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luminnara · 1 month

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Protector | Feyd-Rautha x reader

ANON REQUEST: your marriage to Feyd-Rautha is an arranged one, and your only task is to provide an heir. When you finally become pregnant, your new husband suddenly grows obsessed with you—but does he care about you, or is he simply protective of his progeny?

Warnings: pregnancy, labor, and related talk; canon typical violence

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Your marriage was one born out of duty, not love. You couldn’t even call it a marriage of convenience; there was nothing convenient about leaving your homeworld and traveling across an entire galaxy to marry someone you had never even met before. Yes, the Houses had agreed beforehand that you were to marry Feyd-Rautha, the Na-Baron of House Harkonnen, and immediately after the deal had been struck you had seen his face and read his writing, but you hadn’t met him until your wedding day.

You had chastised yourself for thinking it could be like the fairytales of Ancient Earth. You, a princess, your betrothed a handsome prince…in the stories of your childhood, he would have whisked you away, off to a great, shining palace full of magical wonders, and you would have lived happily ever after. Instead, your prince had proved to be disinterested in you, busying himself with his arena and his concubines, ignoring you most of the day. The Harkonnen fortress did not shine, nor did it hold any great wonders, and Giedi Prime felt far from magical, with its harsh black sun and polluted landscape.

After your vows, you had naively thought your wedding night would be full of romance. Perhaps you had been holding onto hope as a means to protect yourself, clinging to optimism to distract yourself from your harsh, sad reality. You had been all too eager to shed your dress and veil in Feyd-Rautha’s living quarters, though had not expected them to be ruined by his blade, and you had not expected him to greedily conquer you as if it were yet another battle in the arena. He had slept next to you that night, but had made it painfully obvious that he had no interest in holding you or even touching you, keeping far to his side of the bed while you remained far to yours. In the morning, you had awoken alone, and had realized that it was the beginning of a long and lonely road on your new planet.

Everyone expected an heir. That was the entire point of this marriage, a legitimate heir for the Harkonnen line. Anyone else could have done it—you were of fine breeding, yes, but any of the other Houses could have offered up a daughter to suffer at Feyd-Rautha’s side. Why it had to be you surely came down to the only things powerful men seemed to care about—money and spice. An allegiance with House Harkonnen protected your family, and your small share of spice harvesters on Arrakis added yet another drop into their vast bucket and one less smuggling operation to worry about. Your parents were happy. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen was happy.

And you were miserable.

Two months after your wedding, your monthly cycle continued as normal, and you were forced to shamefully inform the na-Baron. After an annoyed sound and a grimace, he bent you over the nearest table and took you for a second time, leaving you to clean yourself up and cry at your husband’s callousness. You didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to care. You supposed he already had everything he could possibly want; wealth, concubines, a throne to inherit…you brought nothing of real value to him, save for the ability to produce an heir.

Time passed, and it became clear that Feyd-Rautha would have to touch you more than once a month if he was to have any hope of fathering a child. You cursed yourself for your apparent inability to conceive—fertility had been one of your parents’ selling points when negotiating with the Baron, and now, you couldn’t even do the one thing that was expected of you. It brought you to tears every night, the stress of being reduced to this and yet still being unable to perform your task. It was maddening, though you knew you were hardly the first woman to find yourself in such a situation. You did worry, however, that you may have been the weakest.

One evening, as Feyd performed his husbandly duties, he noticed a tear slipping down your cheek and paused. You felt a rough hand cup the side of your face and opened your eyes to find your husband staring at you with dark eyes, his head tilted to suggest he was curious.

“Tears?” He asked in his raspy voice that was still so alien to you.

“My apologies, na-Baron,” you looked away from him.

“You are crying.”

You stifled an annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Do not worry yourself with me, husband.” You said.

“Tell me.”

This was perhaps the longest conversation you had had since marrying him, and part of you didn’t want it to end. You looked at him once more, finding him still watching you with that unwavering, predatory gaze, and another tear rolled down your cheek and onto his hand.

“I am sorry I have not given you a child.” You whispered.

“Then let me put one into you.”

His tone sent a chill down your spine, frightening and exciting you all at once. That night, Feyd-Rautha did not let you sleep, shocking you with his determination. It was simply because the sooner you conceived, the sooner he could return to his own concerns, you reasoned.

Sure enough, your period did not arrive when expected, nor did the next. A medical test confirmed what you already knew—you were pregnant, with Feyd-Rautha’s child. A Harkonnen child, who would grow up to be just as ruthless and savage as its father, you thought.

Upon receiving the positive result, you immediately set off to tell the na-Baron. He should not be made to wait; you wanted him to know that the entire point of your union was finally achieved, and that you could both go back to ignoring each other as usual. As you walked, you had the worrying thought that he may not even keep you alive after the delivery.

“Na-Baron,” you addressed him upon finding him in his armory.

He looked up from the blade he was sharpening. “Wife.”

“I bring news,” you said, folding your hands in front of yourself.

“Then tell me, before I grow bored of waiting.” He returned to the hunting knife, looking away from you once more.

“I am with child.”

You watched as Feyd-Rautha paused, tilting his head to look at you. “My child?”

“Yes. Who else could it possibly belong to?” You asked, exasperated. “The physicians confirmed it just now. I wanted you to be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, looking back at the knife in his hand as he thought. “I see.”

Whatever hopes you had once had for him to suddenly flip his entire personality at the news were quickly dashed by his lack of emotion. You left him there, a hand over your mouth as you tried not to cry, returning to your bed to be alone once more.

-0-

In those earlier days of pregnancy, you were often ill, sprinting from bed to the wash basin nearly every day to be sick. Usually, you were alone; Feyd-Rautha rose early, spending his mornings training and sometimes killing his instructors. Whenever that happened, he would come back, wearing blood and a grin on his face as if he had just won some great contest.

Today, however, he was enjoying a rare occasion of sleeping in. He had begun spending his nights in the center of the bed, crowding you as you attempted to stay away from him. One morning you had even woken up to find his arm throne over you, his body closer than ever. Now, he was sleeping, and you would have been content to let him remain there were you not busy launching yourself over him as you ran to the adjoining wash room.

You missed the way your husband sat up, eyes wide and frenzied as he pulled a dagger from beneath the pillows. When he found the room to be empty and free of danger, he grew confused…until he heard your retching in the next room, and slipped out of bed.

“Wife?” He asked from the doorway.

“What?” You groaned, leaning your cheek on the cool basin.

“…are you alright?”

You sighed. “No, na-Baron, I am not. I mean…I am, I just…”

“You are sick,” he pointed out.

It took every bit of willpower you possessed to swallow down the part of you that desperately wanted to throttle him. “Yes. I am. It’s the pregnancy, the pills from the doctors haven’t been working—“

“This has happened before?” He interrupted.

“Most days, yes,” you felt another wave of nausea coming over you and hunched your shoulders, preparing for the worst.

You never expected to feel a cool hand brushing your hair away from your forehead, nor the feeling of your husband’s chest against your back as he held you.

“Harkonnen women don’t have this problem,” he commented as he held your hair.

It was the least helpful statement he possibly could have made as you vomited once more, and yet it was also quite possibly the best.

“If Harkonnen women have no hair, then what do you pull?” You asked wryly, too ill and too exhausted to hold yourself back.

Feyd-Rautha stared you, unblinking, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “If you are feeling brave, perhaps I will show you one day.”

You let out a laugh as the nausea ebbed, leaning back against him. “Perhaps one day I will finally stop seeing my lunch so many times, and then you can regale me.”

-0-

Your sickness faded as your pregnancy progressed, thankfully, but Feyd-Rautha’s company did not. By the time you were beginning to truly show, he was refusing to leave you alone, demanding your presence wherever he went. As a result, you sat in on many a sparring session, and he made up his mind to abandon the arena until after the baby was born. His sudden change in attitude was shocking; he had never paid so much attention to anything before, and now, his hands were constantly on you.

“I must keep you safe,” he had said when you first asked about it, and had acted as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

You assumed he was protective due to the baby, the precious new heir to the Harkonnen throne. As its vessel, you were afforded some luxuries, but you fully expected that to change after the birth. For now, though, you were content to receive any and all attention your husband saw fit to pay you.

“That went well,” you said one day after the doctor examined you.

“He should not have touched you like that.” Feyd-Rautha growled.

“What do you mean? He’s a doctor,” you laughed, somewhat nervously.

“I did not like it.” His voice was tense.

“I could tell.” You grumbled, dropping your happy façade. He had nearly chased the doctor out of the room, hunting knife in hand. “Examinations are unavoidable, I’m afraid.”

“No more.”

“But—“

“No more strangers touching you.”

"Doctors help," you protested. "Don't you want your child to be healthy?"

At that, Feyd paused in thought. "...You may have a Harkonnen midwife."

"Because a Harkonnen doctor is too much?" You asked dryly.

He glared at you briefly before looking away towards the door. "Come."

You audibly groaned, one hand on your lower back. "Na-Baron, I am tired. I wish to retire to bed."

He looked back at you, and you caught an expression of distress on his face. "I need to train."

"You train every day."

"Yes." he said it as if it were obvious, but something in his tone suggested more; he made it sound urgent, as if it were something he had to do daily, and missing a single session would be disastrous. "Come."

You heaved a sigh and followed him.

-0-

In the months that followed, your unborn child grew, as did your body. You found yourself becoming large and bloated, your gait slowing as your flexibility waned. New maternity gowns were brought to you, an interesting mix of styles--the flowing, heavy garments of your homeworld meeting the simple, stark aesthetics of Giedi Prime. You found them strange, but at that point, you really didn't care; you would have walked around naked if no one would have stopped you. You spent your days feeling uncomfortable and awkward, with swollen feet and a sore lumbar region. Harkonnen servants brought whatever you needed, and your husband ensured--no, demanded--that all of your food be tasted by someone else while you watched so that there could be no chance of poison passing between your lips.

You wondered if this was simply some aspect of Harkonnen culture that the other Houses weren't aware of or never cared to talk about. Perhaps on a planet as harsh and toxic as Giedi Prime, infertility and infant mortality were more commonplace than the rest of the known universe. Perhaps this possessiveness was common among Harkonnen men, if conception was more difficult for their people.

Whether your theory was correct or not, Feyd-Rautha had certainly become even more attached to you. Not a morning went by when he wasn’t there next to you in bed, and as of late, he had begun waking you up by reminding you exactly how you had ended up like this in the first place. Before your pregnancy, he had acted as though bedding you were a boorish duty he had no choice but to perform; now that you were heavy with child, however, he was more than interested in you physically, constantly touching you with those rough, murderous hands.

You enjoyed the attention, and you enjoyed the way he squeezed and massaged you with surprising gentleness. He didn’t want to break you, you supposed, not right now; after the child arrived, perhaps, but not now. That was a grim thought, and one you had often—what was to come of your after the birth? Would Feyd-Rautha want more children, in case this one died some horrible, brutal, Harkonnen death? Or would you be disposed of, no longer needed after his legacy was secured?

You tried not to dwell on it.

One morning, you roused on your own, without Feyd’s interference. Wondering if he was even still there, you reached out to the side, feeling for him—and you nearly jumped when you felt bare flesh beneath your hand. When you rolled onto your back with considerable effort and turned your head to the side, you saw that your husband was there, still sleeping, and that what you had felt was his exposed chest.

You took the moment to look at him, really look at him. He seemed so peaceful like this, when he wasn’t fighting and killing. You had seen him take lives so quickly that his victims hadn’t even known they had died, and you had wondered how someone could be so dismissive of those around them. The first time you had watched your husband slit a throat, you had nearly vomited, and he had found your revulsion amusing; the most recent, however, you had simply sighed and looked away. You were desensitized, it seemed, just like he was, and now, you slept just as easily after watching him commit horrendous acts of violence as he did now.

Feyd-Rautha was handsome as far as Harkonnens went. His skin was smooth like marble, free of the scars and bruises one might expect to see on a warrior. His face, usually so harsh during the waking hours, was relaxed now, and you realized he was beautiful. You couldn’t keep yourself from brushing your fingers over his lips and feeling how surprisingly soft they were, though in a way, this felt wrong. Feyd-Rautha didn’t strike you as the kind of person who would allow this sort of touch, but when would you have this opportunity again? He always rose first in the morning and slept last at night. You never caught him with his guard down, and you kept your hands to yourself during the day. This was the only time you could marvel at him like this.

As your fingers ghosted across his cheek, he twitched, and you froze. Then, to your horror, an eye cracked open, and you knew that he had been awake all along.

When you moved to pull away, he caught your wrist, then covered your hand in his. He held your gaze for several long, strange moments, and you realized that he hadn’t simply been awake—he had been allowing you to touch his face, to explore him in a way you had never been brave enough to before. It felt like a gift, in a way. In his way.

“I apologize,” you breathed, unable to look away from him.

“Why?” He asked, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“I should not have touched you without permission.”

“I am your husband,” he said. “And you are carrying my child. You do not need permission to touch me.”

Somehow, you knew his words carried a deeper meaning. You knew you were one of, if not the only, one on all of Giedi Prime whom he had said those words to. And for the first time since marrying him, you felt that Feyd-Rautha was truly your husband.

-0-

He was with you when the labor began.

You had been lounging in your shared chambers, enduring the final week of your pregnancy. It felt bittersweet, in a way; you had no way of knowing then if you would ever be experiencing this again, and a part of you desperately wanted to hold onto it while the rest was fed up with feeling massive and uncomfortable every day.

Feyd-Rautha had been agitated all morning. It was as if he had known something was about to happen, and he had spent his time barely containing himself as he paced and sharpened knives, attempting to keep to himself and leave you alone and doing a piss poor job of it. You had been ready to chase him out of the room—or at least attempt to—when you felt your waters go and the panic set in.

That had been three hours ago.

Now, you were in your bed, and a shockingly-diligent Harkonnen na-Baron had yet to leave your side. He had briefly stepped into the corridor to bellow at the nearest passerby and your midwife had arrived very quickly as a result, but after that, he had sat down next to you and refused to go anywhere else.

“Is it agony?” He asked as you stood.

You shot him a glare. “I would not wish this sensation on even you.”

He was taken aback by your tone, impressed, even, by the venom in it.

“A short walk about the room may help,” the midwife suggested. “I will assist—“

“No.” Feyd-Rautha was up and at your side in an instant, taking your elbow. “I will.”

You didn’t care who did what, you just wanted it to be over and done with. The labor was progressing quickly, the midwife assured after another check once you were back in bed, and soon, you were wailing and grunting, your face was sweaty, and the na-Baron was staring in awe. You were focused on the task set before you, one hand on Feyd’s arm as you pushed with all your might, and so you could not see the way your husband was looking at you.

When your son was born and crying at the top of his tiny lungs, Feyd-Rautha cut the umbilical cord with a hunting knife and then he stared. It seemed that the entire time, he was incapable of looking away, his eyes glued to either you or the new Harkonnen heir. You supposed he had been too enthralled to order the midwife out of the room, and the woman was smart enough not to push her luck—she did the necessary examinations as quickly as she could, then handed the baby off to you, busying herself with cleaning what looked like a murder scene and gathering the afterbirth when it came. Then, satisfied with her work and the health of the child, she left, and you were alone with your husband and son.

You cradled the infant, tucking him against your breast and pulling the edge of your robe over him in an attempt to keep him warm. He was born pale, like his father, but with a soft layer of hair that made you wonder how much he might grow to look like you. The midwife had said it before she slipped out, and you had to agree—he was beautiful, and you smiled down at him.

A thud startled you and you turned to see that Feyd-Rautha had fallen to his knees at your bedside, looking at you with a reverence you had never seen in anyone before.

“Feyd?” You asked.

He looked between you and your son, and you saw then that something had changed within him over those many months. Gone was the dismissive, uncaring husband you had wed; this Feyd-Rautha had grown to become a protector, one who would fight until his muscles tore from his bones, who would bleed himself dry for you.

“You are stronger than I knew,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek much the way you had with him all those nights ago.

You felt a lump in your throat. “Come here. Join us.”

He did.

Feyd-Rautha sat with you there, in your bed, the very bed your first child was born in. He watched as your son woke from his peaceful, short nap, and he was privy to the private, intimate moment of his first feeding. He held the baby, staring at him in wonder and what may have been a touch of fear, supporting the both of you as he helped you to the bathing room when you were well enough to stand.

“A son,” he said, watching the baby sleep that night.

“Yes.” You mumbled, exhausted and nearly asleep as well. “Are you pleased, husband?”

“I would have been just as pleased with a daughter.”

That surprised you, and you glanced over your shoulder to see him propped up on an elbow, watching your son as he slept in his simple Harkonnen manger. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said, never once taking his eyes off the child. “I can teach a daughter to fight just as well.” Finally, he looked down at you. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected.” You sighed.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am,” you answered him, sleep already dragging you down.

You barely felt his lips as he pressed a kiss to your temple, and you barely heard his voice as he said,

“I am as well.”

-0-

You had expected Feyd-Rautha to grow cold in the weeks following your son’s birth, but he never had. He was attentive, caring for you in a way that suggested he felt some primal urge to drag back great beasts for dinner every night but modern living prohibited that.

Now, you watched as he stood before one of the massive windows within the Harkonnen palace. It was evening on Giedi Prime, but the black sun casted no shadows over the landscape. Feyd-Rautha held your son, whispering to him, and as you watched, you wished the moment could stretch on forever.

“Husband,” you said, approaching him.

“Wife,” he greeted you, turning.

“On your evening walk together, I see.”

He chuckled. “I am showing him everything he will one day rule over.”

“I am surprised you haven’t taken him into battle with you yet,” you said sarcastically.

“I will strap him to my chest so that he might taste the blood of House Atreides,” he said with a grin.

“The youngest Harkonnen warrior the world has ever seen.” You smiled, leaning in to check on what appeared to be a perfectly happy, albeit possibile bloodthirsty, baby.

“What are you doing walking alone?” Feyd-Rautha asked.

“Looking for you.”

“And now that you have found me, what do you intend to do?”

You leaned into your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. “Drop the baby off with the wet nurse, seduce you, take you to bed and then have my way with you.”

“You have my attention.”

“I thought you might be interested in trying for a girl this time…”

In a blink, he had spun you around and was dragging you down the corridor, and once the baby was safely tucked in with a nursemaid watching over him, you did indeed have your way with your husband. And again. And again. And you realized, as you retired to bed that night, that you were truly glad to have been arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha, heir to the Harkonnen throne and father of your children.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #TW pregnancy #TW labor and delivery #dune x reader

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cinnamonest · 3 months

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Beleaguer

"Failed escape attempt" yandere series - Diluc

WARNINGS: dark content, fem reader, noncon, captivity, belting/spanking, manhandling, humiliation, darling has a somewhat defined personality, hair pulling, implied forced impregnation at the end, forced fem/housewifization + thinly veiled if not wholly unveiled misogyny, swearing, there's a lot going on here and none of it is holy

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‘Fill cap to line. Causes intense drowsiness and loss of motor function within 5-10 minutes. Soluble. Do not operate heavy machinery if taken within the last 24 hours.’

You blinked a few times, focusing your vision. Your mind could be deceiving you, after all. But when you looked again, the vial in your hand read the same words as it did moments before.

You'd merely gone to set the oil back into the cabinet when the force of pushing one knocked over another further within, coming across the bottle in the very back in the process of fixing the mishap.

You grasped it firmly in your hand, merely blinking in disbelief as you read over the words again and again.

“Oh my God.”

You spoke aloud to yourself, standing alone in the spacious kitchen, the words slipping out on their own in a low whisper.

Daily life as you now lived it brought a sort of mind-numbing stillness to it. Life was repetitive and uneventful. You woke at the same time, performed the same mindless tasks, the same chores, the same interactions. You said hello and good morning to the same maids every morning (you'd lost the willpower to continue being cold to the staff a long time ago), you came down and went through the same routine, wore the same clothes, had the same conversations.

The only thing that ever changed was a few different foods on rotation from week to week and the names and faces of the strangers that came in and out of the lower rooms - although they were all one and the same to you, their attitudes and the way they treated you and looked at you was as though each was the same individual with merely a different face.

And consequently, you'd reached a state of numbness, you went through the tasks mechanically, without thinking, perhaps intentionally shutting down your mind to make acceptance easier. Disconnected, unreal, everything melted together and the days and the people were all one long continuous sequence of occurrences.

It was easier that way. Resisting brought anger, frustration, tears, misery. Allowing the numbness to take over allowed some escape from the reality itself.

Which was likely why reading the words themselves felt like a shockwave through your body, as if suddenly the world regained its colors, you could feel your heart beating and your lungs fill with air. Like a sharp and sudden awakening from an endless, empty, dreamless sleep.

You felt a sudden wave of shame immediately following the shock, chastising yourself for even allowing that numbness to take over, like you might have felt angry with yourself in the past for oversleeping or spacing out and missing something important.

You recognized the handwritten label stuck to the bottle, having gone to the same place for something or another in the past — the alchemist’s lab in the city. That essentially meant it had to be highly effective.

Not only that — the fact that the seal was broken and about a third of the liquid gone, would mean it was very likely the same substance used on you more than once. If so, “drowsiness” was an understatement — it would knock you out cold for hours at a time.

You heard yourself breathing in ragged, quick breaths, you stumbled and steadied yourself against the counter, looking up and around you, suddenly aware of the world around you, everything felt real. The emotions came flooding back — humiliation, resentment, fury.

This was a way out. A miracle.

In your sudden awakening, your mind, sprung back to function, as if the wheels were once again turning, took only a mere minute to formulate a plan. It wasn't really difficult at all — in fact, there was perhaps not a single moment more perfect for you to have stumbled across this opportunity. You were, after all, just about to fill glasses, the final step in your meal preparation.

You set the vial down and ran over to the other cabinet — wiping your hands on your apron to rid them of any residue from cooking — and opened it up, swiping a bottle of juice and returning to the center of the kitchen. The corners of your mouth pulled upwards beyond your control into a grin as you went about the process.

Have a taste of your own medicine, bastard.

You smirked even wider, practically beaming as you popped a tablet out of the packaging, dropping it into one of the glasses. It made a fizzing sound as it grew smaller and smaller, and you watched with wide eyes as it disappeared. Just to be certain, you bent your head down and gave it a sniff, but there was no distinguishable smell or color that would give it away.

And you were certain that, if this was in fact the same drug that you'd consumed, there was nothing about it that tasted unusual.

And once it was complete, for yet another moment you merely stood, staring, grinning and trembling, processing this sudden turn of events. It would be easy, right? The sun was already about to set, the staff were no longer in the fields except for a few security guards that patrolled here or there. It would be easy to spot and avoid them.

You just had to get Diluc to drink this, wait for him to pass out, and run, right? Sure, traversing the road barefoot might be difficult, but that would probably be the extent of your hardships, provided you could get out.

Get out, get on the road, make a straight shot for Mondstadt, go straight to the knights and tell them everything that had happened to you. Maybe you could steal one of the horses they kept for plowing to make your getaway. Your chest burned at the thought of getting your revenge — no, your justice. You deserved this, you deserved freedom — and he deserved whatever consequences would come his way.

…No. You realized, albeit with frustration, that getting revenge wasn't really an option. He had power and money, and you knew all too well how good such people were at evading consequences.

You would just have to run. Staying in Mondstadt certainly wasn't an option. You'd just go… somewhere. Specifics didn't matter as long as you got away from here.

And sure, you'd made a few attempts to get out before, quickly foiled and harshly punished. But you'd never had an advantage like this before. He couldn't chase you down if he was out cold.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It would all be over soon.

You finally managed to wipe the mischievous grin off your face. You knew you couldn't afford risking him getting suspicious if you were too outwardly giddy. Instead, you tried to maintain only a small smile, the numb, dopey smile you'd trained yourself to wear. Nonetheless, you shook your head and settled the plates and glasses onto a tray, carrying them out to the little table that sat tucked away in an alcove in the hallway connecting the main hall to the kitchen. He preferred to eat here when it was just the two of you, with plain cups and plates, rather than the massive dining room with all its ornate tableware — that was only for formal occasions, you'd discovered, whereas this was out of sight from the constantly-bustling staff.

You set the food and drink out — careful to be mindful of which cup was which — then stood, returned the tray to the kitchen, then the vial to the cabinet and, with a spring in your step, turned and made your way down the hall.

You were careful to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. Straightened your posture, ran your hands down the front of the dress to smooth it out.

You began the short journey from the kitchen to the study, footsteps light and soft, short steps that slowed your pace. No heavy steps that thumped against the hardwood, no letting your weight fall onto each foot all at once, and no slouching. Nor any other such improper, inappropriate behaviors.

It really was a beautiful building, though, so you thought to yourself as you glanced up at the ornate windows. You'd been here before, on your own volition, back long ago, of your own volition. You'd walked by it plenty of times, and once or twice had taken a moment to stroll around the vineyard, figuring it would do no harm, as you were never noticed.

Now, it was a sort of beautiful prison, such an elegant architecture for such a suffocating place.

Upon reaching one particular door, you raised a hand up and gave a gentle knock. A voice came from behind the door.

"Mm?"

You took another deep breath, calming yourself down, trying to mentally switch the ‘on’ button for your sweet obedient wife act you hoped you had mastered well enough by now, complete with an upward shift in octave and sing-song-y touch to your voice. "It's me."

You heard a chair scoot backwards, heavy footsteps, and the door opened. "...Hey." A hand rested on your head. "Food ready?"

"Yes sir." You gave a soft smile.

"That's good... thanks." He patted your head, and seemed to stifle a yawn. His voice was drained, nearly a mumble.

"Are you ok?" You tried your best to make your voice sound soft and concerned, furrowing your eyebrows in a way you hoped looked worried, pushing your lower lip out a bit.

"Just tired. Lots of work today. I'll just eat and then we'll go to sleep."

Oh yes, you will.

Fighting the urge to grin, you slowly made your way back together down the hall — remembering to keep your footsteps light, forcing a sort of soft, feminine gracefulness to your manner of walking, lest you be reminded to do so.

Every little second, every step, every word was practiced and poised. Now, having reawakened to your resentment and defiance, just acting it out made you feel sick.

There was, nonetheless, a residual sense of dread, a nagging pit in your stomach that went deeper than the surface-level nervousness.

There was a major disadvantage — this would not be the first time you tried something like this. Granted, not with this particular substance, but you had once managed to make him horribly sick for well over a day with rat poison, and once again with liquid pesticide meant for the vineyard. Both incidents were purely for the purpose of amusement and spite, which you’d reveled in despite the unfortunate consequences you’d suffered.

The first time, he'd been totally unsuspecting, and the second time he'd been too distracted and busy to notice anything even if you had let something slip. You could curse yourself now in hindsight — if you hadn't committed those first two offenses out of sheer spite, you'd be able to pull this off much more easily. But now, he’d learned you would do something like that, and if the slightest thing was wrong in the taste or appearance of it, he'd get suspicious immediately. You weren't even sure if a single sip was enough to do anything, considering how diluted the substance now was. You’d just have to hope he’d drink the whole thing.

You did your best to make idle conversation as you walked, talking about whatever you did that day, as if it was ever any different from any other day. Your nerves felt electrified, your body tense and stiff as you sat back down and took a bite of this and that, trying to contain your anticipation, trying to look at him out of the corner of your eye rather than directly. He didn't say much, but that wasn't abnormal, only slowly taking in bites of this and that. It felt like an eternity of waiting.

Come on, get thirsty, drink it...

Finally, his hand reached out to the juice. You felt your breath hitch.

Come on, come on!

You stopped moving, anxiously waiting for him to drink.

So caught up in your excitement that you didn't realize you were letting it show on your face, that you had ceased your own motions to stop and stare intently.

It took him stopping and looking up at you with confusion in his expression, for you to feel a spike of panic as you realized the mistake.

"...Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Hm?" You immediately tried to correct the behavior, going back to cutting at something on your plate with a smile, hoping the way you stiffened wasn't visible. "Sorry, I just… I spaced out a second, what did you say?"

He was silent for a moment.

"...Nothing."

Ok. Good save.

You popped a bite of food into your mouth. Besides, despite being an overall intelligent man, he had a tendency to be rather dense sometimes, surely he wouldn't pick up on something like that.

You were fine for now— what is he doing.

You noticed an odd look spread across his features, eyebrows furrowed a bit, as if thinking something through.

Then, he stood up, glass in one hand, and grabbed yours with the other. He swapped your drinks and sat back down, looking up at you with a neutral, cold stare.

Oh.

His gaze didn't falter. He set his elbows on the table, and rested his head on interlocked fingers. "Is there a problem?"

Oh no.

"N-no, I was just... why did you...?" You felt your body go cold, and try as you might not to, you knew panic must be showing on your face.

"It's the same thing, isn't it? So it's fine."

You couldn't miss the suspicious tone to his voice even if you'd tried to ignore it.

"...Right." You smiled, but you felt your lips tremble a bit. You could save this, for now, even if it didn't work out in your favor. You looked at the food, but you could still feel his gaze on you, so, hoping to pacify his suspicion, you brought the cup up to your mouth and tilted it as if you were drinking, closing your upper lip to the glass so that none of the juice actually got in your mouth. Then, after a moment, you pulled it away, swallowing to further the deceit.

He seemed satisfied by the action — right? It looked like he bought it, right? — and looked back down, resuming eating. There was a tense, awkward silence, so you attempted to fill in the empty space.

"D-did you, um, do anything fun today?"

"I wouldn't call anything I do 'fun,'" he muttered. "Just met with a bunch of people, one after the other... there's lots of business partnership contract renewals around this time of year, so they have to come here for that process."

"Mhm." You couldn't care less, but feigned interest. You knew Diluc well by this point, and knew how to appeal to the things that would soothe him the most. One of the most important factors in that was listening to whatever it was he had to say, no matter how boring (which, really, most things having to do with his work were). He liked to feel listened to, didn't have anyone else to go to, you supposed. Lots of stress, high expectations, and no solid support figure probably was the root of his psychological issues. — said issues were something you had spent a lot of time contemplating and trying to figure out in your spare time, given their now inherent effect on your own life.

But you presumed that most men without stress and some kind of serious issues generally did not go around abducting women they barely knew and forcing them to live in their homes. At least, not to your knowledge.

You had often wondered why someone like him wouldn't choose someone who was already that ideal, someone who already exemplified those traits… but as time went by you began to understand that that simply wasn't good enough.

That there was an allure to someone like you, to someone like him. That your very existence as you were on your own upset the man — you'd noticed that within the first few minutes of interacting with him, back when you first started coming to that damn bar you now wish you’d never set foot in. The displeased expression and dismissive tone at your vulgarity and defiance and aggression. You'd thought, back then, that the man disliked you —and he did, in a way.

But for someone who seemed to have such distaste for you, he sure did fail to ever leave you alone. There was some impulsive need to say something to you at some point in each encounter, as if he couldn't allow you to go about your night without at least one look of disdain or passive-aggressive comment. The only thing that seemed more irksome to him than your existence, was the fact that you always bit back, always said something in return, and thus your interactions had only fueled your and his disdain for each other further and further.

The mistake you'd made in your original assessment of him, that you’d slowly come to understand with time, was that he was not a person who simply avoided things he disliked, like most people — he was hellbent on fixing whatever irked him, remediating whatever was perceived as wrong.

You had not been an exception.

Now in the present, as you tried to focus on maintaining your calm act, he kept on talking about this or that. Some people who came by today, some guy who keeps trying to get him to sign some agreement he doesn't want to, this isn't a particularly good crop this season, but he's seen worse, blah blah, nothing you cared about.

You continued eating, which soon turned out to be a mistake — your throat was dry, food wasn't helping, and you desperately wanted something to drink, but you could do nothing but raise your glass up and pretend you were actually drinking your juice. You thought, for a moment, he seemed to look at the glass, and fear he realized the amount wasn't going down ran through your mind, but you tried to calm yourself. If you started imagining things in your paranoia, you'd only increase the chance of him noticing your panic.

There was obvious suspicion a few minutes ago, sure, but there had been plenty of times he had falsely suspected you of things in the past, and was generally willing to believe you once presented with contrary evidence, even once becoming, albeit reluctantly, apologetic when realizing you'd done nothing wrong.

Finally, although you were suppressing the urge to cough at the dry scratchiness of your throat, you finished eating, and, like you knew you were supposed to, stood with a forced little smile and grabbed your plate, extending a hand for him to give you his as well, and took them both back to the larger kitchen area through the open doorway, barely hearing his ‘thanks’ as you scurried off.

You set the plates down, immediately turning on a faucet and cupping water in your hand, before drinking it down to soothe your throat.

Alright, so things didn't turn out quite like you were hoping, but that was ok. There was plenty of the substance left. Just wait a few days, do it again, and control yourself better next time so as not to strike any suspicion. Easy.

The maids would take care of washing plates off, but you needed to dispose of the remainder of your drugging attempt just in case. There was only droplets of juice left in his, and, of course, yours was full. You washed his — well, originally yours — out first, running some water over it, thinking it would be odd if one was washed out and not the other, and you didn’t want to take any chances.

You heard him walk into the kitchen behind you, and unease creeped back up into your chest. But that wasn’t so bad, right? He’d think you were trying to help the staff out, and he’d think that was good, wouldn’t he?

You hummed a bit, and set his glass upside down in its proper place, reaching out to yours and preparing to pour it down the sink drain, when his hand latched around your wrist. You went stiff.

"You should finish it."

Any confidence that you had successfully eased his suspicions might as well have been poured down the drain as well.

"...Hm?" You forced a smile, albeit twitching. “O-oh, I just didn't... finish all of..." You were painfully aware that your voice trembled, and, in a last effort to appear like you weren't nervous, forced yourself to turn your head and look at him.

"You didn't drink it at all." His face was flat and cold, eyes ever so slightly narrowed, but his voice was dark, quiet, knowing. "It's good for you. Don't let it go to waste."

You couldn't argue that you didn't like it — it was the same thing you drank every single night. Nor could you confess why you didn't want to do so. Of course, drinking it was technically an option. You'd just pass out and be forced to deal with the consequences once you woke up — although the cynical part of your mind thought maybe passing out wouldn't be too bad right about now.

Now, the expression on his face grew darker, fully obvious as a look of accusation, and the tone that followed matched.

“Unless there's something wrong with it.”

Your mind scrambled, unable to think of a way out. Your smile widened and twitched, and your body shivered, trying and failing to force a look of happiness, but the crushing feeling of defeat was beginning to settle in. "I... ah, hah, I, um..."

His expression and voice didn't waver, in contrast to your cowering. Looking down on you with something like frustration, perhaps disappointment. There was the slightest edge of a quietness in it, as he continued, "If there is, then tell me."

The last two words came out firm. A command.

"I... I..." You swallowed, visibly shaking, no longer able to hide the fear on your features. You bit your lower lip, and, feeling your eyes burn, your resolve broke.

You hung your head, and replied in a quiet voice, wavering on the verge of tears.

"...I'm sorry."

He released your hand, but snatched the glass out from it, immediately dumping the mixture down the sink. You reached up, wiping away the watering in your eyes that were threatening to become tears.

"Where is it?"

You stiffened at the firmness in his voice. You tried your best to look up, questioning in a pathetic whimper. "...Hm?"

"The— I don't know, whatever you put in there. Where is it?" There was a rising frustration in his tone.

You hadn't thought about that part. Of course, how could you not realize he'd do that if he found out? There wouldn't be another opportunity to try again. That realization left a sting of despair in your chest, you chastised yourself for not saving a smaller portion hidden away. If you'd been smart, you would have prepared for this possible outcome, and saved some so that he would think he'd taken it all. Dammit.

For a moment, you were silent.

"Tell me."

You tensed up, biting your lip.

You were afraid, but it also made you angry. The commanding, authoritative tone, as if he owned you, as if he had any right to tell you what to do. There was a time where you would have responded to anyone who spoke in such a way to you with equal aggression, if not outright violence. Your pride swelled in your chest, digging its heels in at the thought of being obedient, sickened by the notion of giving in.

At your hesitation, he said your name.

It was a low tone, a clear warning in response to your defiant silence. You jolted, and scurried over to the other side of the kitchen, trying to bite your lip, hands trembling as you opened the cabinet and pulled out the container and turned around, hanging your head and standing stiff with fear and humiliation as he took it from your hand and read the front of the package.

He sighed, but as he did, some of the tension seemed to roll off his frame. "...Oh. That." He caught the confused expression you had at those words, and elaborated. "I thought it would be—” he cut off and took another heavy breath, whether out of exasperation or relief or both, you weren't sure. “I thought you were trying to poison me again… or kill me.”

"No," you shook your head rapidly. “I wouldn't… do that…” Granted, you may have very well have chosen take the chance if it was an option, but such honesty would be ill-advised when your current objective was to deescalate the situation you'd landed yourself in, and hopefully quell any further anger before it emerged.

Yes, this was practical, you told yourself — and more importantly, told your wounded sense of pride. You were just being practical, strategic.

Besides, the sedative was the only thing you had available, anyway… well, had had available, since it was now certainly going to be taken from you.

You stood perfectly still as he moved, pulling a key out of his pocket, mumbling something about how he had no idea how that even got there, as he unlocked what you had come to refer to in your mind as the "forbidden" cabinet — where all the various dangerous things lay, such as knives, skewers, rat poison (moved there after the previous incident), bleach even.

You were aware that he and all the staff members possessed a key, as you'd sometimes catch maids or other workers accessing it for various purposes, so you assumed it was there solely to keep those things out of your reach. It had started out as a few knives, but the collection had slowly built over time due to your creativity with what remained at your disposal.

“And here you were actually starting to improve,” he mumbled. The words were heavily laden with exhaustion, frustration.

You clenched your fists. The words crawled under your skin, bothered you viscerally, knowing there was truth to them. Thinking back, over the past few weeks, you'd become more complacent and behaved than you'd ever been prior — part of it had been an act, sure, but a creeping dense of paranoia made you wonder if you’d been settling into it, if it had been starting to become natural. You rejected the thought, insisting otherwise to both him and yourself.

“That's— that's only because I've been here so long… you're wrong…”

Even though the words were spoken weakly, the mere act of disagreement was not within the boundaries of complacency and acceptable behavior. It was not normal for your good wife act. The defiance was slowly bubbling up to the surface, and you could tell from the way you say you saw his jaw visibly clench, that he noticed that as much as you did.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned his head towards you, before shaking his head and returning to putting the offending substance away. He was moving some of the things around to make space for the new object, placing it inside before locking the doors shut again, back turned to you.

But then, there was only more silence as he reached up to rub at the side of his temple with one of his hands.

You hoped for the best, that perhaps the lack of murderous intent on your part would serve to significantly lessen his anger, or that due to contrast, he would view trying to sedate him as a petty offense. Trivial. Overlookable.

“But why would you even want to knock me out…?” He trailed off, looking to the ground in pensiveness. And then, the worst thing you feared happened — the exact intent seemed to click with him.

Your gaze cast to the floor, you could just see him move out of the corner of your eye, walking back towards you, but in fear, you couldn't bring yourself to look up. You saw his feet facing yours as you looked down, and a shadow cast over your hanging head. He was standing right in front of you, and, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps accepting it was inevitable anyway, you forced yourself to look up, eye-to-eye, his own narrowed with disdain.

“…You were going to put me to sleep so you could run off again.”

You stiffened. “No,” you immediately rushed to your own defense. “I just—”

“Yes, you were. Don't—” he huffed, finishing his sentence with gritted teeth, “don't lie to me.”

“I'm not!” Your words that time came out more angry than fearful, your own frustration with everything beginning to balance our your fear.

“I just said—” he cut his words short and took a deep breath, reaching up to rest his face in his hand in a gesture of exasperation. His next words were not as intensely angered, more of a tired frustration laden in them. “You really never learn, do you.”

The words, simple as they were, had a strong effect.

Your fear and anger dwelled in your heart in a state of coexistence — you’d been tamed enough that avoiding pain and consequence was your usual priority, with the anger, the inherent defiance in your spirit, taking a secondary place. But with the right choice of words, the right circumstances, that same defiant spirit that he so very much hated, that he worked so hard to erase, would come bouncing back. A routine you’d been through more than once by now.

That same spirit of defiance had slowly been rising, had been your whole reason for your attempt, but with that, the switch flipped. Your hands balled into fists at your side.

“Learn what?!” Your voice came out louder than before. “Goddammit, I—”

The irritation on his features grew. “Don't raise your voice. And for the millionth time, watch your mouth.”

“I'll do what I want!” You leaned your upper body forward in exertion. “You’re the one that never lets me go anywhere! I wouldn't have done it if you didn't keep me locked up like an animal!”

His head snapped up fully at your voice, eyes narrowing into a glare.

“Don't get an attitude with me.”

Your eye twitched. That was one of your many rules that you so despised, the one you were most frequently found guilty of violating. Commands you were held to for no other reason than the desires of someone else, a projection of an ideal you were so brutally forced to conform to. Don't raise your voice, don't get a bad attitude, don't walk so loud, don't slouch, don't curse, don't make that face, don't talk back. The “don't” commands were bad enough, but the expectation of the inverse, the image you had to conform to, was even worse. To be nice, to sit there and smile and do whatever was instructed without so much as a complaint. Those were the good traits that you were supposed to have, that you were to be instilled with — as if a wild animal to be caught and domesticated.

A dam holding back your emotions seemed to break. You finally raised you voice fully, nearly yelling.

“It's your fault for making me stay in here in the first place, you bastard!” You snarled. “You keep acting like this is normal and it's not! You kidnapped me, dammit! You're mad at me for breaking your stupid rules when you're the one committing a fucking crime!”

You were speaking with such forceful anger you leaned forward with the exertion, panting heavy breaths, hands curled into fists. Your fury reached a peak, throwing aside all regard for whatever line your next words may cross.

"And you know what? I don't belong to you, I'm not your — I'm not anyone's goddamn dainty little fucking housewife! I don’t have to listen to a damn word you say, you bastard, you—”

You hesitated to finish your sentence, about to deliver another onslaught of curses, but stopped short when you tilted your gaze up, and your eyes met.

His eyes narrowed, staring at you with something like abject disgust, irritation, exasperation, but the silence was what amplified your dread the most. A single second of heavy, tense quiet passed, and then you saw him reach down to his waist, grasping at the front of his belt and unfastening it before pulling the other end, rapidly pulling the whole thing out of the loops.

“Come here.”

A very firmly-spoken command. Your stomach felt as if it flipped over on itself, a sudden cold feeling across your flesh, a learned response. You took a step back, drawing your hands up to your chest in a defensive reflex.

You hesitated, feet spread apart as if to move, but in what direction you weren't certain. Your eyes darted to the left and right, and froze as your gaze settled on the arch leading to the hallway.

Which he must have noticed, given the look he shot you. His voice grew quieter, more foreboding. “Don’t you dare run. Come here. Now.”

You had not yet fucked up quite this badly before, not done something to this magnitude — poisoned him, yes, and had outbursts, yes, but never back-to-back, the offenses stacking on top of each other. That outburst just then was the most vicious one you'd had since you woke up here, and you would be given far less lenience now than then. The thoughts of past punishments for even mild transgressions crossed through your mind. The blood drained from your face, your heartrate picked up faster.

It was stupid, really. So, so stupid, so futile, and had you really thought about it, you would know how pointless it was. But in the moment, you weren't operating so much on reason, so much as the dread in your gut and instinct.

For that reason, you turned in the opposite direction, bolted through the door to the hall, and took off running.

"Wh—” You heard the sound in his throat cut off as you bolted, clearly taken aback by the choice of action, but soon followed by a throaty groan of frustration you could hear all too well.

You didn't even really know where you were going. Nor what you planned to accomplish. The building was large, there were plenty of hallways to run down and turns to take — you turned left at the end of the room, then took and immediate right, unable to remember the structure enough to coordinate any plan of action as to where to run, just following the need to run away.

The doors were always locked from the inside and out now, one set of locks to keep intruders out and the other to keep you in. Breaking glass windows was a risk you didn't want to take, and it would alert anyone nearby to your location immediately and would only serve to greatly increase any potential consequence. Thus, for the time being, perhaps you were looking more for a place to hide. Maybe if you could just do that, find a place to cower and wait out the brunt of his anger, he would calm down by the time you came out.

Well, really, you knew that probably wasn’t doable, but it was nice to at least think for a moment.

And a moment was all you got.

You hesitated as you reached a spot where the hall split into two different corridors, and that one moment of hesitation was enough to close the gap between you. You squealed and flailed as a hand forcefully grabbed at your hair, pulling you back.

“Ow!” You squirmed, the balls of your bare feet thumping on the hardwood as they stumbled to regain your balance. “Let—let me go! Ow, ow, that hurts—”

“Hold still.” The command was firm, a foreboding voice that made your heart race.

The fabric around your torso pulled taut against your skin as he took a fistful of the back side of it, other arm harshly wrapping around your waist before you felt your weight lift upward, feet leaving the ground.

You thrashed, but even doing so to the best of your ability had no effect. His grip didn’t budge.

You grunted as you were effectively slung over his shoulder. He started moving forward, footsteps heavy and frustrated. “Gh!” You squirmed, flailed, all to no avail.

Your resistance began to falter in realization of the futility of fighting the now-inevitable, groaning in miserable anger and weakly bringing your clenched fists down on his back as you were, with seemingly little effort, carried down the hall, taking a turn and ascending up the staircase. It was only a short distance from the top to the bedroom door, which opened in a swift, furious motion, likewise slamming shut behind you.

You grunted as you were thrown down onto the mattress. You put your hands down and pushed yourself upward, beginning to try and crawl away, but a hand caught you by the back of your shirt again, pushing your upper body down. You made a rough, irritated noise in the back of your throat as you squirmed, but soon your hands were pinned behind your back, leaving you face down with your hips in the air.

You inhaled a sharp gasp of air and stiffened when you felt the skirt end if the dress hike up, the waistband beneath pulled down, cool air on your bare flesh.

“Wait wait, no, I'm sorry—”

You instinctively jerked forward, squirming, heart beginning to pound in your chest. You had had enough experience to know that this was far more painful on bare skin, as if the humiliation ritual of it all wasn't bad enough.

You felt like a petulant child, begging and whimpering. You tried to move, but the hand pushing down and your knees being positioned right on the edge of the bed effectively forced you into holding the position, with no way to move.

“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to do what you did.” There was no trace of mercy or empathy in his voice. “This is entirely your fault.”

“But I—”

You cut off with a squeal, body lurching forward as sharp pain came down on the sensitive skin on your ass, the smacking sound echoing in your ears. Your jaw clenched, muscles tensing. He wasn't holding back either, one strike was enough to make your eyes begin to water.

“This wouldn't have to keep happening—”

Another strike on the enunciated word. You hissed a sharp breath through clenched teeth and groaned, hips reflexively jerking forward in an attempt to pull away, to no avail.

“—if you could just—”

Another strike. You winced and stiffened, groaning and straining your muscles pulling against the firm hold forcing you in place.

“—give it up—”

And yet another.

“—and learn to behave.”

Another and another and another, three in quick succession. You yelped and jolted at each, a miserable sound coming out of your throat. Unable to maintain enough pride to hold them back, tears streamed down your face.

“Stop, stop…” you whimpered. “It hurts…”

But the only reply you got was calloused and merciless.

“It’s supposed to.”

The next strike was harder than the previous ones. You squealed, taking deep, gasping breaths. Your legs trembled.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I won't do it again—”

“You said that last time.”

Your heart sank. You didn't have any reply other than to whimper in misery and anticipation, turning to a throaty cry of pain as you were struck again.

“It's for your own good. You would be happier if you just give in. But you insist—”

The leather came down hard. Your shoulders wracked with a sob, completely breaking the last of your resolve to hold back your reactions.

“—on being stubborn.”

The belt came down again, your body jolting and face contorting with the pain once more.

It was the final strike to drive you over the edge.

"I'm sorry!"

You couldn't speak further for a moment, having to take a few heaving gasps. Your shoulders jerked with a sob, sniffling, tears streaming down your face.

The only thing outweighing the stinging, striking pain itself was the tight feeling in your chest of humiliation and bitterness. It was intended as such, of course, to hurt not only your body, but your pride as well.

Your body trembled, heaving breaths and whimpers filling the following quiet. Perhaps your misery was finally deemed worthy of mercy, as despite your tensing in anticipation, no further sudden pain followed, only the lingering, hot sting on your bare flesh.

There was only a heavy sigh.

“Are you done being a brat?”

You sniffled, nodding your head against the sheets. “Mmhm…”

There was a momentary pause, perhaps giving you the opportunity to catch your mistake on your own. After you failed to do so within a few moments, the hand around your wrists tightened, a wordless threat. A brief panic surged through your mind, but you realized where you'd erred within a second.

Still, even though you opened your mouth, taking a breath to speak, some last little spark of stubborn pride flickered up, bitter and spiteful, and for a moment, you refused to give in to it, the one rule you so deeply resented more than any other.

And then he said your name — a foreboding, low tone, a warning.

Thus the brief moment of dignity was extinguished in a single word. You practically blubbered out the words, distorted by your sniffling and slurring.

“Y-yes sir…”

Finally, the grip on your wrists released.

“Good.”

You slumped forward, trembling hands reaching out to pull yourself further onto the bed before you went limp on your stomach and still, head spinning and exhaustion setting in as you came down from the high of the expense of so much energy and stress. As your head cleared, you became aware of the discomfort of wetness on your face, reaching up wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand. The sting was bad enough that you didn’t even bother pulling your clothes back into place to cover yourself, not wanting the fabric to brush against the now-sensitive skin.

There was a long moment of quiet. You weakly turned your head, seeing the pensive look on his face, eyebrows furrowed and looking at the ground. Something about it felt ominous, made your stomach shaft to churn.

“This keeps happening in a cycle,” he muttered, a low voice, almost as if speaking more to himself than you. “You start to improve, and then you regress again.”

Had you not been so utterly weary, not to mention bearing the lingering sting to your backside, you might have gotten defensive, snapped at him over referring to succumbing to the spiritual torment of your life as improvement. But now, spirit already broken as it could be for one day — at least, so you believed in that moment — you only closed your eyes, trying to ignore him. Maybe you could rest your body, at least a little, before the inevitable disturbance of a different form of exertion.

But when you squeezed your eyes shut, as always, the thoughts came rushing through your mind, emotions and recollections all at once, too intense for you to bear. Thinking through everything over again, your mistakes that led you to where you were now — not so much the events of the last hour, and more the grand scheme of things, how much you regretted ever making eye contact with him, or ever setting foot in that damn tavern.

Each and every day, you replayed the final conversation you two had had, sitting there in his own bar after everyone else had gone home, with you insisting on drinking more until you were content. After so much time — or perhaps due to the effect of the drugs, or the alcohol — you'd forgotten what the whole of the conversation was even about, only your response to one of those half-muttered comments about how this or that behavior of yours was unattractive, how you'd never get married if you kept it up, or any of the other things he said that irked you so.

You'd glared, snapping at him.

What makes you think you get to tell me what to do?

The only other thing you remembered — no, it was perfectly burned into your memory, crystal-clear despite your intoxication at the time — was the way he'd frozen, the look on his face when you'd said it, the glimpse you'd caught of it for a mere second. Slack-jawed, eyebrows furrowed, staring down at you with some amalgamation of disbelief, fury, and pure, unadulterated disgust.

Well, it wasn't the only thing you remembered — he'd walked away for a moment, you'd nearly drifted off in drunken haze, and something was shoved into your hands, you drank it without question (like an idiot, you often reprimanded yourself) and then, the next memory was waking up in his bed.

It played over, and over, and over, as you lay there shivering, cold and exhausted. As much as you resented him, you couldn’t help but feel enraged with yourself, each time you thought back to each interaction. That you didn’t recognize that something was wrong, that the degree of quiet malice he seemed to hold for you was unnatural, obsessive, dangerous. You’d just shrugged it off as just being his nature. Such an idiot, you thought to yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A heavy sigh pulled you out of your thoughts.

“…”

Whatever he was actually now thinking, though, he didn’t say aloud.

Instead, predictably, his hands grabbed at your thighs, pulling you back across the bed. The same familiar knot of dread began to twist in your chest again.

You groaned, a sound of combined exasperation, pain and exhaustion. Your voice came out weak. “N-no, don’t… it’ll hurt too much…” Despite your verbal protest, you couldn’t actually summon the will to do much more than a weak squirming with your body as the dress was pulled up. Your attempts to hold your arms down proved futile as they were easily grabbed and maneuvered to allow him to pull the clothing off entirely, throwing it onto the mattress.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” was his only reply, an assured and matter-of-fact tone, like it was an objective, predetermined truth that you were foolish to contest. His hands moved to your hips, pulling on them to pull you back into your prior positioning. “It only hurts because you don’t relax enough.”

You might have remarked that the two back-to-back statements were quite the contradiction, but in the moment you were too lost in a combination of daze and panic to be too sarcastic. The pull jolted your mind back into full clarity. You tried to push yourself up on your hands, but his hand pressed to your back again, holding you in place.

“Wait, wait—”

You cut off in a shrill wail, toes curling and legs kicking out reflexively as the sting of the stretch set in. Your back arched in a reactive attempt to get away from the sudden intrusion that felt like it was splitting you apart, cleaving your body in half.

"Just—just hold still," his grip on your wrists tightened as your hands attempted to jerk back. He moved one hand to the other, taking both your wrists in one hand so he could reach down to your hips with the other, grabbing at one with a bruising grip and holding you still in place before sliding out, then back in, a second time, then a third.

You gritted your teeth, tears forming in your eyes anew as your body tensed up. The friction burned, the stretch ached. "It hurts," you whimpered, speaking through your teeth gritted in pain. "You-you're tearing me apart..."

"Just relax. You’re too tense.”

“I can’t just—gh!”

His arm shifted from pressing you down to wrapping around your torso, pulling your upper body back up from behind, while also preventing you from pulling yourself forward, and instead pulling your body closer against his, bouncing you back and forth on his cock. Each movement brought your ass bouncing back against his hips, a harsh sting on still-sensitive flesh.

"A-ah, ah…” you clamped down on reflex, trembling hands reaching behind you to push him back, but you were so weak it did nothing. “Wait, wait…” Your words came out slurred and strained.

Suddenly, to your surprise, the movement actually stopped. There was a moment of pause, and for that moment, you actually believed maybe you were receiving whatever semblance of mercy the man was capable of.

You heard his heavy breathing in your ear, felt him let his head fall downward for a moment, as if in thought.

Then, his hands moved once more — this time, one grasping at your waist, forcing your back into an arch, the other reaching up, palm against your throat and his fingers curling to grasp your jaw.

“Fight me off.”

With that, he pulled back, and slammed forward again. You squealed, every muscle tensing and spasming at the ripples of sensation it sent through your nerves.

“What? I don't— what are you—”

Another harsh, slamming thrust cut you off.

“Remember what you said before? When you first came here?” His words were spoken in a low, dark tone, dripping with vengeful spite. His fingernails dug into the flesh of your face. “You told me you didn't need anyone.”

The hand on your hip tightened its grip as you pulled your hips forward, jerking you back as his own hips snapped forward, the motion ramming into you in full all the way down to the base, the flesh of your ass pressed up against his hip bones.

“You said you were strong, that you didn't need protection.” The grip tightened, painfully pressing down. “You said you could take care of yourself.” His fingers curled further into your skin. “Remember that?”

Even in such a flat tone, his voice felt utterly mocking. The defiance you'd thought he'd already drained from your spirit began to surge back up in full force, a burning rage filling your chest.

“If you're so strong,” he continued, words muddled with heavy panting breaths, bouncing you back and forth with increasing pace, “then you should have no problem—” he took another heavy breath, next words coming out as half-spoken, half-hissed through clenched teeth, “fighting me off.”

You stiffened, eye twitching, a rough throaty sound of fury coming from your mouth as you began to squirm, to no avail.

“Come on. Prove it.” His voice grew more intense, lower, harsher. “Push me off. Do it.”

You practically growled, an animalistic sound, savagely reaching up to claw at the hand gripping your jaw, pulling your body forward with all the strength you could muster.

But it was nothing by comparison. As if fueled by your resistance, he only slammed into you faster and harder. At that point, the fluids leaking from your body lubricated the movements, the pain ebbing away, replaced by a warm, tight sensation, pressing against the spots in your body that made you melt, the sheer stretch becoming pleasurable.

“Or maybe you're wrong.” He jerked your head back to the point that the side of your face touched his, his heavy panting warm against your ear. “Maybe you should accept that you're weak.”

The grip on your jaw caused his palm to dig into your throat, not enough to choke you fully, but enough to cause discomfort.

“You need someone to— you need me.” His head titled ever so slightly downward, his hair brushing against the back of your neck.

Trying to turn your head away proved futile, the iron grip keeping it just as firmly locked in place as your body.

“You're so naive. The weak are supposed to be self-aware.” He spoke through clenched teeth, intense anger seeping into his voice. “But you had to go and act so tough—”

A harsher thrust than any of the ones preceding it, so hard you gagged on air, unable to even scream.

“—and be so goddamn mouthy all the time.”

Your strained, animalistic noises continued, pulling your body forward with every single ounce of strength you were physically capable of.

You didn't move. It felt as if you were trying to pull yourself out of steel chains, pure futility. Your arms trembled with the strain, and yet you didn't budge.

“As if I couldn't just reach over and break you any time I felt like it.”

Your toes curled, muscles tensing in pleasure-pain, each movement ramming into a spot that sent sparks of pleasure up your spine, whilst also causing the flesh of your backside to slap against his hips, sending jolts of pain through your body all at once.

“As if any of those guys you were such a little bitch to couldn’t have done the same.”

Sweat coated your skin, running down your back. The bed creaked, violently slamming against the frame. He pulled you so close that your shoulder blades pressed to his chest.

“Do you have any idea how easy this is? I'm not even trying.”

The words felt like a knife to your chest. In the past, you'd been irritated by you inferior physical strength, but admittedly you hadn't stopped to really think more deeply about the matter of your inability to free yourself, in the bigger picture of things.

A heavy, cold feeling began to seep out of your heart, through your chest, into your blood. A dawning realization of your total powerlessness, of your weakness. It was harrowing, brutal, and unforgiving.

You took heavy, gasping breaths. The intensity of every sensation was too much, driving you to a brink of what felt like madness. The ache in your body, the chill in your blood, the pleasure and the sting and the despair.

Your resolve broke. You went limp, panting, eyes watering with bitterness and fury, hot tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes, weak voice coming out as a blubbering whimper, broken up by the incessant thrusts jerking your body back and forth.

“I-I’m, I'm so, sorr-eee…”

The only reply you got was a single word.

“Good.”

You closed your watery, burning eyes. If you couldn't escape in reality, you could at least escape in your mind, desperately trying to block out the thoughts and the shame and the bitterness, trying to focus on sensation, feeling, the way you trembled at the pleasure. The way the sharp sting and the heat of the pleasure began to blur together, the pain itself only intensifying the rising tight, warm feeling inside.

You threw your head back to rest against his chest, whimpering like an animal. Your hands now only weakly reached behind you, grasping at his torso, neither pulling nor pushing. Each movement grew move intense, somehow even harder and harder still, inhumanly fast, flesh slapping against flesh, the sound amplified by the slick and sweat that coated the skin where your bodies conjoined. Your body began to quiver.

The climax that came over you was not the strongest you'd ever had — your body was far too exhausted and pained to even summon such a thing — but the high shot through your body nonetheless, waves of intensity rushing throughout. You let out a long, high-pitched sound as it peaked and ebbed away, mind slipping into a state of nothingness, a fog so thick you might as well have been unconscious.

You barely felt the motions stop, the way you were lowered down to rest on your stomach. Your attention was only briefly pulled to the surface of your consciousness with the sudden sensation of emptiness, the way your insides spasmed to clench on empty space, the chill that set in as the sweat began to cool over your body, and finally the shifting of the mattress as weight settled onto the other side, sitting beside your limp form.

And then, as your consciousness swayed, one faint little thought kept you from slipping away.

Something was different. You were limp and numb from the stupor, mind lost in a haze, but a faint sense of alarm slowly drug your consciousness back to alertness. Something was different, something was wrong.

You shifted, muscles reflexively clamping down on the now-empty space, and stiffened as you felt something fluid ooze out of your slit, drooling down your flesh and onto your thigh.

“Did… did you… cum… inside me…?”

You turned towards the figure blurred by the residual tears and dizziness. You could make out him sitting there, the bright red hair and the flesh tone of his unclothed upper body, see him running his hand over the top of his head, pushing sweat-drenched strands of hair back.

Your stupor had left your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, but they immediately snapped back fully open as the next words registered with your ears, spoken in a fully nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone.

“This will be good for you.”

You sat up — a movement that took effort, nearly falling back down on hands still trembling with aftershock, and looked up at him with panicked confusion plastered on your face. “…Huh… what?”

Now you could make out his eyes, looking into yours, continuing on in the same blunt voice, as if speaking of a trivial matter.

“…I was waiting. I thought it would be a bad idea to give you a kid before you showed some improvement.” After a moment of pause as he sat more upright, he continued, “But thinking about it, that could be part of the reason you're so badly behaved to begin with. You're… imbalanced or something.”

He held a hand out palm-up in a casual gesture.

“So, it will calm you down.”

You stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed in disbelief and horror.

“That's—” you twitched. Your voice was hoarse, each word hurt, as if dragging broken glass down your throat. “You're insane. You can't— you can't do this to me. I can't do that!”

“You're being overdramatic.”

“Overdramatic?!” You pushed the heels of your hands into the mattress to propel yourself backwards, crawling away from him as if it would do any good. “No, you don't understand, I… I can't…!”

Your breathing began to speed up, right alongside your heart rate. Panic consumed your train of thought. The implications of the very notion were, for you, world-ending — it would change everything, it would debilitate you and any hopes you had of ever leaving. Even beyond that, just the mere thought, the mental image the idea created, made you shudder.

You looked down. Between your legs, some of the cum had begun to ooze out onto the sheets.

Right, you could extract it all, to the best of your ability, and hope for the best. Your legs were trembling so badly you weren't certain if you could support your own weight, but nonetheless, you tried to make your way to the edge of the bed.

“No, no, I… I need to go wash off—”

“No, you're not.” His hand latched onto your arm, roughly pulling you back. You fell onto your side with a grunt.

You stiffened and whimpered as you felt two of his fingers wipe the inside of your thigh, collecting the semen that had slipped out with gravity and your movement, and pressed the fingers back inside of you, not wanting any to go to waste.

“Don't move around so much.”

Panic turned into aggression, like a cornered animal. Your nose wrinkled up with the furious expression that crossed your face.

“There is no way in hell I'm—”

Your words cut off once more as his hand latched onto your jaw, eyes narrowing.

“…Do you want to do this over again?” He tilted your head up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Because I have no problem with that, if you keep mouthing off.”

You froze up again. The despair took hold. You didn't have any more fight left in you. It wasn't worth it, you couldn't handle another round with the belt.

You bit your lip, shaking your head. It wasn't until he sighed, and gave you an irritated look that you recognized your mistake once again.

“…No, sir…”

He closed his eyes, seemingly content with the rectification. “Good.” He pulled you down further, until you were lying on your side. “It's late enough to go to bed. You need sleep.”

You lay motionless, aside from the still-lingering shivering, watching as he shuffled off the remainder of his clothes and turned off the nearby lamp, plunging the room into near-darkness, before laying back down, turning back towards you, pulling you close.

His arm wrapped around your back, keeping your body pressed to his. Your face rested against his collarbones.

He shifted a bit, causing his hand to just barely brush over your backside — you stiffened, sucking a sharp breath in through your teeth.

“Mm, sorry.”

The half-hearted, sleepy mutter was all you got — an apology you knew was only for the momentary accidental touch and not the pain itself. That would be deemed deserved and justified, should you ever complain, and would probably earn you the same punishment again.

Your face scrunched up with misery, as if about to cry, but your body couldn't produce any more tears.

“Night.”

You felt the rumbling in his chest against yours. You swallowed the lump in your throat before you replied, voice barely more than a whisper.

“…Goodnight…”

There was still a little bit of light coming in through the window — it wasn't even really fully dark yet, the last few rays of purplish twilight visible in the sky.

You wondered if you'd ever see it from any other view than the estate ever again — but pushed the thought away, as you didn't like what you thought might be the answer, nor the way it made you think of the conversation that transpired moments prior.

You closed your eyes, shifted around a bit and — wincing at the fluid that drooled down your leg — tried your best to rest.

#bro really saw an autonomous female existing and said 'not on my watch'#genshin smut #diluc x reader #.dl

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anakin-skywalker-always · 7 months

Note

padawan/atoc era anakin x reader, they're in love with each other (both jedi) but obviously can't come forward. Anakin confides in Padmé, reader becomes convinced/jealous that anakin is with padme

(bonus points if you can make it angsty and fluffy)

As Easy As Breathing

Hi nonnie! Thank you so, so, so much for this rec! It’s my first one on this account and it’s really quite the christening. Hope its okay, I’m not the best at angst!

Pairing: Padawan!Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Reader (Star Wars)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none!! Should be all good, let me know if you caught anything I may have missed. Not beta read!

Words: 1.8k

Author’s Notes: Anakin is canonically 19 in AOTC, reader is the same, maybe a year younger. Clone Wars have not yet started in this fic, I’m just assuming Padmé and Anakin stayed besties after the whole nonsense in Phantom Menace.

The warm sun filtering through the windows fell upon Anakin’s face, in a soft moment of solitude, the sounds of the Coruscant cityscape provided him with a brief reprieve to Padmé’s chastising. He often thought that his ability to talk to Padmé about anything was his strength, but in this moment he couldn’t help to think of it as a weakness. Anakin cringed as Padmé continued to berate him; On a rare afternoon off the nineteen-year-old padawan found himself lounging on the senator’s couch.

“Seriously Anakin, you should just-” Padmé stilled, her slender hands finding her hips, huffing, she continued, “Are you even listening to me, Ani?” The forceful tone on his nickname got Anakin’s attention once again.

“I am!” Anakin raised his eyebrows in addition to his hands, in mock surrender. “I swear Padmé!”

The senator found it easy to roll her eyes at his antics, like always. But she could see the change in Anakin, could see how his emotions for his fellow padawan learner have caused conflict in him. Her friend wasn’t sleeping, he wasn’t eating. Padmé knew Anakin was an intense person, a strong personality, everyone knew that about him. But this, this was different. He seemed lost, like he was missing something he needed to operate. Padmé found her way to the couch, sitting beside Anakin, grabbing his tanned, calloused hands in her own.

“Anakin, if you do truely care this strongly for her, you must tell her.” Anakin’s eyes found Padmé’s own. “It would be cruel, to withhold this love.” There was a time in Anakin’s life where this is all he wanted, being with Padmé and he knew his nine-year-old self would be so excited by innocent hand holding. But his nineteen-year-old self was happier to have such a strong, nonjudgemental friend.

“How did you know that you loved Sabé?” Anakin asked gently, knowing how the senator safeguarded her relationship with her handmaiden fiercely.

Anakin noted how Padmé seemed to glow at the mention of her lover. A warm smile graced her pink lips, eyes crinkling at the sides, a faraway glaze coated her sparkling eyes. Her signature in the force felt warm, it wrapped around Anakin’s brain, made him feel safe. Padmé’s love for Sabé was so tangible it extended outside herself, adjusting her force signature.

“I realised I loved Sabé when being around her became a necessity, an honesty, a truth that I did not know I was constantly seeking out.” Padmé gushed, a light trail of pink lit itself over her high cheekbones and freckled nose. “I felt as if Sabé had breathed new life into me everytime I saw her, it was natural, it was right.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, Padmé became worried that she had overstepped somehow, projected to far onto Anakin’s feelings.

“Loving y/n is as natural as breathing.” He replied.

Anakin rolled over on his hard, standard issue, Jedi temple bed. A sleepless night was not uncommon for him, but this felt inherently different. Padmé’s words from earlier in the day rattled around his brain, demanding to be dealt with. Anakin never saw love as a weakness, never saw attachment as weakness. How could he? Love was the basis of the light, the well of Jedi power that Anakin drew from was a labour of love, was purity, was peace, was built with empathy and centered by knowing himself. His love for you did not make him a bad person.

But he knew it would make him seem like a bad Jedi.

Not knowing your stance on him, on the rule of attachment was slowly eating away at Anakin’s peace.

Groaning aloud, Anakin ran his hands down his face.

Your head whipped around, anxiously. You knew it was embarrassing that you always looked for him in a crowded room, but you could not help it, you felt as if the force was electric until he calmed it. His signature singlehandedly smothering anything else it came in contact with. Being around Anakin, to you, felt as natural as breathing.

“Looking for young Skywalker, are you?” Your master, Mace Windu asks, a small smirk whispers across his face, lightly nudging you in the shoulder. The two of you stood in one of the reception rooms of the Republic building. The Senate was hosting a charity gala with the invite extending to the Jedi temple. So, there you stood, in your best robes, breaking your neck to catch a glimpse of The Chosen One.

“No Master.” You said, quietly. Turning your head away from the powerful Jedi Master to not embarrass yourself further with the luxury of him catching your furious blush. Your master excused himself, laughing, finding Master Plo Kloon.

So, you stood there, alone, foolishly searching the room for your fellow padawan, the one that consumed your mind and soul.

It wasn’t completely unlikely, you reasoned with yourself. You and Anakin were friends, were very well matched, sparring partners. But, Anakin was a good Jedi. A strong Jedi. Following orders wasn’t Anakin’s strongest suit, you’d admit. Pondering whether he would disregard the rules of attachment for you, however, was different.

Nonetheless, like a junkie craving death sticks, you craved Anakin’s presence, his force signature was all you needed to feel right. The anxiety of the gala was too much. Closing your eyes, tightly, you reached out into the force to find him. Anakin’s signature, golden like it always was flocked to your senses, like always.

Opening your eyes, you began to weave through the bustling crowd as quickly as one could who was masquerading as casual.

“I’m not going to say anything to her now, Padmé.” Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest, defensively. “Not in front of all these people, you’ve got to be joking.” He scoffed.

Sabé giggled quietly, the two women joined their arms at the elbow. Padmé just rolled her eyes at Anakin’s supposed insoclence.

Your frame weaving through the crowd in his direction caught Anakin’s eye. He smiled, quikly raised a hand, and was delighted when your devastating smile echoed back.

“Anakin.” You greeted him, with a small bow of the head. His name sounded heavenly whenever you deigned to let it fall from your lips. Anakin was convinced he could breathe easier with you around, like he had been purged of something suffocating him.

“Y/N, this is Sen-” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear the name of your rival come from his beautiful mouth. Your jealousy that you held for Padmé reared its ugly head, and you couldn’t help to feel shame burn deep inside the space between ribs.

“Senator Amidala, a pleasure it is to finally meet you,” You stuck your hand out, awkwardly hoping for a handshake. “Anakin has told me so much.” Cordial. It was a good tactic. You were a good person, a good jedi. You would not succumb to jealousy. Besides, Padmé had other qualities you were far more jealous of than just her nonexistent romantic relationship that you deludedly conjured up in your mind when you tried to sleep at night.

“All good things I should hope.” She smiled, her soft hand finding your own, a small shake. You could empathise with Anakin for falling in love with someone like her. Someone so intelligent, powerful, beautiful.

It was not lost on you, the way the senator’s hand quickly found the one of the woman she stood beside.

“This is Sabé.” Anakin started, introducing Padmé’s guest. “Padmé’s hand-” For the second time tonight, but surely not the last, Anakin was cut off.

“My partner.” Senitor Amidala said firmly, though her eyes twinkled with pride. Sabé’s own shock manifested itself into a wide smile. The two looked eachother in the eyes and you couldn’t help but feel silly. Of course. Of course.

For whatever reason, the words you thought you had died swiftly in your mouth, “Oh.” was all you managed to get out. “A pleasure to meet you too, Sabé.” You tried quickly to save the situation, to save embarrassment. But Padmé’s slight smile, Sabé’s coy smirk. You felt like the two Naboo women knew you, saw you. They somehow, in this embarrassing blunder of a meeting had already clocked that you harboured feelings for Anakin Skywalker. It made you feel foolish, moreso than what you already did.

“If you’d excuse us, Jedi, we have futher business to attend to.” Sabé quipped strongly, leading her senator lover to the next group of politicians. The art of smalltalk was something else you could add to the list of Padmé’s items you were jealous of.

Anakin turned to you, chuckling. His standard-issue Jedi robes moving effortlessly with his chest. Running a hand through his cropped hair, you felt his eyes scanning your face. You knew your blood would betray you, like it so often did around your friend, rising to the surface of your cheeks, splattering down your neck and chest. Embarrassment clung to you like a rash.

“Don’t mind them, they like setting me up.” Anakin scoffed, shaking his head.

“Setting you up for what?” You asked, eyeing him micheviously. Chatting with Anakin felt natural; He was quick witted and liked challenging you, he was a tease.

And, more often than not, a flirt.

This was different though, Anakin had an air of nervousness about him. You noticed as your fellow padawan’s large, veiny hands found the way to the back of his neck, rubbing sheepishly.

“Oh you know…” He trailed off, looking everywhere except for your eyes, his own blue ones scanning the ornate ceiling of the reception room. “Setting us up to be alone together.” He admitted, squinting as if the words bought him some kind of physical pain.

You quirked a brow, your arms quickly crossing your chest - a defensive stance. “Would that be so bad? Being alone together?” The words meant to be teasing, non-serious. But it was too late, the seed was planted in Anakin’s brain.

To him, that felt like an admission of sorts, an admission that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Well, if he squinted it seemed like that.

In a tender moment, something rare for Anakin, he reached out. Tucking stray hairs behind your ear, gently following your padawan braid around the cusp of it.

“You know, y/n, that I want nothing more,” He smiled. It was pure, and real. You felt the sincerity in the force, the truth within him. Moreso, you felt your ear burn from the brief contact, felt your heart swell in your chest at the mere thought of being alone in close quarters with him. “I want nothing more than to be alone with you.”

He retracted his hand, but you still felt alight with his closeness. His force signature felt palpable, you were enraptured in his warmth. He was golden. Your golden boy.

“Why don’t we go get lost then?” You whispered, scared anything too loud would betray your eagerness. Anakin’s smile split across his face, eyes crinkling and dimples showing. Smirking he placed a strategic hand at the low of your back. He was so incredibly tall, bending over you to whisper back,

“After you, my lady.”

—--

AN: Hehe all done! Left it open for more if you wanted, but teasing enough to be left as it is! Hope it’s alright and I hope you could enjoy at least some of it <3

P.S This is a side account, my main is @mayhemories, so I will be answering any comments with that account but rest assured it is still me :) <3

Much love, El.

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lana-llama-in-pajamas · 21 days

Text

Francis mosses x fem! reader

thick as blood

sweet as milk

"god i am down bad" you groaned getting up getting into the shower, it was.....nasty, the grout and limescale made a public bathroom seem more hygienic

but you didn't have time to think about it so you cleaned up and got out trying your best to not touch a thing, you looked over the makeup guidelines for your uniform, it had to be exact in order for the agents that came in to not suspect you. matching foundation no eyeshadow, black mascara and complimentary blush with matching lip stick

you looked in the mirror one last time before rushing out.

7 am sharp you sat at your desk watching Francis be the first heading out the door giving a small wave to you, your heart fluttered waving back. a few more residents left leaving you with a bit too much free time. most of them wouldn't come back till lunch and as stupid as dopples are for them to appear now is suicide, you look around and see a letter at your desk so you open it

dear agent 591138 it has come to my attention that no one has filled you in on your working conditions fully so I am here to do it for you. your working hours are 7am to 10 pm every full week then you will get the following work week off, we understand this is rather confusing but just know your best interest is our priority (among other things) this gives you time for recreational activities and self mental care. you do know how everything in the office works but we did just throw a gun to you like a baby. your DDD issued pistol has DDD issued bullets so we can verify the killing of the dopples or in serious cases murder of innocent civilians. an agent will contact you intermittently to check your mental health. best regards , agent 907811

what a letter. did they call you a baby with a gun? your 25.

you decided to open the filing cabinet under your desk to place the letter just to find it riddled with boxes of said bullets. you place it over them and close it staring straight into your reflection of the glass "ok lets just breath and get through it" you assured yourself before reaching into your bag for a bagel and milk, odd combination yes but its what you had in your icebox. you started to worry about your food supplies through the week from what you remember you had bread some fruit jam and POSSIBLY not rotten eggs to hold you over but you knew for a fact a grown person was not going to survive on jelly sandwiches. you looked to the phone wanting to call a cousin that lived nearby to get you some things but you decided against it for now, maybe at the end of your shift you could leave them a message with the operator. soon the middle of the day came and Nacha came in with her daughter looking rather feverish "hi so sorry we had to come back in early she's coming down with something" Nacha slid both their papers and ids through the slot holding her baby close, you looked over the info and all was in order. you even studied them and before opening the door "maybe a doctor would help more?" you asked not wanting to sound mean " oh we went to the pharmacy right before coming here, they said its probably something the kids are passing around" nacha responded happily, this woman was really upbeat it almost scares you " oh good, get better kiddo" her daughter coughed a quiet "whatever" before her mom chastised her passing the now opened door.

you looked to their papers, specifically Anastacha's.... then your stomach dropped. her eyes. her stand offish demeanor yesterday and today, you had a sinking feeling about her relationship to Francis but you weren't sure so you decided to drop the idea for now...

2 dopples came in, horrible replication so you just dropped the shutter and called the moment they spoke.

the phone rang and you picked up "hello, this is agent 907811 the one that sent the letter" the voice was manly but upbeat (imagine Gladiolus from final fantasy 15) you nodded to no one "oh hello, a little unprofessional to make wellness calls in the middle of my shift no?" you asked playfully to test the waters on the guy " intermittently, remember?" he said matching energy "noticed you got 2 already, might get more not to jinx ya" you hummed in agreement as he continued "anyway to make it easier for you instead of calling us and explaining the situation I want you to just say my name and ill know to send our boys in yellow, to save time and lives right?" he kind of lingered on the right so on que you answered "right." "great! ok the names rex." he spoke quick "wait really?" you asked absent for a minute "well no my real name is classified but everyone calls me rex, and whenever you dial 3312 it puts you straight to me~" he made you smile hearing his happiness so you giggled "well ok will do rex, time to get back to work" "yes ma'am" you heard hanging up. dreamboat was infront of you already sliding his papers to you "sorry about that Mr. Mosses" you read over the file, a blush overcoming you "boyfriend?" he asked catching you off guard "n-no, the DDD" you almost got up to let him know you were serious but fixed your seating position instead "mmm...ok" you thanked your god he had very prevalent verbal ques, made your job easy "were do you get your milk from?" he asked taking back his papers "my old apartment, believe it or not the DDD moved me in yesterday with everything I had" you chuckled thinking he took his job a little too serious and didn't want enemy milk on his turf "i give you milk now." he almost declared in an odd way. you turned red imagining unholy thoughts "the farm i deliver for also delivers here. the buildings day is Monday but ill grab a case for you tomorrow" he walked in before you could even form the words thank you but on instinct you shut the door behind him.

you tried to calm your blush to no avail, the way he just announced his caring for you! the way he said it made you swoon "i give you milk now" god it was weirdly hot!! you almost swore you heard a bit of a Russian accent when he said it. you kept holding your face praying to go back to your natural color "doll you look like a tomato" another male voice said "oh Mr. Gauss, I apologize its just allergies" you looked away for a minute before doing the usual "its winter. your a horrible liar" he tapped the glass teasingly "all is well, good day Mr. Gauss" you spoke restrained trying not to be angry with the fact he had no issue calling you a liar opening the door for him "see you later doll". you sat there a little peeved to say the least, munching on your slightly stale bagel you continue your shift.

the next morning you woke up to knocking, your heart raced putting on your robe and ran to the door opening it "its 7:30" francis looked down at you looking almost disappointed "oh my god really?? shit thank you for waking me up" you left the door wide open as you rushed to put on a fresh uniform and stuffing your makeup bag in your purse. francis watched you rush from bed to bath sighing and looking around, he placed down five bottles of milk on your counter and opened your ice box "how pitiful" he spoke looking at the carton of barely any eggs and a few rotting veggies. he took it upon himself to leave a milk out and put the rest in making you a single piece of toast. you looked actually quite presentable considering your rushing you walked towards the door hitting something hard "ow" at first you were going to cry because Francis just watched you almost break your nose but you looked up to see him looking down. god did he smell good. like bourbon and vanilla, thank god axe body spray wasn't invented yet. "I made you toast. I have to get to work." he furrowed his brows at the last bit and left you, you look to the counter to see well enough he set the toast with jam on a small plate and a glass of milk at your table.

days had passed and soon it was your friday

it was almost 10 pm but you had to stay an extra hour because the twin models were at a party. you've never really had a full conversation with them but they were nice to you even complimented you on your hair once, finally they came in beautiful gowns that made you get up to see them fully "y/n! so sorry it took so long!" Selenne said raising her hands up air hugging you from the glass which made you chuckle "its my job to see your safe return, beautiful dresses by the way" you placed your hand on the glass to match hers "why thank you, we'll show you the details in a bit" Elenois smiled passing their papers to you, you matched them up everything being in order "you should come to a party with us" selenne jumped a little visibly annoying her twin "sel she has a job to do. a stressful one at that she doesn't need more comingling with the upper-class that watches your every move" elenois huffed taking the ids back "oh actually my days off start tomorrow" you smiled "oh. nevermind, wanna wear airtight dresses and flirt with politics?" elenois laughed making you raise an eyebrow smiling, selenne slapped her sisters shoulder giggling "shes a little tipsy, yakn-" the girls went silent. all of you looking to your left to see it.

a dopple.

a twin dopple.

it was horrifying. a giant sharp mouth filled its face, no eyes no nose it snarled stretching its arm out to the girls as they screamed. you quickly opened the door hearing your own heart beat quicken with every thought, "get in the office NOW" you yelled banging on the glass to get thier attention, they did as told rushing passed El pushing her sister in forcing Sel onto the office floor next to you. the dopple sprung passed the door before you could shut it, it tripping and grabbing onto elenois' leg with its yellow claws you ran up your mind swimming from thier screams, you punched the side of its head forcing it to go down before turning its attention to you. you grappled with it on the floor yelling at the girls to get a grip and lock the main and office door, they were trembling...blood from Els leg soaking her dress as she held selenne nodding to you closing the door and locking the main one from the office. you were bloody , your fist scrapped its teeth cracking the bone a bit as you threw it againt the door earning another scream from the twins it snarled and screeched as you ran towards the stairs unclipping your gun from its holster going up a floor "all residence stay in your homes a dopple is in the building" you yelled repeating the phrase as you heard them all scamble yelling and some of the men even starting to descend the staircase before you hit the first step. the monster stood before you on the bottom step bleeding from its maw "YoU pICk uP A GOosd fiIIgHT MakeSS yoU moRe DeLishessssss" you trembled aiming "Fuck You" POW POW the pistol shot hitting its stomach, its screeches hurt your ears but you slowly backed away as it crawled to reach you it was fast ripping off quite a bit of your skirt as you kept pilling the trigger knowing it had no more than 8 rounds finally it hit its chest making the thing go down by the second floor.

you laid there on the steps breathing heavy hearing almost nothing as everyone crowded around you asking questions and tending to your leg, but you heard nothing.

you got up pushing poor mia to the side backing down stairs passed the body pulling it by the leg to the main floor and leaving it at the end of the steps, everyone but Nacha and nat following for obvious reasons. you walked to the office opening it with your key seeing the twins holding one another sobbing looking up at you, they smilied running up and hugging you close you could start to hear their voices thanking god and thanking you...the gun was still in your hand so you walked passed them slowly sitting in your chair and placing the gun on the desk everyone ran to the girls to inspect them as you dailed the number "....rex....i had to kill it in front of all of them.." you croaked "coming now kid hold on" his voice sounded shaky but you were still processing everything the smell of blood and what seemed like rot, the stinging sensation of your cuts and bruises...the sounds of your residence begging you to answer them. oh.

you breathed in a sharp breath finally being able to sense everything "please step away from the body" you stated to the mcoolys looking over at it "you really killed it" the older one spoke in shock "oh dear your skirt " gloria took off her head scarf to cover you but francis stopped her taking off his wrobe and placing it over you "the ...blood" you managed to get out "fuck the blood right now" he stated mia dressed you in it as the twins blocked you making sure your panty hose were no longer exposed, all of the men looking away either in respect or fear of thier wives.

DDD came escorting everyone upstairs as the other half stayed downstairs to clean up "didnt think we'd meet this way" you looked up from the chair the shmidts brought out for you to sit as DDD officers looked over your wounds. it was rex. a taller man in casual business attire with salt n pepper hair "you did good kid, you saved those girls and the rest of them" he held out his hand to you , you shook it nodding "thank you" he nodded back letting go to speak with a yellow suit qietly "well it seems theres no fatal injuries on any of you , they dressed your wounds so now you rest" rex looked down at you . some would say you looked like a beaten dog but maybe that was just rex "your one tough bitch y/n." he walked off with the hazmats in tow, "i think its time for you to rest baby...you look close to passing out" gloria squeezed your arm as your eyes fluttered, you were passing out and fast "ill take her home" francis spoke up "and we'll stay with her" El and Sel spoke together "she cant sleep in those clothes" el added , everyone agreed as francis picked you up slowly treating you like glass to your apartment the scent of his shampoo and his warmth made you pass out holding him tighter

you could almost hear him stiffle a tear as he held you closer.

end part 2

#thats not my neighbor #francis mosses #tnmn #milkman x reader #milkman #tnmn fanart

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sockmeat · 4 months

Note

Hello! I really like your blog and if i may ask for an Alastor x Lollipop overlord reader? Like reader doesn't look like a demon at all, she's cute, small, looks like a walking cotton candy, she's sweet to everyone and eat sweets. But she is dangerous like she has her dark side. Pretty please and thank you! <3

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

𝐅𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒐𝒑!𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑺/𝑶 (𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 685

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, a suspiciously cheerful overlord, catch Alastor's eye and fate takes control of your relationship.

(𝐀/𝐍): I mainly focused on the build-up to the relationship since I can't think of anything outside of my romantic hcs :PPP

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): None

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ Alastor first saw you as an enemy–a strong one, at that.

♡ You were an overlord, yet you were so sweet and innocent and loved to make people smile, just as he did.

♡ You intrigued him, but he knew better than to take your demeanor as a weakness. He would be stupid to. He knew that no matter how cute and welcoming you seemed, you must’ve done something truly monstrous to get the power you have.

♡ And Alastor found it riveting.

♡ He wanted to know what exactly you were hiding underneath all that candy.

♡ So, he approached you. He expected you to be threatened like any other overlord would be, especially considering his unforgiving reputation, but you were oddly welcoming.

♡ He decided he would meet you within your territory so if a fight were to break out, none of his would be broken.

♡ You weren’t hard for him to find. You were skipping down the streets, leaving a messy trail of cotton candy, lollipops, and sugar-stricken demons.

♡ Alastor greeted you and you didn’t seem all that surprised to see him there.

♡ The two of you made pleasant conversation while the demons around you avoided him like the plague.

♡ Alastor found himself enjoying your company more than he thought he would.

♡ Your carefree attitude was a nice breath of fresh air for him. Usually, people were either aggressive or timid around him, but demons were rarely chipper like you were.

♡ He was so captivated by you, he would often make excuses just for him to spend more time with you.

♡ Originally, he just wanted to observe you–how you operated normally and how you would react when you had an obstacle (that he was often the cause of.)

♡ However, his original plans crumbled when he started to fall for you.

♡ Alastor knew you liked him as well; you were much clumsier and nervous when he was around, something he knew only happened when you were with him because he’s been watching you for so long.

♡ He didn’t confess to you immediately.

♡ He instead chose to tease you, make you flustered and ensure that you really were attracted to him.

♡ He would stay unnecessarily close to you so he could lean down into your face whenever he pleased, give you gifts like sweets (he insists he just found it and hates sweets, but the wrapping is too pristine for road candy,) and insinuate that you two are together and deny it whenever you question him.

♡ Alastor is confident that you’ll be his, so he has no problem letting the chase drag on a little.

♡ You’re actually the one to crack and confess.

♡ While you were helping Alastor cook dinner for everyone, he teased you through lingering touches.

♡ He assigned you to cut the vegetables, chastised you for doing them wrong, then brought you to his chest and put his hands over yours to “show you how it’s done.”

♡ He regularly offered you samples of the food, keeping eye contact while he fed you and asked how you liked it while you were stuttering over your words.

♡ The final straw was when he told you not to get too close to the food or else you’d make it too sweet.

♡ You blurted out your confession before you could think and flushed when you saw his smile widen.

♡ He was very smooth with asking you out–you barely registered that he had actually asked you out before he finished serving dinner and called for everyone to eat.

♡ For your first date, he took you out for dinner where he reserved the entire restaurant for you two.

♡ Your dynamic hadn’t changed much from when you two were just pining.

♡ The only difference was Alastor could actually kiss you now, but he still doesn’t enjoy PDA much, so most people barely notice the change.

♡ You two are partners in crime with a good-cop bad-cop dynamic and strike fear into the citizens of Hell.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

#hazbin hotel #my writing #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #fem reader #female reader #hazbin hotel alastor x female reader

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necronatural · 11 months

Text

The Reigen Arataka Deranged NormalMan Review

Do you ever think about how Reigen has like. A really strange belief in The System and How Things Should Be. Like REALLY strange. Whatever he's got going on is so much weirder than "scammer with a heart of gold".

I think it all comes together if you read the 10th Season 3 omake like, seriously interrogate this:

This is normal, if comedically thoughtful and realistic for a shounen character. This guy talks like a mandatory reporter. What's strange is what immediately follows:

"AS A SPIRITUAL SPECIALIST" DOING A LOT OF HEAVY LIFTING HERE REIGEN

Not only did he hunt down the families of the children bullying his client (insane. where did he get that info), he also contacted the school as if he were representing his own son in order to get justice, and then hunted down a source of complaints when the school fell through.

This is like a genuinely bizarre level of commitment to the bit, and the bit is "the system works, and if it doesn't work, we will find a system that does work, and if we cannot, hell or high water it is my PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY to make the system stop slouching so it works again".

Long thread on the manga with this reading⬇️

Before I start. Reigen adopting Teru is more IC than you think but I don't think it is IC in the way people think it is. I think about this a lot and I think people who do it because they like Reigen aren't understanding how into his bit he is. Guy who talks to social services

So remember the arc that won people over to Reigen despite the fact he's an asshole who takes advantage of Mob and derides him constantly in order to keep him complacent?

He has Mob's phone on his GPS. This makes sense; he's been taking him out and about since he was 11. Very responsible!

Reigen dismisses the "Boss" mistake thinking well, it's a misunderstanding, but it got me in. Yet as soon as he heard they're committing crimes, he VISIBLY puts on his Boss Pants to chastise them. Again, normal so far. I think any scammer with a heart of gold would do this. (And foreshadowing for why he retried reprimanding the Claw Cadres a second time after getting power.)

Again. He's a scumbag. So he leaves Mob to beat their asses using his previous rhetoric. But then!

Reigen's shady morality is more like "people who can take care of things should take care of things". To him, Mob is the Authority on Espers, and can handle conflict like this. Immediately upon becoming aware he can't, Reigen thinks "oh, okay, so the only person who can take care of things is someone who can deescalate". (Pictured: Deescalation)

Okay. Besides the fact this is insufferable as a general concept - YOU just told him to handle it YOU are the source of his stress - his first step in deescalation is to force Mob to back down. Rather than asking him not to fight, he reestablishes "rules" in order to convince Mob he must back down - the same way he tried using what he said to worm his way out of dealing with this shit - and then sets himself up as the authority figure to which the others must obviously defer in matters of His Boy, like a parent accepting criticism at a PTA meeting. This isn't Reigen claiming Mob so much as "in order for them to not attack Mob, they must view me as a representative for Mob".

And like a good authority figure:

Continuing with his phrasing:

If you think about it, this is like...an objectively very strange and incredibly bold approach to this situation. They're homicidal. Reigen is a DERANGED level of Normal Man. He has this image in his head of normalcy, of the world at standard operating procedures, and reinforces it right through an entire conflict. Carceral beliefs don't even factor into this, simply expressing his principles and expecting them to fold.

And they do lol. I keep wondering how Shou must have felt listening to him talk like that

We see a little more of his good side in work; when he was getting so little work it was affecting his grocery bills, this moneygrubbing scammer still asked for like $200 to clear an entire city of hauntings. (His regular exorcisms are around $30). Fair prices are part of his principles of how the business should be. He operates basically at-cost. He mentions he wanted to come out here because he's bored. He's killing time as a career.

Aside:

Just realized he called Mob in last minute so Mob didn't know he accepted crops instead of money. Shigeo didn't like that

So consider that he never got caught here and there was a call on the news to hunt him down at the end of this bit: for the average viewer of the anime, it's just funny, but this is part of the Mogami pre-arc so we've gotten a hold of him by now; he probably holds an inherent belief that the police will intercept him and not Mob. Why wouldn't they? Why would an adult man want to dress up in a highschool girl's uniform? The System will understand.

Not relevant to my point but I like how he realizes what's wrong with Mob way before the final arc, just not why it's happening. Also he doesn't say anything.

With the way his principles are, you really get the feeling that Reigen does his best to avoid culpability specifically because if something happened that was his fault, he'd have to step up to the plate to compensate for that, which is troublesome to him who is a career time-killer. It does not occur to him that an actual bad person and scammer would not step up to the plate as a matter of course. This is his way

What I find really interesting is that this Militant Insane NormalMan does have a sense of wanting something "special", but rather than whip Mob up the way Dimple did Ritsu, he ended up projecting his own values onto Mob, as if he could recreate a special "self" within him. He's always deriding him and baiting him and lying to him in hopes of creating a superb person that a special individual like Mob finds admirable, as if Mob is the authority on his quality of character. Sad! lol

Anyway, it adds a lot more kick to this famous line. Reigen genuinely believes in Authority

Authority works!

And if Mob (the authority on espers) doesn't work, who's the person who MUST step up to the plate [common sense]? You guessed it.

There are other aspects of Reigen's character that everyone and their dog has already picked up on (his self-loathing is the entire reason the way he talked to Mob in Confession arc hit so hard), but this one's my favourite. He's insane

#mp100 #mp100 meta #i like him a normal amount.

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dancingdonatello · 1 year

Note

HI!! 💕💕

can i request a donatello x gn reader who has a pet softshell turtle? i saw a tiktok where raph and donnie were holding their turtle species and omg it was so cute- 😭💕

have an AMAZING day/night!!

donnie x gn reader

“Donnie, it’s time you meet someone very important to me.”

That’s what you had told him a few days ago. Now, he stood at your doorstep dressed in the fanciest of clothes he could find. He was prepared to meet and impress your parent.

He wasn’t prepared for you to laugh at him when you opened the door and saw him.

“What?” He asked. You didn’t answer and instead pulled him into your house and up to a room that you had never let him go in before. “What’s going on?”

“As much as I love seeing you in a suit,” you paused as you fell into another bout of laughter, “you might want to take it off.”

“Why?” He demanded before you opened the door. Only then did he see the reason why.

The room was mostly empty, just filled with bins and food containers. But in the middle and most obviously the center piece of the room, there was a large pool of water.

“You… have a turtle.” He was flabbergasted. “As a pet?”

“And another as a boyfriend.” You patted him on the arm before you walked over. You picked the turtle up and it squirmed unhappily in your hands. “Look! It’s a soft shell too.”

“Amazing,” Donatello said flatly. “Now where is your parent that I was supposed to meet?”

“You were supposed to meet her!” You held the turtle in your hands out towards him. “Isn’t she pretty?”

Donnie turned to leave.

“Aw, Donnie…” you whined. “You’re hurting her feelings.”

Donnie scoffed again but stayed put. You smiled victoriously.

“Come on,” you sat down on the floor and patted the floor in front of you, “let’s just hang out.”

Your boyfriend reluctantly turned around and sat in front of you. He looked very unamused but you didn’t care. You set your pet on the floor and it immediately hissed at Donnie.

“Wow, she does not like you.” Her long neck reached over and she bit onto the finger of one Donnie’s hands that had been laid on his lap nearly. “She really doesn’t like you.”

“It’s because she knows I am better than her in all ways,” he said emotionlessly, even with his finger in the turtles mouth. “You are nothing compared to me,” he whispered lowly to it.

“Not true.” you shook your head. “Watch. Daphne, let go.”

“You named it Daphne?”

“Look!” You interrupted with a screech. “She let go! She listens better than compared to you.”

“What? I listen,” he defended himself but you were moving on.

“Daphne, sit.” The turtle coincidentally laid down when you said it. Donnie groaned when you cheered. “Such a good girl,” you cooed and picked her up. She bit you this time.

“Can it balance chemical equations?” Donnie scoffed.

You looked over at him, shocked at how… displeased he looked. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Can it develop and operate highly dangerous and radioactive weaponry? I don’t think so.” Donnie’s eyes were burning holes into your poor turtle.

“No, but it is cute.” You held poor Daphne a little closer protectively before you had an idea. “Donnie, just hold her. Feel the connection.”

“Feel the connection,” he mocked you. But he still took the turtle into his hands when you passed her over. He inspected it with a grumpy look. “Looks healthy.”

The turtle reached forward with its long neck and touched its snout to his.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out and took a hundred photos. “I am printing these out and plastering them all over my walls.”

It was all fine until Daphne started to churr. She had crossed the line.

“Daphne!” You snatched her back. “That is inappropriate!” Donnie snorted and shook the mud off his hands with a sigh.

“I guess she’s alright…” He interrupted your chastising of Daphne. “Still can’t take over the world though.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah, you’re one of a kind, Donnie.”

leo | raph | mikey

art

#rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #donatello hamato x reader

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dirtyvulture · 5 months

Text

Ceremony

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Sergeant!Reader

18+ only read at your own risk

Summary: You get some (very nice) awards for your actions during Operation: Avalanche.

Word count: 1834

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

This is Part 4 of my Sergeant Beef AU, following the events of this fic.

“Why is all of this necessary?” you whine, pulling at your stiff collar. Natasha slaps your hand down as she fixes the medals and ribbons on your chest.

“This is what you get for almost getting yourself killed,” she replies, although there is no malice in her tone. “Don’t worry. We can go back to my place afterwards and–”

“Finally,” you interrupt with a grin.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she chastises again, although you know she’s just as excited as you are to be back on your home turf for the first time in months.

“How do I look? Would I pass your inspection this time?” you ask as she backs away from you, surveying you up and down. You’re leaning on one crutch still, but you’re glad that you don’t have to use a wheelchair anymore.

“You look fantastic,” Natasha says, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it.”

She walks at your pace as you hobble out of the parking lot, joining the large group of people gathered on the lawn of the park. Most of them you hadn’t seen since before your deployment, which at this point feels years ago. Your entire team is here too, all of them crowding around you for hugs and handshakes. There’s too many things to be said but no privacy to say them in, so you promise that you’ll give them your time once you return to the base. Men and women with more medals and ribbons than you can count come over to thank you and wish you well. It feels odd being the center of attention and you’re not really sure you like it.

Peter Parker brought along his Aunt May and she gives you a hug that almost lifts you off the ground. She cries into your shoulder while thanking you for not leaving her nephew behind and you unexpectedly get a little choked up yourself.

There’s also a camera crew from the local news station that asks you to sit down for a brief interview. You see Natasha watching you from behind the camera, a mixture of pride and worry on her face for you. She knows this event is emotionally and mentally draining for you, but she can’t be happier to be here celebrating your achievements with you.

After the interview, you sit with her in the front row, you on the aisle side because you need space for your crutch. General Fury goes up to the stage and gives the opening speech.

You zone out, hearing your name said a few times, but you don’t really care. Natasha nudges your knee with hers and you look up at her. She smiles bracingly which you return half-heartedly.

“I would now like to welcome Sergeant Y/N to the stage,” Fury says, as everyone erupts into applause. You grab your crutch and Natasha stands with you. Slowly, you limp to the steps of the stage, Natasha hovering behind you carefully. You hop up each step, your face hot as you feel all eyes on you and you pray that you don’t accidentally trip in front of them. “Sergeant Y/N,” Fury says as you approach him. He is mindful to offer you his left hand so you can leave your right one holding onto your crutch.

“It is with great honor that I present to you today the Purple Heart Award and the Distinguished Service Cross, for your bravery and actions during Operation: Avalanche. You did not hesitate to put yourself in certain danger to ensure your team’s safety, and because of your sacrifice, all six members of your team are here today. Thank you for your service and dedication to protecting this country, Sergeant Y/N.”

The applause sounds louder up here than your seat, and you stand tall as Fury pins your two new awards to your chest. Natasha is standing, probably clapping louder than anyone else, and her reaction makes you feel happier than the two awards you’ve just been given.

“Thank you, General,” you say, saluting him with a tight voice.

“Don’t thank me, Sergeant Y/N. I didn’t even write the speech,” he teases, standing next to you and posing for some pictures.

***********************************************************************

After the ceremony, you skip your own after party to go home with Natasha. You give everyone the excuse that you’re tired, which isn’t technically a lie, but now you just want to spend time with Natasha. She brings you to her apartment, which is bigger and nicer than yours, but you don’t even have a second to revel in its familiarity when she pushes you into the bedroom.

She helps unbutton your shirt, being very mindful of your new awards, taking it over to her closet to properly hang up. You can’t help but smile at how respectful she is when it's normally a desperate frenzy to get you undressed. You toss your crutch onto the floor, leaning most of your weight on your left leg while trying to simultaneously unbuckle your belt and take off your pants without falling over.

By the time she comes over to you, she’s already naked herself and you can’t help but moan when she presses against you, skin-to-skin. She wraps her strong arms around your waist, helping keep you upright, leaning up to kiss you. You can tell she’s trying to be gentle with you, but you can feel her passion with the way her hands possessively run up your sides, skating carefully over the new, large scar along your ribs. Her nails dig into your back muscles to press you against her harder.

“Nat,” you whisper when you start to feel your right leg shaking. You know you lost some muscle mass and definition being cooped up in a hospital bed for months, but Natasha doesn't seem to mind. You're also embarrassed that you can’t stay standing for long, but Natasha pulls away to take your hand and lead you to the bed. You limp after her, immediately dropping to your knees on the mattress as she lays down in front of you.

“I really want you, Y/N,” she says, practically devouring you with her eyes alone. “But if you’re not up to it, I can wait.”

“I want you too, Nat. So much,” you reply, starting to jerk yourself off to hardness. It’s been months since you’ve had an opportunity to have her like this; as often as her visits to your room in the hospital were, you weren’t well enough to engage in her favorite activity the way you used to. It had been hard on both of you to have to wait, and part of you was nervous that you wouldn’t last that long or didn’t remember how to please her.

“Okay. How do you want me?” Natasha asks, and it’s unusual for her to let you decide. But she seems to understand the importance of going at your pace and doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable.

“Uh…on your knees?” you suggest, not even sure what you’ll be able to handle. As long as the movement was minimal, you figure you’d be okay.

“Okay.” Natasha kisses you again before turning to face away from you, presenting her perfect backside. Instinctively you grab onto it, shuffling forward until your cock bumps against her butt. You’re already throbbing at her touch but you want to make sure she’s near the same level as you.

You bend forward, your side protesting a little at the movement, but you push through, slipping your arm around her waist to drag your fingers through her folds. Natasha puts her hand on your wrist to guide you better, and you start panting in anticipation when you feel how wet she is.

You dip your fingers into her while circling her clit and her body stiffens underneath you. You’re just glad you’re doing something right as she ruts back against you with a whine, guiding you to move faster and deeper.

“Fuck, I think I’m already going to cum,” Natasha admits, tightening around your fingers. She forces you to stop moving so you wait for her next instruction. It makes you feel a little bit better that you’re not the only one with decreased stamina. “Are you ready, babe?” she asks. “I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you say, looking down at your hard cock that’s standing almost at a 90-degree angle.

“Okay. Fuck me good, Y/N.”

Her words turn you feral almost instantly and you steady yourself by holding onto her waist with both hands, maybe a little harder than you intend because you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to keep yourself upright, even in this kneeling position. The tip of your cock brushes against her hot center and this time, you don’t wait for further permission to enter her. You push in, her tight heat surrounding you, and you have to bite your lip to remind yourself not to cum immediately.

“Fuck, Nat,” you grunt, afraid to move while you adjust to how perfectly she stretches around you. Your cock twitches when she pulls you in deeper and you finally move your hips in time with hers, although a little more slowly than you would have liked.

You moan like you haven’t been fucked in months, which is technically true, and Natasha pulses harder around you when she hears your reaction to her. She pushes back against your abs with some force, a little afraid that she’ll knock you over, but she’s so desperate to be filled by you. Her toys, her hands, and even yours would never compare to your cock.

The bedroom quickly fills with the slick noises of your cock sliding in and out of her pussy. The pain in your side and thigh starts to become noticeable even with the numbing pleasure between your legs, and you realize you have to finish soon or you won’t get to at all.

“Nat, I…I need to cum,” you beg, hoping she’s at her peak too.

“Let go, babe,” Natasha says, curling her hands into the blankets and lifting her hips higher so you can piston against the sensitive spot inside of her. It takes a few more strokes that almost have you seeing stars before you unload, arching forward to bury yourself to the hilt as you pump out your seed in a few hard bursts. The pressure of being filled is enough to send Natasha over the edge, her cum dripping onto your cock as you pull out and collapse next to her on the bed, your chest heaving and sweat collecting around your neck.

Natasha reaches out to you, wrapping herself around your body like a koala bear. Although she would love to go another round with you, she can tell you’re too exhausted and doesn’t want to push you. So as you slowly drift off to sleep, Natasha whispers in your ear how much she loves you and how she’ll never take you for granted again.

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

AN: And things are basically back to normal for these two! :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader

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all-action-all-picture · 2 years

Text

Gibson's Daring Dam Busters.

Operation Chastise, 16 May 1943.

Battle Diary from Battle Picture Weekly. Art by Joe Colquhoun.

Treasury of British Comics.

#15may #1976 #treasury of british comics #battle #battle picture weekly #16may #1943 #joe colquhoun #operation chastise #dambusters

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eureka-its-zico · 7 months

Text

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 3

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 12.6+

A/N: Guys. Idk where to start, but this chapter needs a warning because it is big and beefy. I didn’t want the 1.03-1.04 story arc to be dragged out further into 4 chapters and, because of that, this chapter exists. I truly hope it is one that you enjoy. It took a lot of time and love. So please, get out some 🍿 cause it’s going to be a ride. P.S. To everyone who has liked, commented, reblogged, and sent me messages about Chaos in Their Bones: thank you. You have all made this such a wonderful experience and a fun one. I hope it continues to be one you enjoy 🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1 Previous Next

So far Operation Petty was getting off to a rough start.

Your original plan of stealing every glass of wine Zoro poured seemed like a good one. Golf claps for everyone. Except, that good idea slowly began to disappear five glasses ago.

Unfortunately for you, and to the dismay of the entire table, you were a giggling mess.

After the sixth glass you were lucky you could even see straight. It wasn’t until after Zoro poured the next glass and slid it over to you the wheels in your head finally added all the small clues you’d missed. Zoro had let you think you’d stolen glass after glass of his wine. When in reality, he’d just been trying to get you drunk.

Zoro was already on his fourth bottle of wine and still seemed able to function like a person.

You leaned, not so gracefully, over to his side of the table. A “Psst,” hiccuping out of you to garner his attention. You knew you had it. He was just hiding a majority of his face inside the glass.

Just to make sure though - “Psst!”

“Ugh, Doc, we can all hear you,” Usopp said somewhere behind you.

You waved him off. Your eyes honed in on both Zoro’s.

“What do you want?” He hummed.

“Hey, Mosshead,” you snapped. That got his head to swivel an inch away from the safety of the glass. “You did this on purpose.”

You were leaning so far forward your cheek was almost flush with your arm. Your fingers wiggled near him and you watched as his eyes darted down to watch them before side-eyeing you.

“Yup,” he answered, sharply pronouncing the p. “You want to steal my wine as payback, well I can drink you under the table.” You weren’t expecting him to drop the glass and move towards you. The movement wasn’t huge, but he was closer than you anticipated and it made you scared to blink. “I can be petty too.”

Fuck.

He was so close - almost kissably close and - No! Why are you thinking of kissing at a time like this? When Zoro’s close enough you could see the sun kissed freckles that dusted over the top of his cheeks and nose. The playful glint in his eyes that brightened them to shine like mini constellations.

With a devious smirk sliding across his lips, Zoro regarded you one last time before he straightened up. His hand reaching out to take back the glass he’d previously sat down and brought it back up to his lips.

“You are diabolical,” you huffed.

When you went to straighten up, you felt your world tilt. You were going to need - “Can I get some water, please?”

You needed to sober up and fast. Inwardly, you could already hear your inner monologue being set up to chastise your childish behavior. You were so worried about Zoro and annoying him that it was all you focused on.

I’m not here for him.

You’d come with Usopp with the goal in mind to help Kaya. That was who you’d come here for and who you still had every intention to help. The plan to do so was still there, but somehow within the last few hours you’d allowed yourself to be distracted by a pretty face.

A soft cough from Kaya’s direction was all the clarity necessary to get your head back on straight. Or as straight as it could be in your current state. No more Zoro. No more looking at him, talking to him, looking at him-

You could sense him moving off to your right, but you were not going to look. Nope. Most definitely not going to look, but was your head tilting?

Drunk you seriously needed to work on some self-control.

You were heavily lost in your head again. So lost that you weren’t sure how many times Luffy or anyone else attempted to bring you into a conversation. It wasn’t until a gentle hand on your shoulder jolted you back into the present.

Looking to your left, you saw Usopp waiting for you to answer him. His concern etched into every scrunch of his face.

“Luffy asked how long you’ve been a doctor,” he offered slowly, as if he spoke too fast he’d lose you again.

“Well, technically, I’m a doctor-in-training.”

“So, not a real doctor.”

Of course, Zoro just had to butt in. You still weren’t going to look at him.

“I am a doctor. Naan has taught me over the years how to handle every illness and broken bone that has come through this village. I think one of the biggest things she’s taught me is that sometimes kindness can be the strongest medicine and other times defending those who can’t defend themselves is a bigger responsibility.”

“Wow,” Luffy smiled in response. “You must have helped a lot of people. Your grandma must be really proud of you.”

Luffy looked so…genuine. The very thought of you going out of your way to help others seemed to make him regard you differently. While the smile on his face wasn’t expansive and filled with its usual childlike mischief, it held one of praise. As if it was a rare thing for someone to have the drive to help another person. Maybe over the last decade or so that might have been true, but Naan didn’t raise you to turn a blind eye to those in need.

You couldn’t help but respond to Luffy’s smile with one of your own. Although, you hoped it didn’t wilt as you prepared yourself with your reply.

“She’s an orphan,” Sham interjected as she set down a dinner plate that was intricately decorated with fish and vegetables. “Usopp too. Isn’t that right?”

Not true. Orphan meant that there had been no one there for you. No family to help take care of you when you needed protection, and while Naan wasn’t your real grandma she was family because she chose to be.

You dropped your hands down into your lap and could feel your fingers curl into your palms.

“What does it matter if they’re orphans or not?” Your eyes narrowed in on Nami. She sat beside Luffy, opposite of Usopp, and her cool gaze was trained on Sham. She watched closely while Sham placed the next plate hastily down in front of Usopp. “I’m curious to hear your answer.”

“Forgive my staff, Miss,” Klahadore stepped in. “Sham spoke out of turn when it was not her place.”

“I’m sure she meant no harm, Klahadore.”

Kaya smiled up at him and he responded with a smile of his own. You hated how Kaya was always apologizing for everyone around her, especially for those who didn’t deserve it.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Nami continued. “If she didn’t mean to say it she would’ve kept her mouth shut.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, guys,” Usopp offered.

You weren’t surprised to see him looking at Kaya. The two of them shared a small smile between them and it took everything in you not to lightly smack him on the arm. If Kaya wanted to be peacemaker, Usopp would do everything in his power to play along. Anything Kaya wanted Usopp would make sure he did everything in his power to make sure it happened.

What felt worse was that Sham’s attempt at an insult did bother you. It was meant to remind you that they considered you nothing, which was odd coming from waitstaff and a butler.

A doctor to pirates was about as valuable as gold.

“Yeah, not a big deal,” you mumbled. Your fingers riddled with your fork; debating if eating Buchi’s food was worth the risk. With your luck they probably poisoned it. “I do hope I make her proud someday, Luffy. I still have a lot to learn.”

Luffy was already a mouthful deep into his plate and wasn’t showing any reservation in taking another hardy bite. Thank god he waited to swallow first before he replied, “The fact you came here to help Kaya tells me all I need to know. You’re a good person, Doc.”

“That’s very kind of you, Luffy. Thank you.”

God, I will not cry right now.

Why did random words of kindness - from a stranger - matter so much? Luffy didn’t owe you any act of kindness or to bother being so nice to you or Usopp. Yet, here he was being an actual ball of sunshine. You knew dozens of people in this town who disregarded Usopp and his stories. Who grumbled and complained when he started talking. Luffy had only treated him with respect: he listened to his stories no matter how bat shit crazy they must have sounded.

You knew Luffy and his friends would eventually leave but for the time they were here (besides Zoro) you were grateful.

“It says a lot about who you are. You’re a good person.”

You felt your smile wilt a little as you watched a few flecks of food fall out of his mouth as he spoke. Flying food aside, you were really starting to count yourself lucky that Luffy and his friends ended up in your sleepy little village.

Sham was still depositing plates of tonight’s only special when you heard Kaya ask if she could try some. She’d barely finished asking before Klahadore was there beside her.

“I’m sorry that won’t be possible, Miss Kaya. You know how certain foods affect your constitution. Here,” he waved his hand free from his chest ushering in Buchi. “Buchi has prepared your special soup.”

“Why is it blue?” You blanched.

When all eyes turned to regard you, you realized you hadn’t said that in your head. The wine was seriously starting to make your body too comfortable.

“It’s made with a special fruit,” Buchi growled back.

“What’s the name of the fruit? I’ve skowered this entire island top to bottom with Naan and have never seen a fruit that color here.”

“It’s imported.”

“From where-“

“It’s not important where her food comes from,” Klahadore interrupted. Each word was more forced than the last. “All that matters is it helps Miss Kaya.”

“If that was true then why is she still sick?”

Klahadore’s eyes were practically shooting daggers into your skull. You were willing to bet a million berry’s that if he got you alone in a room, you wouldn’t be making it out. That thought only seemed to ignite something inside you that you’d been pushing down for months.

You rolled your tongue along your bottom teeth as you struggled to reign in your temper. The wine made your blood warm and fuzzy, but now you felt as if you were boiling alive. Your legs were bouncing uncontrollably underneath the table and your hands were curling into fists-

Suddenly a hiccup of a gasp lodged itself in your throat. The tip of a shoe was pressed gently against your ankle and the tip of said shoe belonged to the very moss-headed oaf who’d been plaguing your every waking minute. Yes, you said you weren’t going to look at him, but you didn’t expect him to touch you. Even just this small amount.

When you did glance at him, Zoro didn’t return your stare. His eyes were trained solely on Klahadore with a slight draw of his brow confirming your suspicions. Zoro was starting to notice something was off with Klahadore too and was warning you.

“Kaya it’s your birthday. You should be able to eat whatever you want.”

Nami’s soft voice cut through the tension and brought Klahadore back to the present. His eyes glazed back with mock servitude, but you’d seen it. Maybe now so had Zoro. Your eyes were only for Klahadore as you watched the exchange between him and Nami. You loved the way she was sticking up for Kaya and the challenge in her eyes as she stared him down-

“You need to relax.”

Fuck.

You struggled to keep a shudder from making its way down your spine but you weren’t so lucky in keeping the soft gasp from trickling out from your lips. The husk of his voice was unnecessarily sexy.

Slowly, you turned to look to your right and found Zoro casually sitting back in his seat. His eyes trained forward and his hands took his silverware as if he hadn’t just whispered across your skin like sin.

You couldn’t think past what had just happened. It didn’t matter how much you tried to formulate a sentence. Your brain was just not having it. You could do this. You were an intelligent woman who was not easily swayed.

“What?”

A masterful reply.

Zoro looked at you from his peripherals before placing the napkin down into his lap.

“I would stop antagonizing him before he kicks you out.”

And here you thought he was just worried about you.

“I’m a doctor and Kaya needs me.”

“Has she told you that? Has she physically looked at you and specifically asked for you to save her or do you just need to feel important?”

“Why are you such an asshole?!”

You spoke every word through gritted teeth. The anger that Zoro erased by killing your brain cells, which now felt like an insult to yourself, was stoked back to life. Your body singed with the need to get a hold of him because - who the fuck talked to people like this?

What you hadn’t expected was for that anger - god, that hurt - to soak deeply into your words. Each one raised and sharp with the intention he knew you meant it.

Zoro didn’t respond. He just started eating his fish. You suddenly didn’t feel hungry.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t want to look at Usopp. Not when he sounded like that. What would happen if you did? Would you cry or scream that you weren’t? The panic you’d been shoving down the last few hours was beginning to weasel its way to the surface. You were running out of options and ideas on how you could help. What if Zoro was right? What if Kaya didn’t need you and you’d allowed yourself to be dragged into a story that wasn’t real?

The thought alone was enough to make you look at your best friend and the panic was replaced with guilt. The shame was enough to make the first sharp prick of tears threaten to spill free from your eyes. Usopp didn’t deserve your anger or your doubt. He may have told a lot of stories, but he was good. His heart was pure. You weren’t worried about whether or not you smiled at him if he could tell you were lying. You knew somehow Usopp would understand your frustration.

“Yeah, Usopp everything is alright.”

He side-eyed Zoro over your shoulder before he brought his attention back to the room. Clearing his throat, he looked over at Luffy and asked, “Luffy, isn’t there something you wanted to talk to Kaya about?”

“Ah, yes. Usopp tells me that you own the whole shipyard.”

Kaya smiled gracefully in reply, before she looked away. A sadness creeping into her voice.

“Well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard, and Merry’s been running the business since…well since they passed.” You watched as Luffy followed her words and glanced over to the man sitting at the table. A courtesy raise of his glass to salute the dead. For a split second, all the joy in Luffy was replaced by something that didn’t seem to fit. A melancholy that didn’t belong. “But all that’s about to change. At midnight tonight I will become sole owner.”

“Ah well, that’s great because we want to buy a ship from you.”

Now this was the Luffy you’d grown to know. All smiles and cheerfulness like a rainbow as he lifted his champagne glass and took a sip.

“I see,” Kaya responded in kind. “Usopp mentioned that you were sailors.”

“Nope, not sailors. Pirates.”

Your head spun sharply back in his direction. He seemed so happy about what he just said. Like it wasn’t the worst kind of omission that could get you all killed or arrested by the local Marines. Usopp definitely had a reason to be choking on his own drink.

You glanced at Nami and back at Zoro and both of them, respectfully, looked worried as shit.

“Pirates?”

“Yep. We haven’t sailed together for very long, but we have already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a Marine captain with an axe for a hand!”

“Usopp, what is he talking about?” You whispered sharply over to him.

Usopp was still covered in his own spit as he furiously tried to wipe it off. The worry evident in the fine creases in his forehead as he glanced around the room.

“I don’t-“

“These sound a lot like your adventures, Usopp,” Kaya mentioned lovingly.

“Yeah. It’s crazy.”

Kaya thought that Luffy was joking! While you were sure Luffy meant what he was saying you were also incredibly confused. Pirates weren’t nice. The ones you’d met a few times had forced Naan to help them. They’d been rough, mean, and downright nasty. Luffy was none of that.

“Oh yeah, and we are just getting started!” Unexpectedly, Luffy stood up in his chair and began to stand on the table.

“What are you doing?” Klahadore snapped as he came forth from the shadows. “Get down from there this instant!”

“Being a pirate has been my dream for as long as I can remember and I’m finally going to make it a reality. We are heading off to the grand line where even more adventures await us.” With an eager smile gracing his lips, drink in hand, Luffy began to walk his way down to where Kaya sat. “At the end of the journey I’m gonna find the ultimate treasure, the One Piece and become King of The Pirates.”

When he got to Kaya Luffy stopped and took one last sip of his drink before handing it off to Klahadore. You would honestly pay to have this moment replay in a time loop, it was so damn good. Besides the fact that, you know, they were pirates.

“Kaya, you have a beautiful ship out there. A caravel with a sheep figurehead. It spoke to me. That is the ship we need to follow our dreams. I promise we will take care of it. Maintain it. Because a ship isn’t just a vessel; it’s also a home.”

It felt like such a genuine moment. Luffy didn’t appear to be like every pirate you’ve ever met. They were usually selfish, ugly, and cruel men who found pleasure in others misfortunes or creating them themselves. Even now, after his confession, it wasn’t the vibe you got from Luffy, and that’s what made it all the more confusing.

“That will be quite enough!” Your body gave a jump in surprise as Klahadore screamed. His body thundering over to stand next to Kaya. “I should’ve known Usopp would bring rift raft to our doorstep.”

“Klahadore it’s okay-“

Kaya tried to defend them, but a violent coughing fit cut her short. Usopp edged toward the end of his seat noticeably wanting to get up and go to her. The both of you knew if he made any moves right now, unfortunately, who knew what this butler would do.

“Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve all upset Miss Kaya. I want you all out of here, at once!”

“No,” Kaya interjected. “Let them stay the night.”

“Very well, Miss Kaya. But they are out of here first thing in the morning.”

Stay the night?

“Fuck,” you huffed under your breathe.

You had no intention of staying in this manor with any of them. You turned to tell Usopp you should both head back and noticed the way his puppy dog eyes followed Kaya as Klahadore led her away. He wasn’t going to leave her and maybe that meant you shouldn’t either.

“Well, that went well.”

Luffy really needed to learn to read the room.

You waited for Buchi and Sham to follow after their master before you pushed back your chair and did your best not to trip on any of the tulle at your feet. You needed to get out of this dress immediately. It wasn’t because you were much of a fighter. No, that wasn’t you. However, you did enjoy running from danger and this dress made it damn near impossible.

“Where are you going?”

Luffy and his kaleidoscope of happiness. You wondered what it was like to always be so optimistic.

“I am going back to my room and probably leaving.”

“What?” Usopp turned to look at you. “Why are you leaving.”

“Yeah. What was all that holier than thou talk about helping her,” Zoro cut in.

“Oh, what the hell does it matter to you, anyways?” You snapped. “First, you insult me for trying to help and now you insult me, again, for leaving.”

“Cowards give up when it gets hard.”

Was it physically possible to blow smoke out of your nose? It felt like it as your eyes narrowed in on him. He didn’t even have the decency to look at you.

“Zoro, you got a real stick up your ass,” Nami huffed as she grabbed her glass and took a drink.

“That’s not the real reason she wants to leave” he shot back, eyes on Nami. “Is it? It’s because she heard the word, “Pirates.”

“That’s crazy,” Luffy laughed around the words. “We’re good guys.”

“Pirates are not good guys,” you snapped at him. It was your turn to feel like an asshole as you looked between them. Luffy noticeably hurt. “I have met plenty of pirates when they came looking for Naan and her services. She hid me every single time, because she was scared of what they might do. If they would take me. Doctors are more valuable to pirates than gold. That was the lesson she taught me and I learned it well.”

“Pirates have been to Syrup Village?”

Usopp didn’t seem to grasp the fact that they hadn’t come raiding and he’d have to ring the bell for real. No one knew how close pirates really were to Syrup Village. It was one of the reasons why Naan’s home was hidden so deep within the bamboo forest.

“Yes, Usopp.”

You needed to get away. You were tired - drained - from feeling like you needed to apologize to them. You didn’t know what's real anymore and maybe you were being a coward. Maybe you were just tired of being wrong.

With one last tug on the tulle, you moved away from the table and gave them one quick glance before you headed out towards the dining room doors.

————————————-

It’d been over an hour since you’d made your less than graceful exit from the dining room. Even after getting back into the comfort of your own clothes, it didn’t keep the nagging feeling that you’d been an asshole from clawing its way to the surface.

You had been an asshole.

You’d been pacing the confines of your suite chewing on your nails until you were positive you must have gnawed them into dust. There was no denying Kaya’s home was beautiful. It was everything you could imagine money could buy in the form of creature comforts, but there was no happiness within its walls.

The room you’d been given was more than what you and Naan lived in now. When you’d first been shown inside, you’d felt silly having all this space and having no idea what to do with it. It was all lovely. From the four poster bed with intricate wooden detailing to the velvet curtains that ran the length of the wall that held a window overlooking the garden. The wallpaper, you were positive, held gold within its designs.

It wasn’t the fanciest, but you would take your small home with Naan then stay in a place like this. Speaking of home…

It would be so easy for you to turn tail and run. To go out the front door and never come back but what would you tell Naan? That you never got to see Kaya? That you were unnecessarily rude to a group of people who’d been nothing but friendly (except one) all because their captain called them pirates?

Coward. That’s what Zoro called you. The worst part was maybe he wasn’t wrong. So, ninety-five percent of your plan had gone to shit. You at least still had five percent of it.

Neither Luffy, Nami, or Zoro did anything that warranted your hasty judgment, and nothing they did reflected what you’d been exposed to all your life. What you hated the most was that you could feel the need for an apology brewing in your gut, and if you didn’t do it you would never get any sleep.

After you’d gotten dressed and strapped on much more comfortable shoes, you made your way out of your room and back inside the maze of hallways. You were closing in on the main corridor when the sound of a door opening made you stop in your tracks.

What if it was Sham? You prepared yourself to see her unpleasant face when orange hair wrapped in an orange designed bandanna crept out into the hall.

“Nami?”

She startled as you called her name and turned to face you. The sound of clanking caught your attention and your eyes followed the sound to a very filled pillowcase in her right hand.

You quirked an eyebrow as you asked, “Doing some spring cleaning?”

You watched as her usual friendly demeanor changed into squared shoulders and eyes filled with defiance. It made you feel like you were about to embark on a fight you didn’t realize you were having.

“You want to hurl some more generic insults my way? Tell me how much of a bad person I am-“

Now you were raising your hands up but not in surrender. It was an attempt to quiet her down. You’d already been berating yourself about words, and the power they held to equally heal or destroy someone. How many times had Naan chastised you about being reckless with your words? Reminding you that the things spoken can be enough to heal or mend hearts and bodies, but can also easily break them.

“A healer is more than just someone mending a body, girl. Sometimes we heal by listening. Giving dying men the forgiveness they seek.”

And here you were slinging verbal canon balls at these people.

I’m such an asshole

“Nami! Nami! While I hundred percent deserve that, it’s not what I was going to do.” She didn’t seem like she believed you in the slightest. That was fair. “I was actually on my way to try and find you guys.”

“Why? So, you could tell us some more about how you hate pirates?”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“Oh, I think that’s more than fair. You are not the only one who hates pirates or holds the lottery for the shittest interactions with them.”

Again, your hands were up. Why did this have to feel like you were with a lion inside of a cage? One wrong move and you were sure she was going to bite your head off.

“I never said that, ok? Did I have a shit reaction to finding out that you were pirates? Yes. That’s why I’m here. I came to apologize to all of you. You defended me tonight at dinner. You didn’t have to do that.”

All the anger that swirled in the gray of her irises began to soften. Good. At least she was no longer looking ready to turn you into literal sashimi.

“Yeah, we’ll, she was acting like a real bitch.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “but that’s beside the point. You didn’t have to say anything but you did and how did I repay that? By being an asshole so on that note: Nami, I’m sorry.”

Why was she just staring? You thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest at any minute. Nami wasn’t smiling or appeared angry or upset. She was completely stone faced and you were desperately trying not to fidget.

“I think that’s the first time anyone’s apologized to me before.”

“That sucks.”

God, you really did have a way with words. Nami was equally as shocked at your bluntness, but in a way that sent a warm smile to lift the edges of your lips. Nami sputtered out a laugh as she placed her hands on her hips. The motion and sound of clinking whatever was in there reminding you both that she was currently doing something illegal.

“Are you going to say anything? Report me to Klahadore?”

Even just the sound of his name was enough to drop the smile from your face. A sneer replacing it as you replied, “God no. I’d rather just let you steal than say anything to that jackal.”

“You and the waitstaff seem to be big fans of each other,” Nami teased.

It earned her a laugh as you looked down the hallway. Just to be safe since you were both equally unwanted in the manor and, well, Nami had a pillowcase full of the house goodies.

“I suppose you could say that.”

You stuck your hand between you both and waited patiently for her to take it. Nami regarded your hand like it belonged to a sea monster.

“Friends?”

“I don’t have any friends.”

Her words were soft and direct. As if she’d come to terms with being alone for a while now. You didn’t pull your hand away and let it fall back to your side. You kept it suspended between the two of you, and patiently waited for her to feel comfortable enough to take it.

“Well, at least now you’ll know you have one in Syrup village.”

A spark of something ignited in her eyes and whatever it was your words made her think of, it wasn’t something happy. When a small smile curled her lips it didn’t reach her eyes. They stayed distant; mourning something you may never be made aware of.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Nami reached out her hand and gently grabbed yours. You waited to secure your fingers around her hand, just in case she had second thoughts. When she didn’t pull away you allowed yourself to fully smile at her, which earned you one back.

“Where were you headed to, anyways?”

You both released each other, and you started slowly moving around her to get to the corridor.

“I was going to look around for Luffy. I need to apologize to him too.”

“Check the kitchen. If you’re going to find him anywhere it’s going to be in there.”

“Thank you. You just saved me some time. See you later, Nami.”

You were a few feet away when she called your name. You turned halfway to see her still standing in the same spot you’d left her.

“Are you going to apologize to Zoro?”

“I’m still debating,” you answered truthfully.

You aren’t sure what Nami expected you to say, but apparently that hadn’t been it. She immediately erupted into laughter as she turned and headed to the next room.

You really hoped she wasn’t going to get caught by Klahadore or anyone else. You were positive it would get him all riled up and send him screeching for the marines to come. Maybe even throw in some insults, because that was just the kind of man he was.

It took you longer than you wanted to locate the kitchen and you were considering bringing it up to Kaya about putting signs up around the manor. Ones that let you know with arrows which way to go. Why was it so easy to get lost in such a big house? You were still trying to come up with a way to bring up that little suggestion when you heard Usopp’s voice coming from the kitchen. Usopp was there too? Your curiosity spurred you forward - almost at a sprint - until you heard another voice grumble from the kitchen.

“You don’t think she like - like likes me, do you?”

What kind of conversation were you walking into? You rounded the corner to find Usopp and Zoro staring at one another. Usopp looked hopeful while Zoro regarded him with as much emotion as a rock.

“You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“I would second that, Usopp.”

At the sound of your voice all eyes turned to you.

“Doc! Hey! What brings you to the kitchen?”

Luffy sounded like his usual happy-go-lucky self. He didn’t seem to be holding a grudge or feelings about what had happened only an hour ago between you. All Luffy seemed to care about was the leftover appetizers and being amongst friends.

How could you ever think he was anything like other pirates?

His cheerfulness was contagious and soon you found yourself making your way around to the stairs. Luffy waves you down to join him with an appetizer in hand.

“You didn’t seem to eat at the dinner. You should try some of these. They’re delicious!”

“Are you sure there is any left?”

“Oh, I have some in my pockets if you want those.”

He really was digging through his pocket to pull out some appetizers. You didn’t know why it surprised you so much but you couldn’t keep your laughter from bubbling to the surface.

“It’s okay, Luffy. I appreciate your willingness to share, but I’ll pass for now.”

“You sure? These are really good!”

Just to prove his point, Luffy popped whatever he pulled from his pocket into his mouth. His fingers noticeably tinted with a pink hue from it melting.

“Pretty sure.”

You snagged a stool on the opposite side of Luffy, which unfortunately kept you on the same side as Zoro. Who was actively staring daggers into your skull.

“I actually came to find you so I could apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“For how I acted at dinner.”

“Where’s my apology?”

Zoro’s husky voice cut through your good mood and instantly made you bitter. You turned in your seat to look at him, who was opening and closing drawers every two seconds.

“I’m still debating on if you deserve one.”

Zoro had been opening his next set of cupboard doors when he stopped short. His head tilting the slightest to glance at you over your shoulder. You waited for him to make another smart ass comment and when it didn’t come, well, color you surprised. All you got was a tick of his jaw before he turned back to opening and shutting doors.

“What is he doing?” You asked Usopp.

“He’s looking for something to drink,” Luffy offered up in between his next bite.

Where the hell did he find a chicken leg? You fixed yourself to sit more comfortably on the stool and placed your satchel on the table. You looked between the three men again and remembered what it was they’d been talking about before.

“So, what were you guys talking about?”

Usopp scratched the back of his neck and looked anywhere but at you. What was making him so nervous? You’d been friends since you were kids. There literally couldn’t be anything that embarrassing-

“Usopp is in love with Kaya and wanted to know if we think she’s in love with him too.”

Luffy happily continued to eat the chicken that you still couldn’t figure out where it came from. Usopp, on the other hand, looked like his soul was about to leave his body.

“Sounds about right.”

Your response must have been a shock to Usopp because that’s exactly how he looked. His hand was still nervously fidgeting with his bandana.

“You know?”

You rolled your eyes as you looked around the kitchen island. Maybe you were starting to feel a little bit hungry.

“Usopp, even Naan knows how you feel about Kaya. She called it like two years ago.”

You were still looking for something to eat when Luffy slid a plate with chicken thighs and legs between you. They smelled wonderful and the skin was perfectly crisp. It was garnished with what might have been green onion or chive.

“If you guys are going to talk about feelings I’m seriously going to need a drink.”

“Shocker.”

The few steps Zoro took came to an abrupt end just a few feet from you. You had a piece of chicken thigh between your lips as you made eye contact with his award-winning brooding face. There was a millisecond, as you both looked at each other, that you wondered if he would’ve replied.

“There’s a wine cellar down in the basement.”

“Why didn’t you mention that before?”

Usopp opened and closed his mouth. While he was unsure of what to say, you felt like you had plenty. Usopp didn’t waste another second as he grabbed his satchel off the island and started leading Zoro up the stairs.

“Luffy, you coming?”

“No, you go ahead. I’m going to sit with Doc for a while.”

They were walking on the opposite walkway, high up enough to look down at both of you. Zoro glanced over his shoulder at the both of you and it took every last ounce of control on your body not to stick your tongue out at him.

How odd it was that you felt like you could actually breathe now that he was gone. Sure, you knew you should say sorry to him and, realistically, him calling you a coward was part of the reason you’d stayed. Did you ever want to share that information with him? Hell no.

The man was already insufferable enough. You didn’t need to add to it.

The sound of Luffy’s chair scraping against the floor brought you back to where your attention was needed: Luffy. Not Zoro’s retreating back.

Why did he have to look good from both sides?

Shaking your head to bring you back to why you came there in the first place, you watched as Luffy went back to walking around the kitchen. He kept searching until he came across a bronze pot that was left on the stove. When he lifted the lid you could see the neon blue hue of Kaya’s soup from where you sat.

“What are you doing?”

Luffy turned with the large pot in hand and walked back over to the table. He looked like a child who’d gotten lost in a chocolate factory.

“Eating.”

You felt your brows enter your hairline and possibly the ceiling as you watched Luffy bring the pot to his lips, and begin to gulp the contents down.

“Are you seriously going to eat all of that?”

He took a few rather large gulps before he set the pot down to look at you. A blue mustache formed on his upper lip.

“Soup isn’t my usual choice, but it’s not half bad.”

You tried to shake the smile off your face but failed miserably.

“You know, you don’t need to apologize. I understand being protective of the people you care about.”

The change in topics was giving you mental whiplash. Luffy regarded you with a softness you hadn’t expected. Underneath was that playfulness you’d grown accustomed to, but it was submerged under something serious. Or as serious as Luffy could be. It was the softness you hadn’t expected, however, and you quickly looked down at your hands.

“Naan raised me to admit when I’m wrong, and I was wrong, Luffy.”

“You talk about your Naan a lot.”

“I have a lot of respect for her. She didn’t have to take me in, teach me what she knows, but she did. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to repay her.”

Luffy regarded you coolly as he picked up the pot and took another giant gulp. His mouth was getting bluer by the minute.

“I’m sure she appreciates you helping her, but I don’t think she’d want to keep you from your dream.”

“I don’t have a dream.”

“Everybody has a dream. Mine is to be King of the pirates. Now you say yours.”

Luffy was right. Everyone has a dream. Just not all of them were attainable. There were realistic dreams and unrealistic ones and yours had to be classified under the latter. Luffy’s too.

But who was to say dreams weren’t attainable if you weren’t willing to strive for them?

You inhaled sharply, your words exhaling in rush.

“I want to be one of the world’s greatest doctors. I want to help people. Not just humans, but fishmen and people who have eaten Devil fruits. Their physiology is so changed that no one knows what happens when they get certain wounds.”

“That’s great because I ate the gum gum fruit.”

How could anyone just casually chug an entire pot of soup? Or openly share that kind of information.

“I’m sorry, what was that? Did you just say you ate a Devil fruit?”

“Yup. It turned my body into rubber.”

“I have so many questions.”

“It’s a long story.”

His words came out slurred; as if they sat heavy on his tongue and made it impossible to speak. You watched as he blinked slowly to try and clear his vision and when that didn’t work he went to stand and immediately stumbled backwards.

“Luffy!”

Your body immediately launched itself over the table. You didn’t care that your clothes were covered in a rainbow assortment of food. By the time you’d already made it to his side of the table, Luffy fell back against a cabinet. His body sliding limp to the floor.

“Luffy! What's wrong? Can you tell me what you’re feeling?”

He was obviously lethargic. His pupils blown wide and unable to focus. It sounded like he was trying to answer your previous question, but his tongue had swollen up making none of it audible. You barely reached him before he completely crumbled to the floor. Your hands dove underneath his arms until you pulled him into a bear hug.

Luffy was too damn heavy. If you kept holding him you would end up in a heap together on the floor. With as much strength as you could muster you tried to hoist him onto the table.

“Zoro! Usopp!”

As you pulled him up onto the table, you heard countless silverware and plates crashing to the floor. There was so much commotion surely someone would have to come investigate. You didn’t have time to wait to see if anyone did. After you had him laid out as good as you were going to get him, you rushed over to his head. You pulled up his eyelid and watched as his eye rolled up inside his head.

“Damn it! Zoro! Usopp! Where the fuck are you guys!”

The panic in your voice was tittering on hysteria. You wanted to scream. You definitely were going to start crying if your brain didn’t get it together. Luffy needed you.

You placed two fingers on the artery in his neck. His pulse fluttered against your fingertips and with each beat felt slower than the last. Drawing your hands back you noticed the slight foam that was forming at the corners of his mouth and - “Poison.”

Your eyes zoned in on the now empty pot. Luffy had eaten all of it and whatever was inside was enough to make its effects be instantaneous. It was the same soup they’d given to Kaya. The same color as her tea.

“Son of a bitch!”

They’d been poisoning her this whole time. The only reason she didn’t drop dead in front of them was because she’d never even taken a bite. Every time Usopp told you stories about Klahadore, Buchi, and Sham it always felt off. None of it ever added up and now, now you know why.

Those bastards had been trying to kill her this whole time.

A soft groan huffed from Luffy bringing you back to the very important present. Why hadn’t anyone answered you? It didn’t matter. You needed to help Luffy - Kaya - before it was too late.

“Luffy, I have to go back to Naan’s. I can’t carry you out of here or we won’t make it. I promise I’ll be back. I’m going to save you. I’m going to save Kaya.”

With one last look at Luffy, you tightened the strap on your satchel and bolted for the nearest exit.

——————————

Your lungs were screaming with every breath you took and your muscles burning, threatening to collapse, as you pushed forward. You couldn’t afford to stop running. Not since you left the front door of Kaya’s house. The last time you saw Luffy glued itself to your retinas and refused to let go. A constant reminder that no matter how much your body wanted to give up, you couldn’t let it.

Luffy and Kaya were counting on you.

By the time you passed through the town and started up the hill behind the tree line to Naan’s you were running on fumes. It was probably the reason why you not so gracefully barreled through the front door. Your legs wobble to a shaky halt as you attempt to walk them over to the cupboard that held every tonic known to man.

“Naan! Naan, I need help, please!”

Your voice cracked and melted into the old boards of the house. You were still struggling to catch a breath as you opened the doors to the cupboard. Everything about you felt unstable. Your hands shook as they moved around the bottles, almost toppling them over and threatening to make a bigger mess of your night.

“What in the hell is going on down here?”

Naan’s voice crocked with sleep but her words were full of fire. She was pissed you woke her up, but it was all for a damn good reason. The dim light from her candle grew brighter as she advanced down the stairs.

“Naan, I’m down here. Please, I need your help.”

You rushed to the stars to wait to help her down the rest of the way. The minute she grabbed your hands to help her down, you moved to take her toward the cabinet but she held on tight. She wasn’t budging until you looked at her. She called your name repeatedly to get you to look at her. Why wouldn’t you look at her?

The overwhelming feeling of failure was crashing in on you. You’d known. You knew, in the pit of your stomach, that something wasn’t right with them. You should have fought harder. You could’ve done more and now, now Luffy was dying of a poison Kaya ingested for years and Nami, Usopp, and even Zoro were in danger.

A sob tore its way out from your throat, through your lips, and ended in a guttural scream.

“What in the hell is happening, child?”

“Naan,” you sobbed. “Naan, Luffy has been poisoned-“

“Poisoned?”

“With the same stuff they’ve been giving Kaya for years. Kaya has slowly been poisoned and she’s going to die. We need to help her. I need to help them Naan, please.”

You weren’t sure when it happened. When you were no longer supporting Naan but she was supporting you. Her paper thin hands held your face gently as her thumbs smoothed your tears down. She made you follow her breathing until your breaths were even and slow. Only then did she begin to talk to you.

“Do you know what kind he ingested?”

Fuck.

“No, I-“

Naan held her hand up to stop you. With one hand still supporting her weight on your arm, she came off the last step and moved towards the cabinet you’d massacred. You knew Naan had noticed it too when a displeased click of her tongue filled the silence in the room.

“If you don’t know what it is, it could be tricky. I can give you what I have, but you are going to need to examine them both before you give them anything. Give them the wrong one, and it will kill them as quickly as the poison will.”

Naan calmly went through each bottle. She knew by heart where everything would be. Just like she could blindly feel through ingredients or measure it without actually measuring it. She turned around with five bottles clutched in her hands and shuffled her way back over to you. She motioned for you to open your satchel and placed them one-by-one carefully inside.

“I don’t know if you should be doing this.”

For the first time, you heard the waiver in her voice. She watched as you secure your satchel closed; her eyes trained to the worn leather before she looked back at you. You weren’t expecting her to look so scared. It was your turn to place your hands on her shoulders and give them a soft squeeze.

“You’ve always taught me there is no greater service in life than to serve others. I can’t let them die, Naan.”

“I know,” she smiled sadly. The worry made the wrinkles more severe than before. “It’s just…be careful. Please.”

With another squeeze you did your best to smile at her, to reassure her, before you stepped back.

“I’ll be back, Naan. Don’t you worry.”

You didn’t know that for sure. There was a chance Klahadore or Buchi would spot you before you made it back to Luffy. Who knew what they were doing to everyone while you were here.

With that uncertainty of what could happen stewing in your chest, you leaned forward quickly and planted a kiss on Naan’s cheek before you bolted out the door. This time, your body was prepared for the brutal run back to the manor. You were almost to the edge of town when the bell rang out in warning and moments later the sound of Usopp’s, “The pirates are here!” Ringing out.

At the sound of his voice, you allowed yourself a moment to thank the universe that he was okay. You wanted to stop and turn back to the village. To find Usopp and ask him just to come back with you and the two of you would figure it out together.

Luffy didn’t have that kind of time.

With that truth taking over your thought, you began to pick up the pace. You had a captain to save.

—————————-

The front of the manor was beginning to be covered in the fog that was rolling in from the ocean. This was hands down the creepiest you had ever seen the Manor. It was giving definite horror vibes. The worst part? Even from this far you could see the damn pirate shutters were enabled.

“Fuck!” You screamed.

How in the hell were you going to get inside to help them? Those things were heavy and meant to be impenetrable. There was no way you were going to be able to break it down with a few kicks.

“Think,” you huffed, as your hand slid across your face.

What options did you have? You could go back to find Usopp, but there was a high chance you’d only end up missing each other in passing. You couldn’t just go up to the front door and knock. Not unless, you know, you wanted to die.

You were pacing back and forth when a very loud grunt echoed from the well.

You hadn’t read many horror novels, but the ones you had read, well, this was giving haunted zombie island vibes. You wish you could claim to be unafraid, but when the grunt came again, this time closer and louder than the last, you knew you’d be lying.

So, why were you ever so slowly edging your way towards the well? Curiosity did always kill the cat. Right when you finally got to the edge of the stone, you exhaled to prepare yourself to look over.

Who knows, maybe it was just your imagination overreacting. Right when you went to glance over the side, a hand smacked its way over the top and you felt your soul evacuate your body. A few seconds later, green hair popped over the top that sat on top of a familiar face, but your brain was stuck in fear mode, so when Zoro asked, “Doc?” The only response he’d gotten was your fist connecting with his face.

“What the fuck!”

His scream echoed into the well. You could hear him slipping and knew it was because you’d shoved your knuckles into his cheekbone. Just as he was about to slip, you launched yourself over the side to grab a hold of his arm.

“What the fuck!” Zoro shouted up at you.

“I’m sorry, okay! I thought you were a zombie and oh my god is that a fucking body?!”

You almost let Zoro go as your eyes focused on what looked like very real feet attached to very real legs.

“Yeah. It’s that Merry, guy.”

Zoro grunted as he tried to find purchase for the foot that had slipped. You were struggling to hold him up and each time his foot slipped it seemed to tug you down with him.

“For fuck’s sake, what are you made of bricks?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my weight inconveniencing you? If it wasn’t for you I would be out already,” Zoro growled out each word.

“I said I was sorry, okay! What more do you want?”

You move your hand further down until you reach his elbow. At first, it seemed like a solid plan. Strategically, it was a better option to give you more leverage in helping pull him up. The reality of it was Zoro was sweaty - very sweaty - from climbing about twenty-feet up the inside of a well. The minute your hand clamped down on the lubricated skin, it slipped free.

When he started to come loose from your hands you expected him to scream. All you saw was a grimace as his back slammed into the wall of the well and a glare that could give death a run for his money.

“Just pull me up already and stop screwing around.”

“I am trying but you are a hefty, hefty man,” you stated with each word strained.

Okay. You needed to get serious. You’d allowed his weight to lift your feet off the ground. You swung them back until you could get your toes pressed against the River rock of the well. Your heels were still slightly lifted in the air, but you knew this could work in your favor. You took in a deep breath and began to lean back as hard as you could. It may not have been super comfortable, but it was pulling him up enough that you could hear his boot finally find the footing it needed.

“Okay, you can let go now. I said you can let go-!”

You fully intended to let go. Whatever Zoro had done to help launch himself out, mixed with your pulling, sent you falling backwards.

With Zoro landing directly on top of you.

His weight mixed in with the fall knocked your breath clean out of your lungs. You were trying to get your lungs to expand by letting your body relax so you attempted to think of soothing things. The night sky and her stars were looking incredible tonight. It was the clearest you’d seen them in a while. Too bad it was on a night like tonight.

Zoro slowly lifted his head up from your shoulder, his arms on either side of you, until you were both face-to-face. Suddenly, it felt like the air was knocked out of you all over again.

His skin still held a sheen from his previous excretion of climbing. The edges of his hair was damp with sweat giving him a look that reminded you of when you’d run into him earlier wet from his shower. It shouldn’t have made him look this damn good.

You were painfully aware that he was still between your legs. Zoro was close enough you could feel his stomach extend with each heavy breath he took. Could easily count the freckles that endless days in the sun had kissed on his skin. His lips were parted, eyes scanning your face, and for one devious miscalculation of judgment, you wanted to fist your fingers in his shirt and pull him towards you to see if his lips were as soft as you imagined.

Nope. Nooooope!

That moment was enough to bring you crashing back to reality. Plus, Luffy. Kaya.

You smack his chest for good measure. Just to let him know you meant it when you said, “Are you trying to crush me to death? Get off me!”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” he grunted.

Once he was up, you expected him to stick his hand out to help you up. Instead, he was already walking in the opposite direction of what appeared to be away from the house.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You scrambled up from your spot and hurried to try and catch up with him. Your hands rearranging your satchel to make sure your bottles weren’t crushed.

“I’m going back to the house.”

“Yeah, so am I but the house is back this way.”

Zoro stopped for a split second to look behind you before deciding what you offered was wrong.

“How about we split up and figure out who was right?”

“Fat chance, Mosshead.”

You fell into step beside him and you were positive if Zoro could’ve, he would’ve thrown you down the well. Just to make sure you stayed away from him. If this was a different time, one where you didn’t just pull him from a well where a dead body was, Luffy wasn’t poisoned, and Kaya and Nami were in danger you would have steered clear of him. So, unlucky for you both, you were newfound partners in unfortunate crime.

Neither of you spoke a word as you continued to walk down the path. You were pretty sure that Zoro was sending you the wrong way. You were two seconds away from telling him he was most definitely wrong, and you’d been most definitely right, until you both observed something up ahead.

Was that marines? And were they carrying- “Luffy,” you said in a hush tone.

Zoro saw it too. Two marines were carrying his limp body between them until he launched himself forward and began vomiting in the trees. It shouldn’t be possible. Poison when ingested - by anyone - was fatal. Even with as much vomiting he was doing it shouldn’t be possible. And yet, you saw it happening.

It has to be the Devil fruit…

Zoro waved for you to hide inside the bamboo but you brushed him off. As quietly as you could, you reached down and grabbed a fallen bamboo branch. You made sure you had a good grip on the bottom as you made your way quietly forward.

They were arguing between themselves. One of them with an extremely terrible haircut was holding a gun to the other with glasses and back to Luffy. The two spare marines were just standing watching and-

With as much force as you could muster, you smacked the one on the left on the side of his head. Zoro just used his fist for the other one. At the sound of their bodies falling, bad haircut turned around and when he saw Zoro walking towards him he turned sheet white.

“Zoro!” Luffy called happily as he got to his feet. “And Doc?”

You scratched the back of your head as you watched Zoro knock out bad haircut in one punch.

“Yeah. I came back to rescue you. Surprise,” you joked, throwing your hands up in mock celebration.

“Thanks. Come on. We need to get back to the house.”

Without another word, Luffy pressed between you and started making his way back towards the house. You side-eyed Zoro to see if he was paying attention, because Luffy had just proven you were right. You opened your mouth to tease him when a soft shout of Luffy’s name sent you all turning to see who it was.

They stood in front of you - pale as moonlight - and a little frightened with black rimmed circle glasses and pink hued hair. You weren’t sure who they were but all you needed to know was that they knew Luffy by name.

“Koby, I know you got a job to do. But I’m going to go back and help my friends. Don’t try and stop me.”

Yup. Luffy was officially the most polite pirate you’d ever met.

Koby gave Luffy the smallest of nods. A silent affirmation that he wouldn’t be following suit. You had so many questions about what happened between everyone tonight and would make sure to ask later. If given the chance.

Adjusting his hat back on his head, Luffy turned and started sprinting down the path. Zoro gave you one last look before he ran after him with his hands securely holding onto his swords. A soft groan left you as your feet padded along like the little engine that could.

“Ugh, why are we doing more running? I hate running.”

No one answered you and that was fine. You were going to need as much air as you could trying to keep up with the two of them.

——————————-

Zoro and Luffy were at the door when you came up. The two of them looked at the giant metal shudder. You were ready to tell them there wasn’t going to be any other way inside the house when Zoro bent down on one knee and worked his fingers underneath.

“That’s not going to work.”

Luffy turned to you with a wide smile.

“You don’t know Zoro.”

As if on queue, Zoro let out a grunt and began to push the shudder up. No way. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to even remotely lift it an inch. Usopp told you hundreds of times that pirate shudders were over six-hundred pounds of metal. They were meant to withstand canon balls and here Zoro was lifting it to his waist.

Luffy grabbed a statue and placed it underneath the shudder allowing Zoro to let go, and kick the double doors open. Luffy wasted no time in bending down and looking inside to make sure they could enter without interruption. When he was sure it was clear, he moved inside and Zoro shortly followed. Luffy went to shut the doors when you quickly moved inside.

“Doc, I think you should wait outside.”

“Fuck that,” you seethed. “These are my friends too, Luffy. I’m not leaving until I know they’re safe.”

Why was he smiling?

“Alright, but we split up. Cover more ground that way.”

Neither of them wasted any time taking off in their respective directions. It wasn’t until they were gone that you realized you didn’t have a clue where to go and what were you supposed to do if you found them.

You let out a huff of air that ended in a raspberry as you decided to go down the opposite side of the corridor than Zoro. You may not have any abilities from eating Devil fruit or be insanely good with swords, but you did have your wits. Yeah. That’s what was going to save you. Wits.

Maybe you could just go back to the kitchen and see if the pot was still there. If it was, you’d have a chance to get samples of what Buchi had laced inside the soup. In Kaya’s tea. God, just thinking about it pissed you off all over again.

If the house felt eerily quiet before, it felt even worse now. All signs of life were completely drained from the halls to the point your own breathing felt too loud in the large space. You were tempted to make noise, to call out for Zoro like playing a game of Marco Polo. Probably wouldn’t have been one of your best ideas in a house full of homicidal waitstaff.

When you got to the kitchen you made a quick note that the bronze pot in question was missing. Of course they wouldn’t have kept it. It was evidence of a plot they’d spent three years perfecting, but you just needed to search to be sure.

Quickly, you made your way around to the stairs and into the step down of the kitchen. Someone had done the dishes. It was all gone. You tried not to allow the bitterness of that thought to settle, but damn if it wasn’t hard. How were you going to be able to know what treatment to start giving Kaya if you didn’t have anything to base it off?

You looked around the kitchen one last time when the sounds of fighting erupted somewhere in the distance. It could be Luffy or Zoro. Hell, it could be one of the other three too. Either way, it didn’t matter who it was. You were going to help them.

First things first…

You looked quickly around the kitchen. There wasn’t much in the way of weapons that were going to strike fear in the hearts of anyone. You saw a tiny pot that was sitting on the sink counter and rushed forward to grab it by the handle. As soon as you knew you had it, you bolted back up the stairs and towards the main lobby.

The closer you got the more intense the fighting became. Swords. Those definitely sounded like swords, which meant it was Zoro fighting, but also someone else with swords. And here you were bringing a pot to a sword fight.

You weren’t given a chance to backtrack on your choice of weapon. The minute you came out from the French double doors that lead back into the foray of the house, you watched as Zoro fought off Buchi and Sham.

You never saw a real swordsman or met one for that matter. It wasn’t like Syrup village was brimming with up and coming anything, really, but as you watched Zoro effortlessly move between blocking and attacking you were willing to bet no one compared to him.

You were so caught up in gawking that you weren’t aware that Buchi and Sham were made aware of your presence until they hissed at you. Hissing? Really? You could feel a smart ass comment brewing, but now didn’t seem like the appropriate time to say it. Buchi was who turned on you first with Sham still attacking Zoro. She had her back to you, and when she came up from a missed swing you rushed forward and launched the small pot at the back of her head.

The sound of it connecting with its intended target resonated through the room. Sham’s head was as hollow as you thought.

Everything slowed down for a second as you all waited to see what would happen. Luckily for you, the result was Sham falling face first into the hardwood completely passed out.

“Holy shit. It worked! Zoro, did you see that!”

“You little bitch!”

How the hell did you forget about Buchi? He came stomping towards you causing the floor to shake as he did. You were getting ready to bolt in the opposite direction when Zoro jumped in the way. You took that as your queue to move.

You dashed toward where Sham’s body had fallen and kicked away her sword and - wait, was that a broom handle? You no longer felt embarrassed about using a pot.

Taking hold of the unconscious Sham, you began to move her more towards the front door. Zoro finished with Buchi with ease and knocked him unconscious. It didn’t dawn on you that something was different about him until he dragged Buchi over to where you’d placed Sham. Zoro was wearing a black bandana. And no, you did not notice how the veins in his arms were very much showing.

“We should get some rope to tie them up.”

“Good idea.”

By the time everyone made it down, Buchi and Sham had regained consciousness and you and Zoro were sitting far apart.

There was no denying when you saw them all come down the stairs, a relief so intense flooded your veins and soaked into your bones. When Usopp hugged you, you allowed yourself to hug him back just a little bit tighter.

A part of you knew that the adventures of yesterday would come to an end back in the shipyard. It would end with Kaya giving Luffy that ship he’d so lovingly given his speech for, and more so knew Luffy would ask Usopp to go with him.

It was Usopp’s dream - his real dream. Part of that dream was experiencing the freedom that the sea offered, just like his dad did. How could you ever ask someone you considered your friend - your best friend - to stay just because you weren’t ready to part with them? No. Usopp deserved adventures as grand as his stories.

While he’d been talking to Kaya you’d taken the opportunity to slip away. It’s not that you weren’t happy for him, because you were. The idea of not having him around anymore, however, began to dig a hole in your soul. So, you went to the one place that always mended it.

You were sitting with Naan at the kitchen table folding linens with water boiling on the stove and ingredients beside it. You were still waiting for Kaya to come by so you could perform an assessment. Before you could treat her, you would have to find out how extensive the damage was, and what would be the best form of treatment.

“So, Usopp’s going to be going, then?”

You didn’t expect Naan to sound sad. While she wasn’t mean like the rest of the village, she most definitely was not a fan of rising early just to hear the bell and the yelling.

“Yeah. They should already be out to sea.”

You were folding your next set of linens when Naan reached out and gently took your hand in hers. The act stops you from finishing the next fold.

“It’s all going to work out the way that it should, child.”

“I know, Naan.”

A knock on the door rescued you from having to continue whatever talk was brewing in Naan. It saved you from more than likely crying like a baby on her shoulder too. You got up from your chair and made your way over to the door when another knock came seconds before you reached it.

“Kaya, I’m coming! God, are rich people always so impatient?”

When you swung the door open, you hadn’t expected to find Luffy there smiling or the rest of the crew waiting behind him. Kaya was plainly missing from the group.

“Who is it, child?”

You felt too dumbfounded to speak. Why were they here?

“It’s alright, Naan,” you called over your shoulder, eyes still glued to Luffy. “It’s just Luffy.”

“Luffy?”

“Straw hat.”

The sound of her chair sliding back against the wood was what tore your gaze away. You looked back to find Naan struggling to get to her cane with her left hand holding her weight up by the table. You moved back from the entrance, waving him in as you rushed over to grab her cane and hand it to her.

“What are you guys doing here? I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“We were about to head out when the strangest thing happened.” You crossed your arms as you listened to Luffy. The cliff hanger his words left you on threatened to drop fresh anxiety into your gut. “I turned to get my crew onboard and realized my doctor was missing.”

“What?” You breathed.

“That’s you.”

You closed your eyes for a split second as you tried to collect your thoughts.

“Luffy, I wouldn’t make a good pirate.”

“You don’t have to be. Just like with Usopp, I saw what you did. The way you fought to protect people. I need you in my crew.”

You dropped your arms as you turned to regard Naan. The way her body leaned heavily on the cane. Her once strong body was becoming more frail by the day. You couldn’t leave her.

You swallowed hard before you replied, “Luffy, that is a splendid offer. One I don’t think anyone could pass up but I can’t leave.”

“Why the hell not?” Naan fired off.

“Naan-“

“And if you say it’s because of me, just remember you aren’t too old for me to throttle you with my cane.”

She finally pushed her hip from the side of the table and waddled over to the rack that held your satchel. Naan reached up and pulled it down, turning slowly until you came back into view, and tossed the satchel in your direction.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? You know, for being smart you sure can be dumb sometimes.”

Your eyes looked down at the satchel in your hands. You rubbed the worn leather with your thumbs as you remembered her giving you this very bag on your thirteenth birthday. The pricks of tears came unannounced and most definitely unwanted a few moments later. It made you terrified to look up. For her to see that saying goodbye might kill a piece of you, you’d never get back.

You’d never get her back either.

“Naan-“ You tried to speak but your voice cracked around her name. “Who is going to take care of you if I’m gone?”

A tsk of disbelief shot from her lips. Both her hands now came to rest on top of the cane as she regarded you coolly.

“I’ve been an old woman for a long time now. I think I can manage without you.”

“See - it’s settled,” Luffy began. “You are welcome to join our crew and that way you don’t have to give up on your dream.”

He remembered?

How silly that question was. He was Monkey D. Luffy. Of course, he was going to remember. Glancing down at the satchel in your hands once more you allowed yourself to debate one last time before you grabbed the strap and placed it over your shoulder.

Before you took that first step towards the door, you turned one last time to Naan and took one of her hands in yours. You tried to tell yourself you wouldn’t cry. You never cried, but the first tear slid down your face and called you a liar.

“Please, take care Naan. You’ve done so much for me, my whole life. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I would be.”

“Dead,” she stated matter-of-factly.

It was so blunt. So incredibly Naan that you couldn’t stop the sharp bark of laughter that came from you. The soft feather of her hand reached up to cup your face and forced you to look at her. A long silence pulled between you, and you wondered if she was going to say anything at all when a soft smile cracked her thin lips.

“Go, child. Be great.”

Shaking your head in agreement, the both of you broke free and you followed Luffy out of the house. You spared one last glance at Naan’s home - your home - and found her at the door seeing you off. You raised your hand in one last goodbye and watched as she did it too.

Maybe Luffy was right. It was time to go on your own adventure and you had no doubt Luffy and his crew were going to give it to you.

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