The last person you wanted to see when you slipped into that half-lit bar was him. Sae Itoshi, leaning back against the counter like he owned the whole place, hair shorter than you remembered, eyes still carrying that bored, cutthroat gleam. The years hadn’t softened him at all. Not his arrogance, not that sharp tongue.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.
His gaze flicked up and a smirk curved his lips. “Well. If it isn’t my favorite headache.”
You rolled your eyes, already heading toward the door, but his voice followed you. “Still running away when you can’t handle me?”
You stopped. Turned. “Handle you?” you scoffed, fists clenched at your sides. “You’re an arrogant, insufferable bastard.”
“And yet,” he murmured, pushing off the counter, closing the distance between you in measured steps, “You keep coming back.”
You should’ve left. Should’ve brushed past him and let him drown in his own ego. But something in the way his eyes pinned you in place held you still, like he knew every little nerve to set on fire. And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you’d hated him for so long it twisted into something else entirely, but one second you were glaring and the next your back hit the bathroom door with his mouth crushing against yours. It was a war disguised as a kiss, teeth clashing, lips bruising, his hand already dragging your thigh up against his hip.
“Fucking knew it,” he growled against your mouth, pulling it open with his tongue, tasting every inch. “Always so loud, so self-righteous. But look at you now.”
“Shut up,” you snapped, but your voice broke into a gasp when his hand slipped under your shirt, palm flat against your stomach, pressing you harder into the door.
“Make me.”
The words came with a thrust of his hips, already hard against you and you hated the way your body betrayed you. How you arched your back, how you let out that needy little sound in your throat.
He smirked, catching it, exploiting it. “That’s what I thought.”
The bathroom was locked a second later, and he had you bent over the sink, the mirror reflecting your flushed, furious face as he yanked your jeans down.
“You don’t deserve—” you tried, but your voice faltered as his fingers slid through your wet pussy.
“Don’t deserve this?” he interrupted with venom, pushing two fingers inside without warning. “Tell me to stop, then. Tell me you don’t want me.”
The worst part was you couldn’t. Your body clenched around his fingers, thighs shaking, the heat in your stomach boiling over until words died on your tongue. He leaned down, mouth by your ear, thrusting his fingers harder, deeper. “Exactly. You hate me, but you’d let me ruin you any night I want.”
The sound you made only proved him right. By the time he slid into you, rough and unyielding, you were already trembling, nails digging into the porcelain. He didn’t give you time to adjust as he set a sharp, brutal rhythm that had your breath shattering into ragged moans.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, head dropping against your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. “Been waiting for this, haven’t you? All those years and you’re still mine the second I touch you.”
“I’m not—” the denial cracked into a cry when he drove in harder, hips slamming into yours.
He laughed, almost cruel, one hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so you had no choice but to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look. Even you can’t lie to yourself right now.”
Your reflection showed everything: the tears gathering in your eyes, the flush across your cheeks, the way your lips parted around every choked sound.
“Pathetic,” he whispered, biting the curve of your jaw. “And perfect.”
Every thrust was sharper, angrier, fueled by years of tension you both pretended was hate. The bathroom filled with the wet slap of skin, the sharp edge of your cries, his ragged groans muffled against your neck. One more thrust and your body convulsed, your legs nearly gave out as his name spilled from your lips like a curse. You hated how good it felt, how much of a traitor your body and little cunt was.
He followed seconds later, grinding deep, spilling into you with a guttural sound that made your stomach flip.
For a moment, the only sound was your shared breathing, uneven and heavy. Then he straightened, tugging your hair just enough to make you meet his eyes in the mirror again. “Say it,” he murmured, still buried inside you. “Say you hate me.” your lips trembled, no words coming and his smirk widened. “That’s what I thought.”
Urghhhh the shit i would do to get fucked like that 😩😫😩😫😩😫😩😫😩😫😩😫
Could we do like a part 2 ish where we bumped into each other again but we try to make him jelly and Sae gets pissed & he finally makes us his/marks his territory 😍😍😍🥲🥲🥲
price could be an asshole sometimes, he knew it. and you knew it too. he always made you cry during arguments, storming out of your shared place by slamming the door and only coming home the next morning with an apology and some flowers.
you always forgave him, much to his surprise.
but today was different, he had been really mean and price knew that he messed up badly this time. he hated how he could be when angry.
"i forgive you" price eyes looked up to you, a hint of hope in it.
"are ya serious ?" he asked with his rough voice, his heart beating a little faster. he released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding when you nodded yes. you opened your mouth, "one condition" you looked at the floor, "I want to spend one night with lieutnant riley." price cringed at the way you said his name, bliking at you with big incredulous eyes.
"she really said tha' ?" price hated simon's smug smirk, the man visibly flattered by his captain's woman's wish. "who am I to disappoint the missus"
price hated even more watching you and simon have sex, even though he insisted on being here.
your body was smashed against the mattress, the bed hitting the wall as the lieutnant's hips roughly pounded into you. you were enjoying it, john knew by the loud moans that were uncontrollably leaving your mouth. he saw how you tried to hide it at first, probably in order to not make your husband insecure ; however as simon fucked you dumb, you became a moaning and drooling mess.
price clenched his jaw as he watched you both make out, he couldn't help but observe intently how simon's angry cock would thrust in and out of your pink pussy, all slick with the previous orgasms you had.
"gonna cum..." you whimpered pathetically as you shut your eyes, your nails piercing the lieutnant's back. a whimper escaped you as you felt simon's hand come rub your clit to help you climax, the delicious feeling making your toes curl.
after you came, price watched you lay on your shared bed, completely cock drunk. he completely ignored the cocky expression simon had on his face.
"next time don't be a dickhead, captain" price mentally cursed as the lieutnant walked out of the room, enjoying the situation too much for his liking.
you always knew how sae dealt with every argument you both had, it was just that you just never knew who she was.
if sae had cheated physically, maybe you would’ve known what to do, maybe you could’ve hated him properly and moved on like everyone else seemed to.
instead, you were stuck with something harder to explain. something that sounded ridiculous every time you tried putting it into words.
because technically, sae hadn’t done anything. keyword, technically.
you found out by accident.
you weren’t suspicious, not looking for proof to go against your boyfriend.
it was random, like most things in the world. you were only sitting next to him on the couch on a lazy afternoon where both of you had nothing to do.
when a notification appeared from his phone. it was a girl’s name. nothing strange about that, except the preview underneath.
‘she said that to you?’
you frowned.
sae reached for his phone immediately. the motion was quick enough for you to notice, slow enough for you to wonder why.
“who was that?” you question, a little hesitant cause you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to know.
he glanced at the screen, “nobody.”
you hated that answer. so you continued, hoping to hear a better answer, “then why are you texting her?”
“because she’s a friend.”
the conversation only ended there.
or at least, it should’ve. but instead, it stayed in your head. like some forbidden knowledge you can’t seem to forget.
you start noticing things.
whenever you and sae argued, he’d disappear afterward. he doesn’t leave, but rather, emotionally away from you.
you’d send a message and get a dry response, you’d ask if he wanted to talk and he’d say later. then later never came. and eventually, you’d make up. and things would return back to normal.
yet somehow, it always felt like sae had already processed everything before coming back to you.
like he’d had the conversation somewhere else first.
“do you tell her about us?” sae looked up, to you. the pause lasted a second too long. that was all the answer you needed. “…so you do.”
“it’s not a big deal.” he mutters, trying not to make it look bigger than it already is.
“not a big deal?”
“she just listens.”
“to what?” sae stayed quiet, which made everything hurt more.
the arguments, the misunderstandings, the things that happened between you and him, things that were supposed to stay between you and him. all of it. given away so easily.
you didn’t sleep that night. for the first time since dating sae, you wondered if there were parts of him that belonged to somebody else.
after that, every argument felt different.
you’d be talking to him while wondering if she already knew.
if he’d tell her afterward, maybe she’d hear his side before you ever got the chance to fix things.
sometimes, you’d catch him texting late at night.
sometimes, he’d smile at a notification.
sometimes, he’d disappear for an hour after a fight.
every single time, your chest tightened. you never asked for her name, you didn’t want to know her real name.
a name would’ve made her real and you were trying desperately not to imagine her.
was she prettier than you?
funnier?
easier to talk to?
did she agree with him when you fought?
did she tell him he deserved better?
sae never understood, he genuinely didn’t. every time you brought it up, he looked annoyed. like you were creating a problem that didn’t exist.
“i’m not cheating.”
“i never said you were.”
“then what’s the issue?” you didn’t know if you wanted to scream, cry, or laugh. but instead, you stared at him. in disbelief that he’d see this as an issue.
“because every time something happens between us, you run to somebody else.”
sae frowned. “that’s not what i’m doing.”
“but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
the final warning came months later, after another argument.
you were tired, so tired.
“if you do it again, we’re done.”
the words sat heavily between you.
sae looked genuinely surprised, like he couldn’t believe you’d gone that far.
“seriously?”
“yes.”
“you’re overreacting.”
your chest hurt.
“i’m not.” you mutter before continuing, “this is why it’s a problem. i’m not overreacting.”
he clicked his tongue.
for a brief moment, you thought maybe he’d finally understand. maybe he’d stop and understand that losing you would matter more than talking to her.
you were wrong. so stupidly wrong.
you had another dumb fight, over something incredibly small. he disappeared like usual, came back hours later.
somehow, you already knew. confirmation even came without you even looking for it.
he’d gone to her again, just like always, just like every other time.
suddenly everything made sense.
all those moments where you felt alone despite being in a relationship. you’d never been imagining it. sae really had been choosing someone else.
maybe not romantically, maybe not intentionally, but he chose her anyway. every single time.
the breakup lasted less than ten minutes. sae thought you’d calm down, you could tell. he kept looking at you like this was another argument, another thing the two of you would move past.
until he realized you were serious. you were actually leaving.
for the first time in this relationship, he looked uncertain. maybe that’s because he couldn’t message that girl for advice. ask what to do, or vent out his feelings about breaking up.
“you’re breaking up with me over this?”
you stared at him, ”no.” your voice cracked. “i’m breaking up with you because i got tired of being the last person you come to.”
then everything ended just like that.
it was short yet everything happened in a flash. sometimes it made you wonder if you did the right thing.
you missed him, you hated that you missed him. you hated that a part of you still wanted him to come back and tell you he finally understood. he never did.
months later, a mutual friend mentioned seeing sae.
you listened quietly until they mentioned her.
the same girl, still around, still talking to him, still receiving pieces of him that used to belong to you.
you smiled and pretended it didn’t bother you, then cried the second you got home. because that hurt more than the breakup itself. it wasn’t that sae moved on, or that he chose her. but because even after losing you, he still ran to the same person.
which meant it was never about saving the relationship, never about needing advice or fixing things. it was simply what he wanted.
you spent years trying to become sae itoshi’s safe place.
only to realize he already had one, and it was never you.
Summary: Logan knows better than to fall for his best friend's little sister.
wc: 7.10k not sorry; graham!reader; figure skater!reader; brother’s best friend; best friend's sister; hockey player x figure skater; tw: underage drinking (for americans)
Part I | Part II
The music was already loud before Y/N even made it up the front steps.
It blasted through the walls hard enough to shake the windows while bodies crowded the porch, half the campus apparently determined to celebrate Briar’s hockey team latest win like they’d personally scored the goals themselves.
Y/N adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind her. “This,” she said dryly, “is exactly how people get diseases.”
Her friend Chloe laughed. “Oh my God, stop acting like you’re above this. Your brother literally lives here.”
“Exactly,” Y/N replied. “I know what kind of diseases exist inside this house.”
Another girl, she didn’t even know beside her nudged Y/N’s shoulder excitedly. “Still can’t believe your brother’s Garrett Grant.”
“Graham,” Y/N corrected automatically.
“Whatever. The point is your family tree is carrying our social lives.” Y/N rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a little as she pushed the front door open.
Instant chaos. Bodies everywhere. Beer spilled on the floor already. Music too loud. People shouting over beer pong in the dinner table.
Home, basically.
“Baby G!”
Dean appeared first from the living room already drunker than he should. “There she is,” he announced dramatically. “My favorite Graham.”
“You say that every time just to piss Garrett off.”
“But I mean it every time.” he winked at her.
Dean immediately threw an arm around her shoulders and started pulling her through the crowd while her friends looked one second away from passing out from excitement.
Y/N heard one of them whisper: “Oh my God, that’s Dean Di Laurentis.”
She rolled her eyes. Poor girl.
“They are all freshman, Dean,” Y/N warned. “Behave.”
“I’m always behaving.”
The kitchen erupted into cheers suddenly as several hockey players stumbled in carrying cases of beer. And right in the middle of them. Logan.
Hoodie sleeves shoved up his forearms, curls messy under a backwards cap, and that lazy, effortless kind of confidence that made it seem like he belonged everywhere he stood. The warm glow from the kitchen lights softened the sharp edges of his face while he laughed at something one of the upperclassmen said, easy and unguarded for once.
Unfortunately for Y/N’s sanity, Logan always looked unfairly good without even trying.
Y/N’s friend beside her went completely silent. Then: “…holy shit.” one of them said.
Y/N snorted. Because ‘Yeah… holy shit.’ She thought
That was usually people’s reaction to Logan.
He looked up a second later, eyes scanning the room automatically before landing on her. And immediately smiled, walking towards them.
“Well, well,” he called over the music. “Graham brought friends.” His mouth curved into a smirk. He wasn’t interested in the girls at all, he just knew the comment would earn him an reaction from her, and for some reason, he never got tired of them. Like a boy annoying his crush on school because he doesn’t know how get her to notice him.
Y/N flipped him off instantly. “They’re innocent freshmen. Leave them alone.”
“I don’t want to be left alone,” one of her friends whispered weakly.
Dean and Logan chuckled. And Y/N rolled her eyes, but her gaze drifted back to Logan anyway. He looked different tonight.
Not physically, though the messy dark hair, flushed cheeks, and post-game confidence weren't helping.
No, it was something else.
Confidence was natural to Logan, but tonight it seemed different somehow. Brighter. Real. Not made up. Like he was carrying the energy of the entire arena with him.
Which, to be fair, he practically was. He'd scored a hat trick. The crowd had spent half the game chanting his name. The team had won because of him.
The worst part? He wore real confidence disgustingly well.
Y/N liked to think she knew better than most that Logan hid behind a smile. Behind the flirting, the confidence, the constant jokes, and sarcasm there was always something he kept carefully out of reach. A part of himself he rarely let anyone see.
But hockey? Hockey was different.
Hockey was the one place where nothing about him was rehearsed. There was no mask and not a carefully crafted version of John Logan. Just him. It was obvious in the way he moved on the ice. In the way his entire face lit up after a goal, a assist. In the pure, almost boyish excitement he could never quite hide after a win.
Whatever insecurities he carried, whatever demons he kept locked behind that easy smile, they disappeared the second he stepped onto the rink.
And maybe that was why Y/N enjoyed watching him play so much. Because for a few hours, she got to see the real version of him. The one who wasn't pretending to be anything at all.
As if sensing her staring, he glanced over.
"Careful, Graham," he said, pointing lazily at her with someone else's beer. "Keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna start thinking you're impressed."
Y/N snorted.
"It’s easier for me to walk barefoot through this kitchen.” she said sarcastically “You scored three goals and somehow became even more arrogant."
Logan grinned. Actually grinned. Like he'd been waiting for her to bring it up. And suddenly he looked pleased. Not because of the game. Because she'd noticed.
"So... you saw that?" He said, trying and failing to sound casual. The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Y/N stared at him and blinked.
"Logan."
"What?"
"My brother was playing."
Logan immediately regretted it. His smile melted instantly.
Of course she saw it. Her brother was the fucking captain of the team. Why the hell had he gotten excited in the first place? She watches practically every game. Like she'd been sitting in those stands watching him.
Idiot.
The stupid little spark in his chest fizzled out instantly. There it is, reality. He should've known better.
"Right," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "Yeah sure."
But then Y/N tilted her head slightly.
"and," she added, "you played really well."
Logan looked up surprised.
"What?"
"You did." She shrugged. "Three goals is kind of incredible, Johnny !"
For a second, he just stared at her.
Y/N fought the urge to smile but tried to hold it, keeping the cool girl character. Then break the character and finally smiled, when she saw his face light up again the exact moment the compliment landed.
He play it cool and was able to recover quickly.
"Well," he said, suddenly looking far too pleased with himself, "I am kind of incredible."
Y/N laughed and flipped him "Fuck off. I'm never complimenting you again"
Logan chuckled softly under his breath too. Too softly and naturally. Her friends exchanged looks and Y/N changed the subject.
“Where’s Garrett?” she asked.
“Somewhere upstairs with Hannah”
“Sounds right.”
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Garrett suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs.
He spotted Y/N instantly. Then spotted the freshmen girls behind her.
“Well,” Y/N sighed. “Speaking of the devil”
Garrett pointed directly at Logan before even reaching the bottom step.
“You.”
Logan blinked innocently. “Me?”
“Don’t try anything” throwing back to the conversation they had days ago in his room.
Y/N laughed innocently.
And Logan… Logan just grinned slowly like Garrett’s threats had become background noise years ago. Before he could say anything to defend himself Y/N spoke.
“Relax, Johnny wasn’t flirting with them…” Y/N said innocently. Then she paused. “…yet.”
Dean chuckled somewhere behind them while Garrett looked one second away from developing a stress-induced migraine. Y/N ignored all three of them.
“Anyways,” she continued, turning toward the girls beside her, “come meet my brother since apparently he’s, like, a celebrity or something.”
“Oh my God,” Chloe whispered, panicking instantly.
Garrett groaned. “Y/N—”
Too late. Y/N grabbed his wrist and physically pulled him forward into the circle of freshmen girls despite his resistance.
“This is Garrett Graham,” she announced dramatically, like some kind of sports commentator. “Team captain, future NHL star, and unfortunately for you girls, very much taken, so let’s all be respectful and keep your crushes to yourselves.”
Garrett deadpanned. “I’m leaving.”
“No you’re not.” she held his arm keeping him in place.
Her friends looked fascinated. Which happened a lot around Garrett.
He had that effect naturally. Big presence, sharp stare, the kind of confidence that made people straighten unconsciously when he walked into a room.
Y/N, didn’t see him like that at all. Mostly because she’d spent her entire childhood bullying him.
“Hi,” one girl squeaked nervously.
Garrett softened almost immediately. Not by much, maybe two percent, but for him that was practically warmth. The girls standing behind Y/N didn't look like the kind of people she usually spent time with. If he were being honest, he wasn't even convinced most of them were real friends. They seemed far more interested in the house and the hockey players than in Y/N herself. But he knew that she was trying to branch out beyond the skating world, trying to fit in with normal college girls for once, and Garrett wasn't about to make it harder for her.
So he slipped easily into the role they were all expecting: Briar's captain, friendly, polite, approachable. If making a good impression helped Y/N feel a little more comfortable, then he could play the part for a few minutes. Besides, it was nice seeing her with people outside the rink for a change. "Hey," he said politely.
Y/N looked smug. “See? He’s house trained.”
“Shut up”
Behind them, Logan watched the entire interaction with amusement tugging at his mouth. His eyes stayed on Y/N a second longer than necessary as she laughed again, and as she walked around introducing her friends to different guys on the hockey team, head tipping slightly toward her friends, arguing with Garrett about something stupid.
Most people looked at Y/N and saw confidence. The loud laugh, the quick comebacks, the way she could walk into a room full of strangers and somehow end up talking to all of them within ten minutes. She moved through their house like she lived there, stealing drinks, insulting people affectionately, making herself comfortable wherever she went.
But Logan had always thought there was something a little misleading about that version of her. Not because it wasn't real. Y/N was genuinely funny and talkative and ridiculously easy to like. The thing was, people assumed that meant she was easy to get to know. She wasn't.
Growing up with their dad she had, she'd learned early how to smile through discomfort, how to hide pain behind politeness, how to make difficult things look effortless. Figure skating had only reinforced it. Years of performing had taught her how to stay graceful when she was exhausted, how to make every movement look intentional, how to let people see exactly what she wanted them to see.
It was almost funny, really. For someone who was such a social butterfly, Y/N kept her world surprisingly small. Most friendships drifted in and out of her life without ever getting particularly deep. The people she truly let in could be counted on one hand: Garrett, the boys, Hannah and Allie. That was it. And whenever anyone pointed it out, she'd just shrug and insist she already had everything she needed.
And she meant it.
For them everything with Y/N felt easy. And Logan still hadn’t realized yet that maybe that was his problem. And why it was so hard to push whatever weird thought was going through his head away.
Y/N was halfway through introducing another girl to one of the denfesemen when a girl appeared beside Logan near the couch.
“Congratulations on the game” she said with an already flirty undertone, leaning against the side of the couch beside him.
He ignored her for some seconds. Eyes still clued toward Y/N across the room. She was laughing at something Garrett said, one hand gripping his forearm while he looked deeply unimpressed by her existence.
Then the girl said “So... you’re Johnny?”
That made him finally look back at the girl beside him. He reconized the girl as one of Y/N’s friends. Pretty. Blonde. Smiling at him.
“…don’t call me that.” he said quite rude without even noticing.
She blinked. “What?”
“Johnny.” He took another sip of beer. “Don’t call me that”
The girl laughed awkwardly. “Oh. Sorry. Y/N talks about you guys all the time, so I guess it stuck.”
That made something strange settle low in his chest. Y/N talks about you guys all the time. Not just Garrett. But also not just him. But them.
And really, why wouldn't she talk about them?
Y/N spent so much time at their house that half her college memories probably happened within these walls. Movie nights, team dinners, study sessions, late-night food runs, stupid inside jokes that somehow never died.
Somewhere along the way, she'd stopped being Garrett's little sister who occasionally stopped by and simply become part of the group.
Logan wasn't sure any of them had even noticed when it happened and hadn’t really thought about it. But apparently Y/N had. And apparently it was an important subject for her.
“You don’t like it, huh?” the girl teased lightly.
Logan was lost in his thoughts and realized a second too late she was still talking to him.
“What?”
“The nickname,” she said. “You hate it that much?”
“No,” he answered automatically. Then quieter: “Just sounds weird from other people.”
Because he didn’t hate it. Not really. He complained every time Y/N called him Johnny, but half the time he was just pretending. When she said it, it sounded natural. When someone else did, it felt like they were using something that wasn’t theirs.
Her smile shifted slightly then, like she finally noticed he wasn’t really paying attention to her.
His attention kept drifting back across the room. Y/N had moved closer to Garrett again, still talking animatedly with her hands while her friends listened. Garrett pretended to look annoyed, but Logan knew him well enough to catch the tiny things underneath it.
The way Garrett stayed turned toward her automatically in crowded rooms. The way his eyes tracked her without thinking. The way Y/N leaned into him casually because somewhere deep down she’d never doubted he’d be there.
Protective. Constant. Safe
It made him think.
Maybe because ever since Garrett had finally told them the truth last year, Logan hadn't been able to completely stop wondering about it. Not about Garrett, about Y/N.
Garrett's stories had always revolved around bruises, shouting matches, slammed doors, and a father who seemed determined to turn every room he entered into a battlefield. Logan knew enough to understand why Garrett carried some of the things he did. Knew enough to understand where the anger came from. But Y/N had always been the missing piece of that story.
He'd never asked her. It wasn't his business. Garrett had trusted them with his memories, and Logan wasn't about to start digging for details that hadn't been offered. Still, he couldn't help wondering where Y/N fit into all of it. Where she'd been during those years. What she'd seen. What she'd heard through bedroom walls. How much of it she remembered, and how much of it Garrett had managed to shield her from.
Because sometimes Logan looked at her and saw someone who seemed completely untouched by that kind of childhood, bright, confident, quick to laugh. Then other times, he'd catch small things that made him think the opposite. The way she avoided conflict she couldn't joke her way through. The way she brushed off things that should probably bother her more. The way she seemed determined to carry every problem by herself rather than ask for help.
Like somewhere along the way she'd learned the same lesson Garrett had. Just in a different form. Hide the damage. Keep smiling. Make sure nobody notices.
Garrett had spent most of his life protecting Y/N. Which made this… Whatever this weird thing inside Logan’s chest was… feel worse somehow. It felt wrong in a way he couldn’t fully explain. Because standing here watching them, it was impossible not to see how much trust existed there. How much love.
And Logan was suddenly terrifyingly aware that he was looking at Garrett’s little sister too long again.
The girl beside him tried one last time anyway.
“So,” she smiled, letting her fingers brush lightly against his arm, “are all hockey players this antisocial or just you?”
Normally, Logan would've flirted back without thinking. Easy smile. Easy charm. Easy conversation. The girl was pretty. She was standing right next to him, clearly interested, practically handing him an opening. Usually, that would've been enough.
Instead, he barely reacted.
Because his attention kept drifting across the room.
Y/N was near the middle of the living room now, laughing as Hannah wrapped an arm around her shoulders. A second later, the two girls grabbed Garrett from opposite sides and started trying to drag him toward whatever disaster counted as dancing tonight.
Garrett immediately looked annoyed. Or at least he tried to. His mouth was already twitching before they even managed to pull him away from the wall, the corner of it betraying him as Hannah laughed and Y/N nearly doubled over from her own success.
The idiot was enjoying himself.
Logan felt a soft smile tug at his mouth before he could stop it.
The girl beside him followed his gaze.
Watched Y/N and Hannah continue harassing Garrett while he complained the entire time, letting them pull him farther into the crowd anyway.
Then she looked back at Logan. And suddenly went very quiet. “Oh,” she said.
For the first time all night, Logan actually looked at her and he realized exactly what she'd been seeing.
Understanding flashed across the girl's face almost instantly. Then came sympathy. Which was somehow worse. The girl looked back at Logan and laughed softly.
Logan frowned. "What?"
"Nothing," she said, still smiling. Then her eyes flicked toward Y/N again.
Before Logan could come up with a response, she shook her head, amusement replacing whatever disappointment she'd felt.
"Good luck with that… Logan." she said sarcastically and he noticed she avoided the nickname.
"With what?" he asked immediately.
But she was already backing away into the crowd.
"You'll figure it out."
And then she was gone.
No teasing. No accusations. No chance for him to explain that she had the wrong idea.
Logan stared into his beer for a moment.
Good luck with that, hockey boy.
Good luck whit what exactly?
He almost rolled his eyes. The girl didn’t even know them and had spoken like she’d uncovered some life-changing secret after one small interaction.
Please.
She didn’t know what she was talking about.
Y/N was just… Y/N.
Of course he looked at her. Half his friends were currently orbiting around her. Garrett was over there. Hannah too. Dean had practically appointed himself her personal bodyguard for the night.
Anybody would be looking in that direction. The girl had just misread the situation.
Completely.
Logan took another sip of beer.
Then, without thinking, looked across the room at Y/N again.
———————
The party kept moving around.
Music louder now. More bodies packed into the house. The heat unbearable from too many people dancing too close together.
And somewhere in the middle of it all that, Y/N.
She’d abandoned her jacket hours ago, now down to a cropped Briar U shirt and jeans, hair messy from dancing while Hannah and Allie screamed lyrics around her. Her "friends" were nowhere to be seen anymore, and honestly she felt way better around Hannah and Allie anyways.
She looked happy. Not polite-smiling happy. Not teasing-the-boys happy. Actually happy.
Free in a way Logan didn’t think he’d ever really noticed before. And maybe it was because this place felt safe to her. Their house, Garrett and the boys. She moved through the crowd without hesitation, laughing freely, accepting drinks from Tucker without checking them first, throwing her head back when her friends dragged her into another terrible dance circle.
Comfortable. Because she trusted that nothing bad would happen here. And that somebody would take care of her if it did.
Logan watched her spin badly with Hannah and Allie to some early 2000s song while Dean nearly fell over beside her and Tucker recorded the whole thing laughing.
A smile tugged at Logan’s mouth despite himself.
Logan huffed quietly into his beer and leaned back further into the couch cushions.
Conversation started around him, hockey schedules, classes, some argument about playoffs, but it all blurred together after a while.
Because every few minutes his eyes found her again.
Y/N stealing somebody’s drink. Y/N laughing so hard she doubled over. Y/N dancing terribly on purpose just to make everyone laugh harder. Every glance lasted a little too long. Every time he looked away, his attention drifted right back. He never noticed her like that before. And the more he noticed it the worse it felt.
Because Garrett trusted him.
Hell, Y/N trusted him. She was not only her best friend’s sister, she was his friend too.
She walked into this house without thinking twice. Safe enough to steal their drinks, fall asleep on their couches, and trust that nobody would ever see more of it.
The thought settled heavily in Logan's chest.
Because he'd always hated when people said men and women couldn't just be friends. Hated the idea that every friendship secretly came with an expiration date, that eventually one person always wanted more. And yet, watching Y/N laugh her way through the crowd, made Logan feel like an asshole.
Because as far as she knew, he just another one of the boys.
Then suddenly—
“Jooooohnny.”
A body dropped onto the couch beside him hard enough to make him jolt slightly. Followed by Garrett, Tucker, Dean, Hannah and Allie walking in the living room.
Y/N grinned at him lazily, very obviously drunk.
Her cheeks were flushed pink from dancing, her eyes bright and unfocused as she made a grab for the beer in his hand.
Logan dodged easily.
Drunk Y/N had terrible reflexes.
“People’s princess,” Dean said sitting on the armchair. “Finally tired of entertaining your subjects”
Y/N pointed at him dramatically. “It’s just a break… I’ll be right back”
“You spilled vodka on my shoes twenty minutes ago.”
“And yet you forgave me because I’m cute.”
“No,” Garrett muttered, appearing behind the couch suddenly. “he forgave you because you’re five seconds from falling over.”
Y/N gasped softly. “I’m not even that bad”
She leaned further into Logan’s side as she said it, completely unbothered. Logan went still instantly.
“Hi,” she said suddenly, squinting up at him. “Why do you look depressed?”
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah,” she nodded seriously. “But, like… depressing.”
The boys chuckled
Y/N ignored tem completely and kept staring at Logan with drunken concentration like she was genuinely trying to solve a puzzle.
Then she narrowed her eyes.
“…you’re boooring. You just scored 3 goals in a important game, and spend the night sitting on this couch… you are no fun”
Logan looked down at her and suddenly realized just how close she was.
Close enough to see her melted make up and the faint glitter still stubbornly clinging near the corners of her eyes. Close enough to smell alcohol mixed with her perfume. Close enough that if she leaned even a little more—
Y/N blinked up at him slowly with heavy, sleepy eyes, still waiting for an answer to whatever nonsense accusation she’d just made. Completely unaware of the effect she was having on him. His throat tightened. Logan swallowed hard before he caught himself.
Then immediately leaned back, giving her shoulder a light shove.
“Shut up,” he muttered with a nervous chuckle. “You are dead-ass drunk.”
Y/N gasped dramatically like he’d deeply insulted her.
“I’m not drunk.”
“You almost walked into my lamp ten minutes ago.” Tucker accused
“The lamp moved.” she said dramaticlly
Dean nodded solemnly from the floor. “Honestly? I saw it too.”
“Thank you.”
Garrett looked exhausted. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
Y/N ignored him entirely and stole Logan’s beer again before he could stop her.
“Hey—”
“You share,” she informed him.
“You’ve had, like, four drinks already.” he took his beer back
“And?” She tilted her head lazily against the couch cushion. “I want to have five" she pouted
And suddenly Logan felt hyperaware again of the fact that she was practically folded against his side.
This felt dangerously wrong. Not because she was doing anything inappropriate. Y/N was just being Y/N. Comfortable, loud, affectionate when drunk, the problem was that she didn’t know the effect this suddenly had on him.
“You are,” she insisted, poking his ribs weakly. “You are all weird and quiet.”
Logan nearly choked on his beer. “No, I’m not.”
Y/N chuckled again, soft and tired this time, until she suddenly dropped her head onto Logan’s shoulder like gravity simply gave up on her. Everything in Logan’s body locked instantly.
Y/N was already half asleep.
“She’s done,” Tucker announced from the other couch.
“No shit,” Garrett muttered.
Y/N made a small annoyed sound without lifting her head. “I’m literally awake.”
“Congratulations,” Logan said dryly, staring very hard at the opposite wall instead of the warm weight resting against him. “Do you want a medal?”
“…yes. the golden one, in the olympics” she said sleepy
Tucker lost it laughing. Honestly, that was probably a sign he was drunker than he should’ve been, because it wasn’t even that funny.
And Logan smiled despite himself. Which was exactly the problem.
“Damn it,” Garrett muttered.
Logan glanced up.
Across the living room, Hannah and Allie were fully passed out on the opposite couch, tangled together next to Tucker.
And Dean suddenly disappeared , probably with the brunette he was hooking up with twenty minutes ago.
Garrett took a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose like the entire party was personally attacking him. “This is why I hate throwing parties,” he muttered. “Everybody has fun, then somehow the house is destroyed, the beer's gone, and we're the ones cleaning up tomorrow.”
"That's leardship Gare" Y/N mumbled
Garrett ignored her and continued “And don't even get me started on freshmen who discover alcohol for the first time and immediately forget how to function.”
“Love you too,” Y/N mumbled sleepily against Logan's shoulder.
Garrett pointed at her immediately.
“You are exactly who I'm talking about."
“No, I'm not.” She cracked one eye open. “I'm your favorite.”
“You're currently drooling on Logan."
Logan nearly inhaled his beer wrong. Y/N lifted her head just enough to look offended "Liar ! I don't drool."
Then she dropped right back onto his shoulder anyway.
Logan was painfully aware of: Y/N curled into his side. His arm resting along the back of the couch behind her. The fact that he hadn’t moved away once.
Garrett sighed heavily.
“Hey,” he said finally, looking directly at Logan. “I gotta take Hannah and Allie home before it gets too late”
Logan blinked once.
“And?”
“And Dean disappeared.” Garrett jerked his head toward Tucker. “Tucker’s drunk off his ass.” Then finally: "So do you mind taking care of Y/N?”
The room seemed to go strangely quiet for a second. Garrett trusted him. And Logan felt like the world’s worst person suddenly. Because Garrett asked the question so easily.
No suspicion. No hesitation.
“Yeah,” Logan answered automatically, voice rougher than intended. “Course.”
Garrett nodded once like that settled it completely.
“Just make sure she drinks water before she passes out.”
Y/N lifted one finger into the air dramatically without opening her eyes. “Hydration is important for high performance athletes.”
“You had vodka mixed with an energy drink.”
“Balance.”
Garrett rolled his eyes and chuckled lightly shaking his head. Then he moved toward the couch, crouching briefly in front of Y/N.
“Hey,” he said quieter this time. “I’m taking Hannah back to campus.”
Y/N blinked slowly at him. “Kay.”
“You staying here tonight?”
She nodded immediately, not even thinking about it. “Mhm.”
“Okay.” Garrett brushed messy hair back from her forehead automatically. “Lock the upstairs bathroom door this time if you shower in the morning.”
Y/N looked offended. “That happened one time.”
Garrett laughed under his breath despite himself, kissed her forehead before standing again. Then he looked toward Logan one last time.
“Text me if she gets worse.”
Logan nodded once.
And just like that, Garrett handed over the most important person in his life without a second thought.
“I’m not even that drunk,” Y/N complained immediately after Garrett disappeared toward the front door with Hannah and Allie barely conscious behind him. “I don’t need a babysitter”
Her words blended together just enough to completely destroy her argument. Logan looked down at her incredulously.
“You can barely keep your eyes open.”
“I’m just relaxing.”
“You called the lamp hostile earlier.”
“Because it was.”
Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically before letting herself fall backward against Logan’s shoulder again with absolutely no concern for personal space.
“He’s so dramatic, I swear,” she mumbled. “Like, oh no, Y/N had fun at a party, somebody alert the authorities.”
Logan huffed out a laugh despite himself.
“G is just protective.”
Y/N groaned instantly. “He’s insane.”
“He worries"
“Too much.” she added.
She shifted again until she was practically folded into Logan’s side, one leg thrown lazily across the couch cushion beside him. Logan was trying very hard not to think about the fact that her face was tucked against his neck now. He swallowed once and stared straight ahead at the crowded living room like it personally offended him.
Y/N snorted softly against Logan’s shoulder, clearly amused. Then she tilted her head up suddenly to squint at him.
“You smell nice.” Everything in Logan’s body stopped functioning for a full second. Y/N blinked slowly, still completely serious. “Like laundry detergent,” she informed him.
Logan dragged a hand down his face. “You are never drinking again.”
Y/N smiled sleepily then, small and lazy and entirely too comfortable against him. Her fingers absentmindedly curled into the sleeve of Logan’s hoodie like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe for her, it was. That was the problem. Because for Y/N, this probably meant nothing. She wouldn’t even remember.
Meanwhile Logan was sitting there hyperaware of every point where she touched him while guilt slowly ate through his bloodstream.
Tucker noticed. Of course he did. His drunk eyes narrowed slowly between the two of them. Logan looked up noticing Tucker's eyes on them and stomach dropped immediately.
“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” Logan announced to nobody in particular.
Mostly because he desperately needed to get out of this couch before Tucker’s drunk ass accidentally developed observational skills.
Y/N barely protested when Logan stood and took her hand, helping her up from the couch carefully. The second she got to her feet, she swayed slightly. He reached out quickly and steadied her.
“Wow,” she said, sounding genuinely impressed. “So quick.”
Logan laughed. “You're a figure skater. You're supposed to have better balance than this.”
Y/N squinted at him. “I can skate backward.”
“You can't walk forward.”
“Details.”
She stumbled toward the stairs with all the confidence of someone who absolutely should not be walking unassisted. Logan followed automatically, one hand hovering near her elbow just in case.
Halfway to the staircase, she faltered. Not from the alcohol this time. A small wince crossed her face before she could hide it, her hand briefly brushing her knee. Logan noticed immediately.
"You okay?" he rushed to her side "Something hurts?"
"Nothing."
"That wasn't a nothing face."
"My knee's being dramatic." she said as if it was nothing.
"You mean injured?"
"I mean dramatic."
Y/N blinked at him. Then shrugged.
"Yeah. Probably danced too much."
"You dance for an hour and injure yourself?"
"I skate for six hours and injure myself," she corrected.
Logan narrowed his eyes.
She ignored him. Then she looked up at the staircase. And stopped completely. A look of deep suspicion settled on her face. "There's more of them than before." brushing the subject.
Logan stared. "The stairs?"
"Yeah... and they are moving."
"They are literally the same stairs."
Y/N squinted harder. "and multiplying."
"Jesus Christ."
Before she could attempt climbing again and accidentally throw herself backward down the staircase, Logan exhaled sharply and bent slightly to lift her instead.
One arm under her knees. The other around her back. Easy and effortless.
Y/N let out a startled laugh immediately as he picked her up bridal style. Her head tipped backward dramatically while her arms looped loosely around his neck for balance.
Logan rolled his eyes as he started upstairs carefully “You’re impossible.”
“No,” Y/N sighed dreamily. “I’m amazing”
Logan laughed quietly under his breath before he could stop himself. Y/N looked up at him then, smile softer now, eyes heavy and unfocused in the dim hallway lighting.
And God. That was dangerous. Very dangerous.
Then suddenly she spoke again.
“Did you know,” Y/N slurred thoughtfully, “I quit pairs when I was little?”
Logan looked down at her. “Yeah?”
He wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just giving her enough responses to keep up with whatever drunk train of thought she was currently riding. Most of her words had blended together into background noise by now.
She nodded against his shoulder.
“Uh-hu. My partners could never lift me properly.”
Y/N just kept going. “I hated pairs, honestly. Being thrown around, being caught, trusting somebody not to drop you.” She wrinkled her nose. “None of my partners were ever very good at it. I hit my head a lot. Then she laughed softly. “One of them told me I was too heavy.”
The hallway suddenly felt very quiet. Logan stopped walking.
“What? Does Garrett know about this?”
The look of horror on her face was immediate. “Oh my God, no. He would murder a second grader.”
Logan considered that for a second. “Maybe he should have.”
Y/N blinked up at him. “We were like seven.”
“I don't care.” The answer came so fast it almost surprised him.
A smile tugged at her mouth. “He was seven too, Johnny.”
“Then he was a seven-year-old asshole.”
That actually made her laugh.
Y/N yawned and rested her head against his shoulder again.
“Besides,” she mumbled sleepily, “it worked out. I was always better on my own anyway.”
Logan looked down at her for a moment. He had a feeling she wasn’t talking just about skating anymore. The worst part was that she sounded like she believed it.
Logan tightened his jaw and started walking again. "Sounds like your partners sucked."
Y/N laughed softly. "Most of them did."
"They had one job. To catch you."
She laughed softly. "That's not technically how pairs works."
"Maybe not." He glanced down at her. "Still. If somebody's trusting you enough to throw themselves into the air, you don't get to screw that up."
The words settled between them. For a second, Y/N just stared at him.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the way he said it. But suddenly it didn't feel like they were talking about skating anymore too.
There was something strangely earnest in his voice. Something simple and solid. Like he genuinely couldn't understand how anyone could be trusted with something precious and then choose to let it fall.
A sleepy smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“That's a very nice thing to say, Johnny."
Logan huffed a quiet laugh. Y/N kept looking at him for another second, studying him like she'd discovered something unexpected.
Then her smile widened.
"You would've been a great partner."
Logan snorted. "I'm pretty sure figure skating requires grace and coordination. I'd be kicked out on day one."
That made her laugh. And he smiled to himself proud of it "Probably” Her gaze dropped to his arm where it was holding her effortlessly. "But at least I would've known you were gonna catch me."
The words were casual. The effect they had on him wasn't.
As she said them, her fingers tightened absentmindedly around his bicep where her arm rested. Logan nearly missed a step. Y/N blinked down at her own hand, then squeezed experimentally once more.
"...wow."
Oh no.
"I never realized how fit you were," she mumbled, squeezing again as if this were a perfectly normal thing to do. "This is insane."
"Y/N." he warned
"What?" she asked innocently, looking up at him while continuing her completely unscientific investigation.
"Jesus Christ." he groaned
She laughed softly, still completely unaware of the fact that she was actively shortening his lifespan. Or maybe she knew… Drunk Y/N was difficult to read.
Logan tightened his grip under her knees slightly and pushed Garrett’s bedroom door open with his shoulder. The room was dark except for the lamp near the desk.
Y/N immediately sighed dramatically once they entered. “Oooh my kingdom.”
“It’s your brother’s room.” he said unpatient.
Logan walked toward the bed carefully while Y/N kept talking nonsense against his shoulder.
“You hockey boys are weirdly muscular,” she informed him seriously. “Like… is concerning.”
“You are never drinking vodka again.”
“Okay but” she poked his chest weakly “your arms are ridiculous.”
Logan exhaled sharply through his nose. This was torture. Actual torture. Because Y/N sounded completely casual about it. Meanwhile Logan’s brain was actively trying to kill him. His body was betraying him. He lowered her carefully onto Garrett’s bed, expecting her to let go.
She didn’t.
Her arms stayed looped lazily around his neck while she looked up at him from the mattress with heavy eyes.
Too close. Again. Logan swallowed hard.
“Alright,” he said roughly. “You gotta let go now.”
Y/N frowned slightly like she genuinely needed a second to process the request.
Then finally “Oh. Sorry” she chuckled and slowly, she loosened her arms.
But instead of fully letting go, her hand caught the collar of his shirt lightly before he could pull away.
Logan froze instantly. Y/N squinted at him with sleepy concentration.
“You’re pretty,” she informed him very seriously.
Logan actually choked a little on air. Grabbing her hand on his shirt and pulling it away “Okay,” he said quickly. “Goodnight.”
Y/N started laughing again as he immediately tried stepping backward out of reach.
“Relax, Johnny,” she teased softly, falling sideways into Garrett’s pillows. “You look scared.”
Scared wasn’t exactly the word for it. Terrified felt more accurate. As he organized the pillows on the bed for her to sleep in. Y/N looked like she considered something for a moment before finally speak.
“So did you?”
Logan, halfway through pulling the blanket over her, looked up in confusion.
“I did what?”
Y/N shifted onto her back dramatically, squinting at him with a teasing little smile.
“Hook up with Chloe.”
Logan blinked once honestly confused “…who?”
“My friend,” Y/N clarified with an exaggerated eye roll. He still looked confused so she added “The blonde one.”
“Oh.”
“She wanted to hook up with you,” Y/N continued casually. “Has been talking about it all week.”
Logan snorted softly despite himself. Y/N looked deeply unimpressed. “Really annoying, by the way.” She threw herself harder into Garrett’s pillows like the entire situation personally offended her. “Acting like you guys are celebrities or something,” she muttered. “It’s stupid.”
Logan crossed his arms lightly, leaning against Garrett’s desk now and looking at her smirking.
“You literally introduced your brother like he was royalty downstairs.”
“That was ironic.”
“Sure.”
Y/N ignored him.
“She kept begging me to introduce you guys,” she continued. “I told her I wouldn’t, but then she was like, ‘I’ll just talk to him myself.’”
Her voice changed mockingly on the last sentence. Logan laughed quietly under his breath. Then Y/N looked back at him again.
“So?” she asked. “Did you?”
There was something oddly focused about the question despite how drunk she was. Curious and genuine watching him carefully.
Logan shrugged once. “No.”
Y/N blinked. “No?”
“No.”
“…why not?”
The question came too fast. Like she asked before thinking about it. Logan noticed immediately. Y/N noticed too, judging by the way her expression shifted slightly afterward. But instead of backing off, she doubled down.
“She’s pretty,” she said defensively. “Like... a lot”
“Never said she wasn’t.”
“She literally spent two hours fixing her hair before coming here.”
“Really? Didn't notice” he said crossing his arms.
Y/N narrowed her eyes at him from the bed. “You flirt with everyone.”
“That’s not true.”
“Johnny,” she deadpanned. “I’ve seen you flirt with the library lady.”
Logan laughed. Actually laughed. And Y/N hated for one brief second how good he looked doing it. Drunk thoughts. Dangerous territory.
“She wasn’t really my type,” Logan said finally. Find a reasonable explanation.
Y/N tilted her head slightly against the pillow.
“And what exactly is your type?”
You are
The room got quieter somehow. Suddenly Logan could hear every small sound in Garrett’s room: the muffled conversations dowstairs through the walls, Y/N’s breathing, his own heartbeat being deeply unhelpful.
Because Y/N was looking at him now. Really looking at him. Drunk curious eyes soft in the low light. Logan forced himself to shrug casually.
“Don’t know,” he lied.
Y/N hummed sleepily like she didn’t believe him for a second. Then, after a pause:
“Yeah... maybe blondies not your thing.”
Logan’s breath caught so subtly he almost thought he imagined it himself. Y/N, meanwhile, was already sinking deeper into the pillows, eyes half closed again. Completely unaware of the damage she was causing.
Logan walked away and stayed still near the doorway for a second, hand already on the light switch.
Y/N’s breathing had evened out. Her eyes were closed. And for one dangerously peaceful moment, he thought she’d finally fallen asleep.
Good. Because he needed distance. Cold water. Maybe psychological intervention. He reached for the switch.
Then—
“Don’t leave, please.”
The words were so quiet he almost didn’t hear them. Logan turned immediately. Y/N was still curled into Garrett’s blankets, eyes barely open now, voice rough with exhaustion and alcohol. But the teasing was gone.
“I don’t like being alone like this,” she admitted softly.
Something in Logan’s chest tightened painfully. Because suddenly she didn’t sound drunk anymore. She sounded vulnerable. Young. And underneath the sleepiness and slurred words, there was something deeper there too. Something sad enough that Logan felt it instantly without fully understanding why.
Y/N shifted slightly against the pillow, blinking toward the dark hallway behind him.
“Where’s Gare?” she asked quietly. Not Garrett. Gare. Like small. Childlike. Old habit.
Logan leaned against the doorframe slowly. “He took Hannah back to campus, remember?”
Y/N frowned weakly. “Oh.” she said in relization.
Silence stretched for a second. Then quieter:
“He always stays.”
And there it was. That deeper thing again. Logan knew enough about Y/N and Garrett’s childhood to understand what she wasn’t saying out loud. Garrett always stayed because growing up, somebody had to.
Somebody had to stand between her and the yelling and slammed doors and bruises Garrett pretended nobody noticed. Somebody had to make sure she felt safe. And apparently even now, drunk and exhausted, part of Y/N still searched for her brother first when she felt vulnerable.
Logan’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Hey... it's okay. I can stay.” he said softly before he could stop himself.
Y/N looked at him sleepily. Logan hesitated only half a second longer before walking back toward the bed. The mattress dipped slightly as he sat carefully on the edge beside her.
Y/N relaxed almost immediately. Like his presence alone settled something anxious inside her. That should not have affected him as much as it did.
“You gonna stay?” she asked quietly.
Logan looked down at her for a long moment. Then sighed softly through his nose.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”
Y/N’s eyes closed again almost instantly after that. Trusting him without hesitation.
And Logan sat there in Garrett Graham’s room beside the girl he absolutely should not be thinking about this way, while guilt and something dangerously close to tenderness twisted together inside his chest.
an: i got a little carried away with this chapter and somehow it ended up way longer than i planned 😭 i really hope you enjoyed it! let me know what you think, i love reading your comments and ideas, also... should i make a taglist? if you'd like to be added, let me know! this fic somehow turned into an 18-chapter monster in my drafts (and it's still growing, which is honestly concerning). meanwhile i'm tagging: @archxve @mcueveryday
new chapters every thursday ♡
One of the mind-only fics I’ve had rolling around in my head is kinda similar to the Strays AU, but whatever, might as well.
Reader is Akainu’s kid and by some series of misadventures ends up being collected by Whitebeard. Kinda shifts between whether the Reader is a marine like their dad wants them to be, or if they ran away because they don’t like their dad. I typically imagine them as an older teenager, but I guess it doesn’t matter.
Maybe a bit much on detail, but if they ran away, Akainu reports them as missing, either because he won’t publicly admit that his child ran away, or he’s delusional and doesn’t realize how much they hate him, so marines are actively searching for them and when they show up with Whitebeard people think that the pirates kidnapped them, (which may or may not be true, not like the old man wouldn’t).
Breaking Point
Next
Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader
4.6k words
Summary: An espionage mission gives you the perfect cover to get away from your Admiral father and the life he forced you into. Everything seems to be going according to plan until some pirates corner you.
Warnings: unhealthy parent-child relationship, akainu being akainu, reader being in a terrible mental state, hopelessness, suicide attempt, blood, drugging
I did tweak the prompt a little bit, so I hope you don't mind. I also hope you aren't opposed to darker themes. If it bothers you, I'll write an alternate version of the scene where the reader snaps.
Clothes? Check. First aid kit? Check. Matches and firestarter? Check. Food and water? Check. Hygiene supplies? Check. Emergency shelter? Check. Money? Check.
Looks like you’re all set. After settling your hat into your head and pulling the bill down over your eyes as you always do, you steel your resolve for what is to come.
With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you march out of the barracks so you can begin your mission. At least, that’s what everyone thinks you’re doing. You’ll let them keep believing that.
A sharp call of your name brings you to a halt, and you instinctively stand at attention. The empty halls allow for the sound of his footsteps to echo all around you. It’s debatable which is louder. The Admiral’s footsteps, or your own heartbeat.
Akainu comes to a stop in front of you, glowering down at your form. His piercing eyes scrutinize your appearance. Instead of your usual uniform, you’re in civilian clothing for the mission. Spying in a Marine’s uniform would obviously not go well.
“At ease.” You robotically relax your posture at his command. “I trust that you don’t need any further briefing on your mission?”
“No, sir.” Despite the man in front of you being your biological father, this is the only way you referred to him. Both in and out of work. “I understand the assignment in full.”
“As you should. I expect you to come back with results.”
“I will, sir.”
The Admiral stares at you a moment longer, then nods sharply, “You are dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” With that, you take your leave, stepping down the halls of the base to leave. Just as you’re about to pass the threshold, you hear your name spoken again.
Akainu’s expression is as terse as ever as he stares a hole into you. He then sighs and turns away, “Don’t disappoint me.”
Of course those are his last words to you. Resentment twists inside you like a knife. Fuck this. You can’t wait to never have to see this bastard’s face again. You don’t respond to him, and you know that he doesn’t expect you to.
You hurry out of the base, eager to leave. The swinging doors are thrown open unceremoniously in your rush to put as much distance between you and Akainu as possible.
"Oh? Were you planning on leaving without saying bye to me? I'm hurt." Slowly drawled out words greet your ears, bringing you to a halt and making you whip around.
"Uncle!" A rare smile sneaks across your face, "I thought you were still away on a mission."
"I was. I got back a little bit ago. Just in time, too" Kizaru pushes his lanky body away from the wall he was leaning against and meanders over to you. His hand reaches out and flicks your hat off before gently rustling your hair. If anyone else did this, you would break their arm for the audacity, but you make an exception for him.
If he could indulge you by allowing you to refer to him as Uncle after what was initially just a little slip up thanks to hearing Sentomaru say it so many times, then you could tolerate the mussing of your hair. Just tolerate. You totally weren't enjoying the attention or anything like that.
"So, what is this mission of yours? I heard that you were going to be spying on Red Haired Shanks, but that can't be right."
You shake your head, "That is right. They wanted to send someone that he would be less likely to recognize if he spots."
Kizaru withdraws his hand and sighs in a drawn out fashion, "You don't sound very concerned. You do know that's an Emperor, yes?"
"I know that," you grumble and roll your eyes at his lack of faith in you. "I'm going to be careful. I promise you, he'll never even see me." If only he knew just how true that was going to be. Shanks would never see you. Nor would his crew. Or anyone in his general area, for that matter.
The Admiral stares at you, and you squirm ever so slightly under his gaze. There was no way for him to know what you were up to, but that didn't stop the irrational fear from taking root regardless.
Finally, mercifully, he breaks eye contact and looks away with another beleaguered sigh. "I hope you're right." Kizaru ducks down to pluck your fallen hat off the ground. He dusts it off and drops it onto your head. It's noticeably crooked. You figure that he did it on purpose. "Will you promise your uncle something?"
"Of course." The response is almost instinctual.
"Come back if it starts to get risky. That mission isn't worth losing your life over."
His concern for your safety creates a conflicting storm of warmth and guilt within you. Returning to the Marines was out of the question, but you obviously couldn't say as much. Instead, you do what any rational soon-to-be traitor would do under your circumstances. Lie.
"I'll leave as soon as it gets dangerous, I promise." It's a half truth. Yeah, you'll never be anywhere near Shanks, but you will be leaving danger in a sense.
"Alright." Kizaru pats your head, "Take care of yourself, (Y/N)."
"I will. Goodbye, Uncle." You turn your back to him and fix your hat. "Tell Sentomaru I said bye."
A hum of acknowledgement is all you get in response from Kizaru. There's a 50/50 chance that it'll slip his mind until much later, but what can you do? That's just how he is. You'll miss him and Sentomaru when you're gone.
But that's neither here nor there. You need to leave before Akainu notices that you're still here and lollygagging. You stride toward the docks where a privateer vessel is waiting for you. It was a small, inboard paddlewheeler with an enclosed helm that doubled as a sleeping quarters. A nice ship. Shame you’re going to have to ditch it soon.
“(Y/N)!” There was a call of your name yet again. The imposing figure of one of the men under your command is looming over your ship. He's too big to be getting on it, so he's left standing on the dock near it and tossing some boxes of provisions to someone on the boat. He turns to you with a broad smile across his scarred face. "We've got 'er ready for you!"
A wisp of a smile graces your typically stern features, “Thanks, Sven. I appreciate it.”
The person that had been in the helm squeezes out of the door and joins you two on the dock. Nesca may be on the short side for a fishman, but she's still a couple heads taller than you. The modified dorsal fin sprouting from her head that anglerfish were named after bounces and sways as she makes the jump.
She flashes you a smile filled with needle like teeth and winks, "I snuck some extra snacks in for you with the rest of that stuff."
"Nesca, they're going to notice that when they take inventory later."
"So what? What are they going to do? Fire me for making sure you don't starve while on your mission?" As expected, she was entirely unbothered by the threat of disciplinary action. She was the type to go with the flow of things regardless of where exactly that flow took her. She couldn't care less if it gets her in trouble.
Sven lets out a bellowing laugh, "Besides, we both did it, so they're going to have a hard time pinning down who did it!"
"Might not be that hard if you keep yelling it." You roll your eyes and have to make a considerable effort to suppress the smile threatening to show itself again.
"Well, whatever. Nothing that they will do will be as much of a blow to our egos as being held back from joining you on this mission." Sven crosses his muscular arms and scowls at the base in the distance, "They're letting a kid go and stake out an Emperor, but they won't let us, actual adults, tag along to make sure you have support if things get hairy. If that isn't a kick in the teeth, I don't know what is."
"Yeah," Nesca chimes in, "we've been through so much together, but now is when they separate us? Talk about ridiculous."
These two have been under your command since you became a lieutenant. For every achievement and failure you've had in your career, they've been right behind you. Of course, there have been many more people in your units over the years, but these two were among the three that had been consistent through every promotion. The third... he wasn't here anymore.
"They probably don't want to risk Red Haired Shanks becoming suspicious from seeing a trio following him around." That, and neither of these people could exactly be considered conspicuous. Sven was damn near ten feet tall, and Nesca was a fishman. They would absolutely call attention to you if you three were to go on this mission together.
Nesca was less than impressed with the explanation. "I guess that makes some sense, but I still don't get why they're okay with sending you off like some sacrificial lamb. Can your dad seriously not be bothered to give enough of a shit to at least try and pull some strings to get you backup?"
Hearing Akainu getting referred to in such a cozy term of endearment makes you want to reprimand Nesca, but you refrain. You know that she doesn't mean anything by it. Despite her concerns, Akainu's inaction has worked in your favor. Having anyone with you would have been a massive hindrance to your plan.
Another hindrance would be Akainu coming over here if he notices you're still here and not diligently heading toward your destination. You shoulder past your comrades and leap onto the boat, “I’m not a sacrifice. The rank of Commodore wasn’t handed to me, I earned it. I’ve been trained for this for as long as I can remember.”
"I know, I know." Nesca waves her hand dismissively, "We're just looking out for you. You better be careful out there."
Sven easily unties the rope anchoring your boat to the dock and tosses it to you. “Good luck, (Y/N)! I can’t wait to hear about everything when you’re back!”
"I will! You two stay out of trouble while I'm gone!" While you do hope that they'll behave for their sake, that first part was a lie. You won’t be back. Never. You’d rather die than ever set foot on a Marine base again.
—
Several weeks have passed since your departure and covert runaway. At this point, they still believe you to be on assignment, and if everything continues as planned, it should be several months before your absence becomes known. Due to the high risk nature of spying on an Emperor, there would be zero communications until you got back. Sengoku wasn’t willing to risk you being found out if the Red Haired Pirates had a black transponder snail on them. Not only would it jeopardize your safety seeing as that you were alone and didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell against an Emperor’s crew, but the discovery would likely make them much harder to tail going forward since they would now know to be wary of this tactic.
Of course, you were nowhere near where that crew had been sighted lurking about. Your end goal was to get out of the Grand Line entirely and start life anew on some remote island where no one would ever think to look for you. Ideally, you would be assumed dead. Killed in action while stalking a predator you had no hopes against.
If anyone knew you were still alive and just deserted the marines… Well, you’ve seen what Akainu does to people like that, and you aren’t naive enough to think that you’ll get special treatment purely because you’re his child. If anything, that would incentivize him more to make an example out of you. To prove that he would never go easy on anyone.
All in the name of his precious Absolute Justice.
Currently, your biggest hurdle was the calm belt. Even if you hadn’t ditched- and burned- your original vessel, it would have done little to help you cross it. Sure, the absence of wind and ocean currents wouldn’t have slowed it down, but its wooden structure never would have stood a chance against the dense population of sea kings lurking in the depths of that part of the sea.
What you needed was something sturdy and fast. A high powered engine in a preferably metal boat that could take a few hits if need be. On top of that, you needed some weapons to assist you in fending off the beasts. As powerful as you were, even you could only do so much against the likes of such a creature.
Despite all of the risks, you feel relatively confident in your plan. All that you need to do is make it at least halfway through. After that, you think you’ll be able to fly the rest of the way out or at least island hop to the North Blue. Of course, you being a zoan devil fruit user came with risks, but hopefully the fear of drowning if your wings grow too tired will motivate you to persevere through exhaustion.
As long as you can pull this off, and do so without calling attention to yourself, you’ll finally have the freedom you’ve yearned after for so long. It’s so close that you can taste it.
“Commodore (Y/N)! Fancy seeing you here.”
W h a t ?
Once hot blood runs cold as ice through your veins. Who the fuck said that? You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder to see who just recognized you. This could ruin everything. You can’t risk a sighting. You’ll have to kill whoever saw you.
“Whoa! If looks could kill, I don’t think I’d survive that one!” The man laughs and jumps down from the rooftop he’d been perched upon. Oh, fuck. That’s Fire Fist Ace. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-
Another person drops down in front of you, prompting you to whip your head back around only to see Marco the Phoenix blocking the other exit to this alleyway. Oh, this couldn’t get any worse! What’s next?! Is fucking Whitebeard himself going to appear, too?!
More Whitebeard Pirates filter into the alley, but Ace and Marco appear to be the only Division Commanders here. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, “What the fuck do you want from me?”
Marco holds up his hands in a placating manner, though it’s anything but. “Nothing much,” he steps closer, “I promise that none of us want to hurt you, but we’re in a bit of a bind.”
“And? How’s that my problem?”
“We need to pick up some medicine for our pops, but the only island that has enough of it right now has a Marine base on it. This medicine is really important, we can’t risk it getting destroyed in an attack, so that’s where you come in. In order to guarantee its safety, we’ll let them know that we have an Admiral’s kid in our custody, and that you won’t be released unless we get what we need.” Marco smirks, “Now are you going to make this easy or difficult? Because I can promise you, you’re coming with us whether you like it or not.”
No. No, no, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening! This can’t be fucking happening! You were so close, and now everything is going to be ruined because of some fucking pirates! Your hands are shaking- no, your whole body is! Your heart is pounding, adrenaline is spiking, your nerves are on fire. No. You aren’t about to give up and let them take you and ruin your life.
“No… you can’t do this to me.” You shake your head and meet Marco’s lax eyes, “I won’t let you!”
In a split second, your arms transform into wings, and you shoot yourself up into the air. Your legs turn next, shifting into clawed talons that you use to send an attack at Fire Fist and the people clustered around him. Everyone but him dives out of the way as the strike slashes through the cobblestones and walls. Ace tanks the hit directly, but all it does is go right through the logia devil fruit user.
“Not bad, but you’re going to need to do better than that to actually hurt me!” Ace erupts into a column of flames and directs it right at you. Just what you wanted. You flap your wings hard, blasting the fire right back at him- but more importantly- the people around him. They all scream as their clothes catch to fire, making Ace immediately panic and focus on them rather than you.
Not wanting to waste a single precious second, you take off, cutting through the air with remarkable speed. That much is to be expected of someone with the Tori Tori no Mi Model: Peregrine Falcon. As one of the fastest animals on the planet, your speed was generally unmatched. Kizaru was the only person that could ever really challenge you in terms of speed. Escaping these pirates should be a breeze.
“You’re pretty good! I wouldn’t expect anything less from an Admiral’s kid!” The voice of Marco comes from above.
You look up just in time to dodge him swooping down to try and grab you. Fuck, he’s fast! It’s time to engage in some real evasive maneuvers. You rip off your backpack and chuck it at him, then shift into your full beast form.
With your body shrunk down to the size of the bird your devil fruit is modeled after, taking the backpack with you would be impossible. You’ll have to come back for it later, or maybe not at all depending on how poorly this goes.
In your true form, you’re able to take full advantage of the speed the peregrine falcon is known for. Buildings all meld into a blur as you rocket through and around them. A family shrieks as you speed through one open window and out the other, then you’re weaving through lines upon lines of laundry, and next you’re in an open market.
As quickly as you shot off, you stop and slip under a table, the cloth on it easily concealing your presence. Your heart is pounding and you’re panting hard as you wait in silence. The tablecloth doesn’t get ripped off by your pursuer or anyone else, so you’re cautiously optimistic that you succeeded in losing him. Now you just had to figure out how to get out of here without being spotted again. All of those pirates saw what you look like in all of your forms, which was going to be a major problem. The second you leave this sanctuary, you’re going to be at risk.
There isn’t a clear, easy option. You’re just going to have to take a gamble and hope that your beast form will be unassuming enough to not catch their eyes again. You peek under the tablecloth to see if any of the Whitebeard Pirates are lurking nearby. It doesn’t look like any of them are here.
Okay, here goes nothing. You fly out from your hiding spot and high into the air at what should look like a normal speed for a bird. Flying as fast as you can would just draw attention to you. So long as you look like a normal bird at a glance, you should be able to get away unnoticed.
“There you are.”
Before you can even blink, a taloned foot closes around your small form. You squawk in surprise, then immediately shift into a half-bird form to try and break Marco’s hold. Something cold snaps around your wrist, and all of your energy is sapped away in an instant, right along with your powers.
Sea stone cuffs. They came prepared. You fall through the air, but only briefly before Marco catches you. He lands hard on a rooftop, but remains upright and doesn’t drop you. He grins, but his eyes have an odd gleam to them that you don’t recognize, “You’re good. I didn’t think they still made Marines like you anymore.” Why is he complimenting you? Freak.
You start to struggle in his hold, but he’s faster than you and locks the other cuff around your free hand. Now you’re completely at their mercy. This is awful. This is a worst case scenario.
“Now then, let’s get you back to the ship.”
—
The journey from the small seaside town to the Whitebeards’ ship was lost on you. You weren’t processing any of it. As soon as reality sank in, you went completely numb. Every word said by the pirates bounced right off you.
They were going to know. You’re nowhere near where Shanks and his crew are. They’re going to know you deserted. He’s going to know you deserted. It’s over. Your life is over. These pirates signed your death certificate as soon as they locked those cuffs on you.
Distantly, you glance at your surroundings. You’re chained to a cot in what looks to be the ship’s infirmary, if all the nurses milling about are anything to go off of. Only one of your hands is cuffed, the other is free again. They aren’t concerned about a devil fruit user being dangerous while sea stone cuffs are eating away at their strength. What a disaster. Years of training, and this is how it ends. How humiliating.
And to make it worse: your hat is gone, leaving your face bare for all to see. Now that you're thinking about it, you probably lost it during the initial chase. You were so consumed with getting away that you can't even recall when exactly it was lost.
Fingers snap in front of your face, and you look up sluggishly at the person disturbing you. Twin Blade Thatch is at your bedside, looking… confused? Sad? This is another expression that you don’t recognize.
He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “You okay there, kid?” When you don’t answer, he looks over his shoulder, “Did you give them something?”
“No,” the voice belongs to Marco. “They’ve been out of it since we caught them. They’re… really upset about getting captured, it seems.”
Thatch lightly claps you on the shoulder, “Don’t beat yourself up about it, kid. It’s not like you got caught by a weak crew. There are plenty of Marines well above your rank that wouldn’t have won that fight either.”
“Yeah, you actually gave us some real trouble there at the start.” Ace was in here too, apparently. “Not many people are able to use my own powers against me, that was pretty smart.”
“Before I forget to ask, do you have any allergies? I don’t want to accidentally kill you with my cooking.” Thatch stares at you expectantly, but his smile fades as you neglect to answer his question. “Is that a… no? Come on, I’m just trying to help you out here, you don’t need to be so guarded. I can even make you your favorite meal to make up for the situation we put you in.”
“It doesn’t matter…” Nothing does.
“Don’t say that. We’ve gotta feed you, kid.” That weird expression is on his face again. You wish he’d stop making it at you. “It won’t take long to get the medicine we need. You’ll be back with your old man before you know it.”
No!
“I won’t go back!” Hot tears start to drip down your face, then pour as the last thread of sanity within you snaps, “I’m not going back! You can’t make me go back to that place! To him! I won’t let you!”
Ace is standing close enough that you’re able to lunge at him and rip the dagger from his belt with your free hand. He tries to snatch it back, but your frenzied state gives you the speed you usually only have with your devil fruit’s help. You aren’t going back, you’ll make sure of it! Marco might be able to heal, but he isn’t a necromancer. Even he won’t be able to do anything about a corpse. Dying by your own hands will be better than being burnt alive by the magma Akainu will use on you.
You raise the knife high, then plunge it down at your stomach. A wide, manic grin breaks out across your face in what will be your final moments. You've taken control of your fate. You've won against Akainu. You can die happy knowing that.
Blood splatters all over your torso… but you don’t feel any pain. You blink once, then twice. Your eyes finally focus on the sight in front of you. The knife is stabbed into a hand. It then closes around the hilt and snatches the weapon from your hands. Ace lets out a string of curses as he stumbles back and rips his own dagger from his hand.
All you can do is stare at him. W… What? Why did he do that? That shouldn’t have hurt him. Why would a logia devil fruit user let himself get hurt like that?
Nurses rush toward him, but also you. All of your limbs are pinned down by them. Not that there was any need. The fight had left your body as your mind grew hazy again. You didn’t get it. You couldn’t comprehend what just happened or why.
A prick to your neck snaps you out of it. Your head was being held down, but your eyes flit to the side and see that Marco had a needle pressed into your neck and was injecting you with something. In an instant, a warmth spreads through you, and your body goes completely slack.
Marco heaves a sigh and sets the syringe aside. His hand gently strokes your hair for reasons you couldn’t understand. He speaks softly, “There we go, just calm down. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”
On the other side of the room, Nurses are fretting over Ace’s wound. One even goes so far as to scold him, “What were you thinking? You have logia powers! Why would you let yourself get hurt like this?” Even in your sluggish state, your ears perk at the interrogation. You wanted to know this, too.
Ace looked almost offended by the question. “What do you mean “why”? If I’d let that go through me, it would have gone into them instead. Better my hand, than their guts.”
His answer did nothing but spawn more questions. What did he mean by that? Why would it be better for him to get hurt than for you to die? Your life was of no real significance to him. All that you were was a bargaining chip, and you didn’t even need to be alive for that. They just had to make the Marines believe that you were.
None of this makes sense. What is wrong with these people? You’re an enemy. Your death should be celebrated, not prevented. You don’t get it, and your mind growing more and more foggy by the second isn’t helping.
Your eyes are so heavy. Sleep… Sleep sounds good. Just for a little bit. You’ll figure this out after. It’s not like you’re going anywhere.
Divorced dad!Ghost noticing his new younger neighbor talking to his 4 year old daughter Emily, cooing over a frog she found while you tell her not to kiss it because it wont turn into a frog prince (duh), cigarette in hand as he silently watches.
That sundress does nothing to hide your frame, the swell of your breasts peeking out the top of the dress, a pretty necklace hanging in your cleavage, his cock chubs up nicely in his work pants, wishing he could just bend you over and take you in the middle of the street. He'll settle for just this for now.
30 minutes later Emily drags you to Simon to introduce you as "the pretty lady from next door" and you awe at her before sticking your hand out for a handshake towards the big brute.
He extends his thick calloused hand and shakes it firmly, feeling how soft your hand is, he feels no ring... good. He'll change that soon.
You end up talking for a while exchanging numbers before heading off to wherever you were going before.
Ghost stares at the phone number you gave him before quickly shutting his phone off, already anticipating the next time he sees you.
Once, when you thought you had a good understanding of how he worked, you were certain Shanks was best enjoyed in pieces.
Drinks shared and nights spent with his hand at your hip and his mouth against your neck before dawn. But always in fleeting moments. Never for more than that. It was easier that way. If you stayed longer than a night, it became more difficult.
And Shanks had never been the type for anything more than easy.
You had assumed, at least.
The first time he made the offer was in a room already hot with the lingering aftermath of the evening. Rough sheets twisted around your legs, sticking to sweat-slick skin while the open window did little to chase away the summer air. Bruises were already beginning to bloom along your throat from the lazy path of his mouth before he slipped between your legs and pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, softer than anything he'd given you before.
“Come with me tomorrow,” he said, offering another further up your thigh. “Sail with us.”
You lifted your head, curious at the gentleness of his words and his touch. “Join you?” you asked. “Do you not have a full crew already?”
“We do,” he said, his smile lazy as ever. “But I’ll make space for you.”
You laughed quietly to yourself, brushing some of his hair away from his face so you could appreciate him better. Too handsome for his own good. He knew he could get away with anything if he looked at you like that.
“I see a problem with your offer,” you said and he kissed further along your thigh.
“What is it?”
“It’ll make you lose interest too quickly.”
Shanks paused, leaning his cheek against your skin. “Lose interest?”
You moved your leg from his shoulder and leaned down to drag him higher up your body, fingers tangled in his hair and lips locked in a messy kiss. He still tasted of the drinks he’d downed earlier and that explained enough about his impulsive offer.
“It won’t be fun if I’m already on board your ship,” you teased.
“Nonsense. If I had you on my ship, I'd never get anything done. Becks would have to start captaining properly.”
“Don’t you do that when I’m around anyway?” you asked.
He hummed and kissed you again as though to distract you. “Maybe.”
You chuckled softly, unwilling to admit to him how much his offer tempted you. He was far too addictive to turn down. Especially when his tongue was in your mouth and his hand was dragging your leg back up his hip. If you didn’t focus, you could almost believe he wanted you to stay with him. But pretty words alone couldn’t sway you.
You still left the next morning and he didn’t stop you, just pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you slipped from the bed.
“We’ll see each other soon,” he said and he sounded far too confident.
You smiled. “I suppose it depends on if the sea favours us.”
“The sea’s a big friend of mine,” he reassured you. “I’m sure she’ll bring you back to me.”
He wasn’t wrong. No matter how far you sailed, the ocean didn’t give you long before it reunited you with the Red Hair Pirates. You stopped shying away from them after the third encounter, growing bolder with each offer Shanks tossed your way.
Now when you saw the Red Force docked in harbour, her flag snapping high above the masts, you'd wander the island until you found the right tavern. It was never difficult. Somewhere there would be a building with music spilling from the windows, laughter loud enough to shake the walls and patrons pretending not to stare at the cluster of infamous pirates occupying half the room. The Red Hair Pirates had a talent for making themselves at home wherever they landed.
They were a friendly crew. A mostly peaceful one, even. But they were the crew of an emperor and people respected that deeply.
You walked in most times, walked out with your hands in Shanks’ hair every time, and it was never a problem.
Not until the one evening when you waltzed in and half of his crew nudged their captain as though he hadn’t already raised his head to look at you. You smiled at him and made your way to the bar, not bothering him and the woman currently pressed to his arm.
But he never wasted time in approaching you, even if he was busy. He slipped up behind you as you ordered your drink and nodded to the bartender.
"Whatever she's having is on me."
You hummed. “You’re going to run your ship dry if you pay for the drinks of every girl that smiles at you.”
His arm slipped naturally around your waist, resting on your hip as though it belonged there. “Not every girl with a great smile,” he corrected. “Just the ones who need a bit more convincing to dance with me.”
The music in this tavern wasn’t quite suited for dancing. It was softer and almost impossible to hear over the shouts of his crew.
“I might need more convincing than a drink,” you commented.
“Name your price.”
Shanks was far too good at making your heart flutter, no matter how often you were exposed to his seemingly endless charm. He already knew he’d get what he wanted that night and you knew it too but sometimes, making him work for it was part of the fun.
“You’ve been trying to guess at my price for a while now,” you said. “You haven’t gotten any closer.”
“I’ll figure it out with enough time.”
You turned to face him fully, draping your arms loosely over his shoulders. “I’m lucky I managed to find you without any other pretty women around, hm? Ones with more reasonable demands?”
He chuckled and leaned in to press his lips against the side of your throat. “There are plenty. Funny thing is, I keep ending up back here.”
You tilted your head to the side. “As easy to lead back to your bed?”
The expression he gave you was off – a smile that didn’t quite get to his eyes. “Such little faith in me. You’re lucky I don’t get hurt easily.”
“It’s not a lack of faith,” you corrected. “But I know you enjoy the chase more than the reward.”
“I enjoy both as long as you’re there.”
You smiled. “I think you’d miss it too much.”
“Miss what? Waking up alone? Sounds awful.” He pulled you closer. “Can’t say I’d mind having you there instead.”
“The pining,” you corrected. “The wondering when you’ll see me again. Trying to convince me every time. If I was already there, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”
Something unreadable flickered over his face. “You think I’m trying to convince you for fun?”
“You wouldn’t do it if it was unpleasant.”
“Or if it wasn’t worth it.”
You couldn’t help being flattered by him, always so smooth. You loved the way he spoke sometimes – the way he made you feel as though you were the only important person in the world.
“I’m surprised your crew isn’t filled with women thanks to those pretty words of yours,” you said. “Even I struggle to tell you no.”
Shanks laughed, a short sound. “Wouldn’t have guessed you struggle with it.”
You leaned in, your mouth hot against his. He kissed you lazily as though you had nowhere else to be, allowing you to lead him through it.
“I’ll get us a room upstairs,” you said with a hum.
For a second, he smiled. Then he leaned in to press a swift peck to the corner of your mouth and said, “No.”
It was as though even the music itself paused as you blinked at him. “No?”
“As much as I love chasing you,” he said, stepping away and leaving the space in front of you feeling very empty. “I’m starting to think you enjoy being chased more than you want me. We set sail in the morning. The offer still stands.”
You watched him walk away in mild confusion, still a little lost before his words caught up to you.
Was he serious?
The bartender placed your drink down next to you but you barely heard it. The music carried on around you as though nothing had changed. A few members of the Red Hair Pirates were starting up a song. The woman he’d been talking to earlier grinned when he returned but he took a seat aside Yasopp instead.
You looked around the party and shrugged, taking your drink and a seat at the bar. If he didn’t leave, you had no reason to either.
Maybe he was trying to prove a point? You thought he might look for another woman whose words didn’t sting as bad as yours did, but he drank and laughed with only his crew and you pretended not to see the way he looked at you. As though he was waiting for something.
You finished your drink and swung off the stool, sliding the beri across to the bartender.
“Isn’t – ”
“I can pay for myself.”
The cold night air was refreshing against your face but the familiar curl of cigarette smoke drew your attention to a very unaffected Beckman. You paused when you saw him, not sure if he had something to say. He looked like he did.
“Running away again?”
“No idea what you mean,” you retorted.
He tilted his head toward the swinging door of the tavern; each time it moved, the raucous din bled through into the night. Beckman wasn’t even really what you would consider an acquaintance but he’d dragged Shanks out your bed more times than you could count.
“It’s early for you to be leaving alone,” he noted.
You didn’t have any reason to explain the break in routine to his first mate. And yet…
“Change of pace tonight,” you said. “I think I offended him.”
Beckman nodded. “You did.”
“I didn’t even know that was possible.”
He shrugged and offered you a cigarette. “I didn’t think it was until recently. Not many people can get under his skin.”
“I’m not wrong though,” you defended yourself.
“No,” he agreed. “You weren’t at one point. I’ve long since lost track of how many women I’ve had to drop off at port in the mornings but none of them were recent. Since he met you, there’s been no others.”
You didn’t want to admit to the way that made your heart flutter just slightly. “It’s the challenge. He tries to get me to join your merry little crew, I do, and then he gets bored in a month.”
“It’s possible.”
You didn’t know why it annoyed you so much that he agreed with you but you felt the glare before you could stop it. True or not, he could have said it in a better way.
“Why does it bother you so much then?” Beckman asked. “If you’re so sure that it’s the truth?”
“It’s still not nice to hear.”
“Because you’ve fallen in love with him?”
You shot him a sharp look. If you didn’t know quite how dangerous this man was, you may have snapped a little more venomously. How you hated him for saying the quiet parts of your worst thoughts out loud.
“I don’t fall in love that easily,” you huffed. “I just don’t particularly feel like joining a pirate crew to be a pretty face on the sidelines.”
“He says you have good enough aim that you won’t be wholly useless. And I’m sure he’ll teach you more if you ask.”
You had no other defence. On a different crew, you may have believed him but you’d heard the legends of the Red Hair Pirates and their skills. You would not sail with an emperor just for the sake that he found you attractive. That was a ridiculous decision. Even without the risk that he lost interest once you gave him what he wanted.
“You can see where we’re docked?” Beckman asked.
“Hard to miss.”
“Then you may as well prove your point.” He blew a puff of smoke into the sky. “You can be useless, let him lose interest and I’ll concede that you’re right.”
“And if I would rather things remain as they are?”
“They won’t. You’ve already ruined that part.”
You almost didn’t board. The Red Force came to life while you stood on the dock, shrouded in shadows and watched the sun rise over the horizon the next morning. The crew woke with complaints of headaches and aches as they got to work.
They were about to weigh anchor by the time you finally found the courage to walk forward, catching Hongo with a look right before he raised the ladder.
He stared for a second and then gestured you to board.
It was a strange feeling to step onto the Red Force. The gangplank creaked softly beneath your boots and the ship rose and fell beneath you with the easy rhythm of the sea. For years she had existed as something distant, spoken about in stories and rumours across countless ports. Yet the deck felt solid beneath your feet. The tarred ropes smelled no different from those of any other vessel. No monsters waited beyond the railings. Just a few curious glances and shouted greetings as the wind swelled her sails.
“He’s downstairs,” Hongo said. “Drank more than usual so he’s still nursing a hangover if you want to see him.”
You looked toward the ship’s doctors. “With how much you lot drink, I’m honestly surprised you don’t have a cure already.”
He smiled. “Maybe I do but I simply enjoy the peace in the mornings. Do you want a tour?”
It wasn’t as though you had anything better to do although it did catch you off guard just how unsurprised the Red Hair Pirates seemed to be about your arrival. Not one of them even mentioned your arrival as the wind caught her sails.
Not even Beckman who gave you a simple nod.
The Red Force was kept in beautiful condition. She was evidently loved and no room felt neglected as you followed Hongo through her passages.
Hongo walked you through the galley, the infirmary, the stores, and everywhere else you might need aboard. You memorised the route as best you could, making note of scuffed boards and chips in the wood rather than considering the ship as anything more. It was easier to focus on that, you realised.
Hongo stopped at a door at the end of a passage that led through the quarters and he pushed it open with casual ease.
“This one’s yours.”
You frowned at the way he said it before stepping inside.
A warm, clean room waited beyond the doorway. Sunlight spilled through the small window, stirring the pale curtains where the sea breeze caught them. A narrow bed sat against one wall with blankets folded neatly across the end while an empty chest waited beside a small desk untouched by clutter. Nothing looked lived in. Nothing looked abandoned either. The room carried the strange feeling of something prepared and patiently waiting.
Guest quarters maybe? Though that hardly made sense and this didn’t look like a spare room, briefly swept out when you stepped aboard. They wouldn’t have had time for that.
There was an explanation that made sense though not one you fully grappled with.
“How long has this been here?” you asked.
“Couple months now. Captain wanted it ready if you ever changed your mind.”
You tried not to let it show just how much that made your stomach twist. He’d prepared a room on his ship in case you joined?
Still, you tried to ignore the topic for a little longer by returning to the deck after leaving your bag. You found an opportunity to lean against one of the cannons, talking to Yasopp about nothing of importance while you watched the island fade behind you.
The door onto deck opened and Shanks stepped out, dishevelled and hiding his eyes from the sun.
Naturally his crew all shouted at once in response to his obvious headache and he winced visually, which only made the others laugh harder. You couldn’t help but smile, chuckling softly at their torment.
He spun at the sound, grin disappearing at once.
Your heart lodged in your throat as you stared, not certain what you should say.
“You’re here?”
Well, he didn’t have to sound so surprised.
“Have been for the whole morning,” you said, your voice quieter than you meant for it to be. “But I thought I should let you get your beauty sleep.”
He chuckled as he walked over, smile gentler than you’d ever seen it before. His eyes glinted with barely concealed excitement as he approached. “Did somebody show you around? To your room?”
“You set that up a while ago,” you said. “Very confident.”
“Hopeful,” he clarified. “How long are you staying for?”
You hesitated before you answered. If you really wanted to, you could disappear the next time you found yourself at an island. But something about that room sitting and waiting for you made leaving feel far less appealing than it ever had before.
“I haven’t decided yet,” you settled on saying.
“That’s fine. When you do leave, just tell me before you go.”
“I will,” you promised.
How many years had passed since you made that promise now? You thought back on it, trying to remember while you swirled the drink in your hand, Shanks’ hand still resting on your hip where it belonged.
“Lost in thought?” he asked.
“Lost in memories,” you corrected with a small smile.
“Oh?” He leaned in close and pressed a kiss right behind your ear in the way that always made you laugh. “Which ones?”
“Ancient ones. I realised that I’m still waiting for you to get bored of me so I can run away.” You took a sip of your drink and tilted your head toward him. “You getting there yet?”
He laughed proudly. “Nowhere close. I should probably be more careful though. Think you’d sooner shoot me than run away now.”
You chuckled in agreement and leaned in to kiss him, slow and lazy as ever. “Maybe. I’m no longer much of a runner.”
𝟏𝟖+ 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢 | he sends you a voice message while he’s away.
“hey sweet thing. missing ya’.”
his voice erupted, you could only hear the sound of his breathing, imagining the slow rise and fall of his chest.
“how have you been, mm? eating well? hydrating? you best be taking care of yourself while ’m gone.” he laughed, that squeaky one where you could tell his throat was tight from holding something in.
“wish you could feel how much i’m missing you.” you heard his breath shake at the last syllable, then the tell-tale sound of his zipper slipping down rang out. a loud zzziipp like he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
a moment of silence then a harsh hiss came from his side as he wrapped a hand around his aching member, stroking it to full mast. “shit baby, i’m so hard just thinkin’ about you.” he groaned, then a rustle of clothes came as he shoved his pants down to his ankles.
he shifted his phone so that it was placed right beneath his cock, you could hear it slap against his phone screen, hot and heavy. “listen to it. listen to what you do to me.” he panted, beginning to pump himself, every tug of his length drawing a throaty sigh from him.
“wish you were here. y’know, sucking me off.” he paused to breath, stifling a whine as he imagined the scene in his head. “gosh, you’d look so pretty, mouth full of me. choking on me.” he continued.
“or you could just sit on it. let me hump you ‘til you pass out, all dumbed out on my dick.” he rasped, voice dropping a milky octave. you could hear him spit down on his cock, smearing the glob of saliva over his length.
“if you were here, i’d bend you right over this desk and fuck—” he sped up his strokes, you could tell he was close with how whiny he got. “i’d do so much to you darling, but you’re just not here. and it’s killing me.”
“miss you, so fuckin’ bad.” his voice cracked, you could hear the lewd fap-fap-fap of him fisting his cock ruthlessly, teetering on the edge of release.
“bet you’re touching yourself too, huh?” you could hear his smirk through the phone, “bet you’re getting off at seeing me so desperate and needy. you’re evil.” he grunted.
“shit, i’m close.” he cursed through gritted teeth, you could hear his chair creak under his weight as he pumped his cock, chasing his orgasm.
“this one’s for you.” he panted, the sounds of his fist becoming slicker. after a couple more strokes, he came all over himself with a muffled groan, making a mess everywhere.
“it’s so much.” he grumbled, already regretting what he did knowing he would have to get up and clean off. “and i blame it on you.” he chuckled, you could hear him tucking himself back into his pants.
“anyway. i’ll be back soon. love you, byee.” he spoke before blowing an obnoxious kiss to the phone and cutting the voice message.
Very few times in his life has gaz been given a direct order from his spouse, and every single time he treats it with the urgency of a mission.
He has never once failed any of your requests....until today, it seems.
"Gaz, baby, you better come home smelling like that tomorrow." You had whispered in his ear last night after hours of sex. Not that you two never fucked, but he swears you were trying to kill him that night, face tucked into the crook of his neck.
Gaz doesn't want to admit defeat, but he's crawled through the entire base. Sniffing everything like a fucking dog trying to identify what smell had rubbed off on him. He didn't leave base, followed his normal schedule yesterday, so eventually he should find it.
He's in the middle of helplessly sniffing soap bottles in the hopes he accidentally grabbed someone else's when ghost walks in, post–...whatever he does to workout. He raises a brow at gaz sniffing the soap bottle, but says nothing.
Gaz knows ghost wont say shit about it, given everything he's walked in on ghost doing and—
Wait.
....gaz takes a much to obvious sniff in ghosts general direction.
....that's the smell. Gaz remembers the sparring he did yesterday, how ghost seemed very keen on grapples that time. The smell that had you jumping gazs bones last night was the smell of his lieutenant covered in dirt and sweat.
Gaz contemplates for a moment, looks ghost up and down. He's far from a turn-off, thats for sure. Easily both of your types.
You woke up today, mind reeling and full of excitement, after all, today was your anniversary with Simon and your heart was fluttering at the thought of spending all the day with him.
He has the day free (miracle), so your mind was already spiraling with the things you prepared for him.
You looked at your side, just to find it empty, a small pang of sadness creeped on your heart but it was quickly pushed aside.
"What if he's making breakfast for us downstairs?"
You thought and the smile went back to your face , a little brighter.
You got up, made your side of the bed, brushed your teeth, took a quick shower, and put on a pretty sundress, prettier than the usual robes you pranced around on, fixed your hair, applied the perfume you know he loved, and looked at yourself in the mirror, fussing over your lipgloss.
You walked downstairs, trying to look not too excited.
"Babe?, sweetie!"
You called out softly, walking through the living room, heartbeat quickening as you entered the kitchen.
But you didn't find anything, it was as clean as you left it, your heart sank a little. Well maybe he was going to take you out for breakfast?.
You walked slowly towards the garage, just to find him there, fixing his car, clothes dirty and concentrated.
"Good morning sweetie" you whispered softly, hoping he'd jump in joy, maybe kiss you and tell you how grateful he was to be with you, instead, you were met with a quick "morning, love, thanks to the free day I'll do some stuff I have to get done by dawn"
Was all what he said, and you felt a lump form on in your throat, did...did he forget?.
You nodded, blinking back the sudden sting of tears and stepping back slowly.
You walked back in the house, mind reeling with thoughts of he forgetting one of the most special days in your life, the day he got down in one knee, flustered but vulnerable, telling you with a smitten expression about wanting to spend the rest of your life next to you in the rain.
The rest of the day you stayed with him, but not as you hoped for, for fucks sake your anniversary was even marked in big bold letters in the calendar you put in the fridge, and you were so excited of finally giving him the gifts you've been working on for months.
You accompanied through the day, to Johnny's house where they shared a beer and talked for hours, to the pub where he met with some friends you didn't know and left earlier bcuz the pub was disgusting, even to the supermarket to buy some stuff Gary told him he needed like Gary himself wasn't a grown ass man with his own money and legs to come to the supermarket.
Once you two where finally back home, your heart was destroyed, he forgot, your anniversary gift was in the closet of your shared bedroom still hidden and you couldn't hold back the tears.
Until Simon gave you a small peck on the cheek "Love, I'm sorry, I gotta go I have to do something important".
You heart leaped on your throat, maybe he did remember and he was going to take you to that restaurant you've hopping going for months, or to a romantic walk in the streets.
You nodded, suddenly joyful, not noticing his confused expression at your behavior, once he was gone, you did it everything, expensive dress, perfect makeup, perfect hair and your favourite jewelry, you looked stunning.
And decided to sit down on the living room and wait.
You sat down there, the first half an hour hopeful, the next hour your heart slowly stopped getting excited at any sounds of he maybe being home.
And by 11AM, you got up, not being able to hold back the tears, and got upstairs, the small heartbroken sobs wrecking your frame, with gentleness that was only betrayed by the tremble of your hands, you cleaned your face, took a long hot shower, and to pamper yourself a little you put on your favourite pink pajamas.
You didn't even notice when Simon was back home until you saw him on the bed, your wounded heart fluttered, and for a moment you thought you were going to burst in tears again, but you didn't, so, without greeting him, you sat down next to him in the bed.
Fucking hell, he wanted to play it like that?, well we were going to play like that cuz this game was invented by women.
For a moment you stood there, looking at him while he was reading, hoping just a little, even if your heart was shattered, that he'd even whisper a gentle "Happy anniversary love" and apologize.
But he didn't, he was clueless, treating this like any other day and not the day you vowed in front of your family and friends that you'd be next to him and grow old with him for the rest of your life.
You were sat down in the bed, Simon was leaning down next to you, already with his eyes closed, hair muffled, sheets messy, but not entirely asleep.
"What are you even waiting for?" He asked tiredly, just wanting to cuddle with you.
You kept your gaze locked in the pink digital clock on your nightstand.
"4...3...2...1"
When it hit 12AM, you turned to look at him with a sweet smile
"you forgot our anniversary"
To those words, his eyes snapped open, frozen in the sudden darkness when you got up, clutching your pink sheets, clad in your pink pajamas, pink bonnet and pink fluffy shoes, walk down the hall to sleep in the guests room and not with him.
cw: explicit PORN content, cheating, cunnilingus, fellatio, religious themes, dark themes, kidnapping, dub-con, fingering, various forms of sexual penetration, degradation, slight bondage
. ━━━━━ ᗰᗩᗪE ✦ ᖇEᘔITIO ━━━━━
SHERIFF!SATORU GOJO
𐔌 01 𐦯 bent over the sheriff's desk
𐔌 02 𐦯 only thing keeping him sane
𐔌 03𐦯 rubbing between your thighs
𐔌 04 𐦯 Gojo and the criminal he's been chasing
𐔌 05 𐦯 Sheriff and the little intern newspaper girl
𐔌 06 𐦯 Somehow, whenever your asshole husband is out for work. He also returns home to see the town sheriff just leaving.
PASTOR!SUGURU GETO
heavy!religious themes. proceed at your own risk
𐔌 01 𐦯 Pastor’s wife
𐔌 05 𐦯 Teaching you to worship his god-given cock
𐔌 02 𐦯 You try to please him too but he just wants you to lie back
𐔌 04 𐦯 Getting you to confessing how wet you were during the sermon.
𐔌 03 𐦯 Pastor. geto says that this was the only way to rid you of your sinful toughts.
𐔌 06 𐦯 How he punishes the slut in his bed, so needy to touch herself without his permission
RANCHER!KENTO NANAMI
𐔌 01 𐦯 His fingers
𐔌 02 𐦯 Nanami’s grip
𐔌 03 𐦯 After finding his girl at the salon
𐔌 04 𐦯 Easing you through your first time
𐔌 05 𐦯 A peak through your bedroom window
𐔌 06 𐦯 A hardworker and his needy wife that waits for him patiently at night.
𐔌 07 𐦯 Your hardworking husband after a long day of hustle and bustle to make ends meet.
BOUNTY HUNTER!TOJI FUSHIGURO
𐔌 01 𐦯 Weakest pull out game
𐔌 02 𐦯 Save a horse and ride a cowboy
𐔌 03 𐦯 He'll change he swears, but for now, let him enjoy this
𐔌 04 𐦯 Toji and the bartender right after she gets off her shift.
𐔌 05 𐦯 When toji heard you were getting engaged...to a ranch boy. He was pissed.
“Married? To him?"
"must’ve lost ya goddamn mind.”
𐔌 06 𐦯 The law and toji don’t mix very well. Not enough to be outlawed but definitely enough to not be anywhere near the sheriff's niece. Much less her bed.
“Your uncle’s gonna hang me if he catches me here, darlin’,”
“Much less seein' my fingers in your wet pussy.”
𐔌 07 𐦯 How a simple talk to get Toji to pay some child support always ends up
“Yeah… that’s right. You’re not gonna come lookin’ for me anywhere after this, huh?”
“Shit… I… might’ve busted in you again. Damn it… you kept rollin’ on me, ain’t my fault.”
OUTLAWED!RYOMEN SUKUNA
it is sukuna, proceed at your own risk
𐔌 01 𐦯 Breaking and entering
𐔌 01 𐦯 Using your mouth for his pleasure
𐔌 01 𐦯 He wasn't too happy to hear about your engagement
𐔌 01 𐦯 How he deals with that bar girl that snitched him out
𐔌 01 𐦯 The shady man you met at the saloon will forever be your best fuck
𐔌 01 𐦯 Sukuna was pissed to see you in the salon, asking around for him like you don't already know how dangerous that is
𐔌 01 𐦯 Everytime you think they got him, think hes finally behind those bars thats you were finally free, your ex comes into your bedroom that same night talkin' about some 'makin' sure you behave'
it is every player's dream to wake up in the world of their otome game but not you, you're not the mc or the heroine of the game that was supposed to be you. in some twisted joke the universe decided for you — you get to live and survive the ruthless n109 zone where your main love interest resides.
── commissioned by @jamjyro
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ content warnings. isekaid reader + nonmc + gun violence + depictions of disposing corpses + anxiety + coercion + blood + angst + there will be a part 2.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ notes. hey you all, it's been a long time since the last time I've posted. thank you very much for the patience and the support that you had given me through this difficulties of my life. i'm still adjusting and little bit struggling. once again, thank you very much for still sticking in this ghosty blog of mine.
Bang!
Shots are fired. Followed by the familiar deafening sounds of heavy machine guns rolling outside and the screech of wheels. You jolted awake that you almost roll and fall from your makeshift bed. What the hell is happening at this hour and in broad daylight? That was expected cause you live in the N109 Zone but you were still not used of the people here exchanging bullets.
But why? Why here? You want to scream in frustration as you crawled in the floor of the building you decided to be your base, a temporary home after being isekaid in a game that you play every single day. It's almost unhealthy from how you obsessed with it and then when you wanted to quit, you got thrown inside the game. What a stroke of luck. Funny. Ha-ha. The game fucking sent you to the unforgiven land of N109 Zone. How the hell can you survive when you got the survival skill of a hamster.
It was going to be fine if you possessed the body of your MC that you spent hours customizing to look like you or somewhat closer to what you look like and only to stare at a mirror and see your real life reflection cluelessly staring.
You spent the first hour agonizing on how you can survive. Thinking how nice if you have a somewhat useful Evol but you don't. You were fucked. You were clueless in where you are at first when you woke up in the middle of the road at first.
No clue in your surroundings until the gunshots came and the angry shouts. Superfucked. And that’s when you realized you were in the N109 Zone. Ultra duper superfucked. The tall buildings, moldy walls in the dark alleyways and there was some sort of shadows lurking in the walls.
It was hard for your first days. You were cold and hungry. Exhausted and clueless on where to start until you remembered Elysium. The place were information are exchanged and under the protection of Sylus.
Yeah, Sylus. Your main in the game and you didn't know what to feel. Knowing that you're not your MC and realized that MC is probably the custom avatar of the game. A far cry from your supposed MC or you. Technically you were MC when you're playing but this time you are not. You were starting to believe that you are not truly MC which is true.
Enough of that, if you want to survive you better start relying on your own and learn a few tricks to save your ass. You don't want to die in a foreign land, let alone a land in a fictional game that you're currently in.
You were about to embark in a journey when you remember you didn't have a trade. Elysium was for intelligent information, assassination and trade of arms and other illegal stuff and you don't do illegal. You can't even handle a gun or pull a pin on a grenade. Hacking? Not a plausible idea. You were only good at organizing documents in a computer.
You stopped in your tracks. Careful at your surroundings, your shoulders slump as you agonize on what trade you can offer in exchange for some lump sum of money or shelter or food or all of the above. You were good as a dead meat. You badly want to cry until a light bulb appeared in your head.
The game was basically your manual on how to survive the game or how to live in the N109 Zone. Although people like you won't survive long. It's either to rise in the ashes or drown in the murky waters.
You already finished the main story, starting from Sylus first appearance which made your heart go thump-thump and spent money that almost your whole salary in a month. You read the anecdotes, his myth. You knew everything about him. His personal life and his connection with MC and how he rules the N109 Zone. Onychinus was the top of the hierarchy here. You know how the Elysium operates so that's what you're going to do. Exchange some information about the future canon events that is yet to happen.
The problem is — it was suspicious. You can't really crash in Elysium and tell Aislinn, the bartender about it. Knowing she directly reports to Sylus and the reality that you weren't your MC — you were surely going to end up with a gun to your head. A stranger revealing secrets, it wasn't a ideal way but you really want to live and that weighs more than anything than the fear and so, standing in front of the Elysium — you entered with death’s hand at your shoulder.
For the better, it turned out good. You didn't reveal anything, someone beat you to the punch of revealing and opportunity opened up to you. Even the N109 Zone was lawless and chaotic, some gangs and organizations really didn't want to leave trace of the transactions that occurred in the hidden areas or the docks and warehouses that the deals takes place.
One of the patrons were looking for someone who can take care of that and you volunteered without a second thought. Your safety will be compromised with that line of work but they only is to keep your mouth shut and deal with the bloodied mess — you took it without hesitation. It was rare for someone to take that but you really need money to start or provide yourself with some basic needs and thus, you ended up in your current situation.
Bullets are flying everywhere and you're going to end up as a casualty if you don't move. You grabbed the classic Smith and Wesson handgun you keep even you don't know how to use it but only when the times comes you need to protect yourself. You didn't know it will come to this point.
You intentionally picked this place for your base. It was the abandoned place far from the chaos of the main zone and it wasn't really ideal for wars because it was very far and the terrain wasn't that good. Broken concrete roads and it can be really hot in the mornings. The surrounding buildings are covered with moss and the fauna was slowly taking over. It wasn't ideal for you to live in the area but it provides safety except now.
A stray bullet pierced to a glass window near you. The glass shatters as it broke and falls near your feet. Without a second thought you immediately crawl. Grabbing the small bag you keep under your bed when you need to run immediately. You grip it tightly as you stand up and bolted away from where you are. The building was still sturdy but the previous gang wars and the Chronorift Catastrophe left it to be abandoned like the other surrounding buildings.
As you descended from the stairs, you held the gun close to you. Your fingers finds the hammer of the gun and hearing the familiar click, you swallowed hardly. Tapping your varsity jacket pockets to check if you have the extra magazines in case you need to reload if you — you hope not, you have to fire in case of self defense.
God, why must you be transported in such a hostile place. You would accept to wake up in a hospital — preferably Akso Hospital and be declared as someone who had amnesia and is truly clueless of what's happening and maybe you can get a glimpse of Dr. Zayne.
You could have gone to Linkon City but you didn't have an identity with you and getting out of N109 Zone needs a special entrance and exit to be granted in order for a individual to leave. The No Hunting Zones was also a way to leave but there's a reason why it was a no hunting zone. It crawls with Wanderers and as a civilian with no Evol, there's a higher chance of you being butchered or succumb to the Flux Nexus.
You're basically a NPC in this world and that sucks more than anything. Where you isekaid here because your main was Sylus? A deepspace tunnel opened and it brought you here. You didn't want to know. It was really disheartening that you have to be here because your main was Sylus. It wasn't like you were hating him or being disappointed. You were basically thrown in a den of lions.
Somehow you managed to survive on your own by being the lackey or you like to call yourself, a cleaner for some of the powerful organizations. You have learned how to remove bloodstains without a trace. The bodies were taken care of by whoever availed your services to clean. You make sure the scene of the crime were spotless as if nothing happened and it was just the same cold and moldy warehouse or alley.
Anyways if you can't get out of this mess, you can kiss your life goodbye.
A sudden burst of adrenaline pumping in your veins made you maneuver the steep stairs and crumbly walls with such ease. Your palm sweaty as it slides in the cold railing. Your body felt like iron as you bump in the walls at every sharp turn. Not bad, self. You want to pat yourself in the back for being able to do such things at your plump stature. You feel like the main protagonist from the movie you used to watch and was it the reason you were here in the N109 Zone? You got the prowess for combat? Such tall tales and that was later proven wrong.
You were good at evading not fighting. That's what you're currently doing right now and you almost let out a breath of relief as you pushed the door in the ground floor. Stumbling in the process as your two feet became unsynchronized. A bullet flew right by and it almost sent you tumbling backwards. You badly want to cry. You're not really built for this.
It seems that your escape route hasn't been intercepted and they're far away from it. You can just run and go for it. Except when you're about to breakthrough — out of the corner in your eye — you caught the glimpse of him.
Sylus.
You can't be mistaken. It was hard to miss him. His name was spoken in whispers. In harsh words and in contempt because there's nothing more cruel than the one who rules the N109 Zone. The leader of Onychinus.
You avoided Sylus nor get involved with him. A civilian or rather a powerless human being in his world cannot survive and you cannot risk making enemies at the same time. You kept a low profile in the duration of your stay.
But to see your main love interests breathing and fighting his enemies in flesh made your chest bloom with warmth. The screen was your boundary between him and you. It was the closest you can ever have him. Pressing your fingertips in the cold screen of your phone and hope you can feel his warmth and hoped he can feel yours too.
He was so close and yet, out of your reach.
Suddenly, you were glued in the floor. Your body refusing to move despite your mind screaming for you to run off. Your legs are frozen. You cannot get involved with him. MC exists in this world andthey were destined for each other. He's waiting for her and you left that with the game's dynamics.
The sound of heavy rifles being loaded and the static ringing in the area and Sylus, there wasn't even much of a tremble or quiver in his movements. He was precise and calculated as he draws his gun. Easily replacing it with a new magazine. His dark glasses perched on his nose. He slides the rack before the sound of gunshot fills the air.
Wait, it's morning. Sylus should be asleep at this time and was only active in the night. Does this means he was overwhelmed and clearly ambushed? You run towards a nearly dilapidated beam. Assessing the situation and when you got a closer look, you notice the damp part of his dark collared shirt.
It wasn't visible but with the morning light and his movements that sways his leather jacket, you can see it. You remembered that Sylus can heal himself but he still get wounded and to get that wound — it must be deep for him to heal properly and he's currently bleeding under his clothes.
You did say you weren't going to get involved the moment you realized you weren't MC. Such matters would have sucked and in the time of care you deeply felt for him. Love will get you killed. Indifference will save you. That was the reason you survived upon being isekaid in the lawless land of N109 Zone.
Alas the moment you had fallen in love with Sylus that even the tiniest voice concern of why you shouldn't save someone just because they were in danger or rather they were the danger, it didn't matter.
Arriving at a resolution, you raised your gun. Pointing at him with a slight tremor in your arm and your palms sweaty that you might slip as you push the trigger. You can do it. You really can do it. You take a deep breath and with a exhale. You push the trigger and with a loud bang that resonated in the area — you hit your target.
He really can't say he was at his wit's end. He was Sylus. Ruler of the N109 Zone and being defeated at this foolish game of foolish people who wants him gone is a humiliation that will haunt him at his death. There's a rule among the residents of this land. It's to kill or be killed. And Sylus isn't going to get slaughtered like a lamb.
The sun's high and he was in a little pinch. His eyesight is made for the night and not in the light. He gives these men who managed to use their cards against him to corner the Onychinus leader. They were really pooling their meager resources to kill him but it wasn't enough although he can give them credits for getting a little smarter and Sylus isn't the one to back down from a fight.
He can give them a little recognition of such feat for injuring him. It was a stray bullet that found its way on his abdomen. He can heal — sure but being repeatedly injured, it stops. His shirt was soaking his blood and his enemies were closing in and then, in some twist or fate or luck or another person thirsty for his blood scrapes him by the shoulder with a bullet.
A stray bullet, maybe but whoever shot him and hitting the one who's closing him falling at the scorching road with a thud must be an amateur or was just really lucky for wounding him and maybe killing the other.
Before he can turn around to look at this one who's brave enough to take a shot, they grab his hand. Pulling them with force of urgency. They run, evading his enemies and although Sylus isn't the one back down from a fight, he knew he needed respite.
Turn after turn, him returning the rounds of bullets to his aggressors. He takes a look at this mortal who dared to save him. Navigating narrow alleyways and taking every sharp turns without pausing like you know every part of this place.
The gunshots have stopped, deciding that you successfully shaked them off. You take a look at his face. “There’s a nearby exit here. They probably don't know about the area and you will be safely get back in your own. I'll be going now. Goodbye.” You say with such firmness before running in the opposite direction without looking back.
You disappeared quickly in his sight. The black and white vision of you in your varsity jacket, boots clicking in the distance. Sylus was left with a strange feeling.
Who was this stranger who saved him and only to disappear on him?
Someone could have used this as a chance to curry favors from him. A chance to rise in the top cause the Onychinus leader never left being indebted to others and such act of saving him can bring fortune if he deemed you worthy but alas, he was only left in the abandoned street with no signs of life besides him. Reeling in the sensation of the stranger's soft hand that previously held his wrist.
No data found.
The screen of his laptop glares at him. No traces or evidence that stranger existed. He hacked every database around the world and no record are found about your identity. Are you a spy? A ghost? He knows you weren't a figment of his imagination that one morning. You were warm and you spoke to him.
You must have one cause despite being nonexistent to others or how much a person hides their identity — there will always be traces of a past of how a person lived no matter how much they try to bury it. The Onychinus searched for any activities that might have linked to you and why did you hole up in that kind of building.
He went back there. The buildings were riddled with bullets. Blood stains in the walls of what violence had occured in there. Investigating and leaving no spot untouched just to get a trace that you were there and you exist. What else could you have been doing there? Maybe you were running away from something or you just didn't like anything that relates to the ruthlessness of the place.
You were a mystery he wants to solve and any day now, you will appear. In the most of convenient or the most unwanted places but Sylus was sure that he will be meeting this stranger again.
“Boss, the scene's spotless. Kieran and I been searching for hours at that warehouse.” Luke's voice can be heard behind him as he stared at the screen. Sylus raises a brow. There's always a spot that's left untouched and he's been living in the N109 Zone for too long that after a bloody showdown, there's always dead bodies and shell casings littering on the cold floors.
Since when these bunch of nobodies started to clean up after themselves?
Well, this have been a occurrence of lately. Crime scenes are left clean. No bodies and not much left even a tiniest speck of blood. Whoever cleaning up these scenes are a professional. It's also hard to found out of whoever doing these are a group or individual but he can appreciate the cleanliness much it was a hassle for his operations. Everyone's evolving in the N109 Zone and he needs a little bit of an entertainment before the boredom catches up to him.
The district warehouse were huge. Larger than what you usually received from the organizations who avail your cleaning services. It was a mess but nothing you can't handle. Upon setting foot in the damp and cold warehouse with the scent of blood and gunpowder, you assess the mess.
Letting your OTTO fly and survey the scene. Scanning trails of blood that you have to manually clean and hidden dead bodies to be disposed of. Securing that there will be no marks or traces of DNA that will point the instigators of this conflict.
Scan completed.
Your OTTO cheerfully chirps at you and you began to slide the gloves in your hands and securing the shoe covers in your feet to avoid footprints that will link to you. You take the plastic sheet from your crate before rolling it to the moldy floors. This is where you will be putting the dead bodies and put them on the body bags you brought. Individually wrapping them up like spring rolls.
It was tasking for a individual work but doing it for months made your body stronger — strong enough to haul bodies heavier than yours. You began your work, stacking them up like building blocks and rolling them with a huff as you struggled cause why men looks like they're light and only to find out they're heavy with that kind of body. Even in death they were still dead weight.
After hauling the last body, you made your way to the blood trail with your handy cleaning tools along with a special solution. You were quick to learn for your trade of cleaning crime scenes for the organizations that pays you a lump sum of money enough to sustain you and sometimes they will throw an extra to a job well done which you always do.
You can always use the referral for your services. The quietness of the warehouse didn't bother you much. It was once a quiet night to work in and you doubt there will be anyone after such bloodied mess. You only focused on scrubbing the dried blood from the dry floor and sweep the dust to conceal the scent of your special solution. It wasn't that pungent but it didn't hurt to be extra careful. Discretion was your specialty.
The OTTO encircles the area and the humming sound coming from it was the noise you can hear while you busy yourself. Halfway through when it got too quiet and your OTTO was missing. You stopped in your tracks.
You remained crouching with a brush in your hand as you raised your head. Listening to any telltale signs or noise that you're not entirely alone in this warehouse. Perhaps the heavy footsteps or a puff of breath. Anything that may harm you but nothing and you thought that maybe your OTTO malfunctioned since it was really a old model that you managed to salvage cause you can't still manage to upgrade it.
You were about to finish anyway and so scrubbed the floor a little harshly until the blood has separated from the floor before sweeping dust all over it before you walked towards where you hear your OTTO humming.
It was behind the crates, you can see your OTTO was blinking lights and was roughened in the edges with claw marks. The sight of your half destroyed companion send shivers down your spine. It feels like you were surrounded but when you look around there was nothing. You swallowed. Your hands inside the gloves were starting to moist. The pit of your stomach feels like sinking.
Something dangerous is near and you can't really pinpoint where it is. You try to balance it out. The pros and cons of leaving for your safety but your job was still not done. You couldn't really risk losing the source of your living in the N109 Zone and besides you faced fear many times before. What's the harm of risking another?
Deciding that you really can't leave your job, you grabbed your broken OTTO and decided that it really needs a replacement and it's been long and it should rest for being your companion for a long time. Still, seeing it destroyed pains you.
Now you have to manually check that they will be no evidence that you've been here after your OTTO’s broken.
A step and sudden jolt of uneasiness strikes you again. Raising your head, you caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette in the upper railings. The sound of flapping wings followed by a rather loud caw. Black feather slowly descending towards you and landing in your outstretched palm.
God, any minute now or seconds he will be appearing now.
Snap.
A swirl of black and red mist appears in front of you and just like that — your main love interest, leader of Onychinus and the one who rules the N109 Zone — Sylus stands before you.
Scared? Not really. You were blinking back tears because he was so close and your mind really decided to replay what he had gone through. Dying in the hands of his sorceress and not granting him death unless she allows it. Then, they found each other again. Both immortals dying in each other's arm and again, two children fighting to death and escaping to another planet and only to separate once again and he's here in front of you.
Standing tall and immaculate with the air of authority in his stature. Head held high and you can see the subtle glow of the Aether Core in his right eye. The reds of his eyes glimmer in the dim lit warehouse.
You take a step backwards, cradling your destroyed OTTO closer to you. Not daring to speak a word or look in his eyes.
“Just when I thought these fools has learned to be careful.” He muses. A faint smirk in his lips as he looks at you and the pile of dead bodies you were about to dispose behind.
“Maybe. I'm the only person here though. Cleaning out the mess.” You shrugged. Cradling your destroyed OTTO and walking towards your “cleaning van.” You gently put your companion in a crate before grabbing the brush again to continue cleaning. Wiping the sweat off in your forehead with the back of your arm.
Sylus remains silent. Following your every movement under his gaze about this person who was unintentionally ignoring him and going back to your job. Not even an ounce of fear behind those tired eyes. Were you feigning ignorance of the truth that you saved him? The leader of Onychinus and the feared man of the N109 Zone. That matter didn't seem to bother you.
“Do you know that when people save someone they expect something in return?” He began. Baiting the person in front of him for a favor. “It’s a chance for them to rise in this wasteland.”
“I’m managing.” You pragmatically answered even when your heart is beating fast cause you know secrets in this world and you really don't want to involve yourself with Sylus. You were living quietly and you badly want to get out of this world or maybe ask him to get you a identity to live in Linkon but that would raise suspicions cause why would you ask for a identity. It's either you're a criminal or someone who doesn't belong in this world.
He also didn't belong in this world but wherever MC is, he follows. A flower who still bloomed beautifully in a different soil.
His expensive cologne wafts in the air. His shoes scraping the dust in the floor. His coat swaying every movement and it's enough to intimidate you and you hope you're calm in the outside.
“Oh really.” His voice lowers into a timber and oh, it was really different from his secret times and tender moments, you want to squeal so bad if it wasn't for the implication that he's already smelling your bullshit.
“You want to go home. Why is that?” You swallowed. You cursed the goddamn Aether Core in his eye that can see the desire of someone. It's true. You've been wanting to go home since you got isekaid here.
“I’m not from here. Just a terrible luck.” You confessed under the intensity of his gaze but still withholding the secret you have. You're not easy to crack but Sylus can read you like an open book.
He hums in understanding. Not forcing you to give the details of your life cause he will be the one to know it. “I don't like the feeling of being indebted from someone below me.”
“You’re not indebted to me.” You briefly paused. Daring to steal a glance before focusing the task in your hand.
“My body choose to move that day when I could have run. I have no intention of saving you.” You say in a matter-of-factly. “I don't want to involve myself to someone powerful and if you feel indebted.” Swallowing the imaginary lump in your throat. “There is one thing you can do.”
You look at him straight in the eyes.
“Leave me alone.”
Sylus raises his eyebrows. He can't brush it off why you were so adamant not being involved with him when people got the leverage to do business or something simple as favor they rush but you — you were rushing to get out of his hair.
Leave you alone? There is really something wrong and Sylus sharp instincts knows better than to grant it. To call it quits. You were also calm and composed when facing him aside from the sudden beats of your heart that he can hear.
You didn't also run the moment he made his appearance which people usually do upon meeting him. Maybe is it because you know he can't harm you after saving him that one morning. N109 Zone wasn't really that barbaric and there's sliver of morals that are still practiced.
You can't kill someone unless they're the first to draw blood or unless it was contractual and the killing is ordered. Sylus has disposed people that betrayed him or were hindering his plans.
Besides you look amateur but Sylus isn't someone to really judge based on how you look. It was finding the value of someone and with some pressure you could be a coal turning into a pearl with the right pressure.
You didn't quite grasped how the N109 Zone works and you choose the job to clean the aftermath of every shootouts and doing the dirty work of disposing corpses. You were only surviving base on your skills and Sylus can use some of your talents.
“That would be impossible, dove.”
His eyes narrowing, clearly intrigued cause it was looking into a blank slate but is packed with so much color.
He can see how you freeze for a second. Hands trembling like you were hiding a secret and the next question confirms his suspicion.
“Who are you?” Ruby red eyes stares at you. Waiting for you to crack and this where Sylus would have normally put you in a gun point. Forcing you to reveal yourself but can you really? Will he believe you? That he was only a pixelated character in a game. A otome game that doomed you for loving him? Whereas you were supposed to be the MC, the player but when you saw your reflection you were just you.
Nothing special like the MC. Not a badass hunter. Not someone's childhood friend. Not someone's bride or a princess. Not a knight nor a queen. Not a sorceress who didn't allow her dragon to truly die and be destined together with every lifetime.
You were you. A regular human who didn't possess a extraordinary power. You were someone who was flawed. Trying to survive in a place that won't be merciful to someone weak.
“It’s none of your business.” Closing the doors of your van after hauling the dead bodies to dispose of with a loud thud. If you were somewhat decent you wouldn't have shown Sylus such hostility. You know what he's capable but being cornered by him — yeah — you should be squealing or be flustered cause it was Sylus, you were in no position because you were in a dire situation and your existence doesn't contribute to the storyline of this world, including MC and his.
You also can't really tell him you're from the other world. It might be catastrophic. You don't really want to stray from canon events and the first step is to stay away from Sylus.
You were about to open the door of your van to get away. You were an inch of pulling that handle until thin red and black mists coils around your wrist. Preventing you from moving your hand.
You look at him in disbelief. Scoffing as you try to pry the tendrils of his Evol wrapped around your wrist. “Really?” You take a step forward. “Is this how you treat people who disagrees with you!?”
Sylus remains nonchalant. Although there's a hint of amusement and curiousity behind his eyes. You weren't perturbed at all with his Evol but he can give you the benefit of the doubt. “Not really. Usually they end up dead.” His hand moves manipulating it to pull you.
“Assuring but can you let me go? I really don't want anything from you. Let just call it quits, please?” You pleaded. The sleeves of your varsity jacket crumples as you try again to get out of his grip. “I still have to finish my job.” Biting your lip anxiously as you desperately look at your van. The bodies are going to rot now before you can dispose of them.
“The twins can take care of it.”
“How can Luke—” Your eyes widens, biting your tongue at your slip up. You forgot that no one really knows what the twins names are except Sylus. They were his henchmen after all and a stranger — you was the final nail in the coffin.
“Interesting.” His lips curve into a smirk and you know what it means. “You and I are going to have a long conversation.” Giving you no room to retaliate or defend yourself. It was useless anyways, no one really escapes him and you hope that you can still get out. Alive.
The hallways were dark. The warm light of the wall sconces was the source of the light. You get the idea that Sylus is taking you to the dining room where he once eviscerated someone after a disagreement and finding the other person was trying to take both sides and Sylus does not like traitors.
You were walking behind him. His Evol long deactivated cause he knows you can't run even as you try to look around for possible escape routes and you really can't even you want too. His windows are a no-no. You don't want to plummet to your death from the top floor.
Sylus pushes the door. Inside were the sleek black marble top table with two candles lit in the candelabra. A deep red velvet chairs upholstered. Everything was Sylus's taste that you saw in his bond memories where he and MC stays. Your remember their little banters and how bossy he was.
It brings a smile to your face as you take the surroundings of the room. Luke and Kieran were probably wrecking your van. They were making you jobless in the Zone. You hoped that your van will still be returned in one piece.
“Sit.” He orders you and you complied without hesitation. Sylus can be impatient and being stubborn will probably get your neck choked. Settling in the chair, it was remarkably soft. You can't remember the last time you sat in something plush. Concrete stairs and crates in warehouses were your chair. The cold floor of the temporary base you set up covered with a old mattress was your bed.
Sylus stands behind the counter. Pulling glasses to pour a drink for himself and to you. “Let’s get started with a simple conversation.” The glass clinks as he puts on cubes of ice. “I ask you a question and you will answer me.”
“Okay.” He hears you murmur. Your posture was rigid. Legs bouncing out of nervousness in the chair. Chewing on your lips and your hands were hidden in the sleeves of your jacket like you were put in a straitjacket but he knows you were scratching your skin.
You were guilty as you look. Actions don't lie. Or maybe you were anxious. He got something to ease you up. “Here.” Nudging the glass in front of you. The amber liquid sloshing with the ice. You take it. He's probably making you loosen your tongue which is maybe going to work.
His eyes follows your movement. Bringing the glass of whiskey in your lips and your nose scrunches at the sharp aroma. He watch as you look at him before breaking eye contact and taking a swig of the drink and the reaction was immediate.
Sharp violent coughs shook your whole body. Your eyes watering as the liquid burned down your throat. You used your arm to cover your mouth while you coughed. God, what kind of humiliation the universe is putting you through and in front of Sylus.
“Who are you?” He began to question you and you glare at him. Wiping the corner of your mouth with the sleeve of your jacket. “A stranger.” Coughing up the last bits as you try to draw out the bitter taste.
You really don't want to lie but you were not in your world and you were afraid that you were going to disrupt the timeline of this story. You didn't want to be a huge spoiler or accidentally trigger a effect that will rip the balance of this world.
Sylus looks at you blankly. “What are you doing in the warehouse?”
“Trying to make a living. I can't survive here unless I do something.” Rubbing your knuckles in your eyes.
“Let’s get back to my former question. Who are you?” His voice are dripping with venom and you watch the subtle twitch of his hands and the next thing will be is he's blowing your head off.
“You want to know? I'm just some unfortunate soul who got here.” Pursing your lip in a thin line. Conflicted on how to process your emotions. You were scared, frustrated and angry. You shouldn't have saved him.
“And now you’re going to ask why I knew Luke and Kieran.” You paused for a bit. The confession is going to give you a headache. “You're a pixelated game character on my world.”
And the headache begun. He only raised his brows like you were just messing up with him. “I know how ridiculous it sounds but it's true.”
“You don't believe me? You're Sylus Qin. You're a wanted criminal in Philos and you escaped from Tartarus.” You began to explain. Legs bouncing anxiously with every tick of the clock. Sylus was practically a weapon ready to fire at any moment.
“Want to know more? You manipulated Miss Hunter to kill you when she was a sorceress and you were a dragon. You were ostracized from your own kind. You can't die unless she allows you to. You were also children too. Fighting to death in the arena with the other children and when it's down to both of you — you made the decision to escape and she did too but you two got separated.” You revealed. “Is that enough?”
He didn't say anything else as if convinced. “How did you end up here?”
“I don't know. I just woke up in the middle of the road.”
Sylus didn't press anything more. As far as he knows you're an anomaly.
”Can I leave now?” You asked. Thinking this interrogation is done and you really don't want to disrupt this world. Afraid that if you interfere some butterfly effect would activate and all of this world are going to be doomed. The plot was really important and every decision of the characters either make or break.
You waited for his response. Thinking of the van that are being used by the twins. You hoped that they know where to dump the bodies and your van isn't being banged up. The source of your income and means of survival rests on how they treat your van.
“I'm afraid that's not going to happen.”
“W-waa—what? Why!?” Eyes wide in disbelief. Your brows are raised and with the little shot of that alcoholic unnerved you in ways that you didn't know you can.
You look at him like you hit your head (which you already did by thunking your forehead in the top rail of your chair) and find that he's real ugly but he's not. He's hot. Infuriatingly hot. You can't count how many times you fantasize kissing Sylus and moisturize that dry lips of his.
You wanted that when he was on your screen and now, you're not, maybe a little. Get a grip! You tell to yourself but you dread about this — of not being able to leave. You're going to be in the front row and watch the world fuss about MC. The next days are going to be the start of her story with Sylus. Their first meeting.
“You're an anomaly in this world.”
Your heart drops. Of course, you're an anomaly. Sylus must have analyzed you or searched for your identity and to only find nothing.
“You know a lot about of things going around here and I can't have you running around with that kind of information.” He reasons, taking a step towards you.
“I'm basically a NPC in this world. I don't see the relevance of me being here.” You counter. Pressing your forehead in the back of the chair because you really didn't want to be involved with him.
“What if I say, I don't want to?”
“You really don't have a choice here, kitten.”
“Fuck.” You muttered, running our reasons to use. “I have a job around here. I can't have you bossing me around. I won't also ask for a compensation.” Referring to your destroyed OTTO and your van that is going to be thrashed by the twins. You can always start. You survived your first day and managed to live this long.
Sylus can see the reluctance in you. Mixed with the desperation of not wanting to get involved with him. He's a dangerous man. Money isn't really a problem for him and he can get you a nice place to live and a brand new van and the latest OTTO catered to your needs. When in reluctance, give them the assurance.
“Is cleaning up dead bodies and blood that fun?” Your eyes flickers towards him. “Not really but it keeps my stomach full and meets my basic needs. Shelter I have plenty.” Rubbing your arm in an attempt to comfort yourself. Eyes a little droopy and your lips curled into a frown.
Living in the N109 Zone with no means of being the strong was your struggle. It was life or death for you.
“I have a proposal.” When you can't convince someone, you put the stakes higher. Sylus continues as he noticed you tilt your head. Interested at the proposal he was about to make.
“You will be provided everything you need. You shall never starve or work for your food. I will give you shelter. You can hole up in one of the rooms here. I have plenty. You will have a identity you desire. A clean slate for you to start somewhere new.”
“That's preposterous for someone like you, Sylus.” Shaking your head as you try to think about what to do before looking back at him. “I can't be near you. I'm a walking spoiler.” You swallowed as if there's something stuck in your throat.
“If information is what you want of future events, I can't tell you about it. I won't disrupt the natural order of this world.” Pulling your jacket and standing up. Putting back the chair in its right place.
“The only mistake I did was to save you.”
“Is that so?” He hums.
Thinking of what he should do about you. “Such trivial matters don't bother me. You're not really disrupting anything and I won't ask for information.” You can see the brief flicker of light passing through his right eye where the Aether Core is placed.
“Work for me. You'll get more benefits than what you wished for.”
He watched as you hesitate. You will still have a choice with the proposal he suggested. You are free to operate around his area and maybe he'll take you as a secretary. It's unlikely you'll betray him. You're smart for your own good to betray as someone powerful like him.
It didn't take long for a few seconds for you to decide.
“Fine.”
The smirk on his face grew wider.
You gave the arrangement six months.
It shouldn't be too long or less. You wanted Sylus to make it shorter because any time soon or any day, he and MC will cross paths and even you wanted to witness their long-awaited reunion — you just can't.
Because what kind of bullshit of people telling you that you are MC in your world and to find out you were the anomaly in this world even you accepted it that you really can't be MC with the game having her life determined and the routes of the story written. MC may have your face in the game but you can never be her.
It sounds bitter but this was your reality. You're not about to witness their love when you have a life to live. A few months staying under his base is the thing you have to live through. You didn't understand why Sylus has to take you under his wing.
You did say you weren't tell him about the future happenings or any information that will about to happen. Probably he's getting bored and what's a little fun to observe a anomaly for his entertainment.
That's your sentiment but you know Sylus isn't that cruel to treat you as one. He may have his reasons and you will never know any of it.
The least you can do is stay put until there's a change of events. It's a matter of time before the story line of the game will start to happen and when MC has grown curious about the N109 Zone and Sylus.
The Onychinus base was huge. Well, huge is an understatement. It's a whole fricking building and despite that doing nothing means you're penniless. Sylus did tell you that the commodities in the building are free to use but a week after almost exploring the whole base — you found yourself restless.
You've been on the run the moment you were transported in this world. Always thinking for ways to survive. Hustling to get by and earn that money that was essential for your job and puts a food in your table. You were always on the lookout for jobs that needs your specialty. It's pay per transaction and you take pride in your work.
Abandoning your livelihood means abandoning your security. There was no discussion about it between you and Sylus even he did say you will work for him, there was really nothing about the job description and you hate to think you were freeloading to him.
So you did what you know best — accepting a clean up job. The pay was huge. The bigger the money they offer the messier and complicated it was but you didn't care. Money is money. You take the keys of the van Sylus owed you after the twins has trashed it like you expected.
You begin to drive towards your destination after picking up a new stash of cleaning supplies you have hidden in one of your hideouts.
The building wasn't that ruined when stepped out of your van. It changed by the times and the lack of maintenance made it unsuitable for moving.
You began to unload the supplies from your bag. Securing the roll of plastic wraps and duct tapes. A makeshift cart that contains all of your cleaning materials with some strong chemical that's enough to knock someone out when inhaled.
The scene that greeted you were something out of a horror film or some sci-fi you used to watch back in your world.
Bloody was the least you will used to describe the scene. It was beautiful. If you can ignore the lifeless bodies impaled with ice spikes. The paleness of the blues of ice mixes with the red. Creating a almost whimsical look like a blood red moon.
You guessed that you find anything as visceral as this normal after cleaning up places. Murder with the use of Evol wasn't unheard of, you've clean plenty of it and disposed mutilated bodies that was almost beyond recognition. You've also thrown bodies or parts of one in a single trash bag.
Time is the essence and even with the structured ice Evol, it was starting to melt and when ice are thawed — everything's going to be bloody from here and so you began to take your trusty lightsaber-esque equipment that's good for cutting through metal, bones and of course, ice. As long they're solid it gets the job done.
The smell didn't even bother you. It was like meat that you left to defrost and forgot to take it out for cooking and it starts to go bad. It's worse for you the first time but the fear of not being able to survive gets you out of that disgust.
Pressing the button of your tool, it shortly crackles — bursts and emits a bright orange glow and then you start to cut through flesh and bone.
It's good to know that you're still capable.
After that work and clean up, you were done for the day, night. You still didn't regulate your sleeping hours even with the comfortable place Sylus provided for you at the base and paired with restlessness.
Driving back to Onychinus base made you uneasy, sure you move places to places and sometimes settled for months but a month in Sylus's base didn't feels like something you can live with. You were grateful but coming back to the base is still unfamiliar territory for you.
Attachment creates dangerous conflicting feelings and having known danger and how powerful attachment can be — you ignored.
It's the reason why you keep the interaction to Sylus minimal except when it's necessary and you can't avoid him without being too obvious.
You surely can't start catching feelings for him even he's your main love interest in the real world and when he's a game character. But how about when he's real and you're near him? That you can hear his voice, can touch him and talk to him? Can you not really fall in love? And there's MC.
But it's difficult when you're in his world and living in his base where any chance you can bump into him and it happened the moment you were about to retreat in your room. The hallways were big but it connects to everything.
You were about to turn when you almost bump into Sylus. The familiar outfit that he almost dons everyday in your home screen is what he wore. "Hey." You awkwardly greeted him. Gripping the hem of your sweatshirt that reeks with the scent of blood and chemicals for cleaning.
"I thought you might have escaped.”
Liar. He knows where you are and he knows your circumstances. You can't leave him. Not yet.
“As you can see, I can't. I'm powerless.” You murmur.
There's a moment of awkward silence but it might be you until Sylus broke it.
“Care to join me for lunch, dove?”
You didn't know why Sylus started to call you dove but maybe he was referring you to one like the dove MC rescued and was put in his care temporarily in the Nightplumes card. It didn't happen yet but the cards are connected to the future events after their meeting.
You refused. “No, thank you. I'm not really—” Your stomach betrays you, growling like you haven't eaten for days. “— hungry.” You finished to say with your cheeks burning hotly from embarrassment.
Sylus chuckles and you badly want to jump out outside the window and plummet to your death.
“Do you really find me insufferable?” He asks, his eyes narrowing although there's a lilt.
“Insufferable? No. I don't find you like that or anything.” He's many things but insufferable. You mumble, concealing the expressions that might show in your face as your brain panics.
“Good. It would be a bad thing if my guest finds me intolerable.”
Turns out Sylus has already set up the table in the terrace. His chef, you meet him the second day in your stay in Sylus's base and asked you what you wanted to eat. The Onychinus leader told you that you have permission to use the kitchen or ask the chef whatever you felt like eating.
You absolutely remember the terrace it was shown in the kindle of his first myth card where he taught MC on how to improve her combat skills. Knowing the terrace part of the base is where Sylus sometimes took his meals.
If you did suddenly get back home, you have a lot of things to brag as you take your sit across "Boss-man Sylus."
It's not like everyday is an opportunity to share a table with Sylus, the most desired love interest in your world.
“How was your work today?”
“Grotesque but it's nothing that I can't handle.” You shrugged, taking your cutlery and mimicking Sylus's gesture as he began to eat.
You have quite the appetite despite the scene earlier. Your stomach has gotten thick overtime as you took that line of work.
"I assume someone has gone rouge.”
“If you would put it that way.”
He hums. Gently twirling the glass of wine and the red liquid sloshed inside of it. He takes a sip before resuming on his meal. You had done the same and the taste of wine made your taste buds burst into these tiny quantities of flavors you can taste.
Amusement glimmers in Sylus's eyes. Watching you taste something that you're not accustomed to. You told him that back in your world you have a job that covers your expenses and an extra for some indulgence.
Your indulgence was getting all his cards.
“Do you find your room comfortable?” He pries.
“Yes, thank you.” You whispered. Meeting his gaze to show how sincere you are. You missed having a real bed not the make shift beds you have to temporarily sleep with.
“You really didn't need to spend much on me. I'm not staying that long.” Reminding him of your arrangement.
Sylus chuckles. “I'm not the one to forget, dove.” Leaning on his chair and crossing his legs. “You plan to go back in your job?” His eyes narrows at you.
“Maybe. I didn't really asked you about the details when you said that I'm working for you.” You told him. Putting your fork down cause you know where this conversation is being headed.
“How about as my secretary?” He says without a beat. The way he says it was the same as he speaks in the game and you would have accepted it within a heartbeat if it wasn't for the position you are in.
“Me?” You asked, hoping you misheard it or your ears was playing tricks. “Your secretary? You don't even know me that much to be entrusted with that kind of work.”
“I don't need to know what kind of person you are.”
“I know you're not the one to make stupid decisions and I'm not going to doubt your judgement but even I am an anomaly in this world there's a chance that I will betray you.” You say, gripping the table cloth. Well, there's no betrayal that's going to happen but it was an excuse and a reason not to get closer to him.
Sylus smirks. You can see the amusement flickering all over his eyes at what you said. You were getting more interesting as the seconds pass and Sylus likes who he deemed interesting.
“People who plan to betray me don't tell me they're betraying me. You’re selling yourself short, dove.” He pauses, crossing his legs underneath the table while he waits for your response.
He can see that you were still torn and hesitating.
“Take this offer and I'll make sure it will be worthwhile for the both of us.”
Is what he said and now, you're thinking that doomsday is already ahead in the game with you interfering. You hope that Sylus stays canon with MC and the original plot still intact.
May Astra or whatever deity send you back home before you disrupt the world with your existence.
❝ ᝰ.ᐟ note: requested part 3 with Buggy and Cora is finally here, sorry for the wait >.<' ❞
Sabo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃
Sabo was training alone, just some simple combat moves — shirtless and sweaty. Blonde hair sticking to his face as he moves across the field.
He was heaving at the end of it, wiping his chin, and just when his little break was over, he spots you from the corner of his eye.
Sabo instantly brightens up at the sight of you, grinning and hand going up to wave you over but before he knew it—you were already half way closer, and when he blinks—you’re plunging into his chest.
Arms slung over his shoulders, as you practically anchor him into an embrace.
He didn’t even have the chance to comprehend the gesture before he feels your lips on his neck.
Making him flinch, grabbing onto your shoulders and just stares at you dumbfounded.
“Woah now, what’s all this? You okay—”
You blink. Then you tiptoe up and kiss his cheek.
Sabo doesn’t move. He just shuts up as you grab his face, kiss the corner of his lip, chin, jaw, his brows and eyelids—everywhere and anywhere, you attack him with your kisses.
Lipstick marks all over his face.
And he just stares like an idiot when you finish.
Your face all shy and grinning, grabbing his hands into yours, bringing them to your chest.
“Sabo.”
“Y-yeah..?”
He just keeps staring, neck going red.
“Don’t you want to kiss me back?”
Sabo blinks. Lips parting. “I—”
What is going? Did someone take over your body? And why are you extra pretty today? Something isn’t right here, but that spare second of assessment, that delay in an answer makes you frown. Letting go of his hands, moving away.
“Too late. I’m out. Have fun training alone, buddy—”
He catches your wrist, and hauls you right back in.
Hands going on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him.
Your legs all intertwined, your chests pressed into one another as he makes you look at him.
He leans in, just enough to catch the warmth of his breath on your face, his forehead grazing yours. And your cheeks burn at the sight of him.
He’s grinning sly and mean—and when Sabo gets like that—you can’t help but go completely dumb in the head.
“Want me to kiss you? Yeah? If you want it so badly then tell me why you’re all clingy today.” His lips inches near yours, but they never land—and you feel how he squeezes you up into him by the ass.
You tiptoe in for the kiss but Sabo keeps moving away, not fully, but just enough to tease.
“Sabo—”
“Tell me.”
And you hitch your breath when you feel his crotch.
What a mean jerk.
You pout. “Cause’ I missed you, that’s all.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
And he smiles, all boyish and teasing.
“I missed’ you too.” And he’ll show you that, by pressing his mouth onto yours, lips mushing into one another and you smile into it.
He has one hand on your back, the other in your hair. Tilting you deeper into kiss.
Congrats. You’re not leaving the training grounds any time soon.
Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon" 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃
Corazon was sizzling some veggies by the stove. Pink apron tied around his waist as he fixes today’s dinner for both of you.
And he hears the kitchen door creak open.
“Soon love, I’ll just sauté these and then dinner will be—”
You wrap your arms around his waist, lean your face against his spine.
And he halts.
Breath caught in his ribs as he watches the vegetables turn toast.
“Er…” Corazon looks over his shoulder, where he’ll find you rubbing your cheek against his back. Small and little compared to him.
“Is everythin’ okay? Did something happen—”
You press your face harder against him and he turns rigid. Back arching.
He turns the stove off.
Slowly, awkwardly, he goes to face you and you just leech right back onto him. Face buried into his abs, taking in the scent of him.
You look up, face all mushed into him and he turns bright pink at the sight of your face.
Damn. Okay. You’re pretty, too pretty.
It’s turning him stupid.
“Cora…” You mumble out, fisting his shirt.
“Y-yeah? What is it gorgeous?”
“Why aren’t you touching me?”
And he blinks. He didn’t even notice it but his hands are hovering above your hips.
Too flustered to know where to place them.
“Y-you want me too—?”
You frown. And he presses his lips, swallowing.
What a stupid question.
Of course you want him to touch you.
Corazon places his large hands on your hips, and you press yourself closer to him.
His thigh going inbetween yours and you hear him hold in a whine when you kiss chest, lean your cheek against his ribs.
“Is it okay if we eat later? I want to feel you just a bit longer.”
At that, his shoulders slumps.
Chuckling just a little, before easing into you.
“Yes. Anything you want, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”
Buggy the Clown 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃
The so called Genius Jester is slumped over his sofa, circling his wine goblet as he grumbles, “Stupid-crocodile-smug-looking-bastard” (or something to that affect) and that’s how you’ll find him.
He doesn’t shift his head, just from your footsteps alone he knows it’s his gorgeous, majestic, piece of honeycakes walking in.
And he thinks you’re here to scold him too, his chin sinking.
“If you’re here to to call me dumb and lazy and annoying as well, then I—”
Your steps are fast, hard—plunging against the floor boards as you cast yourself over his shoulders. Face pressed into his spine and Buggy, freezes.
You snuggle your face in between his shoulder blades.
Rubbing. Pressing.
Taking in his scent… he smells like cake. And sprinkles. And just a little bit of canon fodder.
You want more of it, more of him.
And Buggy blinks. Twice. Before glancing to you.
“Er… did I…. uh… Is this a test?… Are you mad—”
“Buggy.” You hum, your voice hot against his spine, and just when he’s about to answer, do you kiss his back. Trailing kisses all over him and you feel a shiver running down his skin before you make it to the nape of his neck.
Your breath warm, turning him flushed. “I missed you Bug’, I missed you so much.”
He flinches. Breath caught.
Is this a seduction tactic? Or a trap? Whatever it is, it’s making him go stupidly red, face steaming even.
You lean in from behind, your lips skimming over his earlobe.
“Do you miss me, Buggy?”
“I…Uh…. I— yeah! I mean, of course I do!” He stammers out, shifting his head to you, his red nose grazing yours, meeting your smile. And he combusts.
Melting like an ice cone in desert heat.
“B-but where is this coming from, gem? You’re suddenly all over me—WHICH I LOVE—but erm… y’know.”
You only hum in response, manoeuvring into the sofa, and in between his legs. Nestling yourself right above his lap, face into his neck.
“I just want to be near you, just this once, please?”
His throat is flaring fire against your cheek, you even hear his heart drum from underneath.
And you resist not teasing him for it.
Instead you grab onto his chest, fisting his clothes and relax into his warmth.
And slowly, carefully, his hands makes it to your back, pressing you closer to him.
Placing his chin above your head.
“Sure….I wouldn’t mind if you missed me more often gem.” He mumbles, and you kiss his neck. Just a little.
Yeah, this is going to be a loooong night for both of you.
Eustass "Captain" Kid 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃
Kid was polishing up some gear — adjusting, fixing, and screwdriver in hand.
That’s how you will find him, cross legged and posture bent.
He doesn’t even turn to face you when he hears you trudge inside.
“Tch, better not be here to nag about snacks, cause I ain’t budgin’ till I got this fixed—” he freezes, screwdriver screeching against metal when he feels your chest slumped over his enormous back. He’s rigid beneath you. Hard. Stiff. As if unable to breathe.
And you lean your cheek against his shoulder blade, hands travelling up his chest—feeling him, touching and caressing him. His warmth radiating into your chest, and you cling onto him harder.
“Oi.”
You nestle your face into his back.
“Oi.”
You rub your cheek against him.
“Oi…”
You place a kiss on the back of his biceps and he flinches, snapping his gaze onto you.
Face burning, cheeks all pink and flustered and you try not to laugh.
“What’s gotten into ya!?” He practically yells out, “You think you’re going to get snacks by actin’ like a little kitten; you’re wrong—”
You lean in, and shut him up with a kiss on the cheek.
And that’s what you do.
You kiss, kiss, kiss and kiss him all over the face until you’ve stunned the vocab out of him.
Your hands are still pressed on his pecs, breasts still pushed against his spine and he goes completely steam red.
“Baby,” you hum and your voice is low, almost pleading, and it makes him tense. Warmth forming up his chest. “I missed you. I missed you so much today.” You bury your cheek against his sturdy shoulder, eyes closing. “I want to be near you, is that okay?” You look up, “Or are you too busy?”
And your angry oversized tomato just stares, teeth gritted and cheeks all flushed. His ears too.
Kid clicks his tongue, “Whatever. Do as you please.”
He says that, but his posture eases, shoulders slumps and his heart beating a little bit too fast for his liking.
He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind it if you missed him a little bit more often.
Aokiji Kuzan 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃
Kuzan was napping.
Snoring on the sofa to be exact.
It was dead in the night when you tiptoed in. Blanket wrapped around you like a warm fuzzy burrito, in search for cuddles.
“Kuzan?”
No response. Just a snore. And you inch near.
He has a sleep mask on, and his hands are folded over his chest. Chest going up… then down.
You press your lips, manoeuvring above him. Placing your ear where his heart sits, and when you sink your weight into him, only then do you hear the snoot bubble pop.
Hand going to his sleep mask, making a small gap with his thumb to take a peek and when he sees you? He blinks himself awake.
“Oh?” Kuzan tries to sit himself up but when you lock your thigh around his waist, tight, firm—does he freeze. “This is a first.”
you hum. “Go back to sleep.” And you rub your face into his chest. “I like this spot.”
A sweat droplets makes it to his cheek, a corner of his lip turning up. His large hand placing it above your hair. Slow, faint, as if careful to not provoke your change of mind.
“Everythin’ alright? Nothing’s buggin you?”
You shake your head, looking up to him.
Face all shy and mischievous, making him tense.
And when you lean in, crawling up his abdomen, the grinding of each others bodies forces him still, hands hovering above your ribs as you come closer. Placing a kiss on his cheek.
“Just for tonight, Kuzan’, just for tonight—so enjoy it.” There is a giggle in your tone, a tease almost, and you sink back down. Head nested in the crook of his neck and Kuzan lets out a scoff.
Easing back into the sofa, larger hands landing on your back.
Bringing you close.
“Since you insist then,” he cups your head. His finger drawing slow, faint caresses over your back. Kissing the top of your head. “don’t mind me.”
You two lay like that till morning comes, calm, safe — lousing. And maybe, just maybe, when his most lonesome hours hits—he’ll think of this moment, of you, and the warmth of your chest.
frat!sukuna, who first insisted that your relationship was strictly sex, nothing more—with some flimsy excuse about how he doesn’t have the time for a relationship, doesn’t have the time to commit to something that serious, and about how a relationship would only drag him down.
so he does what any good friend situationship?would do—he shows up to your place, fucks you until you can’t remember your own name, and leaves before something in his chest convinces him to stay.
frat!sukuna, who has to have you facing him to cum, something about just looking at your face contort in pleasure while you take him in, the way tears rim your eyes while he thrusts into you languidly—he simply can’t bring himself to cum if he isn’t look at you and your pretty face drunk on his cock.
frat!sukuna, who tries to walk out of your apartment the second he’s done with you, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. so he lingers, hovers around your sleeping form until you finally drag him back under your sheets, calling him ridiculous while he presses soft kisses to the back of your neck.
frat!sukuna, who has your drink order memorised to perfection, always leaving your sugary concoction of a drink on your desk before each class begins with a scrawled on note that says ‘don’t get any ideas.’
frat!sukuna, who never denies anything when his frat brothers start calling you his girlfriend—it’s too much work to correct them, he says, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks tinge the same shade as his hair every single time one of them pats him on the back and calls you his girl.
frat!sukuna, who always has to have you close to him, with his arm slug around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist when he’s near you.
“it’s to make sure you don’t run away.”
“now, why would i do that?”
frat!sukuna, who almost decks toji in the face when he sees him flirting with you, his split lip curled into a girl while you laughed at his stupid jokes and for one second, sukuna’s afraid he’s going to lose this, that he’s going to lose you.
frat!sukuna, who starts tiptoeing around the idea of a relationship, insisting he takes you on dates—taking you out to fancy restaurants and late night bike rides when he knows exam stress starts to take over your brain. he’s spent enough time around you to know everything there is to know, but what sukuna doesn’t know is how to handle a relationship.
frat!sukuna, who’s been treating you like his girlfriend since the start, never skipping aftercare, always being there at your every beck and call—and avoiding every girl that had eyes for him like the plague since he met you.
“good god, did she neuter you, kuna?” toji slurred between drinks while sukuna tried to dodge the sorority girls coming his way.
“shut up.”
frat!sukuna, who’s softer during sex now, worshipping your body endlessly, covering you in soft kisses and bites marks before he eats you out like a man starved.
frat!sukuna, who’s basically a guard dog around you, glaring at everyone who so much as shows even mild interest in you, clinging to you like a needy puppy every second of the day that he possibly can.
frat!sukuna, who has words stuck in his throat every single time he tries to ask you out, always stuttering out nonsense he didn’t mean to say because, what if you turn him down? and what if there’s someone better?
frat!sukuna, who gets you a massive bouquet of your favourite flowers, showing up to your apartment in the dead of night, flowers scrunched in his hand, his chest heaving when he finally asks you out.
frat!sukuna, who tries to hide his flustered face when you finally say yes, spinning you around in his arms while he kisses the top of your head—because after all the mental gymnastics he’s done to have you in his arms, he finally gets to call you his girl.
art credits: @/winterrbluess !
all works belong to @lilithkleii do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI, lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
Who knew all it took was one look at Simon Riley covered in blood to make you fail miserably at your job.
Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost stand behind your pilot’s chair, chests heaving from the effort of throwing themselves through the plane doors, fresh off the op you’re supposed to be flying them out of.
But you just sit there, jaw stupidly slack as you take in Simon’s already dark clothes, absolutely drenched in the proof of what a powerful predator he is. Deep red dots splatter his mask, too, and streak down his forearm, his fingers curled lazily around the handle of a knife.
Then he turns sharply, like he’s just noticed that the plane isn’t moving.
“The fuck are we waiting for?” Simon snaps.
Soap looks from him to you, then lifts both hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me. Seems the pretty pilot’s got a thing for blood.”
Simon’s head whips towards you.
Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your hand flies to the throttle. But then his gaze catches yours and he chuckles darkly.
“ 'S that right?”
The rich brown of his eyes grow molten beneath the smudges of red across his mask as he takes in your expression, and for one incredibly embarrassing moment, you almost forget how to actually fly this fucking thing.
Without breaking eye contact, Simon steps forward and crouches down to your level.
Your breath catches as his gloved hand closes over yours, gently pulling back the acceleration lever. The plane lurches forward hard enough to send the boys tumbling into a pile of grunts and curses.
Your stomach dips and you snap back into gear instinctively, flipping the switch on the dash to pull the wheels up, hands flying to the control stick as you build in altitude.
“Don’t worry, Bird,” Simon says gruffly, raising that knife and dragging one finger down the bloody blade. “It’s not mine.”
