemy,] Qyzen said. [Let him enter your den, guard your back.]

"He's earned it," Endrali said softly, tracing channels through the sandy dirt with her boot.

[Have seen is so,] Qyzen nodded. [So I trust Herald's instincts.]

A deep, breathless kiss, her name mumbled low, started creeping back into her thoughts. Endrali shook them off and pushed to her feet. "Right now my instincts are saying to press on before they regroup." It wasn't like resting in the suns heat helped that much.

Qyzen nodded, taking his weapon in hand. [I follow.]

They found the compound gates nearby, guarded by a Kaleesh warrior and flanking pair of scyk. He summoned more beasts to his aid when those were killed, making Endrali think he might have that control method they needed to wreck. When a whole gang of wraids followed the scyk and sandtuskers, she was pretty convinced of it.

The one big change fighting with Qyzen rather than Arcann was Qyzen's penchant for attacking the biggest visible threat, meaning she handled the lesser ones. Her lightsaber hummed and crackled and the air smelt of burned flesh by the time she'd finished off the wraids. She barely had time to assist Qyzen's fight with a few strikes when the Kaleesh's cry of 'To me, to me!' had the earth erupting and a massive sandworm flung itself at Qyzen.

It slammed him into a boulder, he snarled and clawed at it in retaliation. Endrali took over fighting the Kaleesh, deflecting blaster bolts, flinging rocks, until she finished him off.

Qyzen gave a triumphant cry a moment later and when Endrali turned he was yanking his techblade free of the beast's head.

It was in rifling the beastmaster's pockets and pouches she found the small hexagonal transponder. Near as she could tell, this was how he'd controlled the creatures. Figuring Oggurobb would want to have a look at it, she tucked it in a belt pouch and turned her attention to the gates.

They were huge and sturdy. Impregnable, some would say. Endrali reached out with the Force, hefted a boulder thrice the size of her and Qyzen combined, and hurled it at the gates.

Durasteel shrieked and voices clamored beyond as the gates bent, snapped, and caved inwards. The debris and her boulder flattened a few of those closest. It was a good thing they got a moment's respite; throwing something that large so hard took an effort. Endrali swayed, paused for a couple heartbeats to recover before following Qyzen's charge.

She'd just deflected a small barrage of blaster bolts back at the pirates who fired them, the hum of her daulsaber's whirl in her ears, when the sense of danger tugged at the Force. Endrali lunged to the side immediately, tucking herself behind a shipping crate as something small hit where she'd been standing and erupted in flame.

"Guess Jai wasn't as tough as he thought!" a voice rang out. "I'll have to take a crack at ya!"

Endrali reached with the Force to sense where the woman speaking was. Grated ramp to an outbuilding all the way across the workyard. Too far to do anything direct. She still levitated a boulder and threw it in the general direction of the new threat as she curled around the crate to run for Qyzen.

There was the bark of blasters firing in unison, a shower of stone fragments that stung the backs of her arms, and the rapid spitfire of blaster bolts dancing behind her footsteps. Endrali pivoted as she reached Qyzen, spinning her dualsaber to deflect the attack.

"Hey, boys, we got the Commander's attention herself!" the pirate hollered, jumping down from her vantage point. She vanished as she hit the ground, reappearing on an overseer's platform in the middle of the yard, so close Endrali could see her grin as she fired again.

Short range teleport. That was enough of a problem with Force users, where you knew there'd be a short break between shifts so they could regain expended energy. She had no idea what limitation a technological version may or may not have.

[I will take broodlings,] Qyzen said, gaze on the cluster of men who had spilled from the building. [And you the mighty one.] He was moving even before Endrali's nod of confirmation.

She drew on the Force to rush the pirate's position, crossing sand and metal alike in a blink.

The pirate had good reflexes; she dodged the swipe at her chest. Her blasters each spat a shot as she spat a curse--Endrali blocked one, but the other grazed her arm--and she slammed a hand to her belt, vanishing from sight.

Endrali deflected a wild shot from the last of the group Qyzen was fighting and reached with the Force, sensing where the pirate would be even as she reappeared. The pirate flung something and Endrali jumped the railing to avoid it, the chill of flash-cryo at her back as she hit the ground and rolled.

The pirate's new position gave her a clear line of sight on Qyzen, and she grinned as she spun her blasters before lining up a shot. From the glow of the barrels, Endrali didn't need the Force to sense danger. Too far to reach him in time...

"Qyzen!" she hollered in warning, but he didn't seem to hear her. In a last-ditch effort to protect her friend, she threw her dualsaber at the pirate, guiding it with the Force as best she could.

(If it worked for Arcann, it should work for her, even if hers had an extra blade to worry about when catching it.)

One of the whirling blades cut deep into the pirate's back and her shot went wide. Qyzen spun as the large energy bolts slammed the sand next to him.

Endrali caught the returning dualsaber above her head as she ran to close in on the pirate. Qyzen got there first, swinging his techblade in a backhand strike at her gut.

Still reeling from Endrali's thrown saber, the pirate was too slow to fully dodge. Her cry, however, was more dismay than pain as she backpedaled into the bunker behind her.

He broke her tech. Endrali called on the Force for speed, not wanting to waste this chance. They had the door covered, but stars only knew if there were any sort of passages out of the bunker.

A salvo of blaster fire greeted her as she sped past Qyzen and she felt the heat of one she didn't deflect whiz by the side of her neck. Qyzen grunted behind her as another bolt found its mark.

Trusting in the Force, Endrali flung out her hand, throwing a couple of footlockers in the direction of the shots, following in a rush to cut down the pirate before she could fire again. Her blade cut deep into the woman's unarmored chest, and she let out a choked-off groan of surprise as she fell. Something dropped from her hand-

[Herald!] Qyzen's finger closed around her arm, yanking her away just as the detonator went off. She instinctively threw up her free arm, and the wash of heat made the skin tight.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile, breathing hard as she turned to Qyzen.

[Was owed.] he replied, still on guard until sure the threat was past.

Endrali winced at the blaster burn that cut through the brow ridge of his good eye. "Sorry I was a bit slow."

Qyzen shook his head. [Is mark of fine hunt, strong prey, even if points are yours.]

"Couldn't have done it without you," she said, shaking her head. "They're your points, too."

He'd traveled with her long enough to know protesting the unconventional sentiment was pointless. [I thank you, Herald.]

Endrali nodded a distracted acknowledgement even as she crouched to free the damaged teleportation tech from the pirate's belt. I'm gonna be Oggurobb's favorite person in the whole galaxy at this rate... "Now to figure where we go next," she muttered. Probably up. There were some other buildings scattered around, but since none of them showed guards or signs of being ready to spew forth more pirates, she wasn't inclined to drag this out by doing a door to door search.

So they headed up the sloping cliffside path, until they found a large warehouse with guards posted outside the loading bay doors. They were easily dealt with.

The walker waiting inside clearly intended to be a little more of a challenge.

"Wondered when you'd poke your head in, Commander!" a voice boomed from the walker. "I am Bel Nerodia, chief of the Vipers and soon to be destroyer of the Alliance!" He fired off a rocket salvo as he finished his boast, and Endrali and Qyzen ducked in opposite directions for cover behind shipping crates.

Endrali peeked around her to take in the scene. Not enough space or incline to use the same method she had for the Zakuulan walker on Rakata Prime. ('Course, there she'd also had a fellow Force user to help disarm it before her stunt.)

She ripped the end off a shipping crate and threw it at the walker cabin. It staggered but didn't go down. Not big enough, then. Time to try something a little crazy. Probably unwise. But those plans tended to work the best.

Endrali stepped into view of the walker, yanking with the Force to throw it off-balance. As Nerodia struggled to get it stable again, she darted in close, dodging the massive feet until she could get a good strike at one of the legs. She sheared halfway through on her first hit, then finished the job on the backswing.

"Hey! No! You can't-!" Nerodia's bellowing protests were cut off as the walker crashed to the ground. Between the impact and debris she'd thrown at it, the hatch looked jammed.

That should hold him while I get the data, Endrali decided. Theron and Lana--mostly Lana--would have questions for the man; she'd rather take him alive. She used the Force to crush the hatch release a little farther. Just to be safe. She and Qyzen headed upstairs, dispatching a few more guards and droids as they went.

The computers weren't heavily encrypted. The data stolen and list of prospective buyers were both easy to find. Lana and Aygo would appreciate knowing who was willing to pay--obscenely--for Odessen security data. Endrali downloaded and wiped the data, then jammed her lightsaber in the console for good measure.

"Time to go," she told Qyzen.

Nerodia was still hollering and banging on the walker's jammed hatch when they made it downstairs. "Hey! Hey! You can't leave me in here! HEY!!"

"Didn't intend to," Endrali called back, voice raised so he could here her. "Might want to scoot back!" She waited a few heartbeats for him to comply, then ignited her lightsaber and sliced open the hatch.

Qyzen reached in and dragged him out, scolding, [Struggle not wise, after Herald showed mercy.]

"Some mercy," Nerodia scoffed, still struggling. "Better you just kill me."

"Not how I operate," Endrali said cheerfully. "And by the way, if you make a walker to fight Jedi, should invest in cortosis plating. Makes it harder for us to do" --she gestured to the walker--"that."

They secured Nerodia's hands with binder cuffs, and Qyzen shepherded him along as they headed for the door. A warning sense rang through the Force, and Endrali used it to shove Qyzen and Nerodia to the side as a volley of mortars pounded where they'd been standing.

"Crush 'em to dust GeeNine!" Nerodia whooped before Qyzen stunned him with a thump from the hilt of his techblade.

Their opponent was indeed a very large battledroid, clanking and creaking as it struggled across the sand.

Well, we can use that, Endrali mused, zipping in to slash at a cluster of exposed wiring. The droid was so large; clumsy and slow, it was easy to stay at a range to avoid both its heavy limbs and the artillery mounted on its back. It did get in a hefty smack that sent her tumbling and spitting sand with ears ringing before Qyzen jammed his techblade into its center and ripped out enough vital components to render it inoperable.

"That wasn't so bad," Endrali said, despite the bruise forming on her shoulder and the reek of singed hair from a rocket volley that cut it a little close. And it wasn't; the mining droid she and Arcann dismantled on Ord Mantell had been worse. "Let's go home, huh?"

[Is wise plan] Qyzen nodded.

Nerodia was just beginning to revive his struggles when they returned to him, and for ease of traveling Endrali stunned him again with the Force. Better than listening to him yell and posture the whole flight back to Odessen.

Qyzen slung the insensate pirate leader over his shoulder and they headed to the ship.

Fingers tracing the lower edge of her ribcage, hers dancing lightly along his collarbone, hearts pounding in unison as-

"So how do you account points for droids?" she asked hastily as they walked. "Are they the same as organic prey, or is there a difference because they're programmed...?"

---

The trip back to Odessen was uneventful. she and Qyzen took turns watching the prisoner and the controls, and there were no incidents of note.

Endrali was proven correct on their return--Lana was thrilled to have a prisoner for interrogation, Aygo was thrilled to have data on the pirates' ambush tactics, and Oggurobb was thrilled to have new tech to examine.

She herself was just thrilled to be home so she could wash off the lingering sweat and sand, get some proper sleep rather than a catnap in the pilot seat--

She walked into something and her mental checklist came to an abrupt halt even as she did. Her reflexive "Oh, sorry-" when she realized it was a someone strangled off when it registered who.

Arcann.

The galaxy did have a sense of humor.

His smile reached his eyes(and made her lips curve upward as well) as his hand brushed her arm in an instinctive move to steady her if needed. "It's alright. I did not realize you had returned."

"Just got back," she confirmed, trying to ignore the gooseflesh prickling her arm, the curl of warmth in her stomach--and, above all, the previously banished images starting to swirl in her thoughts.

Tangled-together fingers, breathless-mumbled names, hips rolling--

Stop it, he's right there, she scolded herself, frantically pushing the thoughts away and hoping Arcann hadn't picked any of it up. From the fact he wasn't going red and avoiding eye contact, it seemed nothing got through.

"I, um, had some deliveries," she explained, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Captured the leader; Lana's very happy I got this one alive for her to question, and they had some tech Oggurobb's dissecting."

"I'm glad you had such success," Arcann said. "Considering your rushed departure, it seemed rather urgent."

She nodded. "Wouldn't've been smart to wait. And I'm also glad that if I had to go to Tatooine, at least it was successful. It's good Qyzen knows the terrain so well, that was a big help navigating the Dune Sea." A sheepish chuckle. "Though it was... odd not having you to back me up," she admitted, and cocked her head at the near-imperceptible twinge to his sense.

He exhaled in a hum that might've almost been a laugh. "It was odd not going."

"We'll, ah, we'll both have to look forward to next time, then," Endrali said playfully, and bit her lip at the sincerity radiating from him as he nodded.

"We shall," he said, studying her face.

"That'll have to wait, right now I need a nap," she laughed. "Well, shower then nap. We hit a couple duststorms and I feel like I'm still wearing half of Tatooine."

One corner of Arcann's mouth curved back and he reached--as if he couldn't help it--to lightly brush something off her cheek. His breath hitched ever so slightly as his touch passed over her scar.

Hopefully it covered hers doing the same.

Endrali had to clear her throat before she could joke, "That dusty, am I?"

Arcann's answering chuckle was stilted as he let his hand fall. "Perhaps it's just as well I did not accompany you."

She watched the fingers of his left hand curl and wrinkled her nose. "Mm, true." Sand and cybernetics weren't a fun mix, no matter how many precautions you took. "Hopefully the next malcontents will use a more hospitable planet. And hopefully you found things to do with me gone?"

He nodded. "I did. Sana-Rae needed help in the Force Enclave, I meditated and worked on a... personal project. My time was occupied." He swallowed as if holding back from saying more and she didn't dare reach for the sense of it.

"Good." Endrali fought back a yawn. Probably wise to make her exit before exhaustion and her pounding heart made her say something stupid. "I'm gonna go take that nap. But I'll see you around?"

Arcann nodded. "Of course."

"Good." She skittered for the elevator, heart still pounding and warmth of dream-memory filling her mind. So much for this being a distraction. She could leave things buried for now, but it was unwise to let such a development... fester.

Scared as she was of damaging their friendship, she was going to need to talk to him soon.

Stars help her.

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