#if I had a week I would not be able to collect all the moments where she growls his name in pure fury and single-minded determination | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vivalabunbun · 4 months

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As We Are, We Will Be

Summary: A nonsensical question is proposed in one singular moment between a stoic and stoic face in one singular universe.

Word Count: 9k (It was supposed to be short and sweet-)

Tags: Alhaitham X Fem! Reader, Smut, NSFW, Fluff, a lot of fluff, slight angst, soulmate au, slow fic, established relationship, married life, Soft! Alhaitham, attempts at comedy, mentions of aging, slightly jealous! Alhaitham, mutual pinning, soft sex, vanilla, safe sex (wrap it up), riding (cowgirl), fingering, slow sex, making love, really bad expatiations of scientific theories and math, just two nerds in love.

Authors Note: Happy belated birthday and Valentine's Day to my favorite dendro nerd. A continuation of this piece, one I hold dear. A thought experiment based on nothing more than the feverish delirium of love.

It was just for a moment.

A mere pasting instance in the contentious momentum of time when a glimmer caught your eyes in the muddled chatter of a crowd, a silver shimmer like starlight.

Interrupting your contemplation as your eyes impulsively search for the source.

A late morning on a Saturday, the markets and stalls were lively with families replenishing a week's worth of groceries. Bodies veering and easing through the bustle of the busty streets.

The wide breadth of life that moved all around you. Like a collection of small dots within the vastness of a universe.

But amid the vast collection of blurry faces were the flicker of silvery locks refracting the late morning light. Originating from a pair, an elderly lady and an elderly man, their aged hands intertwined.

Time had made her marks upon them, and gravity had pulled down on their wrinkled faces. Yet, the ends of their lips were pointed toward the sky. The corners of their eyes wrinkled as their gazes held each other's faces.

From their view, do they not see the starlight hue of their hair? Instead, do they still see the vibrancy and youth of their locks which age had stolen from them?

The image of each other reflected in their irises, was it from a time before the hands of gravity pulled on their creased skin and bowed bones? Would you ever be able to find out?

“I wasn’t aware you had a hobby of people-watching.” A baritone voice ghosts over your ear.

Jolting your head to your right, you come face to face with the interruption. Or perhaps, your mind finally registered Alhaitham’s presence just off to the side of you. His arms were weighted down with various bags.

Oh, that’s right, the markets and stalls were lively on the weekend with families restocking groceries for the upcoming week. You and Alhaitham were no different.

Glancing up at his ashen trestles and then scanning back at the starlight locks of the elderly couple, and then back to your husband.

“Hmm, not quite. Just noting the fact your hair is the same color as an old man’s, Haitham.” You catch the subtle twitch of his brow.

“Is that so? I hope you are aware you’re not immune to the inevitably of aging, wife,” Alhaitham returns your jest.

“Well, with your hair color and grumpiness, I’d say you’re already halfway there.”

“I needn’t expound on your equivalent levels of grumpiness, it won’t be long before your locks share the same ashen hue.”

“I guess that’s why we get along then, dear husband.”

“That’s one theory,” he huffs, a simple tone lacking any bite.

You pan your face back toward the crowd, partly because it’s getting harder to hold the neutral position of your lips, partly because your curiosity aches for an untold conclusion.

However, when your gaze returned to the ever-bustling sea of people, the pair of starlight hues were nowhere to be found. It was regrettable, but expected, the elderly couple were nothing more than a pair of strangers in a crowd full of unfamiliar faces.

They were just a brief scene that disappeared into the moving tides of people.

Leaving you with your unresolved musings.

“Is there anything else we need for the week?”

Alhaitham’s voice reels your consciousness back, swiftly you check the crinkled slip of parchment within your hand. Scanning down the list of written items, all with a neat little line crossed through their immaculately penned letters.

“It looks like we got everything we need.” You tuck the list into your pocket.

“Then it’s best we get home before our groceries are spoiled by the heat.” Alhaitham readjusts the bags in his hands.

A hum takes its place as your response. Pivoting your body in the direction of your shared home. From the corner of your field of view, his strides were paced to coincide with your shorter steps.

Studying the numerous bags occupying his hands, you can’t help but think it’s quite convenient to have someone as robust as your husband. Maybe it's these weekly grocery runs that are the secret behind his physique.

Discreetly, your hand slowly slips between the gap of his arm and body, linking your elbows together. So that your frame and his could withstand the push and pull of the crowd’s contentious momentum.

The neutrality of your lips had long slipped away, softened by the familiarity of his warmth. Even as your eyes were pointed on the path ahead, you had an inkling that a similar occurrence was mirrored on his lips as well.

An inquiry your curiosity didn’t need to peek to resolve.

That ache for an untold conclusion morphed into a new musing by the afternoon.

The silver shimmer from that elderly couple’s hair truly was like starlight. Perhaps that’s the correlation that steered your thoughts down this winding path of pondering.

Everyone, from those taking their first stumbling steps of youth to the slowed cane-assisted tramps in their golden years, is technically billions of years old. Or more accurately, the atoms and minerals in everyone are billions of years old.

The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood were all forged in the hearts of bygone stars. When those bright beacons burned out they exploded in one last finale, expelling those materials across interstellar space. Stardust that found its way here.

Here within you, and here within the slow breaths of the man in front of you.

After being around for billions of years, does stardust ever get exhausted?

That would be a sensible explanation for why Alhaitham had snuck away amidst hanging up freshly washed laundry.

His tall frame stretched the expanse of the couch as his starlight lashes were shut, shamelessly relishing in a nap under the streams of sunlight trickled in from the window.

Squatting down you observe the guiltless expression plastered over his resting face, still deep in the trenches of sleep, a small huff passes through your lips. Well, this morning you did have him carry all the groceries from the market back home.

Your husband does deserve this little nap.

Trailing your eyes down his neck you note the lack of a pillow, then as your gaze travels further you note the absence of a blanket as well. Internally, your mind tsks at this forgetful habit of his.

Although his body and yours still have youth coursing through your veins, it doesn’t mean they’ll remain as impervious as they are now later down the line, especially if preventative measures aren’t taken.

Like having a pillow to support one’s neck, or a blanket to prevent chills from plaguing the body.

Standing back to full height, you retrieved the missing artifacts, returning with a plush pillow and light comforter.

Even when his head was momentarily lifted to make space for the pillow, and when the spare comforter was draped over him, Alhaitham didn’t stir one bit. At times you can’t determine if he’s a light sleeper or if his stubbornness refuses to leave the plain of dreams.

It’s a true wonder of life how Alhaitham’s able to sleep so soundly at night given his extensive naps.

The vivid sunlight illuminated patterns upon his cheeks and trestles, causing the ashen strands to dazzle in their refraction of the afternoon light. A sight your eyes just couldn’t help but be enraptured by.

Maybe you could blame the warmth of the sunlight, or maybe the serenity of this quiet Saturday afternoon, or perhaps even these fickle inquiries about his naps for the yawn that left your lips. Now might be the prime time for some research.

Lifting up the comforter just enough for an opportunity to slip through, your body settles in the space right against his. It’s crowded on the couch, the cushions unprepared for two bodies to occupy its entirety, the open edge looming against your back.

Even after all the shuffling and pressing against his dozing frame, your husband didn’t budge a bit.

Leaden lashes still shut and lips set in that all too familiar line, chest rhythmically rising and falling in time with yours. The very image of unperturbedness under the blessing of sleep.

“You really are like an old man.”

At that mere jab, the corners of his lips tugged down while his eyes remained closed. A quick slip that confirmed your earlier suspicions.

“Who knew you were so talented in acting, Haitham,” you snicker.

A muscular arm soon enveloped your form, further pressing you against his chest as if to silence any more sardonic quips from entering his ears.

It was quite the challenge to stifle those giggles before they could erupt from your lips. Peeking up, there’s an ever-so-subtle lift at the corners of his mouth. An express which yours mirrored.

Studying the details of the lips just a breath away, a new musing worms its way into your thoughts:

When the hands of gravity and time start to pull down on his skin and yours the same, leaving wrinkles and creases in their wake, will the edges of his lips still curl like this?

Would yours mirror the same?

A second yawn sneaks past your lips as your lashes grow heavier with each fluttering blink. Claiming a corner of the pillow to lay your head upon, the seconds between each subsequent blink grew longer and longer until your lids were too heavy to lift.

Perhaps the stardust in your bones was exhausted, craving a short rest in his warmth.

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

There’s something against your back and your legs are tangled in something, sensations which gradually alert your dozing sense back from the fog of slumber.

At first, you only had the strength to peek open one lid, then promptly shut it. But in the nothingness behind your eyelids, something was halting your limps from stretching the weariness out from themselves.

You tried again, this time fluttering both sets of lashes apart ever so slightly. There’s a dry film coating your throat and mouth, feeling the impressions of the couch cushions and bundled comforter imprinted into your skin.

What time was it?

Blinking away the haze of sleep just enough to notice how the golden rays of a star were missing. A gray overlay was plastered over the living room despite the ticking clock hands displaying that it was late afternoon.

Peering back through the window behind, observing the congregating insipid clouds blocking out the azure sky.

A sure sign of rain despite the morning forecast. Rain… wasn’t there something left unfinished on the clotheslines outside? The groggy recollection of responsibilities creeps into the forefront of your mind.

The reign of your weary limbs slowly returns, and your legs languidly attempt to stretch out from the reveal they were caught in. However, their movements only caused a pair of longer limbs to ensnarl them further.

Alhaitham’s legs promptly caught yours, stifling any prospect of escape.

Your displeased whine was responded with a disgruntled groan by the man keeping your body locked against his.

Wasn’t your back looming just about the edge of the couch when you fell asleep? So why are you in this position now?

Your body wedged between the plush backing of the couch and his solid frame, the comforter swaddling you also didn’t aid in your immobility. Brawny arm draped over your waist, halting your feeble squirms at freedom.

“The laundry,” you mumble.

“Later.” A blunt interjection from a groggy voice.

“It’s going to rain.”

“Less than a 30% chance.”

“Haitham…”

Your husband simply burrows his head deeper into the leveled pillow, likely an attempt to leverage the cushy material to block out your grievances. His ashen lashes still stubbornly shut, much to your displeasure.

“Alhaitham.”

No fluctuations in your volume nor tone, but it was enough for one teal eye to peek out from under ashen lashes. Trailing up to a subtle frown to the furrow between your brow, then finally meeting your unamused stare.

“Laundry,” you try again.

A silent stare down, one stone face gazing upon an equally stoic face, like an immovable object pressed against an equally immovable object.

Which one will defend their title of most stubborn today?

His chest expands with a deep breath, grasp enclosing around your waist before his teal gaze shamelessly vanishes behind closed lashes. Robust frame pinning you further to the back of the couch as he continues to ignore your huffy floundering.

“Release me, don’t you dare-”

Your grievance was soon muffled by a gentle hand pressing your cheek into his palatial chest. A move that stupefies the irksomeness bubbling within until it falls defeated into placidness.

“Whether it be now or later, they’ll be clean regardless, it’s quite comfortable right here.” The resonance of his voice vibrates in his chest.

You respond with a humbled grunt. In terms of strength you’d always lose to your feeble husband, wouldn’t you?

There’s no point in peering up, for the pleased satisfaction of his resting face would bring a sour taste to your tongue. Thus, you merely adjust your limbs, coiling your arms around to his back and pulling his form closer.

It’s crowded on the couch, it’ll be troublesome if Alhaitham were to slip off the edge if his back were to stray any further.

At this distance, entangled so closely together, the soft beats of his heart in time with yours like a rhythmic lullaby beckons the heavy to return to your eyelids.

The gentle drumming of his heartbeat coaxes out a final sigh from you, lashes descending down as your vision dims back into the realm of slumber.

Slow breaths and heartbeats homogenize into a tender duet, tranquil enough to distract from the sporadic pattering against the glass and gradually increase in consistency.

A less than 30% chance of rain doesn’t mean that there’s a greater than 70% chance of no rain. It’s merely a statistical probability of 0.01 units of more precipitation at a given area in the given forecast area in the time period specified.

Known as the precipitation probability, calculated based on two factors:

The forecaster's certainty that precipitation will form or move into the area X The areal coverage of precipitation that is expected, then multiplied by 100.

Thus, if the forecaster were 90% certain that 30% of the forecast area would receive rain, then the forecast displayed on screens would read as a 27% chance of rain.

A crucial bit of information that seemed to have slipped his mind midst a quiet afternoon.

A troublesome miscalculation Alhaitham tsks at internally as he wrings out the pillowcase into a sink before tossing it back into the washing machine. Button-down shirts and blouses, wrinkled from the process of twisting out as much rainwater as possible, sat in damp piles awaiting their turn to be rewashed.

As he measures out the detergent he can hear the rattles and clanks of the pot and pans from the kitchen. A late dinner in preparation, a task which was supposed to be his this week.

When he woke up to the pattering of rain drumming against the window panes, the afternoon long gone, it stirred an ever-so-sinking pit of dread. Second only to the unamused stare of his wife as she replicated an overconfident statement:

“Less than a 30% chance, Alhaitham?”

How unfortunate it all was, that the area where this quaint house resides was part of that 30% of the forecasted area.

Teal eyes watch the bedsheets whirl and fumble as they spin in the wash, contemplating the circumstance and further action.

There is only one spare bedding set in the closet, so it’d be wise to allow you to have it for tonight as all the sheets and covers get rewashed and dried.

Your bed is about the same size as his, so two bodies wouldn’t have an issue fitting. At this rate, the two of you just slept in whichever bed was the most convenient.

However, given the current state of things, Alhaitham wonders if he should prepare himself to brave tonight on his bare mattress with a flimsy spare blanket and pillow.

He might as well return to the couch for tonight if that was the case.

The accumulation of all the years of science, mathematics, and research, Alhaitham wonders if there was ever a bright mind who came up with a formula to calculate how displeased one’s wife is.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it be?

More specifics needed to be gathered, something the man couldn’t do in the refugee of the laundry room. Thus, Alhaitham must brave a journey into the kitchen. His slipper-clad footsteps are slow and methodical as the kitchen appears from around the corner of the hallway.

Sights honed in on your back as you stood by the stove, a rich aroma wafting through the air.

Sleep still dusted your hair, evident in the few unruly strands sticking up erratically on your head, you made no attempt at fixing it. One hand is too occupied with stirring the pot on the stove, and the other set upon your hip.

Your stance wasn’t exactly tipping the scales in his favor.

Cautiously, Alhaitham made his way to you. Stopping just a few paces as your eyes peer over your shoulder, stoic gaze halting him in place just a few paces away. The faded imprint of the crumpled blankets and couch cushions on your cheek.

His hand twitches with the urge to run his thumb along the impressions, but rationally warns him of the consequences.

“The laundry?” No discernable tone in your voice.

“Everything has been collected and wrung out, I’ll rewash everything tomorrow.” It’s best to answer your questions this time.

“Hmm, they were out in the rain for quite a while now. They were dripping out onto the floor when you brought them in.”

“I’ve mopped away any rain and mud tracked between the back door and laundry room.” Teal eyes quickly checked the aforementioned area to ensure they were pristine before returning to you.

“Hmm.” You turn back towards the stove.

The soft ticks of the clock accompany the waning drums of raindrops against the glass, the kitchen hood whirring as a ladle continues to stir in a pot. A quiet lull engulfed the home. Treading on the side of caution, Alhaitham inhales deeply.

Without opening the box, one will never be able to confirm to fate of Schrödinger's cat.

“What’s for dinner?”

“Hmm? Well, it’s raining tonight, what better to eat on a rainy night than some Sabz Meat Stew, no?”

He’s careful to not sigh too audibly, lest he goes to bed with a stomach half-full of instant noodles and that miffed stare of yours.

Alhaitham decides to hold his tongue as teal eyes continue to watch you add more spices to the pot. Studying how nicely the apron is tied around your waist.

But it wouldn’t be wise of him to stand so close when the fabric of his shirt was still damp with rainwater transferred to him by the soaked laundry and sky.

His chain of thought was interrupted by the chimes of your phone on the countertop, catching your eyes as well as his to peek at the over. A certain name is displayed across the screen. It’s as if the hands of fate wanted to throw more salt into his face.

Bahram (Manager)

It’s a Saturday night, for what reason would an employer need to contact an employee so late?

Alhaitham’s focus shifts to your gaze which is still honed in on the screen. A bitter tinge crawls up the tip of his tongue, threatening to spoil his appetite. Perhaps, he wouldn’t mind settling down in his bare bed with just a spare comforter without dinner tonight.

“Can you reject the call for me? He can wait until Monday to get me to resolve whatever he messed up,” you scoff before rolling your eyes back to the stove.

Swiftly he swipes to decline the call, let your voicemail remind Bahram of the concept of ‘off time’. The phone whirs again right after the first rejection, but he simply swipes decline again.

Pushing the device away with a bit too much satisfaction in his veins.

Glancing back at your frame, he lets out a sigh as he relents. Resting his head into the crook of your neck, careful to leave a bit of distance between your bodies and to not hamper your shoulder’s movement.

“Hm?” You hum expectantly.

“It was my oversight tonight.” A string of words a bit unfamiliar on his tongue, but stubbornness hasn’t been in his favor tonight.

“And?”

“I’ll be more cautious regarding naps.”

“Hmph.”

The lull returns, him resting his head on your shoulder and you continuing to watch over the stew. Teal eyes on you and your eyes on the stove. Until your shoulders raise with a deep inhale.

“Go get changed out of that wet shirt then set the table, this bastardized version of ‘soup’ will be ready in 20 minutes.” You reach for a skillet just off to the side.

He hums this time, the liberation from treading in suffocating lull tugs at the end of his lips. He surmises that laying his head against you for a few moments more won’t be so consequential.

The patter of raindrops still splattered against the glass panes of the window, drops which warped and blurred the scenery beyond the glass. Not that there’s any scenery to look at, not with the dreary clouds crowding the sky.

A heavy sigh huffs through your nose, curling onto your side as you adjust your pillow.

A filling dinner, a warm shower, and soft comforters. Factors that should contribute to a restful night’s sleep, or at the very least make your eyelids weary with the weight of lethargy.

Yes, perhaps those components should’ve granted you entry into the reprieve of a dream.

If it wasn’t for the fact you’ve intruded into the domain of slumber twice already today.

And the tempter who lured you to do so currently has his arm wrapped around your waist.

Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, soundly asleep without an ounce of guilt over the predicament he’s partly responsible for.

Lifting your head off the flattened pillow, your body twists around to fluff the stale stuffing back up before settling back to your position.

His body rested against yours just as it would any other night. But there’s a weight at the corners of your lips, one only grew heavier as your ears witnessed each content exhale resounding from the man who seemingly stole your sleep.

If you were crueler, you would’ve exiled Alhaitham to the couch or his barren mattress.

However, he’d probably sleep just fine regardless.

Canting your head up, you flip your pillow to the other side once more.

Your rolls and rhythm were abruptly interrupted by the clasp of two harsh hands pulling your hips into his, the contours of his rigor now digging into the plush of your ass. Forcing a stunned gasp up your throat.

“It seems like my wife has quite a bit of energy.” His timbre deeper from grogginess.

Ah, all the twisting and turning you did just to adjust the troublesome pillow must've disturbed him.

The softness of your ass cradled against his pelvis through the thin material of a button-down, an item borrowed from his closet that you’ve designated as sleepwear, and his sweatpants.

‘Serves him right.’

Your attempts to twist out from his iron-clad hold only ground your ass more against the stiffness, earning a grumble from his lips.

“Oh? And who’s fault is it?” You retort, still protesting in his hold.

Snaking one hand downwards Alhaitham presses against your lower stomach to arch your ass further into him. Leaning his face closer to yours.

“Do you want me to take responsibility?” His whisper ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You could feel the pads of his fingertips tracing under the loose button-down.

“Shouldn’t you resolve the issues you’ve caused?” A huff leaves you.

The outline of his shape pressed along your skin, the plushness of your bottom contrasting against the rigidity.

“I can say the same to you.”

The pads of his fingers trail up your heated skin, crawling along your torso, feathering touches alighting your senses like sparks. Massaging the tired yet restless muscles. You sigh in contentment.

The billowing button-down dragged up by his vascular hand, unveiling your skin to the cool sheets. Wandering touches slow as they rest in the valley of your breasts. His fingers enclose around one mount, gently twisting the defenseless nipple.

“H-hey! Hmph-“ Barely catching a moan before it fled past sealed lips.

“Hm?” His lips are now right next to your ears. “Surely you foresaw this, I’m just helping my wife with all her excess energy.”

His forgotten hand made its presence known as it kneaded your hips, cunning touches breaching under the feeble defenses of your panties. Effortlessly brushing them to the side, long fingers encroaching closer to their destination.

Your thighs react, squeezing together to prevent him from venturing further. Unfortunately, it was all in vain, for his fingertips already dipped into an all too familiar sap.

“See, you seem quite eager,” he taunts.

Stubbornly, your body attempts to buckle away from his influence. Face firmly pointed away from his lest he peeks at your heated cheeks.

Alhaitham abandons the perch on your breast, two large hands attempting to tame the bucks and rolls of your hips. He releases a slow sigh into the crook of your neck.

“Are you not feeling it tonight?” His hands remain where they were, but the strength missing.

At the lack of resistance, your hips seem to have lost interest in their writhing, staying within his yielding hold. Internally, you chiding your body for being so straightforward. The only thing blocking an answer from exiting your throat was that fickle ego of yours.

“Won’t you allow me to make up for my blunders today, wife?” He soothes his hand along your leg.

With that stubborn ego of yours still biting down on your tongue, you simply nod your head. Feeling the heat of your cheeks reflected to you by the pillow.

Permitting your thighs to give into the tow of his grasp. Allowing the grip of one large hand to pull your bent leg open, exposing your vulnerable cunt. Shielded from the view of the raindrops by a mere blanket.

The hand snaked under your waist took swift advantage of the oppurtunity. Sliding one firm finger down to part the fold of your slit as his warm hand cups your greed.

Alhaitham continued with the caresses of his fingers. Your lashes and lips pressed tightly shut, your leg still held in his tender hold. His slow breaths brush ghosting your skin.

He spreads the slick along your slit, the tips of his fingers ever so often knocking against the bud at the very top. Teal eyes catch the sudden jolts of your body every time it happens.

He moves his fingers downwards, slowly parting the now soft folds of your core. Feeling the subtle puckers of your entrance as his touch traced closer, more wetness dribbling out from the honeypot.

The tip of his finger now encircles the fluttering hole. Your hip subtly bucked into his hand, as if to lure him in a soundless plea.

Breaths getting deeper as your eyes follow his touch, the warm pad of his index finger twirling against your clit. Stoking a burgeoning fire with each slow circle. Your placid sighs fill the lull.

His middle finger ventures past the entrance of your satin walls welcomed with a lewd squelch. Curling his finger against slick walls to test the give, he wonders if this hidden oasis is etched into his shape yet.

Diligently, his digit continues to sink in and out of your weeping hole, making your teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip. The squelches increased in volume as trickles of nectar began pooling on the sheets. Walls clamping around a lonely finger, it wasn’t enough to quell that mounting heat within.

A second deft finger joined in, sliding past a hungry entrance. A tangled dance amongst gummy walls as they curled and stretched the space. The lewd squelches resounding in your ear, a whimper trapped in your throat. The heel of his warm palm now pressed flat against the soft mound of your cunt, every movement of his hand resulting in a grind against your clit.

Each grind causes a hot flash to shock throughout your body, starting from your curled toes to the very top of your head. The jostling of your hips and legs gradually expels the blanket off the bed.

“Mmph!” A whine from a sudden surge of bliss when his thick fingers curled against a spongy patch deep within.

“T-there! More there!”

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being.

He gladly obliges. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls. Ensuring to grind against that spongey patch.

Your body twitches and flails in reaction. Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations.

Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

Piqued by the sweet tune, Alhaitham watches the scrunch in your trembling brows. He repeats his actions, another mewl leaves your lips as your head leans further into his shoulder.

The mellow pace of his fingers suddenly amps up, retreating out only to clap back in as his palm presses into the twitching bud.

“Ah! Haitham.”

A pressure mounting up, a sirens call beckoning you closer and closer to a hazardous cliff’s edge. The only foundation for your sanity is thousand-count fabric, thus you twist the silk fibers as tremors overtake your body.

Walls clamping down to trap his thick digits inside as it spasms. Muscles tensing and quivering as your back arches away from his chest, parted lips with nothing choking past them.

Three thick fingers sink deeper into your pussy without a hint of resistance, as a reward he makes sure to roll your overstimulated clit in firm circles with his palms. Judging from the violent tremors in your legs, it seemed you were almost there.

Just at the cusp of rapture when your hand tangles into his ashen-locks, canting your head back so that your panting lips could capture his. Alhaitham returns to gesture with just as much fervor in his kiss, swallowing down your sweet mewls for himself.

With a singular gasp, the siren’s call had beckoned your sanity to drown in the murky depths. It’s as if you lost control of your body to the possession of pleasure.

Eyes rolled back and lips broke away as breathy moans escaped the prison of your throat, a haze heavy over your thoughts, pride long lost amongst the gale of an orgasm.

The beckoning depths of euphoria welcome your descent.

Your limp frame rests against him. A light layer of sweat coating your panting chest, blurred vision merging and blending the details of the ceiling above the bed.

Alhaitham coaxes the contractions of your core, riding out the waves of their squeezes and sucks against his fingers. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Entranced by the glimmering string of nectar stretching between his fingers and your oasis.

Trailing back up to your face, he notes the return of your hazy irises from their ogle of the bedroom ceiling.

“Better?” Teal gaze watching the pants of your chest as they steady.

‘No, not at all’, a statement just at the tip of your tongue, but your lips were busy attempting to grasp deep breaths. The surplus of vigor festering into unquenchable desire. To be closer, deeper, more. You needed more.

Where words fail, action must take its place. Even before your mind finishes up the scheme brewing within, your lips catch him off guard, plush lips embracing his in a tender waltz.

Your body rolls back so that your breast can press against his chest through the thin fabric of his stolen shirt.

At the tender caress of your kiss, teal eyes disappear behind ashen lashes, the clasp of his grip loosening. Allowing you the mobility to finally pull your body on top of his, lips never once parting until you were finally settled atop his broad body.

A certain stiffness makes its reintroduction against your roused clit.

Breaking the seal of the kiss as a line of salvia stretches between your tongues, arms pushing against his firm chest to prop your body up as you gaze down at him.

“Still have too much energy?” Haughty eyes peer into yours, yet you can see the ardor oh so thinly concealed behind the brilliant teal.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you the eager one?” You hum, rolling your hips against the rigidness trapped behind the prison of sweatpants.

“Hmm.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Large hands feel down along the plumpness of your ass as they drag a flimsy bit of fabric down your thighs. Daintier hands pull down the hem of sweatpants and briefs.

A fair exchange. Him helping you out of those ruined panties, and you freeing him from a compressed prison of cloth. Discarded and forgotten along the floorboards as the fog of passion obscured them from further consideration.

His vascular hands slide down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs plant themselves on either side of his body. Alhaitham coaxes the hem of his stolen button-down just above your midriff. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your clit, glistening with temptation.

Lowering your hips a breathy sigh leaves his lips and yours as the ridges of his cock drag against your slick folds. A few slow rolls starting from his leaking tip sliding down, thick veins skimming against your swollen clit. Precum mixing with arousal in a sinful concoction along his length.

Perhaps he should convince you to participate in more naps if he knew it’d make you this excitable.

“Oh,” you hum aloud, pausing your hips as you reach over to the bedside table.

Pulling open the drawer and rustling about a box followed by the crinkling of foil. Holding up the corner of the packet to your lip, tearing the foil while your gaze held his. Taking your time in dragging the condom out from its package. Easing it down his length while your fingers traced along, feeling each twitch and shudder.

“You sure do know how to test my patience.”

“Hmm?” You feign innocence.

A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Alhaitham helps position his engorged tip at your dripping entrance. Your hand guides him while raising your hips.

Other hand pressing his chest down for support as your thighs sink back down, a shameful squelch accompanying heavy breaths as your walls welcome his cock’s fat head.

Weeping pussy engulfing his girth in bit by bit until you clit kisses his pelvis. Sending jolts of searing pleasure that caused your satin walls to twitch and tighten.

Releasing a breathy sigh as you gather your senses.

Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge before dropping back down. Earning low grunts and sighs each time your satin walls swallowed his girth. The rhythm of your hips is paced and controlled despite how Alhaitham’s fingers dug into your skin.

A whine living your drooling lips with each slap of his skin against your clit. Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. The bedframe creaks with each calculated movement, back and forth, back and forth the wood sings along.

Your head was light, intoxicated by a feverish potion of lust and desire. Feeling him reach the deepest depths, fat tip grinding against those spots which made your legs falter momentarily each time.

Utilizing the strength of both your arms now to support yourself. However, the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine with each roll of your hips were too maddening to stop.

His calloused fingers massage circles into your hips. Squeezing the plush flesh to ground his sanity, watching your lewd face as you shamelessly bounced on him for your pleasure. Observing the subtle ripples with each slap of your hips and the jumps of your perky breast.

The ghostly touches of your fingers skim across his lips, prompting his eyes to connect with yours. Lush and glossy lips parted with your deep pants as your lust-hazed eyes peer down at him, unspoken plea inscribed within them. Who is he to not fulfill your desires?

Lurching his upper body up, he answers your plea, capturing your lips with his. Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, deepening the kiss. A messy and feverish tangle as if to replace the air in your lungs with his.

Mewls and whimpers muffled by his skin, your hands moving to perch themselves on his broad shoulders. Your quivering legs grew limp as the strength of his hands took over. Barely processing the sweet nothings whispered as your core relishes in the fullness. Like an ache that’s been finally satisfied.

He wondered if tonight’s excessive vigor was fraying his control, or if your body was just this addictive.

By now any notion of decency and integrity has long left you, your hand clawing into his shoulders, marking him with the scars of rapture. A harsh thrust of his hips recoils through you, a wanton moan reverbing off the walls as it forces your tangled lips to part.

Tongue unable to produce anything other than strained moans, your head nods into his broad shoulder as your hips ground against his. The wet squelch announces the reciprocation of your walls.

The intervals of those unrelenting rams increasing between the tender thrusts, half-lidded eyes trained on the shivers of your body. Cock sliding against satin ridges of your wall. Grunts and pants reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

“Is this not enough?” You could feel the mirth in his whisper.

Closer, deeper, more. You want more. Walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming heat within you. Hips floundering in harmony with breathy mewls.

Pressing libidinous kisses along his throat feeling the vibrations of his grunts and pants, a deep chuckle was soon felt against your lips.

“Good grief you are a greedy little thing aren’t you.”

A deafening slam of skin resounds through the heavy air, swiftly followed by another and another. A new tempo in this waltz of passion takes over like a wave sweeping both of you out to a sea of indulgence.

Possessed by the desperation of chasing a white light, your hand rakes deeper into his toned arms. Seizing anything to prevent your mind from abandoning your sinful body as his girth twitches within your velvety folds.

Sanity like a foolish sailor who’s beckoned by the lure of a siren’s voice, uncaring of the rocks which will sink them to the very bottom of the bemused tides. Keening against your husband shamelessly, a shameless wife on the cusp of her second fall into ecstasy.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into the spark that lit your nerves alight. Toes arched into the air and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent babbles resounding through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his dick with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling against his girth eager to quell your aching greed. It was too much.

His fingers claw into your soft hips, pressing your cunt flush against his hips with a sloppy slap of skin. The bulbous tip prodding against that weakness deep within you. Bruising grip holding your body in place as his lips crash back into yours.

Swallowing down his breathless groans with your sweet mewls and praddles.

A heat is spilled into the rubber, making your greedy walls quiver amidst the aftershocks of ecstasy. Alhaitham’s hips twitch with each subsequent rip of his orgasm, thrusting his length further into your crowded cavity with each one. The filthiness of it all prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, your lopsided shirt falling further down your shoulder. Your eyes return from seeing blinding white, exhaustion drenching each fiber of your body.

Limp figure crumbling against your husband as his back lays back on the creaking headboard. Even before your worn mind could conjure a coherent thought, your hands caress his starlight tresses.

As his own breath evades him Alhaitham releases one hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your smoldering skin, guiding your lips back to his.

Basking in the warmth forged between your bodies, between drumming heartbeats and breathless lungs.

Two bodies lay under silken sheets, skin freshly wiped clean of sweat as the crisp breeze brushed against the curtains gradually erasing the sinful haze. The cool air aids your rising and falling chest to pace itself.

Muscles and bones heavy with fatigue, yet your eyes couldn’t bring themselves to retire behind shut lids. Not when those dreary clouds have finally retreated.

The moon hangs high in the sky, finally free from the shroud of rain clouds, she sits among the twinkling dots. Twinkling dots were in actuality brilliant stars, some even larger and brighter than the beloved sun.

Glimmering lustrously as they traverse through the contentious vacuum of space and past other nameless stars. A scene from a late-morning market trip wanders its way back from the depths of your memory, bringing its musings with it.

“Something on your mind?” A timbre voice beckons your conscious mind back from its trek.

Teal eyes set upon yours as your heads rest on plush pillows, just a breath away from one another.

“Hm, just senseless musings.” Your gaze shifts away from the window.

In a changed world with millions of hands will your hands and his find each other to make two pairs of hands?

In a different time with a million pairs of legs, will your steps and his steps still coincide in time with each other

In a new life with a sea of new faces, will a stoic face and another stoic face spot each other in the crowd?

What is the likelihood of those odds?

“If you keep letting your thoughts fester, it’ll only bring trouble upon yourself in the morning from sleep deprivation.” He shifts his position, supporting his cheek on his fist as he stares down at your face.

You sigh because he spoke exactly what those whispers of rationale were urging you, but the scoffs of pride had deemed these rampant inquiries ‘childish’. However, it’s a bit hard to avoid his eyes now.

“I was just musing about the soulmates concept again,” you confess.

Alhaitham hums in curiosity.

“Do you…” You take a deep breath, forcing the hard-to-vocalize question from your tongue. “Do you think we’ll only be together in this life?”

He’s silent. Just the muted chorus of Summer crickets rejoicing over the conclusion of a rainstorm resounding through the space.

“In a different time, a different universe, or the next life, do you think we’ll be soulmates again?” You muster together the courage to peer up at his face.

“I don’t recall ever reading an article or paper related to this topic, so it’ll be convoluted to get an answer.” He brings his other hand to his face, signifying his musings.

Right, there isn’t even a definitive answer for what happens after life passes, an afterlife, a cycle, or nothing, no one knows. Was this the only universe where life exists or are there infinitely many far out there in the stars? Does anyone know?

Your hand pulls your blanket up to your face, partially to cover the growing shame creeping up your face. That haughty voice within was right, these baseless questions are silly and childish. Perhaps even too morbid to bring up so unprompted on this weekend night.

What were you expecting Alhaitham to even do? Did you want him to give you an answer? What can he even do? A question you can’t even begin to understand, why would you even expect him to have some solution prepared?

What to do now? Can you just take back your previous words from his memory, so he’ll just forget what you said? Maybe just ask him to quell any more mindless musings from plaguing you tonight by placing his lips on your forehead? So that you could finally drift into the realm of slumber.

However, is that temporary solution enough? Enough to stifle the contentions and riddles clattering together into a clamorous ruckus in your head? Could sleep even spare you from their tumult?

“The Membrane Multiverse Theory or reincarnation, hm, do you have any personal theories you’d like to share?” The sensation of his fingers grasping yours brings you back to reality.

Glancing at him with a quirk in your brow, you wait for him to continue.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll be the first to publish something for this topic.” His thumb runs along your knuckles.

“So, is there a speculation or possible rationale you feel particular to?” Teal eyes reconnect with yours.

“Well…” You sigh, relishing in the warmth of his hand as you concoct a half-baked theory.

“There’s stardust from stars that had burst billions of years ago, that have somehow ended up on this planet. Subsequently, every being on earth has the atoms of stars in them. So, naturally by the law of conservation, the earth is where the atoms of the human body will return.”

“Based on the law that atoms cannot be created or destroyed?” He drones.

“Yes, they all had to come from something before them. The carbon in muscles, the calcium in bones, and the iron in blood. The atoms that make up you and I might become part of something else, or even of different people too.”

“Hm, that sounds probable.”

“But, then this brings up a whole new host of questions, such as, if the new people our atoms become a part of are even ‘us’? Will they ever meet? What if you become a tree and I a rock? What if the atoms of you end up on one side of Teyvat and I on the other end?”

You peer into his irises, but you were just searching for an answer that isn’t there.

For his beryl irises were impassive. But it was the impassive foundation you needed to ground your rambling thoughts and nonsensical musings into the desolate truth of it all.

The warmth of his hand slips away.

“Never mind, I suppose it’s the most logical to conclude that we’re just soulmates in this instance of time, in this universe, and only here.” Your hand closes over the empty space he left.

Maybe it’s wise to dismiss it as silly rambling and then withdraw from his indecipherable eyes. Is it too late to put this plan into motion now?

The weight of a muscular arm is draped over your waist, hand pulling you closer unlike your ploy to escape.

“But I have a few theories I haven’t shared yet.” He glances out toward the bedroom window.

“While the theory of reincarnation currently doesn’t have any solid scientific backing, in some way, the law of conservation of mass does give a bit of merit to that notion.” Alhaitham draws circles into the small of your back.

You hum in response.

“The atoms that created us will return to the earth after us and become a part of something or someone else’s molecular structure. A tree or a rock, a human or a beast, it’s all probable. However…” Beryl eyes return to meet yours.

“What’s stopping them from repeating the same molecular structures as right now?” He asks.

Maybe it was his turn to peer into your eyes to search for an answer, an answer currently brewing and forging between your united gazes.

“What’s stopping these atoms from returning to these exact molecular structures in the future? In a different time, the atoms of us now could one day in the far future come together again and make ‘us’ once more. Maybe just you, maybe just me, or maybe both at the same time.”

He frees his other hand from the duty of supporting his head, broad body settling down into the bed and blankets, allowing his face to move closer to your level upon his pillow.

“What’s the likelihood of those odds? Me and you again?” You ask.

Alhaitham pauses. All the bright minds of science, mathematics, and physics, have yet to come up with a formula to calculate such a thing.

What would be the factors plugged into the equation? And how accurate would it even be?

The ashen-haired man wasn’t sure, but there was at least a statistical observation that would provide some basis.

“A true 0% chance is an absolute impossibility, just as nothing can be proven absolutely 100%. Since we don't know the absolutes of time, existence, or physics. So, there’ll always be a non-zero chance.” Feeling the drums of your heartbeat against his chest.

“Then, when they do, I think I’ll spend my life pondering what could fit into the spaces between my fingers like this.” He slips his hand into the gaps of yours, intertwining them.

Then finally, he saw the smile he’d been yearning for rising on your lush lips. The ends of your eyes crinkle as it make its way to your irises as well. Your grip mirrors his as you nestle your face closer to his.

“You won’t get tired of this stoic face?” You taunt.

“Will you get tired of mine?” He counters.

Your shoulders quiver with stifled giggles.

“No, no I won’t,” you promise him.

“Then I won’t,” he promises back.

His larger hand brings yours closer to himself, all the while your attentive eyes watch failing to keep the curl of your lips under control.

“Any thoughts on the Membrane Multiverse Theory? How will your astute mind surmise the possibility of us laying like this somewhere else in the stars?” Honeyed-voice mimicking awe as your face inches closer.

“I believe I’ve shared enough, I’d much rather hear what your brilliant postulate is.” His tone casted with mirth, but the bite missing from teal eyes.

Letting a soft hum, your mind rifling through all the paragraphs and journals your hands had ever thumbed through.

The soft rhythm of his breaths kept time. Stringing the words together on your tongue, you hope this monologue of yours will provide some amusement for him.

“If universes are randomly put into 2 boxes of ‘yes’ and ‘no’, then on average the number of universes in each box would be the same. For every universe I’m not with you, there’ll be equally as many where I am with you.”

A coin toss, perhaps it was all just a coin toss after all. Whether or not the Akasha paired a stoic face with another stoic face, for the gaps of your fingers to fit his so perfectly.

It could have all been a coin toss, for one half to stumble upon the other half cruelly parted from them by the hands of unseen gods.

“Something akin to a bijection existing between both sets of universes?” He cross-examines.

“Maybe… If we were to assign one type ‘yes’ to a positive integer, and the other type ‘no’ to a negative integer, then perhaps we can construct a bijection from the positive and negative integers.” Your brow furrows in contemplation.

“If we submit this theory do you think the Akademiya would publish it?”

“Not likely, bijections are usually made between sets of elements like numbers, not sure if bijections can be applied to something like whole universes. I’m just hypothesising nonsense,” you sigh.

“But they did publish the nonsense known as The Lifespan of Love,” he interjects.

“Hm, then maybe there’s a non-zero chance they’ll publish our nonsense too.” You stifle a scoff.

“Hm,” Alhaitham hums in amused agreement.

His free hand pulls the covers further up over your frame then smoothing out the wrinkles. Observing the growing delays between your slowing blinks.

“Only you and I would turn pillow talk into an academic deliberation.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle any longer.

He sighs in agreement, nestling his head closer to yours on the plush pillows, teal gaze never once leaving yours.

“It’ll make any romantic keel over and die from how dry it is, wouldn’t it, Haitham?”

“I say let them.”

Scoffing and shaking your head at his crude declaration as a yawn slips past your lips, a conclusion to this nonsensical academic deliberation.

With one hand still intertwined in the tender grasp of another you pull Alhaitham closer. So that the spaces of your body could lay against the spaces of his.

The warmth of his skin mingling with the warmth of yours, pressed against one another. You drawing mindless shapes into his back, his hand tracing senseless ruins into yours.

Perhaps, an illogical attempt to echt memories into the stardust in your bodies.

So he and you could imprint the memory of each other into the very fibers of your beings. Then maybe someday when these atoms return to these exact molecular structures, they’ll remember this too.

The law of conservation of mass, the probabilities upon probabilities, and bijections used in an inconsequential pseudo-academic ramblings to no one but an audience of silent stars.

Alhaitham’s certain no academic publisher would spare a glance at them.

But this nonsensical instance in the continuum of time, feeling the rhythm of your heart on the other side of his chest next to his own, is his most precious epiphany.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

#vivalabunbunfics #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham fanfic #genshin impact x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x female reader #genshin x reader smut #alhaitham x reader smut #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham x you smut #genshin fluff #genshin x reader fluff #genshin soulmates au

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slutforleeminho · 5 months

Note

heyy, i love your work, i was wondering if you could write a fic based on the song ‘the other woman’ by lana del rey where the reader is the other woman. you could do it about any member :)

this is my first ever request since i’ve been on this app so i hope i did it right 😭

The other Woman • Hwang Hyunjin

thank you so much! i’m so happy that your first ask was on my acc! i hope you like it<3

warnings: suggestive(no explicit smut), arguing, infidelity, toxic relationship, plot twist at the end;)

"I have to go, beautiful." Hyunjin leaned down to kiss your forehead after pulling his pants up and buttoning them. He placed his hand on the side of your face, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. "She'll get suspicious if I stay any longer."

This was normal for you, yours and Hyunjin's little routine. He'd take you out to dinner and treat you like a princess, paying for your meals and anything else you could possibly want. Holding your hand and taking you places you've only dreamed of going, then he'd take you home --your home-- and he'd fuck you like there was no tomorrow. And then he'd leave to do the same things with his wife.

You never understood why he pursued you the way he did when he had someone at home to take care of, but you didn't care enough to bring it up. Why would you? You have everything a young woman could ever want; a young, handsome, rich man who gives you anything you want. But only a few times a week. It's okay though, that just gives you plenty of time to do things that you enjoy like reading and going to museums and admiring the beautiful pieces of art that you wished you could just shove in your bag and take home with you.

"Okay," You said with a tired smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Actually, I meant to tell you, I won't be able to come over tomorrow. Apparently, Violet has a family reunion, and she wants me to accompany her." He stated as he pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed his bag from the chair in the corner of your room.

Violet. Such a pretty name for such a lucky woman.

"Oh." Was all you replied with.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, of course not, these things happen," You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into as soon as you entered this relationship, if it can even be called that. "Just text me when you can. let me know when you want to meet up."

"Of course." He smiled.

He kissed you deeply before he left that night, almost making you forget that he had someone at home waiting for him, and you would be left here, cold and alone.

That text that he promised didnt come until a week later.

"I miss the way you feel wrapped around me." Was all that the message contained. You liked to imagine he was talking about your warm embrace, but you knew that wasn't true. He just wanted to feel an unfamiliar body underneath his.

You weren't sure how you ended up like this. When you first met Hyunjin he was sweet and caring, attentively listened to you while you complained about your bad day at work and massaged away all the soreness in your muscles. You can't remember the last time he's taken you out to dinner or bought you flowers. Now you were just his escape from his nagging wife.

You put up with the constant shame and guilt you felt for being with someone who already had their someone, because you thought that maybe his love for you would grow and that maybe someday Hyunjin would realize that you're the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and not someone else. But as your love for him grew your patience shrunk until one day you snapped.

Hyunjin was collecting his things after he had finished what he came here for, which was to get his dick wet and nothing more. "I won't see you again after tonight."

Hyunjin stopped in his tracks and stared at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I deserve more than this. I deserve to have someone's full attention and all of their heart." You held yourself together, determined not to cry Infront of him. He doesn't deserve your tears.

"Baby, what are you even talking about?" He knelt down in front of you and placed his hand on your shaking knees. "Of course, I love you."

"No, you don't," You shook your head. "You love my body, you love having someone at your disposal, someone you can use only for your own pleasure. If you loved me even in the slightest there wouldn't be another woman getting the treatment that I crave so fucking much." All the emotion you've kept stuffed away finally revealed itself in the form of a single tear running down your cheek.

It was silent for a long time before Hyunjin spoke. "I'll leave her." You snapped your head up so fast that it hurt. "If that's what you want than I'll do it." The way he worded it as if it was your choice whether his marriage ended or not made you sick to your stomach, but you couldn't deny that you felt a flutter of hope in your chest that maybe this didn't have to end after all. But you're smarter than that. He says this now, but he doesn't mean it, and even if he did you wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing that a woman who did nothing wrong was out there most likely crying herself to sleep while your warm and safe in the love of her life's arms.

"No, be with her. I'll be okay." That was a complete lie but even after everything he's done, you still don't want him to worry about you.

"Please don't do this to me. I love you and I want to be with you. He held on to your legs tighter.

"Funny, isn't that what you told her when you vowed in front of God and everyone that your love for her would be eternal." His mouth snapped shut and his hands left your legs before he stood. He leaned down and before you could register what was happening his lips were on yours. You immediately reciprocated, leaning forward and pressing yourself closer into him. He was so intoxicating, the way his tongue glided with yours so smoothly had you in a trance; you snapped out of it when he placed his right knee on the bed beside you and started pushing you backwards. "No!" you shoved him away. He stumbled backwards but regained his balance quickly. "I'm not doing this with you, Hyunjin. I can't do this anymore, its wrong."

"Since when do you have morals?" His voice was louder this time, he was pissed.

"I've always had them, but I put them aside because I love you!" It was your turn to stand up and look him square in the face. "But the longer we do this the more I realize that this isn't love, its obsession and its toxic. You never loved me Hyunjin you were curious about infidelity, and I was an easy target because my standards were so fucking low that I actually settled for you."

"Fuck this, I don't have to sit here and listen to you degrade me like this." He grabbed his bag and left, but not without slamming the door behind him.

The past month has been hell. After laying in your bed for an entire week you decided to pack up all of Hyunjins things and throw them out, the smell of him that was radiating off of them was making you sick to your stomach every time you walked in the room. And then you went to the mall to treat yourself to a new outfit, you wanted something that didn't have any memories of him attached to it. A trip to your favorite coffee shop followed after that. you hadn't been her in a while and you missed the smell of fresh espresso as you walked in the door.

After getting yourself your favorite -a butter pecan macchiato and a small triple chocolate brownie (they were out of doughnuts)- You sat in the best spot in the entire shop, in a little booth in the corner right next to the window, where you could watch the leaves that had no color left in them fall to the ground only to get trampled over by the passing pedestrians. The leaves reminded you a lot of yourself in a way, but you hoped you never had to fall again.

"Hi," a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to find yourself looking up at a very handsome young man. His hair was blonde, and it came down to his shoulders. he had an apron on, and a big smile plastered across his face, little freckles decorated his cheeks. "I saw you bought one of the brownies, it's a new recipe I tried, and I wanted to ask if you enjoyed it."

"Oh," You blinked up at him. "Um yeah it's really good, maybe my new favorite."

"Oh, thank god," He let out a sigh of relief. "I was worried that it wouldn't be any good. See a couple of the ingredients I use were sold out, so I had to substitute-" He stooped in the middle of his sentence. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to do that a lot."

"No, it's okay," You huffed out a laugh. He was so cute. "Now I'm curious about what ingredients were sold out." You joked.

He smiled widely at you and stretched his hand out. "I'm Felix."

You hesitated but took his hand anyway. "Nice to meet you, Felix."

PART TWO HERE

THANK YOUUU ALL FOR A THOUSAND FOLLOWERS I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW TO FEEL 😭

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

Text

tw - forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and border-line shitpost energy.

It is common knowledge that Lord Scaramouche, Sixth Harbinger of the Snezhnayan Fatui, the nationally acclaimed and universally feared Balladeer, does not like to share his toys.

The timeline of your relationship should be proof enough of that -courted after only a handful of chance encounters during his time in your humble village, married as quickly as he could find an alter and an officiant willing to misinterpret your frantic sobbing as an 'I do', hastily locked away in an estate populated solely by masked guards and servants under strict instruction not to speak a word to you - but, if there was a soul in Teyvat who dared to ask for more evidence, you would happily point them towards the smoldering remains the book that you'd been too caught up in to keep track of one of his frequent one-sided rants, the patch of sand and stone that had once been the flower garden you lavished with all of the love and attention you'd withheld from him. He's as savage as he is predictable. His precious things, from his vast collection of porcelain dolls to the ancient sword that he keeps hidden in a velvet-lined box in his study, are safely stowed away, while yours are swiftly and mercilessly destroyed.

If there's something you'd like to keep, it has to be bargained for. You'll spend weeks singing his praises and cuddling up to his side, cooking all his favorite meals by hand (much to the distress of his small legion of private chefs) and letting him speak at length about the bloody, visceral vengeance he plans to rain down upon his countless enemies. It's only when you have him content and assured of your love for him that you pounce.

His lips purse, eyes narrowing. "No."

"Please, my lord." You lean forward, clasping your hands over your lap. "Won't you at least try to consider it?"

"Absolutely not." His tone is surprisingly haughty, especially considering his current position; head resting on your thighs, gaze pointed at some indistinguishable point on the far wall as you rake your fingers through his hair. "You expect me to strain my staff and myself just so you can... what? Visit your sister for a few boring days?"

"Her son is turning five, and she just had her first daughter. I thought it might be nice to see how she's doing and lend her a hand."

He scoffs. "You expect me to be so patient with you and yet, here you are, practically begging me to let you run off to the countryside just to see another man."

"Surely, you aren't denying my request because you're jealous of an infant."

"No. Whatever. Be quiet." If you didn't know better, you would think he's pouting. "My answer hasn't changed. I can't afford to spare that much thought on such a petty errand, not with the Tsaritsa as demanding as she is."

You hum, letting your head lull to the side. "You know," A weighted pause, your nails scraping against his scalp. "Her home isn't as... accommodating as yours. Her only spare room was converted into a nursery some years back, so we'd have to stay at an inn."

His lips quirk downward, unimpressed. "And?"

"And, there's only one in my village. It's quite a meager thing, too. Even this time of year, there's only going to be a few rooms available." Your touch lingers near the nape of his neck. "I know I usually insist on separate bedrooms, but given the circumstances, there's a good chance neither of us will be able to be so selfish."

There was a beat of silence, then another. You think, for a moment, that Scaramouche might be holding his breath, but you quickly remember that he doesn't breathe at all.

Finally, he responds. "A few days would make for a pathetic visit. Tell her that we'll be staying for a month."

As savage as he is predictable. That's all you could expect from your husband, wasn't it?

You lean down, pressing a fleeting kiss into his temple. "As you wish, my lord."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer #wanderer x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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randomshyperson · 8 months

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I Put A Spell on You - Wanda Maximoff Kinktober #03

Summary: After a tense week and a training session, Wanda finally had enough of your attitude.

Warnings: (+18), heavy smut with power dynamics, brat tamer!Wanda and sub!Reader, edging, orgasm denial, slapping, a lot of teasing, blindfold and magical restrictions, enchanted strap, kind of rough, implied enemies to lovers, some cursing | Words: 3.559k

A/N-> This is almost late. I totally forgot I had to post the stories.

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

It was Natasha's idea, or at least it was a Black Widow kind of thing.

Most of what Wanda knew about it came from Steve's official report on the training, and the rest of the story came from Sam gossiping around the tower.

But in a nutshell: You had your vision temporarily impaired on the last mission, you were knocked out by it and it almost fucked everything up. Wanda would have thought that this was all it took to diminish your ego a bit, but instead, you and Nat had a weird widow's agreement about eliminating weaknesses or whatever, and this was adapted to your training.

The whole story was the reason you were training with a blindfold on.

And don't let Natasha hear this, but you were an impressive fighter, even more than the older widow. Somehow you were more agile and stronger than Nat, and it was the kind of thing that made Clint remark worriedly about how much harder your widow training could have been and secretly made Wanda's heart beat faster.

But back to the point: Wanda shared very few training shifts with you. Steve and Nat found peaceful interaction between team members advantageous, so as you didn't get on so well, she had fewer training sessions in your company.

Well, that changed because you seemed determined to prove that you could block blows without seeing them.

"Wow, you're still here." It came out more ironic than she wanted, but Wanda was actually almost impressed. It had been nearly a month since the whole thing had started, and this training was coming after a particularly exhausting mission. She was just going for a quick session - so that the muscles wouldn't lose habit as Steve liked to say - when she found you in the empty tower gym.

The eyes covered by a black cloth were an almost comical sight, or at least, Wanda assumed that finding it funny was what she was feeling, every time she saw your serious and concentrated form, sweating in the gym.

"Good evening, Wanda." You greeted her without looking at her, your head down. You were listening to her movement she assumed.

Wanda muttered the greeting back, busy leaving her belongings on the bench and looking for a treadmill. But you cleared your throat. "Don't you want a real challenge?"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Oh, and that would be you, of course."

You smile, your hands behind your body. Wanda thinks she likes the blindfold, it allows her to stare you brazenly, without you even knowing.

"I'm a legendary fighter, yes."

She has to laugh at how naturally you say that. She takes a quick look at the treadmill, and well, smashing your ass really does sound more interesting.

"Okay, real challenge, show me what you've got."

Wanda positions herself on the opposite side of the mat from you, and clears her throat when you remain static.

" Won't you take your shoes off?"

She grimaces softly. Yeah, your hearing was starting to impress. Sighing begrudgingly, she uses magic to make the shoes come off and float away, and before she even has a chance to speak, you do.

"No magic tricks." It sounds like a serious warning, rather than a request, and Wanda doesn't miss a chance to torment you.

"Oh, is that too much for a legendary fighter?" She mocks, but all she gets back is an easy chuckle that she isn't able to reciprocate because you adjust your training gloves and the movement is distracting enough.

After a moment, you get into position. "I'm ready."

"At last." She scoffs, stepping forward.

Ultimately, she's impressed. And she almost begins to believe that maybe the cloth is fake - there's no chance that you can dodge absolutely all the blows she's so exhaustively learned with such ease.

It doesn't take long for Wanda to start getting impatient, and for you to start smiling at her, in that smug way that makes her skin itch.

She makes a mistake, and it's enough for you to knock her to the ground.

"Again." You say, standing next to her, equally out of breath but without a scratch. Wanda huffs.

"How the fuck are you doing this?" She asks, getting to her feet with a magical push. You swallow dry, taking a step back, very alert.

"Practice, of course." You mutter. "Are you ready to continue?"

But Wanda narrows her eyes, her head tilting slightly at your sudden alertness. She decides to test a theory, and red sparks appear in the air near your head.

The leap you make in the other direction makes her giggle playfully.

"Something wrong, darling?"

You grumble, raising a hand in warning, irritably hitting exactly the right spot to point it at her. "Stop this. I told you, no magic."

But Wanda is tired, and she's feeling naughty tonight. Something about your vulnerability makes her body heat up.

She chuckles darkly, taking steps away that only make you swallow dry. "Someone's scared." She sighs, and the sparks appear again. You gasp, clearly anxious and not knowing where to strike.

It's Wanda's fault, there are too many of those and magic is much harder to defend against.

She chuckles at your state, and you snap back almost immediately."That's not funny, Maximoff."

A magical tug pushes under your knee, behind your elbows, near your foot. Everything makes you jump with fright and sends Wanda into a fit of giggles.

"You're not so cocky when you're scared."

In a desperate attempt, you try to attack the magic, which only disappears into thin air against your skin. Wanda just stands back, watching the scene with amusement.

With an impatient grunt, you raise a finger at her. "Stop this shit, I'm warning you-"

"Don't be rude, darling. I like you best when you're polite." Wanda interrupts, and your exclamation of indignation turns into a grunt of pain when a magical tug forces you to your knees on the mat.

"What the hell?" You gasp, raising your hand to remove the blindfold.

But the sensation that follows is like ropes grabbing your wrists and pinning your fists behind your back. Your heart is racing at the same moment. "Wanda, what the actual fuck you're doing?"

Although you can't see her, you hear her very well. Her slow steps towards you, until she makes you jump gently when she touches your cheek. You swallow dry. "Stop this bullshit, Wanda, I'm serious."

She pushes her tongue into the roof of her mouth, a clicking sound that makes you swallow dry again. Her fingers caress your cheek, and the lack of visibility makes everything all too vivid.

"You have a very dirty mouth, kotenok (kitten)." She retorts in a tone that makes you shudder from head to toe. With a dry throat, you look up, even though you can't actually see her.

It must be a good thing for your sanity, though. God knows what you would have done if you could have seen the way Wanda's eyes darkened with hunger when she saw you on your knees, looking up at her.

Licking your lips, you say calmly: "Be very careful with your next action, Wanda. It will be definitive for our future interactions."

She bites back a smile, and her hand leaves your cheek for your hair, the motion in the strands at the nape of your neck drawing a stubborn sigh from your lips.

"See, it's much better when you're polite." She says softly, letting her fingers slide between the strands, stroking your hair gently. "That's how it goes. You behave nicely, and you're rewarded. Behave badly, and well..."

To illustrate, she moves her free fingers. You hear the magic before you feel it - right under your blouse, like a rough tug on your left nipple that makes you grunt in pain.

"Fuck, you little shit-" But swearing at her makes it worse. The sensation is repeated on the other nipple, not real enough to hurt the flesh, but enough to cause pain. And in the current scenario, on your knees and blindfolded, just the right amount for a wave of pleasure to wet your panties.

It takes you by surprise, so much so that instead of grunting in pain, you practically moan. And that makes Wanda smile, especially as she can see the blush rising on your face.

"You need to improve that attitude." She starts again, adjusting the grip on your hair to force your face in her direction again. You bite the inside of your cheek hard, certain that this time, you would have whimpered. "You've been acting like this for too long, you've gotten comfortable in your naughtiness. I can fix that."

"Wanda..."

"Shush, darling, now you don't talk. You listen. Isn't that what you were hoping to train yourself to do?" She teases, and the grip loosens. You don't have to obey, but you're desperate to do so.

With a lump in your throat, you nod and remain silent. And the next second, when the sound of a zipper fills the room, you grow restless and alert.

You're ready to question when Wanda sighs.

"Shit, honey, that's been working for me too." She panted and you were dying to understand what the hell she was talking about when, along with her shortened breaths, you heard a sound that shook your body to its core.

Was it really possible that Wanda Maximoff was fingering herself right in front of you?

"W-wanda-"

The slap isn't magical - nor is it weak. Your cheek burns, but Wanda grabs your face anyway.

"I told you to be quiet." She grunts, and in a way, the affected voice is confirmation enough of your suspicions. You can feel your underwear starting to feel uncomfortable with the dampness gathering. "You've talked a lot of shit since I joined the team, now you listen, you brat."

Not only do you hear it, but as the movements continue, you can smell it. Her sweet, intoxicating essence is enough to make you moan for the first time in the night.

Wanda let that one slide, because the sound is too good to punish you for it.

And because you've held still long enough for her fingers not to be enough anymore, she's decided that you deserve a reward.

"Open your mouth, darling, I've got a little treat for you." She sighs, and you obey almost immediately, even though your face is burning.

Wanda removes her fingers from inside herself, sighing softly as she does so. Unhurried, she presses them against your tongue and has to bite down hard on her own when you buckle forward, sucking on her fingers with enthusiasm.

"Look at you, who knew you were such an eager little thing?" She taunts, although the sensation of your tongue on her fingers is almost making her lose her train of thought. She can only imagine how deliciously warm you must feel elsewhere.

You just keep moaning, sucking all her wet pleasure from her fingerprints, and Wanda has to reach down and grab your hair once more to regain some of her sense of grounding.

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks again, but you don't seem to mind. "Did you like your treat, darling?"

You open your mouth to reply but hesitate before doing so. And Wanda smiles proudly when she realizes. "Oh, dear, you can speak if it's to answer my questions. Tell me how much you appreciated your treat."

Swallowing dryly, you lower your head. "I loved it, Wanda. And I would love to taste it from the source."

She bites back a giggle, using one hand to lift your chin. "You didn't even thank me."

"Th-"

The magic squeeze comes directly to your clit now. You let out a little yelp, but Wanda's hand doesn't let you lower your head.

"I didn't tell you to thank me. Rather, I was reprimanding you because good manners don't come to you naturally." She clarifies, and with tears of pain and pleasure in your covered eyes, you nod in understanding. Wanda sighs. "I'm going to make a good girl out of you, even if I have to keep you on edge all night for it."

The whimper that escapes your throat is humiliating, Wanda loves the sound.

The next sensation on your skin is that of a chain, wrapping itself around your neck.

"We need to continue this in a more private place, darling. Where no one will interrupt us." Wanda guides, and the chain gives a gentle tug, the hint caught just in time by you, who are on your feet almost immediately. Wanda bites back a smile. "Fuck, I could get used to this."

She manages to lead you quietly and obediently through the empty corridors, but your anxiety overcomes you at the door to her room.

You stop walking, gulping. Wanda smiles because you're waiting for permission to ask a question, even when you're dying to have it answered.

"It's my room." She clarifies, but you shake your head, signaling that it wasn't your doubt. She shouldn't be impressed that you've already become able to memorize the sound of the way to the rooms, but she is. Smiling, Wanda brings a hand up to your face again. "What do you wish to ask, darling?"

You sigh at the permission granted. "Are you... are you sure? About this..." Wanda is taken aback. Your hands are still bound, you're still blindfolded, at her mercy, and yet you're worried about how sure and comfortable she is. You take a deep breath as if trying to find the right words. "This is important, Wanda. We can't go back to how things were before if I come in. And if you're not sure, send me away, and I swear we won't talk about this again and-"

Wanda moves in, it's quick and less hungry than she thought your first kiss would be, considering recent events and frankly, the way she's been craving you.

Your lips are soft and kind of addictive. Your mouth kisses her with real confidence as if you've done it a dozen times, and Wanda has no idea how often you've done it in your dreams.

But reality is superior to any of those.

You grunt against her mouth, impatiently, and Wanda knows it's because of your trapped hands. But all she can do is smile mischievously, using hers to pull you by the shirt into the room.

The door is magically closed behind the two of you.

You're not surprised to be put on your knees again - even if a moan of protest escapes you. Wanda smiled, feeling a wave of excitement at your vulnerable anxiety, your eyes blindfolded and your head moving gently as if you expected to hear what she was up to.

Wanda bit her lip, working on her own clothes without magic, so that you could hear the motions. It brought a shiver to watch you squirm gently, swallowing dry as if you could picture her naked. And your pleading sigh, practically meowing her name, made Wanda lose her mind.

Now wearing only her underwear, she grabbed your face again and kissed you with everything she had - teeth and tongue - and swallowed every throaty moan until she needed to breathe again. When she pulled away, a line of saliva connected your lips.

"We need a system, darling..." She murmured, her fingers working to open the belt loop of your sweatpants. "You know the color one? Green for go, and red for stop?"

"Y-yes, Wanda, please, just keep going-" She interrupted with a kiss mixed with a giggle at your desperate response, the hands that had opened your pants helping you to the bed, laying you down. The magical chains had adapted, and your hands were attached to the headboard now, holding you open for Wanda. Your arousal grew so intense that Wanda could see your muscles twitching.

She sighed contentedly as she sat on your hips, watching your curious and expectant movements. Magic did the work of removing your pants, but Wanda was taking her time teasing your skin under your blouse, having the best time in the world watching you squirm and gasp.

"Tell me what you want."

You swallowed dryly, forcing your voice out: "Anything you want to give me."

Wanda bit back a giggle, her fingers tracing your torso. "Good answer, darling." She sighs, and in one tug, rips off your shirt. The remaining pieces are swept away as you try to keep your breathing under control. Wanda adjusts herself and sits on your stomach, her wetness and warmth against your skin making you wince. "I have an idea, you let me use you and I might consider letting you touch me, what do you think?"

"Fuck." You moan, and Wanda can't let that one slide, though the slap on your cheek is light, and much more of a teasing warning than a punishment. It makes you throb inside.

"Language." She warns, and you sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Wanda strokes the soft red on your cheek, leaning in in a way that makes her wetness slide down your abdomen. The involuntary contraction of your muscles draws a gasp from both of you.

"Behave yourself." She warns, and it seems to be as much about the language as your slight movements, and although you nod, you repeat the gesture. Wanda gasps and grips your cheeks tightly. But you force your body upwards, and her grip loosens as she begins to grind against your stomach, giving in to the sensation.

It brings some kind of pride to know that she's just as affected by this as you are, but even as she's drenching your skin with her hot pleasure, Wanda lowers herself to wrap her hands around your throat and as she uses your tense abdomen to reach her own orgasm, her grip warns you who's in charge. She doesn't take long to come - all the teasing outside has gotten under her skin - and it's the hottest thing that's ever occurred to you, even if you can't see it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." She gasps through the last waves of her orgasm, her hips thrusting hard into you, who pants beneath her. Her juices run down your belly and you squirm impatiently.

"Please, Wanda. Let me touch you." You beg breathlessly, but she kisses you hungrily, her hands going down to your waist. At first, you think she's going to give you what you want, but Wanda gropes you in an unusual way, and you hear her magic before you feel a new volume between your legs. It takes you by surprise, the enchanted item and your tense body makes Wanda break the kiss.

With her forehead pressed against yours, she asks: "Red or green, darling?" As if to encourage an answer, Wanda grabs the conjured fake cock in her hand. It's really enchanted because you feel everything and the pleasure of the moment's stimulation brings a gasp. You move your hips, in the same direction as her without realizing what you're doing, and Wanda giggles. "I still need words."

"Fuck, green, yes." You moan and Wanda gives you a warning bite on the lips for cursing, but your head is spinning with pleasure from the movements that continue between the two of you.

Toys are nothing new - but a magic strap-on that you can feel as an extension of you certainly is. And Wanda seems willing to drive you to the brink of insanity when she simply adjusts the toy at her entrance and sinks in all at once.

You whimper, almost coming at once. She rocks gently against your lap without caring.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Wanda picks up speed and practically jumps on your cock, her warm walls clenching around you, trying to stop you from pulling out. Everything is too hot and just when you're ready to come, Wanda grabs your throat.

"Hold it." It's an order, almost impossible to obey when she rides your lap with such determination. You choke, struggling against the chains, the hot knot in your belly begging to break.

You almost sob. "I-I can't... please-"

She lets out a wicked giggle and doesn't stop moving. "Don't worry, babe, you're not coming. No matter how much you want to."

Wanda moans, and suddenly her movements stop. She groans heavily, gets impossibly tight and you think you're going to come, but something holds you back. Almost like a force of strength, and when Wanda falls limp against you, and her body continues to tremble from the intensity of the orgasm in contrast to yours, burning with more frustration, you understand what she's done.

"Wanda, what the fuck?" you gasped in a mixture of disbelief and irritation. And instead of losing her temper, she giggles mischievously at you.

"That's why you don't deserve to cum, baby. You're a foul-mouthed brat." She bites your jaw as she sits up, and you gasp, feeling her clench around you. "You're not coming until you improve this attitude."

She thrusts into you as a warning and although you feel as if you could come, your body simply won't obey. Because of the blindfold, you can't see her red irises either.

"You're so mean, Wanda." You groan, sighing at the sensation of her pulling out.

"Oh, darling, we have barely started."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #wanda maximoff oneshots

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diejager · 3 months

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New Ownership

Pairing: Dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, magic?, death, heartbreak, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.2k

You used to watch people awe at you, expressing their shock, incredulous and pleasing, under the protection of your owner —your creator. You were an object of emotion; of melancholy. You were a life size doll made of porcelain and wax, of hohair and glass eyes, painted in the richest pigments and dressed in the finest fabrics, you were the epitome of treasure in your time. A doll made with utmost care and tenderness to heal a wounded heart.

Your creator was a doll maker, building every doll with a special kind of affection, be it for his collection or for a client, he always loved his dolls. He made as much as he gave, the single joy of his life was the present his late-wife gave him, a daughter to call his own, someone soft and living unlike the cold bisque of his creations. You were a present for her coming-of-age, a mimicry of her person, made with love for the adoration he had for his daughter, and sadness for seeing her grow up and leave, to start a new life without him. Every stroke was perfection and every detail was imperfection, you were perfectly imperfect, a mirror to a human.

You were made as an object to remember him by once she left to live with her fiance, painted in the last moments before he saw her off. He dressed you up in a pretty dress, a voluptuous crimson for the passion and a deep black for the end of he past and the start of a new beginning. He made you into what he saw his sweet, precious daughter as, a dream that he was ecstatic to gift, but she was in an accident the week before her celebration. She died of it, passing in writhing pain and tearful agony. It broke the man who lived to care. Your tender creator who lived to love and give.

He drowned in the throes of sorrow and agony, paraliysed by his own fears and torn apart by his nightmares, and left the house you once loved to rot and waste away just as he was. Sobbing nights and depressing mornings, you were unable to do anything but watch as he spent his days rotting, his skin sinking, his hair outgrow and his complexity pale unhealthily, yet he still cared for you. Your creator —your father cleaned you, dressed you and incased you in a thin layer of wax and gel to protect you from the changing times.

You gave him solace, something to live for after he closed his quaint shop and became a hermit, crazed and lonely, having nothing but you to talk to and spend his shortening time with. You wished you could tell him how much you cared, how much you shared his sorrows or how saddened you were to see him like this. And like his daughter, your father passed away, heartbroken and lonely, leaving you to watch over his cooling body dissolving in his bed. All the wasted years, spent seated in your chair, unmoving and unliving, never being able to reach out to him to show him how much you loved him. Life, however, ran its course, uncaring of any kind of self-sought fury or self-given agony, you were just a doll given conscience and memory.

You were picked up by a relative, estranged and distant from yours. He was German, or Austrian from the rough tone he used, a deep growl as he appraised you, rough fingers caressing your face like he was admiring you. He was, this wasn’t admiration in his eyes, you knew it, that sick and twisted gleam in his brown eyes, it was obsession. It was a perverted kind of adoration, it made you fear what he would do to you.

And these fears, these demons that clung to your peripheral, weren’t unfounded, weren’t an illusion your conscience made up to fill the void in your empty core. You were carefully stuffed in a box, stored safely during the long move from your small town in Germany to a place in Austria, locked away in a loud and dark place and only brought out to be placed in another cage of gold.

He laid you in a pentagram of sorts, a crooked thing painted in a dark red and terrifying runes that promised nothing but evil. He enacted this… ritual that would affect you in some way, his low chants and hisses while he stared you down with hungry eyes once he stripped you of all clothes, lathering your porcelain with markings. He scared you more, knowing that he had this planned out, and that he wasn’t alone.

There was a shadow of a giant behind him, a man heads taller than most with cold eyes peeking through a fabric to gaze at you. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, seemingly swallowing the corner he stood from. He took up a lot of your attention, ripped between the chanting man and him from your chair, placed perfectly at the center of this ritualistic circle. You were a show to the giant and a project to your new owner, a spectacle to watch unravel and writhe in pain.

It hurt. Why did this hurt? Your skin tingled, an annoyance that grew to a boiling agony, this sacrilegious magic reworking your imperfect body to fit one of his whims. You shook in your chair, the red sinking into your skin, lining the inside of your precious porcelain with runes as your fingers and toes flexed, limbs jerking from the information overload on your new nerves, synapses snapping into place and building a circuit of sensitive system. You could blink and you could cry, tears springing from your fluttering lashes, lips trembling before you screamed, a shrill cry that wailed out of your lungs.

Your chest burned, it felt heavy with an erratic pulse, beat after beat slamming into your calcified ribs, warm fat and strained muscles. You felt like you were drowning, your throat clogged with something sick and dying after you shriek, acidic to your tongue. It stole the air from your lungs and you had to fill it back, the nagging urge to do so. Your chest expanded with your first breath, it hurt - it burned, but you didn’t drown - but it seamed the first seed of life within you.

You slumped forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the last words he uttered passed through your mind, a searing memory forever imprinted in your conscience. You fell into warm arms, a soothing warmth unlike the boiling pit of magma that raged over you, embracing you with a quiet coo from the man who brought you to life. He hoisted you up, wrapping an arm under your knees and another firmly pressing your naked chest to his. Yours limbs were strangers to you, new and uncanny that you couldn’t move or control just yet. You limply laying your head in the crook of his neck, burying your nose in a green veil smelling strongly of musk and metal, your legs too weak and arms too tense like a newly born fawn.

“Besorg mir etwas, um sie zu bedecken, König”

“Ja, bin gleich wiener da..”

“Welcome to the living, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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pearlywritings · 4 months

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"Bring your kid to work" day

synopsis: but sometimes it's very much unplanned.

pairing and characters: Zhongli x fem!reader, Xiao. Your family name is Rex-Lapis. Childe plays part in it too.

tw: modern AU, University AU, established relationship, fluff

word count: 2.8k+ words

a/n: Also a part of my University modern AU with history professor Zhongli

The day started perfectly. Your older daughter was already at school with your permission to stay at her friend's house for a sleepover later, you had your day off, lounging in the living room with your son cuddling to you with his most favorite dragon shaped toy pressed between your bodies, listening to your husband walking around the bedroom, getting ready for the lectures at the University, being blessed with afternoon classes.

The day was perfect indeed. Until it absolutely isn't.

Sometimes you really want to kill your boss. It must be today that you are called to work to help with an emergency, that no one knows how to deal with except for you. And the fact that your boss does not consider any possibility of you having trouble with doing what's required, makes you fume harder.

"Li, I don't know what to do!" You cry in frustration, buttoning your shirt. "We can't find a babysitter in ten minutes! You have to go to work, I have to now too, we can't just ask Ganyu to cancel her plans, she's been waiting for this sleepover for weeks, and I can't take Xiao with me - by the sound of it I won't have a single moment to look after him."

It's been no longer than five minutes since you received that call, but you are already as stressed as after a week of non-stop work. Why must've the stars aligned this way!?

Your husband - bless his soul - is fully dressed and is holding your little son perched on his arm, supporting his back with a hand, watching your frantic movements with sympathy.

"I don't think I'll have many spare moments either, my love. Only breaks between lessons. Let me think," the man hums, leaning Xiao’s body more onto his shoulder and reaching for his phone with a free hand. The boy wraps arms around his neck, watching you brush your hair with a pout. The plan was to spend the whole day together with mama, watching cartoons, playing, maybe going for a walk or, ideally, taking a nap, finishing it all with making dinner and welcoming papa home. Now, it seems to him, all these plans are thrown out of the window.

However, Xiao was always a very perceptive and patient kid - he sensed somehow when the situation couldn’t be helped and him throwing a fit - not like he would - would only cause more trouble. That is why he is quietly waiting for what comes next.

And finally Zhongli finds a solution.

“I’m calling Ajax. He mostly spends time at the teacher’s lounge. As far as I know he really loves kids and has several younger siblings, he should be able to handle our son. And during breaks I’ll be taking over” “Oh,” as good as it all sounds, there is an instant hesitation in your mind. “‘Li, you sure you can ask him that? It’s a big deal after all…” “I know, dear, I know. That’s why I am calling him now in advance to make sure it’s alright,” your husband dials the number of his department’s secretary and puts the phone to the ear. “I don’t even mind paying him if he agrees.”

In reality you had nothing to worry about. The gingerhead was more than willing to watch your five-year old son. Maybe willing isn’t the right word even - the young man is excited.

Zhongli is lucky to arrive before the current class ends - the less attention is drawn, the better. He collected everything he could think of to occupy Xiao during his time at the lounge in a bag, which he passes to Ajax the moment his son and him are introduced. However while the secretary is wearing a wide and kind smile, the boy is glaring up at him from under the brown bangs, boring his strikingly golden eyes in the tall figure.

“Dad, I don’t like him,” the little boy pouts, hugging his plushie even tighter and throwing daggers at the gingerhead from behind the dragon’s mane.

“Ouch, little guy,” with a dramatic gasp, the young man clutches the shirt on his chest and presses the back of his hand to the forehead. “How will I live? Hated by Mr Rex-Lapis’ son…”

“Now, now, Xiao,” Zhongli gently pats his head, bending down to look into his eyes and finding displeasure there. “It’s only for today, baby. Me and mom are really sorry for not spending time with you today. I promise that soon I’ll be home for two whole weeks.”

To that the boy’s eyes widen.

“Two weeks… That’s fourteen days?”

“That’s right, sweety.”

“That’s a lot!” He jumps, elated by the news, no trace of dissatisfaction written over his cute smiling face.

“Haha, it is, dear.”

“Wow, Mr Rex-Lapis, your son is really smart!” The secretary stopped playing hurt, instead clapping his hands together in praise and nodding his head in approval. “How old is he?”

“He is five. Yes, he learns really fast.”

“No wonder, he has you and your wife as parents.”

The remaining 20 minutes before his first lecture Zhongli spends in attempts to make his son comfortable not only around Ajax, but also at the new place as well. All that time Xiao doesn’t let go of his ever-present companion - a toy dragon, which he is hugging close to his chest. He politely greets every professor that comes to the lounge, which makes the secretary’s jaw drop since he is the only one who’s been initially rejected and, Zhongli can swear, he saw his boy smirking in the toy’s fluffy mane.

Other professors can’t help but mention how much the son resembles the father, even making small talk with the boy, whom they’ve only heard about before or seen in the framed picture of your family on Zhongli’s desk. By how polite (sorry, Ajax) and shyly sweet he is Xiao quickly becomes everyone’s favorite, pockets currently full with all kinds of treats.

When it’s time to go, the man kisses Xiao’s forehead goodbye, promising to be back in an hour and a half for a break, and grabs the materials. Once he leaves alongside his colleagues, Xiao sighs and, ignoring his temporary caretaker, moves to the bag his dad left, starting to dig out all the candies to put them into its side pocket.

“Whatcha doin’, little guy?” The young man is at his side in two long strides, curiously watching the boy’s actions. Xiao gives him a side eye, before deeming the question plausible and turning back to his task.

“I don’t want them right now. I’ll bring them home and share with mom and dad.”

“I am sure they’ll like that,” Ajax hums, busying himself with the contents of the main section. “Oh, would you look at that! It seems that your dad packed some coloring books, toys and… oh, puzzles! You like puzzles?”

The boy quietly nods. Tiptoeing, he tries to see the two boxes his temporary caretaker is holding, and the young man immediately crouches down to let him look.

“This one is new,” Xiao finally points to the box in his left hand. Ocean blue eyes skim over the picture of a phoenix, drawn in a simple yet elegant style. Yes, that definitely looks like something Mr Rex-Lapis would’ve bought for his child’s entertainment.

“Alright, let's get you behind your dad's desk,” golden eyes sparkle and a glimpse of wonder appears on the boy’s face. Dad showed him his own space at the lounge; it's tidy and organized, with all the necessities sorted inside the drawers and some notes and pictures pinned to the corkboard on the wall to the left. He wants to see them closer!

His caretaker drags the chair back, but climbing on it Xiao performs himself. As Ajax is humming something while tearing off the tape on the puzzle box, the boy turns to look at the photos Mr Rex-Lapis has on display. It’s so funny, really - not so long ago this little fella’s father was an image of reserve to students, no one knew who his wife was or the fact he had two kids. The secretary remembers how just half a year ago he used to be among those only ones who knew of the professor’s secret (which, in reality, wasn’t a secret at all). Why hasn't he ever spilled any info to the students who adore him?

Well, what fun would’ve been in it?

“Is that your big sister?” Xiao quickly glances up, taking notice of how the tall (but not as tall as dad) man hovers over where he is sitting and points at one of the pictures. The boy looks at it again.

“...yes. It’s Ganyu.”

“I have a sister too,” the fond expression on that freckle-covered face and a seemingly lightened color of those ocean-blue eyes disarms the five-year old a little. He blinks, waiting for what more he can tell. “Not one actually. Oh, and I have brothers too. One is your age, by the way!”

“Doesn’t it get too… loud?” Small hands reach for the carton box, lifting the lid.

“It does, in a good way though. But when our two huskies join in on the fun… Let’s just say it’s a good thing we have our own house.”

“You have dogs? That’s so cool! I want to have a pet too,” Xiao unceremoniously empties the contents onto the table, yet carefully places the lid with the picture against the monitor of the computer. “Mom promised that when I get older, they’ll buy me a bird.”

“Oh? You love those?”

“Mhm… Maybe we’ll buy something as pretty as…” he pauses, looking at the fiery bird. Ajax quickly realizes the struggle.

“A fo-nuhks,” Xiao prompts.

“Yeah… A fee-niks.”

As the minutes tick by, the boy’s initial hostility seems to evaporate. He still doesn’t talk unnecessarily much, but he does talk to Ajax, so that's progress. He is quite quick to finish the puzzles, and his temporary caretaker makes sure to praise the child. They talk a bit more about their respective families, Xiao even introduces him to his dragon companion. And the gingerhead picks the small fox-shaped keychain his elder sister knitted for him to play toy pals.

For another half an hour it manages to entertain the boy, but as the end of the class is nearing, he grows more and more distracted, glancing either at the door or the clock hanging high on the wall. It’s not hard to guess he is missing his father and is anticipating his return, but both Zhongli and Ajax can do nothing to just speed the time.

What professor can do though, is excusing his class ten minutes earlier, quite happy they got to get through all the material he prepared for this lecture. Bidding the students goodbye, he locks the door of the auditorium with his suitcase inside and puts the key in the pocket of his fancy vest to come back in twenty minutes.

When Zhongli enters the teacher’s lounge, he finds the secretary showing his son something on his own laptop. However, once Xiao’s eyes spot his dad’s figure in the doorframe, the little guy is down from his chair and running all the way to the man.

“Dad!” Mr Rex-Lapis barely has time to close the door and scoot down to catch his son, who nearly bumps into his legs, threatening the man’s balance. Finally in his arms, with his own tiny ones tightly wrapped around strong neck, the carbon copy of Zhongli happily smiles and Ajax has to rub his eyes to make sure he is not hallucinating. Wow, this boy can smile like that (sorry, my guy, you are just not his favorite, though now tolerable at least).

“Hello, Xiao,” Zhongli plants an affectionate kiss on his son’s cheek. “I see you’ve missed me,” the words are answered with eager nods. “Did you have fun with Ajax?” At least some of it.

The gingerhead lifts his eyebrow when the boy looks back at him, holds the gaze of ocean blue eyes for a moment, and then turns to his father once more.

“I suppose.”

The older man has to clear his throat with a polite cough so as not to break into a smile at the image of the assistant's slack jaw.

“That’s good, my dear.”

“Are we coming home now?” His son wonders, fingers playing with the longer locks of dark brown. Unfortunately, the answer is a dejected sigh.

“I am afraid we are not yet, sweety. But mommy texted me recently that she’ll be able to come get you after my second lecture. And then I’ll have one more.”

At the promise of you soon arriving to take him home, Xiao’s just building pout quickly disappeared. It’s okay, he can wait for a little bit longer. And that fox-like man isn’t bad, his company is quite nice. He even showed him some pictures of his family - almost all of them are ginger. Oh, and he promised to download some simple games onto his dad’s computer so he could play. And he still has his coloring books back there and he believes he saw you packing a small book - there is plenty to entertain him with.

Only for all these thoughts and motivation to be shuttered when someone knocked on the door and a second later some student’s head pushed through the gap. None of the three people currently present in the room could’ve anticipated what a black hole is about to be opened.

“Good afternoon, is Mr Rex-La- Oh, professor, you are here! We were wondering if we could take the key to leave our bags inside? As always? Oh, hey kiddo- Wait, a kid???”

“Dad, who is it?”

“DAD!?”

Before anyone could do anything, loud gasps break their way into the lounge. It appeared that almost the whole group was standing in the hall and heard everything crystally clear. Of course students are curious. Of course, they know about professor Rex-Lapis’ kid - the news and that cute picture from an online lecture were still the talk of the whole faculty just a couple of months ago. Of course, they want to see those sweet cheeks for crying out loud!

Ajax is the one who has to get everyone who does not belong in the room out and calm them all down as more than a dozen youngsters beg and plead with Zhongli to bring his baby boy to the lecture. And the said baby boy doesn’t help the situation either, looking at his father with those striking eyes, silently asking to stay with him. “I’m gonna sit very-very quiet,” he even promises.

Is it really a surprise that Xiao ends up sitting at his dad’s desk with his coloring books while the man is reading a lecture? (Students almost crumbled when their tall, handsome, enigmatic history professor walked into the auditorium with his son’s tiny hand clasped in his? Look, he even had to bend his body a little to do so!)

And, as much as students want to gush all over their favorite professor’s small-sized carbon copy, they keep their best behavior, because the situation gives the “once in a century” vibes and they’d be damned to destroy the magic of the moment.

Well, maybe a little, because the smallest interactions between Zhongli and his son as the man lets his students finish writing down information from the current slide are mind-blowing. Groupchat-blowing too.

Even cuter the whole occurrence becomes when the boy stops drawing and lifts his head, curious of what his dad is speaking about. He turns slightly in order to see the presentation, golden eyes skimming over the pictures and words, though he does not understand most of it. But it’s alright though - he can listen to his father instead.

Zhongli is pleasantly surprised when no one can answer one of his revision questions and Xiao lifts his hand, giving him the answer he wanted (he misspells the word a little, sure, but he knew the right response nonetheless). Aaaand that’s probably when the students finally lose it.

By the time the lesson is over and Zhongli meets with you in the teacher’s lounge to pass your very happy and very proud son to you so you two could be on your merry way home, the man feels a little drained. Nothing that can’t be fixed by your tender cheek kiss and soft rubbing on his back, but he still exhales heavily and swears that when he comes home, you are in for a new story.

And by what Ajax had time to tell while you’ve been waiting, you're sure it’s going to be a hilarious one.

taglist: @meimeimeirin Cause I remember how you once said you'd love to see more of this AU

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x fem!reader #zhongli #xiao #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact modern au

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calcifiedunderland · 3 months

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Spare Change

Azul x GN Reader (they/them)

—In which you win Azul’s friendship with the loose change in your pocket.

Notes: I tried to keep the coin description vague so it could be from any currency!! I had this idea for a little while now. Enjoy shrimpies~

—

You were going to buy Azul’s friendship at the cost of a gumball.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. By all accounts, it would’ve been impossible to do that, even with a large sum of money. You didn’t think that you’d ever be back in his office making a deal with the merman who almost turned you out of your dusty dorm. But this time, it hopefully would go in your favor.

Earlier that week, you’d been cleaning out your knickknacks, and came across some loose change you’d had in your pockets when you arrived to NRC. Honestly, you forgot about it - it wasn’t like you could really use it here.

Still, you recalled some offhanded comment Jade made - something about Azul’s coin collection, and his fascination with human trinkets. Once, when you’d visited Azul’s dorm room while he was recovering from his overblot, the framed coin showcase on his wall had caught your eye. The coins shimmered, and despite some wear and tear, you could tell they were now kept in meticulous, pristine condition.

This went through your mind as you stride into Octavinelle, feeling the coins in your pocket thump against your skin.

You sucked in a deep breath and knocked on his office door, and, not waiting for a response, you opened it. If you waited, you’d lose your courage. Azul looked up irritably, adjusting his glasses. “Please wait a moment, I’ll be wi-” he stopped mid-sentence, mouth hanging open when he saw you. “Well- Hello, Prefect,” he clasped his hands over his desk, discreetly shoving a contract into a drawer, “what brings you here today?” He coughed slightly, clearing his throat.

Wordlessly you sat down in front of him, change jangling in your pockets. You looked at him intently, searching his eyes and thumbing a coin in your pocket. This could go really well or really not well. Still, you’d made unlikely friends with Riddle and annoying acquaintances with Leona. Besides, you thought as you rubbed the coin, what you wanted wasn’t anything material. Rather, it was genuine and immeasurable - less to you, but more to him.

Azul was pensive, looking at you carefully. You unsettled him. After what happened before winter break, when he overblotted, he’d had a hard time making heads or fins about you. You were a walking paradox - a magicless human who somehow had so much power over strong housewardens. By all accounts, you shouldn’t have been able to one-up his contract to gain Ramshackle. And yet you somehow did, with Leona and your friends.

In all honesty, you had every reason to be upset with him. So why were you in his office now? His eyes zeroed in on yours. What was your angle? What did you have to gain? He hated this feeling of being indebted to you after his overblot. Like he had to make it up to you, somehow. Would you hold it against him?

You fidgeted slightly under his gaze, feeling a little unnerved. Wordlessly, you fished into your pocket and pulled out one of the larger coins from your currency. You put it on the desk between the two of you, the tether between you and him. And if all went well, a symbol.

He looked down at it, curiousity getting the better of him. He picked it up carefully in his gloved fingers, holding it up and turning it around. He rubbed his fingers over the dips and engravings, analyzing the text on it. He held it up to the light, admiring it. Strange, he thought to himself. A childish fascination grew in him, and he carefully flipped the coin around in his fingers, admiring the way it glinted and reflected the light. You smiled, watching the awe in Azul’s eyes grow.

At last, he spoke, not taking his eyes off it, “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d have to look into it’s origins if you’d want me to appraise it.” He couldn’t think of any other reason you’d be here, giving this to him. Was this your way of getting him to repay you? Have him auction off this coin? His mind halted, why did you show this coin to him? To lure him in and then take it away?

You shook your head, “you won’t find any information on it.” He rose an eyebrow at you, and you continued, “this is a coin from my world. Where I’m from.” He glanced back at the coin with new interest, enraptured. A one-of-a-kind, limited commodity? A coin that only you would have? His heart skipped a beat.

He’d be lying if his businessmer side wasn’t salivating, but a part of him didn’t want to sell it. Deep down, he knew he wanted to keep it for his collection - after all, it wasn’t often that he came across rare coins.

Still, Azul knew better than others that you couldn’t get something without payment. “…what would you like for it?” He asked so quietly, you would’ve thought you’d imagined it if he wasn’t looking at you. He braced for the worst, thinking you’d demand something wild as revenge for his overblot.

You took a deep breath, “Nothing.”

Weeks ago, you would’ve disbelieved the idea of befriending the same person who almost ousted you from Ramshackle. Especially offering him your friendship in the form of spare coins you’d found in your pocket.

Being in his office, trying to offer your friendship to him in the form of a coin of a lost world, was the last thing you thought you’d be doing. But here you were, the subject of scrutiny, sitting in the lavish armchair in front of his desk, trying to show him that you weren’t as ill-intentioned as he thought others may be. That you genuinely did want to connect with him.

Which was hard to do when he was looking at you intently, hands clasped under his nose, presumably staring at you uncomfortably. The look on his face was unreadable. Nothing? They want… nothing? Azul was no fool. All his clients wanted something, no one would ever do something nice for nothing in exchange. You had to have some ulterior motive. Right?

“What… do you want?” He asked again, straightening. A few weeks ago, you might’ve been a little ruffled at his straightforwardness. Now, you only knew he was trying to compose himself, as he lifted his head and offered a debonair smirk, adjusting his glasses. “I understand that the headmaster has still not given you proper accommodations for you. I’m sure, as a non-magical student, I could offer you assistance in exchange for this rare commodi-“

“I really don’t want anything material,” you cut him off, crossing your arms. You would’ve thought you’d have insulted him, from the way his face contorted. “That- that’s preposterous, Perfect. Surely you’d want something in exchange for this coin!” Otherwise why would you be here? was silently said between the two of you.

“I wanted you to have it. It’s a gift. I’m giving it to you.” That’s what friends do!, you thought exasperatedly.

Azul’s eyes bored into yours, and you noted that his pupils were slightly square rather than round. He said, “nothing is free, now Prefect. Surely there’s something you want?” You sighed through your nose. “I just…” you swallowed, looking at him, “I thought you’d like it.” Your tone was genuine, and you squared your shoulders. Azul’s tone softened, “do you not want to keep it? It’s from your world, after all.” You angled your head in wonder.

A few weeks ago, Azul probably would’ve taken the coin without regard for you, or done something underhanded. You were curious (and maybe a bit hopeful) why he was considerate to you now.

“It wasn’t the only coin I had,” you responded, fishing for an identical coin in your pocket and pulling it out, “I had another. It’s the same thing, see?” Azul glanced at it, indeed it’s the same. He asked, “regardless, wouldn’t you want both?” You shrugged, “I can’t exactly spend it here, and I have no need for two of the same. Besides,” you smiled at him, hoping he’d understand, “I… thought you’d appreciate it.”

A lump rose in Azul’s throat as he turned the coin over in his fingers, noting every small scratch and engraving. “I…” he cleared his throat, composing himself. “Thank you, Prefect. I want to give you something in return,” he looked up. You were about to insist you wanted nothing (even if you did start out wanting something), when you saw the look in his eyes. You supposed old habits died hard - he would keep insisting on compensation for you until you accepted. So, you supposed it couldn’t hurt to be honest.

You smiled at him, holding out your extra coin to him. “How about your friendship?” His eyes widened, and you saw his adams apple bob. “I mean it,” you said softly, “really. Please?”

His eyes searched yours for any foulplay or malice. Feelings surged in him - memories of other merchildren making fun of his tentacles or his ink, times when they’d fooled him into being ‘friends,’ hiding in a crevice from bullies. Still, he found no reason to doubt you, as you smiled at him. How could you forgive him?

A poor, unfortunate soul is he, to refuse redemption.

He held his coin in his fingers, “It’s a deal,” he declared, and tapped it against yours.

——

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #twst azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #octavinelle x reader #octavinelle #twst yuu #azul ashengrotto #mostro lounge #calcified writing

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mydearlybeloathed · 2 months

Text

𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ⁴

𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲…

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: on the night of your promotion, you ruminate on just how far you've come, and make the harrowing realization that you've gone too far down this road. with only whispers as a guide, the deserter sets out to find the strawhat, finally done running from your problems.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.7k (wow)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧��: use of Y/N, gn reader, mentioned death of a mother, the crisis climaxes, alcohol like once i think, the happy ending :)

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬: the night we met, your hands are cold

series masterlist

The party—gala, more like—was in full swing. Violins swelled and a piano forted, and somewhere out of your sight was a woman singing opera. The music would have been lovely had you been anywhere else, but here you are.

At a Marine Gala of all places. You heaved a heavy sigh, sipping at your champagne as you forced a smile, pushing back your shoulders.

The heavy gaze of your father rested on you from across the ballroom, worry lining his face at the thought that you might do something to disgrace your family name. That thought had never been more tempting, but you were nothing if not calm and collected.

So you busied yourself with being a wallflower, dwelling in the itchy fabric of your outfit. It was nice, you gave it that, a rich blue color you might have picked for yourself if you had the option, which you hadn’t. Your father chose this outfit, like he made most of your decisions these days.

He didn’t think Koby was a good influence? He had you transferred to another ship. He didn’t think you were ready for that promotion? He told your superiors just that. You hated him. You wanted to end him. You smiled at him from across the room as he raised a glass in your direction, speaking to Vice Admiral Garp in a low tone.

You downed your glass and wiped your chin, resting your eyes for a moment. Your father had risen to the rank of commodore recently, which had been a major boost to his ego. You’d been feeling the brunt of it for weeks. But maybe, things were about to change. This party was for you, after all.

The partygoers grew sparse for a moment, and as if light were shining down in a heavenly glow, there was Koby, his eyes scanning the room as he rose on his tiptoes. A wide smile split onto your face, and not even Helmeppo bobbing up behind Koby could sway it.

Uncaring of your father or proper etiquette anymore, you waved wildly and called, “Koby!”

A few strangers cast you dark looks as Koby’s bright eyes found yours. He all but raced in your direction, speed walking across the floor to maintain some level of poise. He nearly hugged you, nearly spun you around he was so happy, but settled on taking your hand and shaking it firmly.

You returned the gesture with a roll of your eyes. “Pleasure to see you, Captain Koby.”

“The pleasures all mine, for certain,” he answered, barely able to keep the mirth out of his tone and eyes.

Helmeppo caught up to his friend, looking from you to Koby before doing a double take. A little grin slid onto his lips. “Oh, Commander.”

You nearly replied when Koby swatted his arm and gestured to the medal pinned over your heart. “Captain, remember? We’re at their promotion gala.”

“It’s not just my gala,” you said, shuffling your feet. “There’s others promoted too… And don’t call me Captain.”

Koby’s eyes darkened slightly, his gaze flickering all over your face. He was disappointed to find that even more light had left your eyes since last he saw you. This world was draining you of everything beautiful about you, and he feared the day the proud yet haunted cadet he’d met swabbing the decks all those years ago would be gone for good.

“Helmeppo,” Koby said distantly. “Can you get me a glass of wine?”

Instantly the boy perked up and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder, muttering something as he went off in search of a drink. You watched him go, tired eyes fluttering, and as soon as Helmeppo was out of sight Koby set a hand on your shoulder and began to usher you deeper into the crowds of people, well out of your father’s line of sight. “Koby—?”

“You look miserable,” he drawled, squeezing your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here.”

“I…” You thought of several reasons why, like the consequences if your father found out, or maybe being mugged on the streets, before you grew sick and tired of this awful anxiety you’d been dealing with for years.

Letting out a determined huff, you nodded, allowing a smile to show. “Okay.”

જ⁀➴

A laugh ripped out of you at some awful joke Koby made as you walked through the night chill, heart light and shoulders relieved of that weary weight usually stacked on them. Koby bumped your shoulder. “You feelin’ better?”

You nodded despite yourself. “Yeah. A bit.”

The truth was, you never were better. You’d perfected the art of going numb, ignoring the ache of regret always looming in the back of your mind. But then, just some months ago, you’d seen stupid Red Hair Shanks, and he planted all these thoughts in your head. Just like he planted them in Luffy’s.

Your steps faltered, face falling, and you came to a halt to turn out to the sea on your left. The boardwalk of the city dropped off into deep blue waters splashing up against it. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as Koby noticed you’d stopped.

He slowly inched up beside you, following you gaze. “What is it?”

You fiddled with the medal pinned to your clothes, a symbol of your new position among the Marines. “Do you think I’m a good person?”

The question caught him off guard. “Uhm, yes? I mean, of course I do.” He ducked to catch your gaze, growing increasingly worried when you simply closed your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You hung your head and chewed at your bottom lip. “I… I’m tired, Koby.”

The bags under your eyes were evident, and so Koby nodded. “We can head back to base. I’ll tell your dad you’re sick—”

“Not just physically,” you choked out. Eyes pressed shut, you hissed out a sigh. “Mentally. I’m so tired of—of this.” You gripped your medal and ripped it off your chest, tearing a hole in your outfit. “I didn’t think I’d get this far. Now, I’m a captain. As a captain, I’m in charge of so many more people. So many more people will see me as this—awful thing that I’ve become.”

“Woah, hey.” Koby reached to take the medal from your vice grip, but you weren’t done, jerking away from him and looking right at him, eyes ablaze with years and years of thoughts better left unsaid.

“You know I never wanted this,” you nearly whispered. Your hands shook around the cold metal. “Koby… what if I can’t get out?”

For the longest time, all he did was stare at you, eyes slightly wide, and you feared you’d crossed a line. Regret pooled in your eyes as tears swelled at the corners. You half wished to return to the party, allow your father to berate you for disappearing, and continue a horrid night with your only friend angry with you.

Koby turned suddenly, expression unchanging, and trudged down the boardwalk, toward a row of buildings overlooking the sea. Hesitant, you followed, running your thumb over the back of your medal.

His pace slowed to allow you to catch up and walk beside him, your eyes stuck to the ground as you let him lead you blindly into the light of a hanging street lamp. You glanced up, gut going cold as you met eyes with Monkey D. Luffy.

You’d seen his wanted poster so many times you’d found every little detail you could, yet you still jumped out of your skin every time.

Instantly, a burn welled up in your chest, fists tight at your sides. “Why…”

“You love him, right?” Koby asked.

Dazedly, you scoffed, lost in the poster. “What kind of question is that?”

“He feels the same,” said Koby, watching you gaze at Luffy’s picture like one might gaze upon a magnificent fresco.

“You think so?” you wondered.

“I know so,” he replied with certainty.

Swallowing your tears, your eyes wandered around the wall in front of you, scanning over the several other wanted posters pinned up. Luffy’s crewmates took up much of the space, each looking so brave and fierce. Even Shanks’ poster was there, though slightly faded.

Luffy. Shanks. Even Koby. They all had something in common: that brave fire you’d always been too fearful to ignite.

Your fists started to shake. If courage was a fire, then you were a pile of wet logs, desperate for some kindling. Eyes flickering back to Luffy’s wide smile, plastered up on this wall, illuminated by lamplight, you forced down the taut coil in your gut, and exhaled.

As your eyes fell closed, every crashing wave and calling bird fell silent. You barely even heard yourself breathe. Love. You loved him. You craved to see him. A thought hit you so sharply, you didn’t believe it was your own: did you love him enough to do something reckless?

The tether tight on your soul quivered, sending shockwaves across the sea and right to the heart of a boy made of laughter. His laugh grew brighter till you swore he was right beside you, but as you opened your eyes, there was only Koby, staring at you with some concern.

“Y/N?” he spoke tentatively, causing you to force down a thick swallow.

Breathing uneven, you blinked widely at him. Yes, you answered the question. Go, it replied. “I can’t stay,” you said so quietly Koby almost didn't catch it.

But he knew. He understood. Koby reached for your hand, taking the shiny Captain’s medal from your enclosed fist, and glanced out at the ocean. When he placed the medal back in your hand, you moved instantly, rushing at the water and hurling the medal far into its arms. The splash was too far away to hear, but you felt the medal sink into the depths as another of the binds tying you down snapped.

Your blood rushed in your ears, that same exhilaration from when you’d chased down Shanks some months ago. This time though—you heaved a hefty breath, shock written all over your face—this time you were taking the first chance you got.

A laugh was dragged out of you as you raked your hands through your hair, finding Koby behind you when you whirled around. “Shit… my dad’s gonna kill me.”

Yet, the thought didn’t hold much power when you considered that Luffy used to promise he would take you far, far away from that man. Maybe… maybe you could take yourself away. To Luffy. Hopefully, he would recognize you after all this time.

And when you raisec your gaze to Koby, he was smiling, eyes squinted as he reached to grab your shoulders and tug you into him. Your arms wrapped tight around his middle, and he hugged you all the more tighter, his hand finding the back of your head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you murmured, dragging a watery chuckle from him.

“It’s not a competition.”

Jerking back, you scrutinized his face, swearing you would never forget him as long as you lived. Perhaps you’d see him again some day, long down the road, when he’s some big shot marine and you’re—well, you’re a pirate.

It had always been Luffy’s dream, his calling. For the longest time you had no clue if you had a dream of your own; you had one now. I’ll be brave, and Luffy will be proud. I’ll be proud. You wanted so dearly to be proud of yourself for once.

“Here.” Koby shoved a pouch of money into your hand. “Take this. Ask around for a way off the island. Y’should ditch the fancy clothes too.”

Nodding, you glanced down at your attire, deciding you’d snatch something off a clothes line and leave some beri on a windowsill. “What about you? You know my dad will suspect something.”

Koby simply shrugged it off, sporting a grin. “I’ve been with Helmeppo all night. No idea where you ran off to all of a sudden.”

Suddenly out of breath, you flattened your shaky hands against your sides, beaming up at him. This is it. My second chance. So many years of wishing and hiding had led you here. No more running, you decided.

“Tell him I said hi,” Koby murmured. He turned to look back down the street, where far off out of sight the marine gala went on through the night, unaware a deserter was gathering their nerve. “Go now. Get off the island before sunrise.”

You nodded, and despite the cold chill running all over your skin, you shoved out your hand to shake Koby’s, chin quivering. “Goodbye, Captain.”

His smile faltered, his eyes glassy as he shook your hand firmly. “See you, Y/N.”

The moment he retracted his hand you set one foot in front of the other, holding your breath as your fists closed around your pant legs. You didn’t dare to look back even once all the way through the city. Finding clothes wasn’t too much of an issue; you found a clothesline running between two buildings fairly easy, swiping what looked like a mens shirt and a pair of work pants. You snabbed a hat for good measure, and left a handful of beri in your wake.

Down to the docks you rushed, setting eyes on a quartet loading crates onto a small ship nearly the twin of the one Luffy had left Dawn Village on. You were gone before the sun ever rose above the horizon, and Koby was none the wiser as to where you had gone, and he told your livid father just that, all while Helmeppo swore up and down they lost track of you at some point during the night.

Free of your uniform, free of your title, free of your father—free of it all, you stood on the deck of that little ship, doing what you could to help, your smile unrelenting against the wind whipping against your face.

“What’re you smiling about?” asked the young son of the merchant who owned the ship.

You gave him some stupid answer about the sunrise being pretty, which it was, but you didn’t feel like explaining the euphoria you never thought you’d ever get to feel firsthand.

Luffy once tried to explain the feeling the sea gave, how he got so thrilled by the adventure being a pirate would bring. You never understood, simply nodding along to whatever he said, because he looked pretty when he smiled like that.

But you could feel it now. Deep in your chest danced a mix of nausea and excitement and dread all at once, but none of that mattered when the salt spray made your hair damp. You understood him now, and you couldn’t wait to tell him so.

You only had to find him now.

જ⁀➴

Luffy had been thinking for a while now, and it had his friends a bit worried.

Thinking about food, and the one piece, and the usual things he thought about—but mostly you. He’d been wondering a lot about when he’d find you again, and if he’d ever have the chance to get you back. So much time had passed, his grand adventure getting in the way of tracking you down, if he even could.

And sometimes, on odd days, he also wondered—what if you didn’t want to come home? That question was daunting, leaving him in a daze for a whole evening. It couldn’t be true. How could you ever want to stay there, wherever you were?

Surely, surely, you wanted to find him as much as he wanted to find you. Luffy longed to stand beside you as the sun longed to stand aside the moon. He ached to hold you close and never let you go, like he should have all that time ago.

Luffy knew you—probably better than you knew yourself. You’d done something heroic that day on the beach, dragging his grandpa down with you. But maybe… maybe if he’d done a better job at chasing away your fears, then you’d be with him now.

He hardly noticed when Robin sat beside him at the kitchen table, only blinking awake from his reverie when her shoulder pressed against his. “Luffy?”

He grinned. “What’s up?”

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just bored.” Her eyes found the sheet of paper lying before her captain, specifically the crudely drawn picture scrawled across it. “Uhm… what’s that supposed to be?”

Luffy’s eyes brightened and a smile split onto his face. “Oh!” He shoved the drawing in Robin’s direction. “Ya like it?”

Nodding, Robin wagered he’d drawn something between a stork and a windmill. “Mhmm. I like the… dynamics. What is it exactly?”

Nami walked by, mumbling reminders for the day under her breath, and she turned to smile at the pair, catching sight of the drawing. “That’s a nice drawing of Y/N, Luffy.”

“Thanks!” he beamed at her.

Robin watched a giggling Nami leave, slowly returning his gaze to Luffy. “Who’s Y/N?”

As if he needed a reminder of why he’d been upset. Luffy’s face threatened to fall before he pulled himself together and smirked. “A marine. A special marine.” His eyes settled on the drawing. “My marine.”

No further explanation provided itself, but Robin almost didn’t need one; the way Luffy’s entire being softened at the name revealed just enough. All afternoon she inquired about this marine, hearing stories from Luffy’s past that all included the missing person.

“Where are they now?” she asked when he was done, and he tilted his head. “The marine. Where are they?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Luffy shrugged as he added a few more details to his drawing. “That’s the problem, I guess.”

Robin poked his shoulder. “You don’t have a lead?”

Luffy shrugged. “Nope. Just that they’re with the marines. I always figured they’d give me a sign when they’re ready to be found.”

Though she hardly understood that logic, Robin nodded as she set a hand on his shoulder and took her leave. Luffy examined his drawing, letting out a near-depressing sigh, and wished beyond wishing that you’d send him a sign soon.

The truth of the matter was, Luffy had tried to track you down. He’d interrogated each marine he came across, getting tidbits of information about the notoriously cold Commander Y/N. But whenever he thought he’d come this close, you slipped through his fingers, always a few steps out of reach. Like you didn’t want him to catch you.

Let me find you, he begged, and the very last of the tether tying you to land broke in two, throwing you head first into the life the sea had raged for you. Haha!

Luffy jerked around, swearing he’d heard… something. But he was all alone, everyone off to their own devices. He shook out his shoulders, but nothing could rid him of the goosebumps.

જ⁀➴

You’d been somewhat well-known within the marines, but as a deserter? You were something of a celebrity.

Sure, hiding your face everywhere you went was tasking, but at least you looked nice in your wanted poster. You liked to think Koby had chosen the picture used, doing you yet another favor even as you ran for your life.

And your poster didn’t go unnoticed by any means. Nobles who’d crossed your path, fellow marines you hadn’t seen in years, they all gasped at the sight of your poster being added to their roster. A few in particular were rather noteworthy…

Nia, far too sweet for such a world (one wonders why she’s a marine), stood frozen for five whole minutes when she saw it, not sure whether to be horrified or giddy you’d finally done something about the forlorn look in your eyes. She balled up her fists, and wondered what freedom tasted like.

Vice Admiral Garp himself laughed so hard he nearly fell off his desk chair, startling the poor cadet instructed to take the poster to him. He swiped up the paper and wiped at a tear, positively thrilled. “Finally! The coward’s grown up!”

Red Hair Shanks, so tipsy he nearly missed it, before Beckman gripped his shoulder and smiled so big his cigarette nearly fell from his teeth. Shanks ripped the poster off the wall, admiring the number on your head. “Well I’ll be… They did it.”

And Monkey D. Luffy, wandering a port town with Nami’s hand on his shoulder to keep him from running off. Unsuspecting Luffy, griping that he didn’t need an escort.

Nami tightened her hold, steering him through the crowd of shoppers. “Listen, this is supposed to be a quick supply run. I can’t take any chances.”

“Nami,” he drawled, rolling his eyes. “You’re hurtin’ me! Let go. I promise I won’t get distracted.”

She shot him a skeptical glare, assessed his innocent smile, and scoffed. “Fine. But I swear—”

She released him, leading the way to a bread stall. His eyes roamed over the busy market place, the scent of fresh flowers mixing with grilled foods. Some little kids played a game with a ball in an alley they passed, and two seagulls fought over scraps on the corner. A normal little town, full of life by the look of it.

“Oof!” Luffy ran right into Nami’s back, stumbling as he righted himself. He cast her a glower, huffing, “Now who’s sidetracked. This is a quick supply run, Nami—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, lips parted and she sightlessly reached for his shirt and started to drag him along once again. He huffed and puffed until Nami stopped again, this time in front of a long wall lined with poster upon poster of wanted criminals.

She snapped in his face, silencing his complaints. Nami wasn’t sure what to say, unsure if she’s right, yet somehow confident she’s not wrong. So she simply grabbed his face and turned it toward one poster in particular; the picture was of a person around their age, standing rigid and proud in a marine get-up. Their lips were pulled into a tight grin, but their eyes were dead and blank.

“Is that…?” Nami trailed off, watching with bated breath as Luffy reached to take it down, the corners tearing from the tacks used to pin it up.

Luffy held the poster like it was glass, eyes flickering all over, checking for inconsistencies. He found none, bringing the poster closer to his face, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips.

Former Captain Y/N L/N. Wanted dead or alive for ten million beri.

He hardly believed his eyes. His sign. You’re ready.

The whole town heard his victory shout, rattling windchimes and alerting everyone around that, “THEY DID IT! They’re free!” He whirled on Nami and shook your poster in her direction. “Nami, we have to find them! How do we find them?”

“Not sure,” she said, unable to help the grin on her face. “But we will.”

Now it was Luffy doing the dragging and Nami doing the whining, all the way back to the ship, and the whole crew was witness to the blinding smile spread on their captain’s face as he brandished your wanted poster to them.

What would he do? What would he say? Luffy figured he would apologize first—for what, he didn’t really know, he just felt like he should—and then he’d yell at you for feeling like you had to stay, before attacking you in a hug sure to drag you to the ground.

And then he’d kiss you, probably, definitely. You were long overdue for one of those.

He just had to find you first.

Sanji and Zoro stood leaning on the banister around the ship’s helm, watching as Luffy rattled on about how you’d love Robin’s library, when the cook turned to the swordsman, taking out his cigarette to speak.

“So we’re bounty hunting Luffy’s lost marine?” Sanji mused with a half grin, drawing a smirk from Zoro.

He cast Sanji a look and shrugged. The cook laughed wryly and stubbed his smoke on the banister. “This should be fun.”

જ⁀➴

Within a week the rumors had spread like wildfire across the sea: ex-marine Y/N L/N was searching for Monkey D. Luffy.

“Did you hear?” said a baker to his neighbor. “That marine deserter stole Yuri’s boat!”

“I thought they looked familiar!”

And some miles off, a widow whispered among her friends. “And as they were sailing off they shouted, ‘Tell Strawhat Luffy I’m after him!’ And off they were!”

Three islands later, the people of a lonely village began to whisper as Y/N the Deserter stepped off a little sloop. Your void expression, calloused hands, and narrowed gaze were intimidating enough, but what was more nerve-wracking was your silence.

As you did on every island before, you headed right for the closest bar, and without much pretense, you asked if Strawhat Luffy had been seen in the area. Usually, the answer was a nervous twitch followed by a thoughtful silence, and then, usually, a no.

Receiving the expected answer once again, you gave a frustrated sigh and said no more, sitting solitary at the end of the bar, shooting glares at anyone who dared to look at you too long. Deep in your thoughts, you wondered if this was payback for hiding from Luffy for so long, always slipping through his fingers as he was yours now.

All this happened five more times, three of which nearly gave you hope, but Luffy was always leaving as you were arriving, always just out of reach. Each time you left a village, you left with the same message: “If you see Monkey D. Luffy! Tell him I’m looking for him!”

No one was quite sure if the Deserter Marine meant to kill the Strawhat, or meant some other kind of pirate business. Either way, your intentions were clear to those you crossed, so you can imagine one small island’s sudden excitement when shortly after your departure, in sailed Monkey D. Luffy and his crew.

The restlessly bored daughter of the mayor wasted no time in rushing up to the pirate captain and explaining in long-winded detail your declaration. Luffy started to laugh almost maniacally, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to shake Zoro by his stiff shoulders.

The rumors stretched even to the marines, tirelessly searching for their escaped soldier, primarily the group led by Captain Koby, who forced down a laugh when the information reached him.

“I’m sorry,” he told his superiors. “We’ve searched for months, and honestly, we’re exhausting our resources over a deserter. I think it’s time we give it a rest.”

Slowly, your wanted poster was overshadowed by those around it, and people stopped whispering about Y/N the Deserter, who traveled from island to island, village to village, entering a spectral and leaving a spectacle.

You fought off bounty hunters and swindled food vendors, using all your money on information alone. A stolen sword on your hip and a suspicious maroon stain on the cuff of your sleeve, you looked more and more like a pirate by the hour.

Months. And nothing. No sign of him.

Nothing.

Till just now.

You weren't exactly sure if you were seeing right, squinting through the blazing sun as you slowly walked down the dock of the latest island. A ways away, pocketed away between two large vessels, was a caravel with a creative masthead; a lion, to be precise. That isn’t what stopped you in your tracks, though—emblazoned on the sail was a skull and crossbones, the typical jolly roger… accompanied by a Straw Hat.

So many days… you’d very nearly given up, the idea always at the back of your mind, wondering if all of this was foolish, if you’d made tragic mistake after tragic mistake and now you would never see your best friend and the love of your life ever again—yet here you stood, breathless, eyes locked on the ship you’d only ever dreamed of seeing.

On tentative feet, you walked down the docks, weaving in and out of busy sailors to reach that ship. The sky was cloudy and dark, and it would probably rain later that day, and still you swore a beam of sunlight was shining down upon the vessel. The Thousand Sunny.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered, clutching at your gut as your skin got all clammy and cold and suffocating. “Oh, god.”

Hah! Was your mind playing tricks, or was he really so close you could hear his laughter just up on the deck of the ship. You barely realized when you stopped moving, only aware once your heart started thumping in your ears.

Your fists tightened with resolve at your sides and you surged forward, forcing step after step till you reached the gangway of the ship. Blood rushing, hands shaking, heart racing, you set one foot on the beginning of the wooden ramp, eyes raising to where the gangway opened up to the deck.

“Sanji! You changed the combination on the fridge again!”

Frozen in your tracks, you realized you’d forgotten what his voice sounded like. He sounded different now—older. Either way, you couldn’t move, listening closely as a man replied, “Yeah, I did. No clue how you cracked the first code.”

The scoff to follow was so clear you could picture the boy rolling his eyes perfectly. Your pulse thundered, drowning out every other noise, a chill passing through your blood once again. You could do this. You would do this. Luffy was right there.

“Hey.” You jerked back, wild eyes finding a man leering down at you, suspicion all over his face. One hand rested on the hilt of a sword, one of three. “What d’you want?”

Zoro’s brows met as he assessed the stranger staring blankly up at him, their jaw dropped as they searched for an answer. The stranger backed away like a frightened animal, cursed softly, and bolted deeper into the town.

“Okay…” Zoro tilted his head, wondering why he had the feeling he’d seen them before… Oh. Oh. Zoro’s eyes widened and he misstepped, nearly falling overboard as he raked a hand through his hair. “Shit—Hey! Hey, wait!”

Nami rushed to the edge of the ship in an instant, book abandoned on her chair. In seconds she zeroed in on the figure ducking into the crowds, her breath catching. It couldn’t be. It was too perfect. “That’s…”

Zoro barked a laugh. “Yeah!”

Her jaw set and she whirled on him in a flash, brows met. “You let them go?!”

“What—” He sputtered a response as she punched his bicep. “I didn’t—”

“What’s going on?”

Nami and Zoro froze, heads whipping back to face their captain as he hopped down from the helm, a pair of deer in headlights. Luffy’s head was tilted, his hat snug on his head, looking as chipper as ever. Nami tried to speak, yet her throat had run dry, only a squeak escaping.

Zoro expelled a sigh as gravity of the situation fully set in. Years and years he’d been listening to Luffy rabble on about first first-mate, his best friend, the one he’d lost to the marines. The true story of how you were separated was muddled and confusing, for sometimes it was you who’d left and sometimes it was him. You’d been as strange and elusive as the One Piece itself until the day you’re wanted poster was found, and Zoro realized you were a real person and not just some fictitious story.

You meant as much to Luffy as his dreams, and to Zoro, that was something sacred.

The words found him instantly, eyes locking with Luffy’s and voice laden with solemnity. “They’re here.”

Luffy’s face drained of color and Zoro nearly went to make sure he wouldn’t fall. “What?” he croaked.

“They’re here,” Nami gasped at last, a smile working its way up her face. Luffy turned his eyes to her, all wide and disbelieving. “We found them.”

The edges of Luffy’s lips quivered upward, gaze flickering between his friends. “I—I told you that innkeeper wasn’t lying!”

Nami rolled her eyes. “That’s what you’re focused on?”

Not even a beat went by when, “He did tell you so.”

“Yeah,” Luffy laughed. “You said we shouldn’t trust ‘em.”

She wasn’t in a fighting mood, not at a time like this, so she gritted her teeth and relented, “Fine, you told me so. Can we go? They ran off and who knows where they’ve gone.”

And just like that, Luffy snapped to attention, brows vaulted as his eyes darted to the crowded streets beyond the docks. “They ran away? Why?”

“Zoro probably scared them,” Nami grunted, swatting the broad shouldered man who huffed in reply.

“Whatever!”

The crew was rallied in ten minutes, their ranks spreading through the city in a matter of moments. Really, it was only a matter of time before they found you, at least Luffy told himself that.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Why did you run away?

જ⁀➴

The only reason you stopped sprinting was the driver who shoved you aside to help his lady into her awaiting carriage. Otherwise, you might have run from one end of the island to the other, just to be safe.

Teetering on one foot then the other, you spat a curse and hunched over, clutching at the collar of your shirt as you hurried into the awning of an alley. You muttered over and over, hitting the heel of your palm to your head. Slumping against the wall, you mocked yourself, “Oh, Tell Monkey D. Luffy I’m looking for him! Did you really think you’d be able to face him? You’re so stupid!”

And now, his friend had seen you. You’d have to escape the city somehow, sail far away, and start anew. A new name would have to be decided. Hopefully Absolute Fucking Idiot the First wasn’t too common.

Right after the foolishness was the shame—how could you come this far just to sprint as fast as you could from your him? The one you would travel every sea twice to find, if only you could find the nerve.

Clawing at your arms, inhaling deep, you allowed yourself a moment of peace (it didn’t work). Dark spots crept up your vision, wide eyes blinking fast, a cold sweat forming. You needed to sit down, preferably not in a damp alleyway.

You found your way to a bar, a scene you’d grown familiar with over the years. Though your ears and eyes were peeled, you couldn’t help the sneaking feeling that man was going to find you. You assured yourself it was a stupid, that you were good at hiding, that you’d made an art of it—but what if?

What if something inside wanted Luffy’s friend to find you? To drag you back? To give you no choice but to see Luffy and know him again? On that thought, you lifted your gaze and ordered a glass of juice, because you’d rather have a clear head when that crewmate of his didn’t stop searching.

Sipping at your drink, you sat a while in thought, chin rested on your palm as you swirled the juice around with a straw, creating little whirlpools. You nearly fell asleep like that when the bell over the bar’s door jingled. You peeked out the corner of your eye, seeing a pretty woman gazing around, looking for someone.

Her long dark hair draped around her shoulders as she crossed her arms and sighed, defeated. You turned back around and drank the rest of your juice, ignoring how familiar that woman looked. It was probably nothing; probably just another pirate off one of the many wanted posters you’d been presented with.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Every muscle in your body stiffened, all breathe lost at the mention of your name. You whipped around to find the woman a few inches away from you, her eyes now intently locked on yours.

You licked your lips as your panic swelled. A bounty hunter perhaps? “Who?”

“Y/N,” she repeated, undeterred. “The Deserter. Is that you?”

Leveling her with a glare, you stood and set a hand on your sword. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Taking in her blank stare, you sidestepped and made to weave around her, heart racing once again, when she grabbed your tricep in a grip stronger than she looked capable of. You jerked away, but she only tightened her hand.

“Luffy’s looked for you a long time,” she whispered, shooting icicles donw your spine. “You mean a lot to him just to run off when he finally finds you.”

Slowly, you met her gaze, jaw slack as you heaved in deep breaths. “He… what?” You tried to get away, weaker this time. “Who are you?”

A grin slid easily onto her face, giving her an air of danger. “So it is you.” She extended a hand to you even as she kept you in place with her other. “Nico Robin. I’ve heard a lot about you, Captain.”

Instantly, every fiber of your being crawled, a sneer taking your face. “I’m not a captain.”

“Not anymore. Luffy was so excited when he found out.” Robin released you, grinning when you stood frozen in place. “Could we talk?”

You’re not sure how Robin got you sitting at a shadowed booth near the back of the bar, but there you were, sitting across form her as she stirred her drink. You felt stiff all over, hands folded in your lap. “Listen, I’ve been looking for him too.”

“We know,” Robin said after a sip. “We got your messages.”

Your skim warmed. “Right, uhm. I was headed for your boat—ship—Sunny…” You gaped, grasping at words that practically sprinted away from you. Were the walls closing in? Was the air getting thinner? You snatched at the first feasable sentence. “But I couldn’t...”

When you lifted your gaze, you’re not sure what you expected. Maybe for her to be angry, disappointed, amused even. But instead, she looked curious, her head tilted slightly, her eyes scanning your face.

“Why?” she asked ever so simply.

You felt very small, looking anywhere but at Robin, fiddling with your thumbs. Deflect. Deflecting is good. “Is Luffy okay? Good, I mean. Is he good? I heard him. He sounded happy.”

She didn’t answer. She only sat in silence, a brow raised. You cracked your neck from side to side, too awkward for comfort, desperate worries boiling up your throat and—

“I think… I think, sometimes, he’s still better off without me.” Your leg bounced up and down. “Like, what if I see him, and I haven’t changed at all? I’ve always been a coward. What if that’s all I’ll ever be?”

Robin watched you very closely, her heart aching as a part of her regretted being so harsh with you before. She’d only been thinking of Luffy, but still. She leaned closer and set her arms on the table, trying to catch your flickering gaze. “Hey.” She held your stare firmly. “You deserted the marines. A coward wouldn’t do that.”

“But I ran away.”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, offering a slight smile. “You’re here with me.”

Robin never swayed in her direct attention to you, and though her gaze burned into you, something about its blaze was warm. Your mother had always been a blur on the forefront of your mind, killed in action some years after your birth. The one memory you had of her was of a scolding, when her eyes burned into you just like this.

“He looked for me?” you asked, tapering off.

Robin smiled. “Since he saw your poster a few months back. I suspect he’s been looking for clues even longer.”

“But… he’s gotten so… great. Everyone knows his name.”

“And yet…” Robin ensured she had your attention. “He never forgot yours.” She pushed aside her half-full glass and inched toward the end of the booth. “Why would he? To me, it seems like you’re the love of his life—maybe even above the sea.”

She left you dazed, not breathing nearly enough air, and you stammered as she stood to her feet. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the Sunny,” she shrugged, stretching. “Feel free to follow.”

You slipped to your feet as well. “You won’t make me?”

Now was when she looked amused. Robin’s lips quirked as she shook her head. “I can’t make you do anything. But, if you wanna prove you’re not a coward—”

She pivoted, hands in her pockets as she called over her shoulder, “—you know where to find him.”

And she was gone and quick as she appeared, out of the bar and down the street in a matter of seconds. Rattled, you leaned on the table and collected your wits from where they’d been scattered all over the ground.

You could have been standing there for three minutes or three hours—you couldn’t tell—but when you finally shook yourself back to reality you swiftly paid and set out into the street. You shielded your eyes and looked toward the sun, catching it hiding just behind the tops of the buildings on either side of the street.

A lot happened in those few moments of looking at the sun.

You were nine years old again, holding a training sword and having no idea what to do with it. Your father had shouted at you for not catching on quicker. Your mother’s grave was newly dug. You were only nine, yet expected to be so much more. You wanted—needed to be so much more.

A little boy watched on, wondering when you’d stop staring at the ground and notice him only a few feet away. After ten minutes, he grew bored and jumped off the log pile he’d been perched on.

“What’re you doing?” he asked, startling you.

You blinked widely at him. “Practicing.”

He grinned crookedly. “For a staring contest?”

“To be a marine,” you said forcefully as you thrust the little sword out pathetically. “Father says I have to be the best.”

The boy plopped down on the grass in front of you, pulling at pieces of it and sprinkling them back down. “Yeah, my grandpa says the same. Too bad for him though.”

You examined him carefully, letting your sword drop to your side as you slowly knelt beside him. “Why too bad?”

A wicked grin crossed his face. “I’m not gonna be a marine.”

“What will you be?” you asked when he didn’t go on.

“I dunno. Happy, I guess.”

“Can marines not be happy?”

“Not the ones I’ve met.”

He had you there. You puffed up your cheeks, took a quick look around, and leaned in very close to whisper, “I don’t wanna be a marine either. But that’s a secret!”

The boy nodded quickly, his smile so bright you felt warm under its shine.

You wandered down the street, head in the clouds, as a ghost of that little boy dragged you along with him, your hand trapped in his. A smaller you was stumbling to keep up, your strides too short.

“C’mon! Shanks is back!”

“Wait! Luffy, you’re too fast!”

He always let you catch up. Always. You blinked and the little boy wore a straw hat now and had a scar on his cheek. He was terrifying you, slingshotting himself across a forest. He was holding your hand and scowling up at your father, slapped across the face a moment later. He was telling you about his dreams, and how in every one, there was you.

“I’ll be captain of a mighty ship! And you’ll be my first mate, won’t you?”

And he was watching as you remained on shore, standing beside his livid grandfather, left to face the consequences on your own. Left behind of your own accord, feeling as if there was never any other choice.

“But there’s always a choice,” you whispered, and it hit you like a train; you’d been making all the wrong ones.

The street fell to the background as you lifted your gaze from the ground, finding the docks right there in front of you. Somewhere, the Thousand Sunny rested on the water, her masthead peering out as if watching for you. All you had to do was step beyond the sidewalk and onto those wooden platforms.

Feet itching to step both forward and back, you held your breath as your muscles locked up. Your world dug in its heels yet the sun continued to set, ignoring your hesitance, growing tired of waiting on you. As your fingers dug into your pants, you willed time itself to stop, just to let you think this through a bit longer.

You were denied.

“If you wanna prove you’re not a coward, you know where to find him.”

You expelled all your breath in an utterance: “I’m not a coward.”

Shaky legs carried you down the docks, past little sloops and grand vessels, around lumbering sailors and lanky merchants. The air chilled your bones as night grew closer, winds casting in from the sea. Salt air filled your lungs and pushed at your back, wrapping around you and shoving you forward still.

You walked and walked till you hit the edge of a gangway, falling forward and landing on your palms with a yelp. Heaving a sigh, you glanced up, finding the top of the ramp you’d seen earlier. No burly swordsman stood at the top. No one stood in your way.

But could you get out of your own?

Jaw set, you shoved to your feet and stomped up to the deck, steps faltering when you finally made it. How… lackluster. You released your stiff shoulders as you cast a look around, finding no reason for alarm or vigilance. No armageddon or catastrophe. Only a peaceful ship deck, drifting upon calm waves.

Not a soul stood on deck. A bucket hinted that someone had mopped recently, and a book lay closed atop a beach chair. Somewhere below deck was a shouting, but you couldn’t make it out. Whatever horrible fate you’d expected to face was nowhere to be found.

You were here, and all was well.

A small sound came from behind you, and it sounded like your name.

For once in your life you didn’t think before you whipped around, gut lurching. The boy was so close. He looked older, like you thought he would, but still very much the same. A new scar ran across his chest, revealed by the open shirt across his shoulders, but it was without a doubt Monkey D. Luffy.

His eyes pierced you, reality sinking in and crumbling you. After all the years and worries and waiting, he stood only a few feet away. The world didn’t break. The sky didn’t fall. You weren’t struck down by some mighty force of fate. Luffy didn’t look angry at all—in fact, he looked almost happy.

A small smile trembled on his lips, eyes so bright. “You came back.”

His name left your lips like a gasp as you stumbled for him on unsteady legs. You hadn’t even blinked and he was there, hands grabbing at your shoulders and running down your arms so delicately, as if you might turn to mist right then and there.

You reached for his hand and clutched it tightly, lacing together your fingers and marveling at how easily they fit—a pair unhindered by time. Your eyes flickered up from your interlocked hands to find his eyes. The softness of his features knocked the breath out of you.

You broke the bated moment, throwing your arms around him and pulling him close, your chin finding his shoulder. Luffy held you tightly with his eyes wide and his breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, ducking your chin to press your forehead to his collarbone. “I’m so—I won’t ever leave. Never. Please don’t—don’t—”

“I won’t,” Luffy murmured in your ear. His rubber arms extended to wrap around the two of you twice, for only once would never be enough. “I’m sorry.”

Just as tears began to break past your lash line Luffy took you by your arms and jerked you away from him, keeping you a breath away. “You never had to stay,” he practically hissed. “Why did you think you had to stay?”

He made it hard to think when he wiped the tears off your cheeks. All you could do was lean into his hands, stammering. “I just thought you’d be better—”

“No.” He shook his head. “No. No, why would you ever think that?”

You blinked, at a loss for an answer. “I dunno. I—I’m just fucked up like that. Self-destructive and… what-not…”

Luffy didn’t let you lower your head even as your cheeks warmed his hands. His fingertips traced the apples of your cheeks, memorizing the feel of your skin. He leaned closer, catching your gaze with a reassuring smile and stroke of your face. “I won’t leave you if you won’t leave me. Ever.”

Slowly, you nodded, a burn rising in your neck. “Deal.”

He pulled you into an impossibly tighter embrace, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your back. You hooked your hands around his shoulders and breathed ever so gently as his hand settled on your back, soothing the tension wrought throughout your body.

You shivered, nails slightly clawing at him. Close was not close enough. “I missed you.”

“Me too… Worm.” And the moment was broken as the most unflattering laugh left you. You pushed him off with a scoff, grinning wide as his brows vaulted innocently.

“Shut up! I don’t even read anymore!”

The smile quickly slid off his face, replaced by a face so cutely quizical. “Why not?”

“I just…” You thought of how to phrase it. “I don’t have anything to read, and if I did, I still don’t have the time.”

Just a beat later he had you by the hand, determined as he started to tug you along with him. “I’ve got something to show you.”

You were dragged below deck before you could say a word, led swiftly through the dimply lit hallways. His snickers and beaming smile flooded your head and left you helpless to ask anything at all, following after him as best you could. You passed by an open door that presumably led to a kitchen, briefly spying a crew of people gathered around a table as you zipped on by.

Luffy stumbled to a stop right outside a closed door. Chest heaving, you rose a brow. Luffy grinned, squeezed your hand, and pushed inside. It was dark, voidish shapes scattered around. Luffy left your side, rushing to a lantern and igniting it, casting the room in a warm glow. Jaw falling slack, you spun around, gaze flickering this way and that.

“A library,” Luffy said needlessly, at your shoulder once again. “Like I promised.”

On every wall a floor to ceiling shelf was littered with books tall and wide and thin. Your hand brushed the many spines, the deep warm colors and soft leather and canvas covers running under your fingertips. You pinched yourself next, heart hammering in your chest as you swiveled around, blinking quickly. “Luffy…”

It was one thing to hear that he’d never forgotten… but it was a very different thing to be standing in the tangible proof that Luffy never stopped believing.

It felt as if you were seeing him for the first time all over again, all doubts cast away and dashed out. He was the same Luffy, but he was stronger, mightier than the Luffy you’d known. More determined, if it was possible. As he stood there before you with a hope laden gaze, his dream felt real.

A shiver ran down your spine; Luffy would be the Pirate King, and by God, you’d be there to witness it.

Your fear had gone somewhere you couldn’t find nor feel it, and though it left a gap in your chest, that gap was quickly being filled by a ten-fold love for this boy.

You took his hand and held it in both of yours, peering into his eyes all glassy-like. “Thank you. For not giving up.”

He grinned, asking, “Was there ever any doubt?”

You’d get into that later, perhaps with a therapist should you pass one on the seas. For now, you scoffed a laugh and pulled him closer, a hand reaching for the scruff on his neck and carding through it. He leaned into you, nose brushing yours, as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You pursed your lips despite sighing at the soft touch. “You missed.”

“I did?” Luffy snickered as you rolled your eyes. He caught you off guard, darting in to kiss you slowly, drawing you in close.

“Join my crew,” he asked—stated, more like—holding so much hope in his eyes that you had to stop just to admire him. You relished in the fact that he was right inf ront of you, reaching to trace his face from his temple to his jaw, vowing to never take him for granted ever again.

The tethers and cords of your souls melded back together, as they should have remained from the very beginning. “Yes, Captain,” you replied, laughing at how his smile grew brighter.

He gripped your hands in both of his, tugging you along as he retreated for the door. “Wanna meet the others?”

You dug your heels into the floor, chuckling dryly. “You know, maybe we should hold off till tomorrow, yeah?”

Luffy paused, brows meeting, blinking slowly. “Okay, if that’s what you want…”

Purring your lips, you looked from each of his eyes to his nose to his forehead, sighing when defeat found you. “You really want me to meet them now?”

The squeeze he gave your hands, along with how the smile grew back on his face, was answer enough. Another sigh pulled at your chest as nodded. “Lead the way.”

By the end of the hour, the entire crew had come to a decision: you fit in perfectly, even if they had to (gently) jam your piece into the puzzle just to get you to converse with them. “They’re nervous,” Luffy not so silently whispered to the others, causing heat to crawl up your neck as you pinched your nose.

Gathered around on various modes of seating, you found yourself wrapped in an uncanny warmth despite the chill of the sea air. You shared a crate with Luffy, thigh to thigh, his hand playing with your fingers as he recounted story after story of his adventures with his friends.

A bittersweet smile sat on your lips, happy he was happy, wondering what could have been if you’d gone with him. Stop it. It’s in the past.

“What about you,” Robin interrupted Usopp’s next inevitable tangent, eyes zeroed in on you. “Surely you’ve got stories.”

All eyes shifted to you, and the warmth fled the moment instantly. You shook you head quickly. “Nah, nothing as interesting as yours.”

Luffy bumped your shoulder, suddenly excited. “Then tell us a boring one! I wanna know what you’ve been doing.”

Grinning softly, you stared at your feet, twindling the toes of your boots.”I don’t want to think about it.”

That surely sucked the happiness out of air, replacing it with an ominous vagueness. Luffy’s side pressed against yours, and with a sigh you quickly broke the awkward silence. “Not all of it was bad, though. I had Koby—Oh! He says hello, by the way. I did some good things too, or I hope I did. Like, this one time, my captain at the time got a call from a nearby village.”

“The call was from this girl, I think,” you recalled. “She pleaded for help. These pirates had come in and plundered everything… The call ended in a gunshot.”

You had the whole crew’s attention then, the silence almost eerie. You cleared your throat. “So we took maybe twenty marines and headed to the island. By then the pirates had hostages at the center of the town.” You pushed back your shoulders, imitating your superiors. “Surrender now, said the captain, and the leader of the pirates obviously laughed in his face. Captain Gozi—that’s his name—kept pressing in, acting so docile, even as the pirate captain pressed a gun to the head of this young boy. Gozi is a good man, but we had differing opinions on how to go about the situation.”

Nami interjected, “How did you want to solve it?”

You hesitated before admitting, “Well, I did wind up solving it, and Gozi wasn’t too happy about it.”

“What did you do?” asked Chopper, his ears flitting back against his head.

“The pirate captain kept on laughing, and when Gozi continued to try to negotiate, the pirate threw the boy down and was about to shoot—so I shot first. Right here.” You tapped your forehead. “That’s actually the reason I was promoted to captain. They made me out to be a hero.”

“Woah,” Usopp sighed.

Zoro tilted his head. “So you shoot and you use a sword?”

“I’m sort of a jack of all trades, master of none.”

Sanji shrugged. “Still better than master of one.”

Before you could say something quippy in return, a swift peck was left on your cheek, leaving a blooming warmth on your skin. You whipped around to blink wide eyed at Luffy and his lopsided smile.

“What?” you laughed.

He gently kicked your foot. “I just really love you.”

A series of coos erupted from Nami and Chopper, along with some snickers from the boys, and you sat growing increasingly flustered under the attention. You rammed your forehead into Luffy’s shoulder to hide your face, dragging a bright laugh out of him.

Minutes later, when the focus shifted away from you and toward the next elaborate tale to be strung by the Great Usopp, as he called himself, you leaned into Luffy and murmured softly. “I really love you too.”

High above, the stars shined and wove themselves through the night sky, no longer tiring themselves with transferring the love of a pair between the edges of the seas—they were together again, at long last, and the stars rested easy now that Fate had had its fun.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @khaleesihavilliard @gingernut1314 @lifesurfer2475 @shuujin @maybe-a-bi-witch @bi-narystars @luciledreamz @awenthealchemist @baku-boneless

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