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lunamoonbby · 8 days ago

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Turning Page

You work at the library Simon and his daughter frequent.

Single dad! Simon Riley x librarian! Reader

tags | alpha! Simon Riley, Omega! Reader, a/b/o dynamics, mentions of mating bonds, scenting, fluff, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, knotting, creampie

18+, mdni

Final | masterlist | ao3

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Behaved.

Simon’s been nothing but behaved. Hasn’t touched you below the belt even though his fingers have been trembling with desire for weeks.

Patient.

If he were younger he would’ve ripped your overalls off, bent you over your library desk, and taken you the same night he met you: barred teeth and all.

He hadn’t.

Even now, you sit on the edge of his bed, staring at him with coy eyes from the doorway, and he keeps his hands at his sides. Nothing but the lacy bra and underwear he’s sure you wore just for this. It hugs your breasts perfectly, plump flesh spilling from the material.

Sitting there, waiting, on his bed. All parts divine perched on a silver platter for him to feast on, dig his claws and teeth in.

Still, he’s hesitant, tensing his jaw so his canines don’t scare you as he approaches. He’s not sure how he got here, not sure how you got there—some miracle of sorts.

His hand swallows your neck, thumb tickling your scent gland when he pushes his way between your thighs. He sees your chest constrict with a deep breath, watches the way your eyes become lidded from one swipe. The bite’s still there, not quite faded. His alpha snarls, he still hasn’t grown accustomed to the sight of it, especially when you’re naked and about to be tangled in his sheets, wrapped around his knot.

You’ve already told him it’s been forever, warned him about triggering your heat. It’s at the back of his mind, tucked right next to the trauma of your previous mate. It’s part of why he’s behaved, Clementine aside. Afraid his alpha might act too brazen, decide to devour you whole like your previous mate, like who he used to be.

It’s why he’s given in small doses.

He ignores the fact that it feels as if his claws are sprouting from his fingertips, ignores the way his jaw feels so fucking heavy and the only way it’ll lighten is if he buries his teeth in your neck. Make you bleed red as his.

It’s not your heat, but by god does the room smell like it is. Your jasmine is so thick he’s not sure how he’s managed to keep his alpha on a leash thus far. It’s raw from the source, straight from the tap, unconfined by your omega.

He smells the slick in your panties, heady jasmine, and creamy vanilla. So much more enticing than before. There’s still apprehension, sweet smell burnt around the edges. The aggressive alpha in him likes it that much more, mouth watering just to get one fucking taste.

“Pretty omega.”

He says it without a curl to his words, soft and tender, because he fucking means it. You take a sharp breath, hand coiling around his wrist on your neck.

He presses a peck to your lips, just wants a small taste before his main course, licks his lips when you chase after him with a soft noise. He hovers, thumb tracing against the jut of your jaw, your cheek, knuckles down your neck, like he’s memorizing each curve. Staring at you with something in his eyes you can’t quite pinpoint.

He can hear your heartbeat in your chest, feels it patter under the pad of his thumb.

“You nervous?”

That breaks a small smile across your lips. “You can smell me.”

This time you mean it.

And fuck— do you smell good.

He nudges your head gently with his nose until he finds the source of your sweet scent and inhales deep, smothering himself in your smell, mind hazy with nothing but you. Rubbing his own scent on it, claiming, like he’s hypnotized by the fusing of the two scents, hopes to stain it to the back of his throat, so he’ll never fucking forget it.

“Tell me, Miss. Librarian,” His lips brush your scent gland, laves his tongue against the sensitive skin between words because he can’t resist, “Why are you so nervous?”

“Well— I know you,” You pause, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s from the way he sucks your scent gland between his teeth or the needy sound you make between breaths. “Probably um.”

When he pulls back, you gesture to his pelvis.

He tries his best to hide his smirk, “Have a big dick?”

You nod quickly, struggling to hold his gaze when there’s embarrassment burning your neck and chest, tongue heavy in your mouth because you don’t quite have the strength to speak. You gasp when he lifts you easily by your hips, resting you against the pillows, adjusting himself between your thighs, trapped under his weight, mouth at your ear.

“I do, baby.”

His voice, low and smooth, rolls chills down your spine, settles thick in your core when he grinds against your cunt for emphasis, presses a wet stamp to the back of your ear, greedy hands exploring the expanse of your body, squeezing and kneading any supple flesh he can find purchase on.

“But that’s okay, isn’t it?”

A wet stamp to the curve of your neck, scraping his teeth ever so lightly against your gland, makes you arch, scratching at his back because you fucking want it just as much as he does.

“Just gotta make sure to stretch ya reallll nice f’me.” He drags the end of his words, popping your breasts free from your bra.

A wet stamp on your sternum, sucking each nipple in his mouth so there’s a shiny ring of saliva around them, makes you mewl quietly as the cold air stings them.

“Make it fit.”

His eyes flicker to yours from between your legs, he’s sure he looks like a predator hunched over its prey, eyes dark and hooded. He’s sure it makes your omega turn with delight, begging to roll over and present to your alpha, show him how good a prized prey you could be. It makes his alpha rumble, watching you fidget nervously because of him, because of what he could do to you. Rip you to shreds.

He won’t. Though, the primal urges of his alpha want to make you submit to him, scruff your nape so you bend for his will, mount you and just fucking claim you with his fat knot.

He doesn’t have to do any of that, your instincts handed your acquiescence over to him long ago, bared your neck for him to bite, batted your pretty lashes as you stared up at him, begging him for more.

“It’s just been a long time.” You breathe it out like it’s strained, throat collapsed with nerves.

He peels your underwear off, ignoring the way your slick gobs a thick string when the material is pulled away, so he can focus on your words. Ignores the way your poor pussy looks like it’s weeping for him, hole winking, swollen and drenched, hasn’t ever been properly touched, especially not by your old mate.

He’ll show you. Show you how an omega should be treated. How he treats his omega.

He spreads your glistening pussy open, swipes his thumb through your folds, slowly, before he can even think about responding, collecting your slick and popping it in his mouth, sucking the sweet flavor right off.

You fist the sheets in anticipation, silently watching him with parted lips as he tastes you for the first time like he might not like it. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, the man growls possessively around his digit, teeth pinching the pad of his thumb like it might draw more of your flavor.

When he finally opens his eyes, he looks like a completely different person, eyes dilated and wild, gone. Alpha in control.

“Don’t worry.” It’s vibrated from his chest, tone unfamiliar. “I take care of what’s mine.”

You have one second to take a breath before his tongue is in your cunt. One full swoop to flood his mouth with your essence, nose snug against your clit as he laps at your entrance. His alpha demands more, a hunger so insatiable that it orders him to feast.

The whine you make causes a scalding heat to spindle through his back, makes him hunch deeper into your pussy like a man starved, meaty paws pushing your knees to your chest, so your pussy is on display for him. He licks between your folds like it’s a delicacy, shifting between enjoying the moment, eyes closed, and letting your taste melt between his teeth and down his throat, groaning beastly from the pleasure of finally tasting you, to ripping his eyes open to watch your pretty face.

His mouth maps shapes against your clit, sucking and working you open with a intense fervor. The aphrodisiac to his pain the slick that gushes out of you, the frantic keens that spill from your lips. It fuels his hunger, deeper so.

He’s not entirely sure how you’ve managed to keep your glasses on thus far but they hang on the edge of your nose, foggy from your pants. He likes it, a little too much, laps against your clit that much more eagerly, smoothing his tongue drenched. The look you wear is precious, like he’s being unfair, cruel even, when he suctions your clit between his lips something fierce.

You weakly push at his shoulders, fingers clawing at his scalp as you squirm, stuttering how it’s too much, but it’s gone straight to his head, a little too greedy to stop now.

Your arousal’s dripping down his chin, smeared on his nose and lips, but he keeps diving in for more. Like it isn’t enough to be covered in your slick, your scent staining his skin, your taste permanent on his tongue. So everyone can smell your cum on his face, know he had his face encased in your thighs, know he had his pretty omega finishing on his tongue.

You kick your legs out when he replaces his mouth with his finger, whining a protest at the sudden stretch. A brawny arm holds you down, biting the inside of your thigh in retaliation, a deep growl spilling from his throat.

He won’t let you get away that easily. His alpha likes the chase.

There are teeth indents on your thigh when he pulls away, something possessive roars in his chest at the sight— his mark on your flesh.

“Be sweet f’me now okay, baby?” A second finger pushes through your walls. “Don’t you want my knot?”

You stare down at him wide-eyed, a high-pitched whine coming from your lips as you frantically nod.

The moment goes by in a bit of a blur, fucking his thick fingers into your pussy expertly, noises so obscene for such a sweet librarian. Especially when he curls them, thumb circling your clit in tandem, and you mewl, rocking your hips back against his palm. Your a mess, but he’s anything but uncoordinated, deliberate and controlled strokes.

He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing it to your chest, so he can crash his lips to yours. It’s sloppy, tongues smearing together, pressed to the roofs of mouths, and lips bitten swollen all while he’s got his fingers buried in your cunt, working the fire thumping in your core.

“D’ya taste that?”

When he pulls away theres a wet pop, lips glistening with his saliva. It’s a bit lewd, swapping the remnants of your slick from his mouth.

You bob your head, “Yeah.”

“That’s all you. All my omega.”

Your pussy flutters around his fingers.

He smirks, face hovering so close he takes all your air and makes it his own. “Oh? You like how you taste, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, ashamed, as he watches the embarrassment he’s teased form on your face.

He huffs a laugh, scissors his fingers, spreading your spongy walls, a bit impatient as his cock aches in his boxers. You take it so well until you can’t anymore, overwhelmed by the sensation of everything and not enough at the same time, pushing at the wrist against your mound.

“Want your knot, Simon.” Your voice sends a throb straight to the head of his cock, soft and broken, pleading so sweetly.

He has to grit his teeth, keep from filling you in one go. He was never a patient man to begin with.

When he frees his cock, slapping against your abdomen, tip reddened and angry, your eyes widen. He almost feels bad, it’s not like he didn’t tell you he was big, but he knows the sight of it makes you tense, wondering if you’ll be able to fit it all.

You will, he’ll make you.

He smears it along the ridges of your pussy, rutting his hips ever so slightly between your wet folds to cover himself in your warm slick. It doesn’t take long, you’re drenched, but you whine impatiently the whole time, pleasure jolting through your veins every time he brushes your clit.

When he finally, finally, slides his head in, you tense, mouth gaping, leg clamping at his shoulder.

“Jus’ the tip, sweetheart.”

His fingers are meant to soothe you, trace shapes into your sides, but it’s not his fault you’re a ticklish thing. You look at him like he’s the culprit when you squirm lower on his cock by accident, garbling a shocked moan.

The sound of your pussy popping over the head of his cock, the squelch of the slide almost sends him into overdrive. Stores it as one of his new favorite sounds, right up there next to his name on your lips.

It’s a lot— he knows it is, but you take it so well, mewling quietly into his ear with each new inch. The stretch wears you thin, head curled in the pillow at the agonizing pace he’s filling you at, breaths tight in your chest. You think it might be done, but he keeps pushing more and more in, deeper into your walls and you’re sure there’s no more room for him. He’s there, in your throat, kissing against your soft flesh, when he finally stops.

All his strength shatters into insignificant crumbs once he bottoms out, cock buried to the hilt. His breaths are shallow, holding on to any resemblance of control he had because you’re squeezing him so fucking tight. You look at him a little scared, squirming because he hasn’t even moved and it’s already too much, you already feel your chest collapse, choking on your breaths.

“Fuckin’ doin’ so well f’me, baby.” He surprises himself, didn’t think his voice would sound so steady wrapped around you. “Breathe f’me, sweetheart. Gotta relax”

If he wasn’t a strong man, he would’ve finished in you by now. Fill you with his spend and then fuck it back into you over and over again.

But he is a strong man, so all he does is grit his teeth and rut his hips, humming when he feels your chest fill with air and the warm breath cascade over his shoulders. Slowly grinding into your tight walls until all that’s left are his slurred praises pressed to your skin.

His fingers encase yours, tangling his hold into yours, held skintight at the side of your head, palm pressed to palm. It’s tender, all of it, right up to the fact that it seems as if your walls mold to him, like there was a Simon shaped outline.

Simon doesn’t believe in fate. Maybe in another life you and him would’ve had Clementine together, maybe he had to have Clementine to find you. Maybe in another life he would’ve been your mate, maybe you had to be betrayed to fall in love with him.

You’re his mate, there’s never been anyone else. He sees it in the pages of Fancy Nancy, reads it between the words of Corduroy. All the sweetest words bloom to life for you.

It’s slow, a steady grind that he gradually builds, pulls more of his cock out bit by bit before he fucks it back into you. And you stare at him like he’s got your heart in the palm of his hand, but it’s the complete opposite. You’ve netted your string around his heart weeks ago, pulled the lock of his alpha free.

A love he tried to deny himself. Told himself his heart was only big enough for Clementine. But there you are, peering up at him with your pretty eyes, curled in the shape of his heart. Told himself he was only soft for his mint, but there his hand rests, tangled in yours, squeezing your palm between every roll of his hips.

But there you were. Strung your way into his chest, made a home for yourself there, so it would ache when you weren’t there.

By the time he’s really thrusting into you, fat of his cock head bullying your cervix with precision because he can’t take it anymore, there’s a white ring around the base of his cock. It only gets thicker, you only clamp tighter around him with each new thrust, your thighs trembling either side of his hips, crying out everytime he angles his hips deeper.

“There we—fuck.” His head falls against your shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to fight his forming knot.

Each time he opens his mouth with some new praise he wants to mumble, your pussy flutters around him, you moan a plea into his ear, and he stutters over his words like some virgin.

The drag of his hips feels delicious, the clench of your walls, silently begging for more, taking all that he has to offer is hypnotic.

He fucking loves it.

Plunging into your walls like he knows exactly how you like it.

He almost groans in agony because he can’t see the way your toes curl at his shoulder, or the way your brows tinge as the warmth of your impending orgasm turns fire hot, scorching a pain that burns so well you can’t take it anymore. His teeth at your scent gland sends you over the edge, biting hard enough it’ll leave a mark, but shallow enough it won’t form a bond. Reminiscent of what’s to come, not now, but soon.

Alpha.

You call him alpha in your daze, all soft and needy, eyes foggy and desperate.

It’s as if he sees red, bites his knuckle so hard it bleeds, so he won’t bury his canines in your neck. His knot pushes through your spongy walls as you arch your back, crying alpha like it’s the only word you know.

The coil in his core ruptures, vision practically blurring as he pumps his knot as deep as it’ll go before he growls around the copper blood of his knuckle, releasing his spend. His hips involuntarily jut forward with each spurt, finally filling you as his girl.

It’s a beat before he pulls his head from your neck, walls pulsing around his knot, daggers of pleasure clawing against his skin in the afterglow. You look a proper mess, hair disheveled, sweat down your cheeks, chest rising with deep breaths, looking all parts his omega.

He presses a peck to your temple, an action that has your chest coming alive, vibrating a deep contented purr. He smiles against your temple, nose brushing along your face as he purrs back, his sweet omega happy.

In the morning, when the both of you go to Uncle Johnny’s to pick up Clementine from her sleepover, she runs into your arms first, a painting in her hands.

She holds it up to the both of you, eagerly pulling both of your attention to the white paper.

“This one’s daddy.” She says, and it’s the same as her other painting, stick figure and all, black tattoos on his arms.

“This one’s Mint.” Her dress is purple this time, with a flower in her hair.

“And this one’s mommy!” She points to a third stick figure.

His chest tightens, saliva thickens in his mouth. There are tears in your eyes, a smile so wide he’s surprised they haven’t spilled over your cheeks. Johnny just sends the both of you a knowing smile.

He tacks it up over the old painting of just him and Mint. Complete.

note- Hi everyone! I just wanted to leave a little note to thank everyone for being so patient and understanding with the delay of this chapter. I fear most of you have lost interest in it, but I still wanted to complete it. Thank you for all support mwuahhhh!!! 🍊🤍

@succulambb @casualhel @weeping-treee @lumilily @tessakate @shitaaba @lucienofthelakes @nocturnal-nyx @aphinthestars @muraaaaaa @night-shadowblood-writes2 @whos-fran @thetastewassweeter @eremika104 @animegamerfox @oaksgrove @dawnnightshade666 @chaieanne @trulovekay @appalachianecho @grossitsluca @noonespecial2347 @spidersuneee @ihe4rtme @lunamoonbby @iaozuyiling @aggiesramble @novthewolf @irondreamerface @chaos-on-stand-bi @callsignpxnguin @flowerluvr @whatdoyxumean @sleepybunnygirly @cd-mr @cod-bin @crackheadwithtoes @diasnohibng @bookies16 @amberbalcom14 @vajjaa @srtakibutsuji @blueeyedbrat0716 @dumplings4life0520 @littlelovebug98 @smut02 @btsgangleader

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lunamoonbby · 9 days ago

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to anyone making comments about vivi not being white/complaining that they've made her 'black' in the live action i have a couple of things to tell you if the empty space you have for brains can fucking comprehend them.

first of all, vivi's actress, charithra chandran, is of indian descent, not black, so you literally sound not only stupid but also fucking ignorant and insensitive, considering she's a real human being with feelings who can read all of the comments that you write behind your little screen. people are being so fucking harsh on her through a THREE-SECOND CLIP of the first look on season two, where you literally can't even see her or her acting skills enough to start judging.

secondly, vivi is the princess of the DESERT. wouldn't it make sense for her to look like that since alabasta is inspired by india and egypt?? god forbid they actually want the characters to be coherent in the live action. on the same note, shouldn't you also be complaining that they made robin white and not tan? or that usopp's nose is not long? or that nami has blue eyes? be fucking for real and admit in front of the world you're just racist and a prick.

thirdly, ODA HIMSELF handpicked her, so if you have any complaints about her, you can go whine to him and see how he laughs in your face for trying to doubt him on his personal preferences.

last thing, luffy would fucking despise you.

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lunamoonbby · 11 days ago

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Cult!141 UPDATE

I know it's been awhile since my last chapter....... I'm still not feeling myself... I'm also having writers block......And to add to that I had my very first surgery as well yesterday Aug, 9 and I've been in pain, and I don't know when I'll be able to post a chapter......sorry for making you guys wait

@yourloverslost @tabbslouuformer @angelrissaa @freefallingup13 @readingcatinacorner @sylvanasthebansheequeen @casualunknownrunaway @thatpersonnamedrook @rip-cod-brainrot @hoodiepandaninja16 @spacecrawllerr @kopines @darkangel4121 @z-wantstowrite

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #lunamoonbby #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cult!141 #poly!141 #kyle garrick x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you

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lunamoonbby · 11 days ago

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Not me relaunching my jewellery business between family life, writing another book, being a youtube/content creator and the summer holidays... 😅

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lunamoonbby · 11 days ago

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Chapter I | Lucky you

Summary: One reckless night leads to the biggest and most unexpected change in your life. How will this affect your current life and how you and the charming stranger you met only once will manage to handle the bringing of a new life to this world together is a challenge yet to be discovered. Will you be able to make the right choices while battling your own demons? Who knows, all you must be worried about now is that your period is late...

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader

Supporting characters: Marco, Thatch, Whitebeard, Luffy, Sabo, Nico Robin, Boa Hancock, Isuka

Description: Modern AU | Firefighter Baby Daddy!Ace

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, NSFW, 18+ only, contains explicit sexual themes and content, use of alcohol, slow burn, conflicted feelings, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, jealousy, suggestive themes, previous toxic relationships, mention of depression, mention/description of pregnancy, strangers to co-parents to lovers, mentions of a lot of anxiety, mentions of cheating, mentions of mental trauma, social anxiety (+ more warnings will be added if needed to)

Additional tags: Reader is super awkward and has social anxiety and low-self esteem but this changes (I don't want to spoil), Ace is emotional invalid when it comes to love, but this also changes (no spoilers)

WORD COUNT: 16,2K

main masterlist | story masterlist | next chapter ->

NOTE: I'm so excited for this story and what is about to come out of it and the journey I have planned for Reader and Ace. I really hope that you guys will like it as much as I enjoy writing it. I'll yap more in the end note, so for now enjoy ♡

Positive. All three tests show the same results, from the cheapest to the most expensive one the answer is clear – you are pregnant. Or better said – knocked up. This is everything else but a planned pregnancy.

Sitting on the tailed floor of your bathroom you try to take deep breaths but nothing your therapist has taught you works. Your heart is about to explode, and your mind is going wild. Panic is slowly overtaking you.

How did this happen? It was just one time. The one single time you let yourself have a one-night stand after almost two years without any sex or interaction with a man of any kind and you end up knocked up? This must be some kind of a joke.

5 weeks earlier

The waiting room of your therapist’s office has an inviting atmosphere, with two comfortable white fluff armchairs to sit on while you wait for your turn. A plush rug lay on the floor, muffling the sound of footsteps and creating a sense of serenity. Magazines and books are neatly arranged on a small modern glass table, offering a variety of reading material to distract anxious minds. Potted plants and tasteful artwork adorned the room, and the smell of lavender fills out the space.

Despite the calm atmosphere you are always a bit anxious before your therapist visits. Playing nervously with your fingers as you pull the edges of your hair has been a habit of yours when you are nervous since you can remember.

The reason why you went to therapy was because you have ended a three-year relationship, or your ex-partner did. During those three years you have lost a big part of yourself and who you are... were. If someone three years ago told you that you will end up in a toxic and mentally abusive relationship you most likely wouldn’t have believed them. The man you had fallen in love with, wasn’t the same man who you felt out of love and broke your heart and spirit.

It has taken you a lot and it still does to bring yourself back piece by piece, but slowly and steadily with the help of your therapist and close friends you are getting back on your feet.

The door to her office opens and you slightly lift your head. Watching your therapist sending her current patinate away with a warm encouraging smile, with whom you don’t dare to make any eye contact with; with that same smile she looks at you and invites you to enter her office. Giving her a small nod you get up and leave the comfort of the soft armchair and walk to her with a shy smile.

Walking into the now very familiar office, you take your usual spot on the nice light brown leather sofa placed in the middle of the room, next to her comfortable armchair made of the same leather. The walls painted in soothing shades of white and beige create a harmonious and calming backdrop. Natural light filters through large windows, gently illuminating the room and casting a warm glow. Potted plants add a touch of nature, while the painfully familiar artworks on the walls contribute for the minimalistic aesthetic of the office.

Once you put your bag and jacket aside you turn to your therapist as she closes the door and takes a seat on her chair. Nico Robin, a nice, intelligent and extremely gorgeous woman, an expert in her job, is the person who helps you to get back on your feet for the past ten moths. A close friend of yours at work has recommended you her and until this day you feel like you own your friend a huge favour for this. Who know how deep of a hole you would have dig yourself into if it wasn’t for your friend suggestion one day for you to go to therapy.

“How are you feeling today (Y/N)?” She asks crossing her legs one over the other as she opens her notebook and waits for your response. “I love how your hair is today. Have you been to the hairdresser?”

Nodding with your head you give her a confident smile before your response, “I’m good and quite excited. And yes, I was before I came here. I thought to myself – why not treat myself today.”

“I’m so happy you’re slowly getting this mindset back. You deserve it. What are you feeling excited for today?” Taking her glasses off she leans back on her armchair with curiosity spread across her features. So far into your sessions you have never mentioned being excited as current feeling; sad, lonely, confused, scared, lost, from time to time good, are your usual response, but excited – so far until today she hasn’t heard it from you.

“Well-” Leaning back on the sofa, you cross your legs and fix your posture to straighten your back a bit, but mostly to look more confident in what you are saying. “My best friend has a birthday today and we are going out, and surprisingly I really do want to go out. I haven’t felt like this in... well, you know. Months.” You chuckle with a half shrug.

Your self esteem and self worth have been broken to the ground after, and during, the time spent with your ex-partner. You recently gain some confidence to go out like you used to before. Because of all the things said from your ex, you felt like you must hide from the world. You felt so belittle that the thought of strangers outside of your family and friends to see you made your blood run cold, which also affected not only your personal, but professional life as well.

Now, thanks to the weekly therapy sessions with Nico Robin your confidence is slowly but steady coming back. Some weeks are better than the others, but you try not to get too hard on yourself, because the progress of getting yourself back together is acknowledge even by you.

“I’m so glad to hear this. Have you threated yourself with a nice new outfit as well?” Robin smiles, more to herself than you as she hopes that you will give her a positive answer.

The first time you have walked into her office broke her heart a bit. She always keeps her professional behaviour, but seeing and hearing how a young beautiful woman like you had been constantly put down and unappreciated, while being the complete opposite off all those things made her blood boiled, especially from unsuccessful insecure men like the man who is now your ex.

“Yes, I did.” And you feel amazing about it. You don’t remember the last time you actually bought something that made you feel so desirable and sexy without doubting yourself. “Can you guess?” You playfully challenged your therapist.

She hasn’t seen much so far of this playful side of yours and she would be lying if she says that she doesn’t enjoy it. Parts of Robin feel like this is a glimpse of the old you, the one before your three years of hell. “A dress?”

“Mhm.” Humming you encourage her to continue with further guesses about the dress.

Bringing one endpiece of her glass’ frame close to her lips and biting it Robin takes her time to answer you. No matter where this outburst of confidence comes from, you won’t be so bold to go for something revealing, so it should be still something nice and convenient. “Maybe a long floral or one-color dress.”

“No.” You shake your head with a small sly smile.

“Knee high length?” Robin raises one of her brows.

Pulling one strand of hair behind your ear you shake your head again and give her the answer. “A little black dress.” A big smile spreads across your face and a laughter escape past your lips as you see the surprised reaction written on your therapist’s face. “And high heels. Red bottoms.”

For a moment and entirely purposely Robin drops her therapist persona and replies to you as a friend. “As you should and as you deserve. I’m proud of you.”

But this moment doesn’t last long as you are quick to brush it off as nothing. “It’s just a little black dress, me and probably twenty other women will be wearing the same outfit anyway.”

And here is the you she knows. Quick to belittle yourself as you are someone who doesn’t turn heads when she walks somewhere. You do, but sadly, you are too blind to see it yourself.

Going back to her professional persona, Robin moves a bit on her chair to make herself more comfortable, before she starts with the questions for which only you have the answers to help yourself. “Why did you belittle yourself again?”

The smile on your face fades quickly. “I don’t know.” You slightly shrug. “As I said, I won’t be the only one wearing this and this type of dress is always a safe play.”

“That’s true.” Robbin nods, agreeing with what you have said. “But you do know that you will get noticed tonight, right?” For some people the way Robin picks her words now might sound unprofessional, but she makes the choice of wording it that way purposely.

As much as you don’t want to have any kind of connection with any man right now, deep down you will be lying to yourself if you say that you won’t mind a glance or two from someone. At the end of the day, you are a young woman in her prime years trying to gain her confidence back and of course a man is not the key, but we are all human beings, one way or another we all look for some kind of validation or a sign that we are desired.

“In a way.” You quietly say, your voice comes out almost as a whisper. “But I doubt. I’m more looking for… for the feeling of looking myself in the mirror and say ‘wow, I still got it’.” Lifting your fist in the air and faking a fake enthusiasm makes Robin shake her head slightly.

“You’ve always got it.” She tells you confidently. “You must see it as well. Feel it.” Writing a few things down in her notebook, without looking at you she continues to speak. “But I asked you this not because I think you are looking for male attention, I’m asking because I know you will get some, and I want to know how you feel about this. Do you think what happened last time can happen again?”

Taking a strand of your hair between your fingers, you swirl it around as you take your time to answer Robin. What will you do if someone approaches you? Definitely cut them off. You are not interested in any kind of interaction with a man, and you don’t think that you will be any time soon.

The last time a guy tried to hit on you was two months ago when you and your best friend Boa, went out for a drink in a bar close to your place. It was the first time in months that you got dressed up and ready to party, but sadly it didn’t last long. The guy was polite and nice, but the memories of your ex came back in the moment you felt the smell of the guy’s perfume as it was the same as your ex’s. It made you so uncomfortable. You had to grab Boa by the hand and drag her out of the place as fast as possible as you felt like you were choking for air. The night ended with you curled up in your best friend’s arms while crying on the sofa in the middle of your living room, reliving memories you have been trying to erase so badly.

“I don’t know what I will do.” You sigh avoiding your therapist’s eyes. There is a stubborn slip end on one of your hairs and you decide to focus on it while opening yourself up. “I don’t think that I’m ready to do anything, yet. Mostly because it’s hard to trust their intensions. My ex was also nice in the beginning, but it was all a mask.”

“But you must learn how to trust again, don’t you think?” There is no scolding or judgment in her voice nor eyes. Robin doesn’t want to make you feel bad; she wants to help you get out of your shell.

Nodding a few times you clicked with your tongue, shrugging still focused on your hair. “I know. I just don’t know how ready I am to do so.”

“Baby steps.” Robin says encouraging.

The rest of your session goes with talks about how you should try to relax in places such as bars and clubs. How you should slowly start getting out of your comfort zone, or like Robin likes to call it – your fear zone and start letting yourself going out a bit more.

“Imagine going out for a drink as another commercial deal you seal.” She gives you an example. “How do you manage so good at work if you feel so stressed out about something as simple as going out with friends in a place where a lot of people happen to be?”

A loud sigh escapes past your lips. “It’s different.”

“How so? Elaborate.” Playing with the pen between her fingers, Robin leans on the palm on her hand and waits for your response.

“First – when it comes to work, I’m quite confident in what I do.” This is something no one can deny you.

While you were in university studying business and marketing, your mother arranged you a job as an intern in a television commercial company. There you met a lot of interesting people and got close to your boss, who happened to be an old college friend of your mother, who soon after you graduated, offered you a permanent job as marketing advisor for the company. You have been working there for five years now and just two years ago your interest changed and you decided to become an agent at the same company, representing mostly models from across the country.

“But also, work me and personal life me are two completely different people.” Most of your colleagues barely know who you are outside your job. You have always been very private in your life, only your closest friends know what is going on in it, and you are very selective with whom you let close to yourself.

Of course, in the past year, your work and personal self-mixed up due to the depression you had fallen into, but you are back on track now and you plan to keep it that way.

“Why do you think work you manages better?” Her intense blue eyes pierce through you.

“Because as you know I work mostly with models, and these people are always so confident or they fake it so well, therefore I must fake my confidence, too.” Letting go of the hair strand you wrap your hands around yourself, trying to protect yourself from being exposed, slowly getting back into your shell, your voice lowers almost to a whisper. “Fake it till I make it, I guess.”

Putting her notebook aside, Robin sits on the edge of her chair and reaches out, placing her hand gently on your shoulder. “There is the answer.” She says with a smile. “If you can fake it for the people you represent to sign them jobs, then you can fake it as something as simple as going out for a drink.”

“But you know the problem isn’t the going out for the drink.” You jokingly chuckle, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling behind the lightness of your tone.

“I know.” Pulling away from you, the dark-haired woman nod. “That is why tonight I want you to do exactly what you said.” She gives you a challenging smile as you turn your head in confusion towards her. “I want you to fake this confidence the moment a man approaches you and just try to not think much of it, and remember – you always, and I mean it, always have the choice over what you want and need.”

With a deep sigh you nod. “I’ll try my best.”

“You said it yourself – fake it till you make it. Sometimes we must do things that make us uncomfortable for the sake of overcoming them. You’re strong. I believe in you.” She gives you a little wink before you continue with another topic.

The laughter around the table and the cheers of another round of champagne echoes as you celebrate your best friend’s birthday. You have gathered in one of the latest most popular and fancy restaurants in the city, and Boa, being Boa, has booked one of the private dining rooms in the restaurant for only you and the rest of your group of friends.

The room is dimmed lighted, creating this nice and welcoming atmosphere. The walls are painted in a serene shade of off-white colour. The centrepiece of the room is a long oval dining table made of white marble. A lush arrangement mix of white peonies and lilies are arranged along the centre of the table, their delicate petals contrasting beautifully against the neutral backdrop, among with the white candles and their soft, ambient lighting casts a warm glow over the table, the gentle shadows of them dancing on your faces.

The overall effect is one of understated luxury, something Boa has grown up with and always chase, where every detail has been carefully considered to create an atmosphere of refined elegance and comfort for her special day.

You two have been best friends since first grade. She has been your rock many times in life, and you were hers. Boa is the sister you have never gotten to have, and you are the same to her, even though she has two younger sisters, you have a higher spot in her heart than them.

Before you know it, you two and the rest of the girls are saying goodbye. All of you are tipsy, and tomorrow all of you must work as it is Wednesday and Boa is leaving in the afternoon for a photoshoot abroad for a famous brand, which means she will be gone for at least a week, and she doesn’t want to miss celebrating her birthday with her friends. Till this day you can’t believe that she trusts you so much to a point that when you decided to become an agent, she immediately left her old one and switched to you and the company you work for.

“Girl, you and I are not going home yet.” She wraps one arm around your shoulders and leans on you, clearly drunk.

Giggling, as you have also drunk a bit too much of champagne, you try to reason her. “But we have work tomorrow, and you have a flight to catch. Don’t you wanna be fresh in the morning?”

“I wanna party with my best friend.” She leans more of her bodyweight on you, which makes you trip almost by sending you both on the ground, as maintaining your balance on high heels while being quite tipsy is something you are not very good at.

You both laugh loudly as you pull away from one another. “Okay, okay. Where should we go?” You raise your hand up to call a taxi to pick you up and drive you to some bar you two usually end up going to.

It doesn’t take long for one to stop. Both of you take a seat at the back and as you are about to tell the taxi driver where to drive you, your friend has something else in mind interrupting you before you can tell the driver where to take you. “Mister, please take us to some cheap old rock bar.” She drunkenly laughs.

“What?” You turn your head to her in disbelief.

Boa laughs ones again, before nodding to the driver to drive to where she has told him to. “Relax.” She pushes your shoulder playfully. “We are trying something new tonight.” With an unbothered shrug she leans back on the seat and closes her eyes for a minute.

“I don’t mind, but… is it safe?” As much as you are drunk, you are still quite aware of all the possible dangers there might be, especially in a place such as cheap bars.

“It will be, trust me.” Boa replies and takes your hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I need to let go a bit tonight, so I thought maybe a game or three of pool might help with some cheap tequila.”

You are about to protest when you remember what you had promised your therapist earlier today. That you will try to fake it till you make it, and this is an opportunity to do so.

“Fine, but nothing too crazy.” Pointing your finger at her warning, she just laughs at you.

The taxi driver soon stops the cab in front of some local bar that looks more like a pub, but neither you nor Boa protest. You pay the man and both of you get out of the taxi. “I just hope that they have a pool table, that is all I want.” Boa tells you as she takes your hand and leads the way inside.

Entering the place a lot of eyes are on you two. You with your little black dress with sheer black high stockings and Boa with her long red dress with a slit are definitely not dressed for a local pub.

“I don’t like this.” You whisper to her as she makes your way to the bar. “A lot of people are looking at us.”

Looking over her shoulder, she winks at you. “They always are.” Reaching the bar, she lets go of your hand and turns towards you. “Plus, the place is not bad.”

Boa is right. The place is not bad. It is not the usual place you and she are used to hanging out in, but it is not a bad place.

The bar is quite big and there are a lot of people around it or sitting around the tables across the main floor. The dim lighting casts a warm glow over the space, and the walls are covered with posters of legendary rock bands. The air buzzes with youthful energy as groups of friends laugh and chat, their voices blending with the rock music playing in the background.

Towards the back of the pub is the area with a few well-worn pool tables. The clinking of billiard balls and the occasional cheer from a winning shot add to the lively atmosphere.

Despite the initial wariness, you find the environment surprisingly inviting. It’s a place where everyone just seems to be enjoying the night, letting loose and having a good time.

“Here.” Boa says as she hands you a beer in hand. She knows that you are not a fan of beer, neither is she, but by the looks of it tonight you both are doing something out of your usual comfort zones. “I also got us a shot of tequila.” Following her gaze, you see the bartender pouring two shot glasses with the transparent liquid.

“You’ll be the death of me tonight.” You sigh, shaking your head as you grab the shot glass and cheers with her before drinking the shot in one go. The after taste burns your insides and you bite on the lemon as fast as you can so you can get rid of it. “God, I hate tequila.” Your whole-body shiver as the sourness of the lemon hits your tastebuds.

“Your nineteen years old self used to say otherwise.” Your friend makes fun of you, reminding you of the times when you were wild teenagers.

Sarcastically rolling your eyes with a shake of your head you tell your friend, “Uh, I wish I was her again.”

Boa gives you one encouraging smile before raising her own beer glass “I think we are slowly getting her back.” Hearing her saying this gives you a little boost of confidence. Clinking the beer glasses you both take a sip of it and make a face after swallowing the alcohol beverage.

Shaking your head with disgust you put away the beer and tell your best friend to go wait for a pool table while you buy new drinks for you. Boa doesn’t need to be told twice before she turns around and makes her way to the back of the bar.

While you are busy ordering your new drinks, not paying attention to the people around you, a few tables away from you three men are sitting, sipping beers and playing cards.

The day shift at the fire station has gone smoothly, which means there were no emergency calls. The three men sitting around the worn-out wooden table at the bar are here not only to relax a bit after long hours at work, but also to celebrate the possible rank promotion of one the youngest member in their department.

“I still can’t believe Pops select you for a Captain, skipping two whole ranks at the time.” Thatch, a tall man in his early forties, with a light brown hair styled with a lot of gel to stay sleek back, chuckles amazed but proudly as he puts a card down, waiting for his colleague and friend to make his move.

Marco, a man in his forties, sitting right next to Thatch, lightly hums as he pushes his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Our boy is slowly making sure to catch up to us.” Glancing with his light brown eyes at his young colleague and dear friend, he waits for his next move.

Taking his sweet time with his next move the raven-haired young man in front of them just smirks before taking a sip of his beer and placing it back on the table. Running the tip of his finger on top of the cards in his hand he finally picks one and confidently places it on the table.

“Am I catching up to you or are you slowing down?” His cocky smirk grows bigger as the card wins him the game.

“Your luck is through the roof today.” Thatch groans as Ace reaches to take the pile of cards.

“Lucky me, what can I say.” Ace says handing the cards to Marco to shuffle them so they can start a new game. “Still, just because I was selected doesn’t mean I’ll be approved.”

“You will be Ace.” Marco encouraging nods as he shuffles the cards. “If Pops recommended you himself, that means he sees a lot of potential in you and your skills.”

“Plus, the salary you’ll get once promoted will get you that dream car of yours faster.” Thatch winks at him, knowing how to motivates the younger guy, who is like a little brother to both him and Marco.

Letting out a boyish laugher, Ace nods a few times. He has been saving to buy his childhood dream car for four years now and he is so close to reaching his goal. For a lot of people, the amount of money and time he has spent on saving for something such as a car is ridicules, but to Ace – it is the most logical thing he could do in his mid-twenties.

Independent and in his prime, Ace is living life the way he has always wanted to live it – freely and without regret for anything. Every choice he has made so far has let him to better days. He regrets nothing. He doesn’t regret dropping off college to become a firefighter. Helping people has always bring him joy, but so does the adrenalin of doing dangerous activities, and what is more challenging than throwing yourself in the flames of a burning building while trying to save someone’s life.

“Until they approve Pops’ recommendation, I can’t get my hopes up.” Taking the cards in one hand and looking at the hand he has gotten, Ace mentally smirks to himself – another win is on the way to him.

“Don’t think much about it.” Marco calmy tells him, putting the first card on the table. “After all, getting approved is the easy part, the exams and the physical test on the other hand ar-” Before he could manage to finish his sentence, he gets interrupted by his phone ringing. Pulling it up from the front pocket of his pants, he excuses himself from the table once he sees that it is his wife calling.

“I’m so happy I don’t have these problems anymore.” Thatch points with his eyes to where Marco left. He and his ex-wife divorced a year and a half ago, and since then the relationship between them has improved. The tone has gotten friendlier, no more fight, but more agreements as they must share custody over their teenage daughter.

“And I’m so happy I’ll never have them.” Ace snorts as he draws a card from the pile.

Thatch can’t help but laugh at his young friend’s comment. “Oh, Ace. I can’t wait for the day you’ll get swept away by a girl and I pray I’ll be there to witness it.”

“You can only dream about this day.” The young rebel guy response. He has made up his mind a long time ago about relationships and the whole family idea – he doesn’t want it. He has seen what married life or being in a relationship has done to most of his colleagues and friends, of course not all of them are bad – Marco being the best example of them all. He and his wife were high school sweethearts and have been together for more than twenty years with three kids, the youngest being five years old.

But this doesn’t come only from his friends’ experience, it also comes from the way he has grown up. Ace never understood the relationship between his mother and father. His father was gone most of the time, working as captain on cargo ships, and while it provided good for their family, Ace can say that most of his life he grew up without a father as he was never home.

“Didn’t it almost happen?” Thatch knowingly raises one brow at Ace.

Rolling his eyes with a sarcastic chuckle, Ace shakes his head. “No, not even close.”

“Really? I’m quite sure it you two were almost there.” Placing a card down on top of Marco’s one, Thatch leans back on the benched seats.

“What?” Ace looks at him with a surprised look on his face. “No, Isuka and I were not even close to anything as being in love or whatever.”

“Yet, you spent two years being on and off.” Putting his cards faced down on the table as Marco hadn’t returned yet, Thatch crossed his arms across his chest.

Doing the same thing with his own cards, Ace places them face down on the wooden table and leans back on his chair, propping his hand on the top of the chair next to him, he looks at his friend with a look that says that he is very wrong. “We spent two years on and off because when she stopped chasing me, I was interested in chasing her and vise versa.”

He and Isuka haven’t been in contact in more than six months, and this has been a big relief for Ace. The situation between him and his ex-girlfriend, if he could even call her this, was nothing else but a hot mess. Both were not ready at all to make any compromises, both thinking in many cases and situations being better than the other, both playing games, but most of all neither of them ready to settle, or at least Ace wasn’t ready.

The last time they saw each other was also the last time they fought over where they stood. For Ace it was clear – just people who have sex with each other from time to time and hang out if they really don’t have anything else to do. But to Isuka it wasn’t like this. She wanted something more than just being fuckbuddies with a man she has fallen for. She was tired of the games and so was Ace, but in the end while she felt like he was the right person for her, he did not feel the same way about her.

There was something that was missing. Ace couldn’t never find full comfort in her company or look at her and be like ‘Wow, I’m so lucky to have this woman by my side.’, even though Isuka was the full package – beautiful, smart, well established in her carrier, but Ace just couldn’t see himself with her. He couldn’t see himself with her or anyone else. Not because he didn’t want to. He tried. He tried many times, especially with Isuka, but at the end of the day something wasn’t enough for this magical moment of a click between two people to happen.

That is why, six months later now, he never tried to contact her again or response to one of her messages she sent a while ago.

He doesn’t mean to be rude to her or an asshole, but it just doesn’t feel right to let her on once again or tired to be friends as this has been clear from the start that it would be impossible between them especially after sleeping together for the past two years.

Ace has always believed that the friendship between a man and a woman who have had intimate relationship is impossible, and his situation with Isuka has been already complicated it doesn’t need to get any more than that.

“I’m actually glad we ended it.” He murmurs more to himself than Thatch.

Walking back into the now a bit too crowded bar, Marco grabs his jacket in a hurry before turning to the guys. “I’m sorry guys, my youngest is with a very high fever and we must get home.”

“Oh, poor champ.” Ace says, giving Marco a sympathizing look. He knows Marco’s family very well. On a few occasions he and his wife have even dropped the kids off to Ace to look after them while they go out for a date night or they must do some kind of a work which doesn’t allow them to have the kids around. “Tell him I’m buying him some ice cream when he gets better.”

“He’ll make sure to keep this promise, you know.” Pointing with his finger at Ace warningly, Marco lets a little laughter escape his lips. “It was nice to hang out with you guys. See you tomorrow.”

“Take care, say hello from me.” Thatch calls after Marco before he leaves. Turning back to Ace, Thatch gives him a mischievous look, one that tells Ace that nothing but trouble will be following them for the rest of the night. “As much as I love Marco, with a married man around is hard for two single men to have fun, am I right Ace?”

“You were married until a year and a half ago yourself - don’t forget that.” This reminder from Ace made Thatch roll his eyes.

“But I’m not anymore.” Leaning with his body closer to the table, Thatch put his elbows on the table and nods at Ace to lean closer. “I saw two gorgeous women walking in like ten minutes ago. I think they are by the pool tables. Wanna go say hello?”

Turning his head where the pool tables are Ace tries to see the girls Thatch is talking about but there are too many people standing on the way for him to take a look. Shaking his head he turns back to his friend. “Nah, man. Not tonight.” Grabbing the handle of the beer mug Ace lifts it to his lip to drink the last sip of it. “You want one more?”

Thatch rolls his eyes with a click of his tongue. “Sure, but you’re not fun.”

Laughing at him, Ace stands and makes his way to the bar. It doesn’t take long to get new beers but coming back to their table he finds it empty. Taking a deep breath in, he turns to where the pool tables are and see his friend standing there talking to a girl a bit taller than him, in a red dress, dressed up a bit too much for a local bar like this one.

Shaking his head in disapproval, Ace makes his way to his friend. “Thatch!” He calls out the man’s name who sometimes tends to go far and beyond for the lady’s attention.

“There he is.” Thatch excitedly announces, reaching with his hand to Ace, signalling him to come faster. “This is my friend Ace – Ace this is Boa.”

Leaving Ace, no choice but to shakes the girl’s hand, he places the beers on the side of the pool table, before taking her hand in his to introduce himself. “I’m sorry if he’s bothering you.” He is quick to apologise.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Boa is far from Thatch’s level. Tall, gorgeous, built like a model, who knows she might even be one, would never pay attention to a man like Thatch, who even for his forty something years still looks very good.

“Are you kidding me? Your friend here is so much fun.” Boa gives Ace a small smirk before she turns back to Thatch. “So, you’re saying you can beat me on pool?”

“Well darling, I’m not just saying it, I plan to prove it.” Thatch returns the smirk, grabbing the cue stick from the table. “Would your friend mind?”

“No, she won’t.” Boa replies as she accepts Thatch’s challenge and leans over the table to collect the pool balls. “You can play one game with her after I made your friend cry.” She tells Ace while placing the balls in the triangle.

“Oh, Boa now you get me fired up.” Thatch chuckles. “Where is your friend by the way?”

“Toilet. She’ll be here any second now.”

Hearing this Ace rolls his eyes a bit. The last thing he wants right now is to watch his friend playing billiards, while he must entertain Boa’s friend.

Despite what people might think of Ace, usually being either a player or a guy who gets lot of attention from girls, he is the quite opposite. He is very selective. Yes, he might flirt here and there, but that’s it. Neither he is a fan of one-night stands. Not like he hasn’t had his fair share with them, but it isn’t something he really is looking forward to, especially tonight.

Taking his beer from the pool table, Ace steps back and leans with his elbow on one of the side high tables. Pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans he starts scrolling, not paying much attention to his friend and the girl in front of him.

Coming back from the toilet and seeing your best friend playing billiards with some man made you sigh. ‘Great, now I’ll be third wheeling.’ you can’t help but think. It is not a surprise for you though. Boa has always had all eyes on her. Usually when you two go out, or with the rest of your friend group, men tend to go and try to hit on her first. They are never successful most of the time, so seeing this man who is obviously older than you two, playing with her is a bit of a surprise, but tonight is all about trying something new, right?

Walking next to her, you tap her on the shoulder, as she is waiting for the man to shoot his shot. Turning around to face you, a big smile places on her face. “Oh, there she is.” She excitedly exclaims, catching the man’s attention. “Thatch this is (Y/N), (Y/N) this is Thatch.”

The man walks to you and gently shakes your hand. “Sorry for taking your place here.”

You wave you hand to brush him off. “It’s fine don’t worry. I’m not even good at billiards.” Cucking softly, you reply.

Coming next to you Boa places the palms of her hands on your shoulders as she leans closer to you with a smile. “Thatch here is not alone. He’s here with a friend.”

It takes all your willpower not to roll your eyes. Last thing you want to do tonight is wasting your time engaging in conversations with some forty years old man’s friend. Faking a laughter and a smile you reply, “Oh, how nice.”

“Hey, Ace come meet (Y/N).” Thatch calls out his friend’s name. Turning your head to the direction where both Boa and the man are looking, at the same time a guy your age looks up from his phone and your gazes meet.

Strangle enough your heart skips a beat the moment your eyes lock. Getting up from the chair and putting his phone in his back pocket the guy takes a few steps and stands in front of you. He is tall, well built – muscular but not too much to a point where to question if he takes something to be built like this or not, raven black hair with dark brown eyes and freckles all over his cheeks, dressed in a simple white T-shirt and a pair of blue jeans, he is pretty good looking. A bit too good looking. You don’t remember the last time you have found a guy this attractive from just one look at him.

Ace on the other hand is starstruck on his own. To be honest, he has imagined everything else, but a cute pretty face like yours. He thought that if Boa is this pretty there is no way that her friend could possibly be prettier, but he was wrong. Very wrong. Your eyes, your lips, your nose, the colour of your skin and the way the little black dress is hugging every inch of your curves makes his heart beat a bit faster than it should.

Clearing his throat, he reaches with his hand for yours. “Ace.” Is all he says. In response he gets your name. Your hands staying a bit too long in a handshake. When the realisation hits you both you are quick to pull away.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by neither Thatch nor Boa, but he is the first to speak. “You know, my boy Ace here is actually very good at playing pool, maybe he can teach you how to do it better.”

“Are you Ace?” Boa turns to him with a smile as she hands him her cue stick. “Go ahead, please. She really needs someone to teach her a thing or two about billiards.”

Shyness and awkwardness take over you in seconds. “N-no, it’s fine.” Turning to Ace you shake your head and pull your hands up a bit like a little kid who just got caught shoplifting a candy. “You don’t need to do this, I-I’m a lost cause.” An awkward chuckle leaves your lips. “Plus, they are not done with their game, right guys?” Turning to your friend and Thatch, you are met with disagreement from them.

“No, we’re pretty done, right Thatch?” Boa smirks.

“Yes, I think we are. Wanna go out for some fresh air?” He totally ignores the looks Ace is giving him. In Thatch’s mind his dear friend needs to get laid, and by the looks of it there has been an immediate spark between you two, so it will be a shame if you don’t get some alone time to get to know each other.

Without wasting any second Boa agrees to Thatch’s offer and before you and Ace can protest, they are out of your sigh.

An awkward silence takes over you both, despite the loud music and the people around you. Seeing how tense you are, Ace feels bad, so he decides to make the first move. Taking a step to you, he leans a bit closer so you can hear him better. “I’m sorry about him. I told him to not bother you or your friend.”

This closure gives you goosebumps, so you take one step away before you turn to face him. “No, please, no one is bothering anyone. He seems nice.”

“He is, but if you want us gone, let me know.” Winking at you, he walks to the pool table with the cue stick in hand. “Wanna play one round while they are out?”

Biting on your lower lip, you nod. “Sure, why not? But keep in mind I’m very bad at it.” Grabbing the other cue stick while he is rearranging the balls in the triangle, you shyly walk closer to him.

“Nice.” Ace says more to himself than to you as he removes the triangle and turns to you with a charming smile. “Wanna go first and break them?” Taking his cue stick again he goes to the other side of the table to look for the chalk. Finding it, he walks back and gives it to you.

Taking it from his hand you thank him before applying it to the tip off your cue stick. Leaning your body and positioning your fingers to stable the stick in your hand better on the pool table, you take a deep breath before hitting the white ball in the middle. It rolls and hits the rest of the balls, but they barely move.

Scrunching your face from embarrassment you turn to Ace. “Told you, I’m bad at it.”

“Nah, it was good. All you need is a little bit more force.” Instead of going for his turn he takes all the balls again and puts them for a start break. “Go on, just a little bit more force.”

Doing the exact same thing, but with a little bit more force now, this time when you break more than a few balls move. Sadly, none of them roll to one of the pockets in the table so now it is Ace’s turn.

From his first hit he manages to get one of the balls in one of the side pockets. After it he gets two more balls in before missing and it is again your turn.

This goes back and forth a few times, none of you speaking much, until the game is finished and of course, he wins.

Ace wants to engage in a conversation with you, he really does, but he can clearly see how tens you are, almost like you are uncomfortable around him as you keep your distance like you want to run away, which makes him a bit sad, but who knows maybe you have a boyfriend or you just don’t feel attracted to him at all. Your distance has grown even bigger after he has asked you to help you fix your posture while you were about to make your move, to which you give permission to him to touch you.

You on the other hand are still on fire after that touch from him. The way he has gently placed his hands on the back of your shoulders to straighten them and then the way he wrapped his fingers around your hand, moving your arms with his to make the hit. The feeling of his touch on your bare skin made you feel something you haven’t experience in a long time, and you can’t be sure if it is because of the alcohol or the effect this charming stranger has on you, but for some reason you could feel how your body temperature has risen up.

That is why, you create a bit of a space between you two, which for some weird reason does feel wrong. You want to speak with him, but there is this pressure in you, this feeling of anxiety that is slowly creeping up that you will mess things up, so maybe is better to now say anything at all. But saying nothing also feels wrong.

Building all the courage you can built in a span of a second you turn to him with a small smile, your fingers immediately find their way to the edge of one of your hair strands and start playing with it.

Clearing your throat to catch his attention better you finally speak up. “So, Ace – what brings you here tonight?” Leaning the back of your lower body on the pool table, your head is turned to him as you observe him.

This question takes him by surprise. So far all you have talked about was billiard or how bad you are playing it, nothing too personal. Leaving the cue stick on the pool table, he walks closer to you, half charming smile on his face as he leans with one hand on the table next to you. “Let’s say little promotion from work. What about you?”

“It’s Boa’s birthday.” You reply shortly, you breath caught up in your lungs from how close he is standing next to you. Giving him a quick glance before you look away, you shoot another question. “W-what do you do for work?”

“I’m a firefighter.” His response catches your attention quickly.

“Wow, really? That’s amazing and so brave.” Letting go of your hair now your eyes are on his. “What made you become one?”

“It was a mixture of a few things.” He replies, a bit more focused on your face, for whatever reason trying to memories every spot or line there is on. “I’ve always love helping people, but I also love adrenaline rush, so this sounded like the best opportunity a few years ago.”

This sounds a bit familiar to you or the you, you used to be like. You still help people as much as you can if you are being asked to, but the adrenaline part? It has been years since you have done something spontaneous or crazy. “So, you’re a bit of adrenaline junkie?” You chuckle with a little playful smile which you don’t realize has appeared on your face, but Ace catches it immediately.

“Maybe a bit too much sometimes.” He smirks, crossing his hands over his muscular chest, he nods at you. “What about you?”

“What about me?” You awkwardly laugh, not sure if he asks about your job or if you are adrenaline chaser like him.

Ace can’t help but laugh a bit. He has notice that the moment the attention is turned towards you, you froze, which is in a way adorable, but it also made him wonder if he is the reason why you are so tens, or this is how you are usually. “Are you an adrenaline junkie, silly?”

You can feel the heat rushing to your face when he calls you ‘silly’. It is something in the way he says it, so unintentionally playful, yet made you feel like you are sixteen again. “No, I’m not.” You say with a shake of your head. “Used to be, but not anymore.”

The slight change of your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Ace, for which he decides to test his luck and see if he can play around this. “So, there is a wild girl hidden somewhere behind the shy one I’m speaking to right now?”

He is smooth, you give him that. Biting on your lower lip you shyly shrug. “Yea, maybe.”

Nodding his head, Ace can feel that he is slowly starting to make you relax. After all you haven’t broken eye contact with him for a while now, so this is a good sign. “What can I do to get a glimpse of this wild side of yours?”

“What can you do, huh?” Laughing at his question you place two fingers under your chin, acting like you are trying to think of something before you answer him. “Hmm, maybe if you have a time machine and you meet me back in college then you will definitely have a glimpse of wild me.”

Clicking with his tongue he raises one brow at you. “Okay, which collage you went to, so I know where to go to?” Telling him the name of the college you went to makes his brows raise in surprise. “No way. Me too. Which year?” You tell him the year you started and graduated making him snort. “What a coincidence. Me too, but I dropped off after a year or so.”

You are as surprise as he is. Sure, your college was pretty big, but there is no way you two have never crossed paths before. You are sure you would have noticed him, after all he is quite the charm. “What program were you in?”

“Something about social studies. To be honest I don’t remember anymore.” Shrugging he brushes off the subject, as to him it doesn’t really matter. “This means you must be twenty-seven? Twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-seven.” You nod with a smile. “You?”

“Twenty-seven.” He returns the smile.

Ace is about to ask you something more when he gets interrupted by your friend Boa and Thatch, who comes after her with four shots in hand. “Hey, there you two.” Boa says as she wraps her arms around you. “How did your game go?”

“He beat me.” You quickly reply, looking at Ace from under your lashes as he gives you a little wink.

“She almost got me though.” Even though he is speaking to Boa, his eyes don’t leave yours.

“Guess we can take over next?” Thatch comes in between you three giving every single one of you a glass of shot in hand.

Bringing the glass to your nose to smell what’s in it, your face scrunches from the smell. “What is this?” You look at your friend with disgust.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “We just told the bartender to make something strong and... well, strong.”

Taking a step closer to you, Ace leans and whispers in your ear. “You don’t need to drink it if you don’t want to.”

Before you can answer, Boa interrupts having guessed what Ace might have told you, she points her finger at him warningly. “Oh, she must. This one needs this drink more than any of us here.” Moving her finger in your direction she commands you to drink.

“Thank you for trying.” You tell Ace as you raise you glass to your lips and drink whatever is in the glass. Boa and Thatch follow, leaving Ace no choice but to do the same.

Whatever was in this shot, it is now burning your insides. “God, I need water.” You say more to yourself than anyone else.

“Come with me.” Ace tells you, taking your hand in his as he leads the way to the bar where they have water.

To your surprise, you don’t feel as tens as you used to a like ten-twenty minutes ago. He somehow managed to build a bit of a trust in you, so having your hand in his, letting him lead you somewhere, doesn’t feel alarming at all. It feels okay. It feels like you can trust him.

Reaching the end of the bar where the water station is place, Ace pours a glass of water and hands it to you, but to do this he has let go of your hand, which you wish he could hold for a little longer. Thanking him you take the glass from his hand and quickly drown the glass.

“Are you okay?” His voice sounds calm, but also concern for you, and you can see the same thing in his eyes.

“Yes, I’m. Thank you for asking.” Putting the empty glass to the side you give him a small smile.

“You know if you don’t want to do something you can always say no.” He doesn’t like the way your friend forced you to drink the shot, leaving you no choice when you obviously didn’t want to drink.

“I know. Don’t worry.” You are not sure what made you do this, it is probably the alcohol, but you reached for his hand and gently squeezed it. “She did it out of love, believe me.”

Ace is a bit too shocked by your action to acknowledge what you have just said to him. Part of him feels like he is a teenager again. All you have done is take his hand in your and give it a little squeeze, yet this simple gesture made his whole-body freeze.

Whatever was in this shot it starts to kick in. Your eyes are all focused on his hand. His skin is surprisingly soft, the palm of his hand is big, his fingers long and running your eyes up him arm, you can see the way his muscles are flexed, freckles here and there. “You know, if they are going to play now, I don’t really want to stand and watch, mostly because my feet are killing me in these heels.” Finally looking up to meet his eyes you give him a curious look. “What were you guys doing before joining us?”

Swallowing hard, trying to keep his cool, trying to ignore the way your fingers play with his, he gives you a short answer. “We played cards.”

Your eyes lit up when you hear this. “Really? I love playing cards! What game did you play?”

“Poker.”

“Wanna play?” You ask him with playful flame light up in your eyes.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise Ace smirks. “You know how to?”

“Maybe.” Returning the smirk, you trace your finger on the back of his hand. “Play with me and you’ll find out.”

You are drunk. There is no way that the shy girl a few minutes ago and this new playfully version of her now are the same person if there isn’t alcohol involved. Or maybe this girl is there all the time, hidden behind many layers of who knows what, but Ace is not going to back down now, when he is finally catching this glimpse of you.

“You want me to play with you, huh?” He can’t help but tease you. Biting on your lower lip you slowly nod. “Alright pretty girl. I’ll play with you.” Nodding slowly, he smirks. Looking down at where your fingers are tracing up and down his forearm, he gently grabs it and pulls you closer to him.

This action itself makes you instinctively put your other hand on his chest. His chest feels exactly how it looks – defined and muscular. Looking at him from under your lashes your breath gets caught up in your lungs, and he has caused this to you how many times tonight? Two? Three? More?

Leaning closer to whisper in your ear, as even with your heels on he is still a bit taller than you, the way his breath tickles your skin gives you goosebumps. “What do we bet on then?” Pulling away to look at your eyes, a cocky smirk grows bigger in his face. “I mean, what do I get after I win?”

Faking a dramatic gasp, you take a small step back, pulling your hands away from him and crossing them over your chest. “What makes you think you’ll win?”

Hearing the playfulness in your voice, Ace chuckles. “Just a feeling.” He shrugs.

“What do you want then?” One of the tables next to where you two are standing gets available and you point with your head towards it, indicating to Ace to follow you there. Taking a seat facing each other you still await his answer. “Come on, tell me. What do you win… if you win.” You say, matching his coy smile.

“If I win, and I will.” He says. “I want you to show me more of this wild girl, you mentioned earlier.”

Sober you would have back off from such bet. Hell, sober you probably wouldn’t have the courage to go this far into a conversation with some man you have just met, despite how charming the stranger is. But sober you is long gone, and after all tonight is all about trying something different, so why not?

“And what if I win?” You raise one brow challenging.

“Whatever you want sweetheart.”

Trying to ignore the nickname and how charming and smooth he can be, you look away for a moment to think what you would possibly want from him, but nothing is coming up in your mind. “I’m not sure, but I can decide once I beat you. Deal?”

Reaching with your hand across the table for a handshake to seal the deal, he takes your hand in his and give it a strong, but still delicate squeeze. “Deal.”

“Go on, bring out the cards.” You say, making the pupils of his eyes widen as he realises that they are in fact not with him.

“Um, give me a second and I’ll be back.” Getting up quickly from the chair he stops for a second and turns back to you before he makes his way to where Boa and his friend play billiards. “Do you want something to drink?”

You are not sure if drinking is the best idea, but why not? Why not get loose for one night? Nodding you tell him what to get you and he tells you to wait for him.

It is hard to explain how you are feeling currently. You are all over the place. You are excited, you feel energetic, you feel flirty, playfully; yet you also feel a bit anxious and stiff, but despite all this you feel good. You are having a great time, and you feel good. Right now, you are not sure if you are subconsciously faking it until you make it, but you are content. Plus, the company you have found tonight is quite enjoyable.

You are not sure how many minutes have passed since Ace has gone away, but he is back, which makes you turn all your attention to him. Placing your drink in front of you, you thank him.

Pulling up the cards he starts to shuffle the cards. “Since we aren’t betting on money, should we play it three out of five?” Setting up the cards in front of you and then him he awaits on your answer.

“Sure.” You reply with a confident coy smile.

Three out of five, turns to five out of eight. Five out of eight turns to eight out of ten. Eight out of ten wins turns into you two loosing tracks of time to a point where both your friends come to you to check if you want to leave but you tell them to leave you, because you are not done yet.

At first Boa wasn’t very convinced in leaving you with Ace, but it was the spark in your eyes that she hasn’t seen in a long time that made her wish you a good night and to text her once you are home.

You are totally lost in the moment with Ace. He is fun, he is charming, he is silly, he is so easy to be around. And also, he feels safe to be around. For whatever strange reason you trust him.

“Accept it, Ace.” You giggle as you win yet another hand.

Running a hand through his messy black hair, he holds his head with the palms of his hands. “You have to be kidding me.” Looking up at you with a big smile on his face he finally gives in. “Fine. You win.” Taking his glass of beer, he raises it to give you cheers.

Drinking the last sips of your drinks you place your elbows on the table leaning closer to him. “So now what?” The tone in your vice is a mixture of playfulness and genuine curiosity. You don’t want to say goodbye to him, not yet, but due to how empty the bar is starting to look, you are guessing that soon they are closing.

“You’re the winner. We do as you wish.” Mimicking your actions, he leans closer to you as well. His eyes focused on your lips. Your lipstick long gone, but your lips still look as alluring as he first saw you. It takes him all his willpower to withhold himself from grabbing your chin and pull you closer to himself to capture the taste, the feeling of having your lips on his.

You see and feel the way he is looking at you. The way he is looking at your lips. The way there is a new kind of light in his eyes, causing the sparkling of the same energy to start burn into you.

“I don’t want to go home yet.” The words leave you before you can process or stop them.

“Wanna come over to my place?” Ace, despite how drunk he is himself at this point, is aware of the risk how this might push you away, but something in him is telling that it is now or never.

At this point you are not sure if it is the alcohol, his company or the burning feeling of your skin that makes you slowly nod, eyes more focused on his lips now than his eyes. Eager to taste the feeling of his lips on yours.

How you have gotten to his apartment is a bit of a fog in your mind. All you remember is that you have called a cab and now you are at his place. His lips finally on yours. They feel exactly like you imagined them to be – full, soft and very skilful. You don’t remember the last time being kiss with so much passion and desire. It has been years.

But right now, caged between his hard muscular body and the door of his bedroom all your drunken mind can focus on is his burning kisses and his hands roaming around your waist and hips.

Ace is drunken by the taste of you. He feels like he can spend hours just covering you in kisses. You taste like the sweetest fruit he has ever tasted, despite all the alcohol you both have consumed.

Hearing your quiet and desperate whispers and moan drives him crazy. Finally allowing himself, he lifts the edges of your dress up to your waist and grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing it, causing a loud moan to leave your lips. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” He whispers against your lips as he slowly starts making his way down from your jawline, slowly trailing kisses down to your neck and collarbones.

Tracing his hands up to your waist and back he finds the zipper of your dress. He slowly unzips your dress despite his eagerness to trace the rest of your body with his lips.

With the dress off your body, you are left in nothing but your black stockings and underwear. Taking his sweet time observing every curve of your body he gets on his knees and start tracing kisses around your tummy, while slowly running his hands up and down your hips.

You are barely standing on your legs. If it isn’t for the support of the door behind you and the way Ace has your body pinned you would have probably already melted on the floor. The wetness between your legs grows with every passing second and you are not sure how much more you can take from his teasing.

It is like he has read your mind as he traces his finger on the waistband of your stockings, slowly slitting his index fingers on each side of your waist and taking them down. With the stockings finally off, he takes one of your legs in his hands and places it on his shoulder while holding you with his other hand steady around the waist. Running his fingers agonisingly slowly to you calf up to the outside part of your thigh, he trails the tip of his nose along the skin of your inner thigh, making you arch your back from the feeling of his breath there.

“God, your skin is so soft.” He says placing kisses on your inner thigh after every word. “You smell so good, baby girl.” Giving you a harsh squeeze on the thigh he softly bites on it, making you hiss from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

With tremble in your voice, you finally manage to say something. “Please.”

Looking up at you and meeting your pleading eyes, Ace lets go of your thigh and gets up on his feet. “Please what, baby?” Hints of teasingly mocking in his tone. Placing his hands on your waist he buried his head in the crook of your neck, leaving small kisses all over it.

Nothing but soft whines and whispers leave your lips, making Ace smile against the skin of your neck. “Come on, say it. Show me how much of a wild girl you can be.” Lifting his head from the crook of your neck, your eyes meet.

Finally, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him in a passionate hot kiss. Running your fingers all over his broad muscular shoulders up to his messy locks. This man has unlocked something in you tonight that you have thought you have lost long time ago – your passion, your sexuality, your desire.

Breaking the kiss, you lock eyes with his. Your chest raising up and down, your heart beating fast as you try to catch your breath and make up your mind. “Please, fuck me.” You whisper. “Fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”

Ace doesn’t need to be told twice. He lifts you up in his arms, your legs wrapped around his torso, while he carries you to his bed. Laying you down on it he finally takes off his T-shirt, making you realise that he has been dress the entire time until now.

Now with his shirt off, despite the darkness in the room and the only source of light being from the streetlights coming from outside the window, you get to finally not just feel but see his define toned up muscle body. You push yourself a bit with one hand on the bed to lift your body up so you can reach up better and trace your fingers from the top of his chest all the way down to his tone up abdomen and happy trail.

His skin is soft, from what the light allows you to see, you notice that he has quite lot of freckles spread across the top of his chest and shoulders mostly.

Pushing you to lay down on the bed he hovers over you and lock your lips in another passionate messy kiss. Reaching down to his jeans, you finally find the belt buckle. Feeling you struggling with unbuckling it, Ace pulls away from the kiss and take it off together with his jeans, leaving only his boxers on, which seems to grow tighter with each second.

You can’t help but bite your lip from the sign of the outline of his cock, hidden behind the tight material of his boxers. With the tips of your fingers, you trace down a path starting from the top of his happy trail to the outline of the tip of his member, following down the covered length.

This action alone makes Ace flex his abs and buckles his hips towards your hand, a hiss of pleasure leaving his lips. Hearing the sound of pleasure leaving his lips, this gives you the confidence to continue by stroking his member over his underwear.

“Oh yeah, baby girl. Just like that.” Throwing his head back, Ace close his eyes from the pleasure, making you give him one stronger squeeze, causing him to moan. He is melting in your hand and you are not even touching him properly but over his still covered dick.

Seeing how much effect you have on him, you raise your body a bit to pull him closer to you with your free hand and he follows. Without giving him any time, you start covering his neck with kisses.

Despite all the distractions from you, Ace’s hands make their way behind your back and unclamp your bralet, tossing it to the side without a care. Pulling away from you he shamelessly stares at your naked breast. “Fuck.” He breathes out, tracing with the top of his fingertip on the soft squishy outline of your chest making his way to your already hard nipples, barely touching while circulating his finger around, giving you sweet agonising pleasure.

You pull your hand away from his cock, letting your hands trace over his back muscles. The feeling of him on top of you making you crazy, while he covers your chest with kisses and softly punches one of your hard nipples. A gaps leaves your lips as he finally takes your other breast in hand and gives it a squeeze before wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking on it, making your back arch.

“God, fuck me already.” You whine under him, hands buried in his hair, pulling it a bit.

Letting go of your nipple, he gives it one last kiss before he looks at you. “Oh baby girl, I’m not a God, but your prayer will be heard.” He chuckles with a smirk, hands going down to your panties. Hooking in two fingers on the waistband of the lacy material he takes them off, leaving you in nothing. Ace places his hands on your ankles, slowly moving them up to your knees, where he spreads them apart, making you all exposed to him.

Your chest is going up and down, heart beating fast as he places himself between your spread legs and hovering over you, with one hand holding himself up to not crush you and the other tracing up your thigh slowly reaching your dripping cunt.

“You’re dripping wet, baby girl.” His voice has gotten a bit raspier as he whispers in your ear, his hand now covering your pussy. Sliding his middle finger in between your lips to spread you apart you both share a moan of pleasure – you of the feeling of him finally touching you where you wanted him the most, and he from all the wetness and warmth he feels from your pussy.

Running his finger up and down, teasing your clit and entrance, Ace finally enters your burning hole with it slowly, giving you time to adjust despite how wet you are, and then he slowly start to move it, trying to find that sweet spot in you, while his thumb is on your clit, rubbing and playing with it.

The moment he curls up his finger and finds that sweet spot in you, you are turned into a hot mess under him. “More, fuck.” A loud moan escapes you. “More, Ace. Please.”

Sliding a second finger into you, Ace smirks as he traces sloppy wet kisses along your neck up to your ear, biting the soft part of it. “You greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teases you, increasing the peace of his fingers.

“Yes. Fuck yes, I am.” You breathe out, body arching as you feel the sweet burning sensation of release forming in the bottom of your belly. “Please, don’t stop now.”

Mocking laughter comes from Ace as he takes one look at your face, your eyes barely open, lips parted. “You’re close, aren’t you baby?” He coos, moving aside a strand of your hair that has fallen over your face. Whining and nodding at him, he just chuckles at you. “Then don’t hold back, baby girl. Because I don’t plan to fuck you properly until I make you cum at least once before that.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, nor it would have mattered as your first wave of pleasure and release hits, and you are falling into pieces under him. Your gummy walls squeezing hard around his fingers, coating him with your pussy juices. You’re a mess under him and Ace loves it. “Yes, baby girl - that’s it. Let it all out.” He says as he continues to finger you not cutting off your pleasure and he doesn’t stop until he sees you calming down a bit from your high.

Removing his hand from you, he unapologetically takes his fingers in his mouth and licks them clean. “Damn, baby. You taste so good.” He tells you as he pulls away from you to reach out to the nightstand next to the bed. Opening the first drawer Ace grabs the first condom he sees and takes it. Getting up from the bed he finally takes down his boxers, the feeling of release hitting his bare skin.

He is not sure if his dick has been this hard ever before, but it doesn’t matter, because he is finally going to fuck you, and he plans to do it good. Ripping open the condom package he takes it out and slides it on his length. Getting back on the bed and nestling himself between your legs, he props his hands on each side of your head.

“Are you ready for one more?” He smirks, moving one of his hands away to guide the tip of his dick to your entrance.

Spreading your legs a bit more you are aching to finally feel him inside of you. If he has made you seeing starts just with his fingers you hope, he can do the same with his dick.

You have felt how big he is when you tease him earlier, but now with him slowly entering you, inch by inch, stretching you open for him with the just the tip of his dick, it makes you roll your eyes in ungodly pleasure mixed with a bit of a pain.

“Fuck! You feel so good.” Ace moans throwing his head back from pleasure once he gets all of him inside you. Your gummy walls wrapped around him in a tight warm grip. Noticing that you need some time to adjust on having all of him inside of you he places some kisses across your collarbones. “Tell me when you ready, baby.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck you just nod, giving him the permission to move. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Slowly, but hard Ace starts to rock his hips, moving steady in and out of you.

“Don’t go all nice on me now, Ace.” You grab his hair and pull his head up to make him look at you. “Fuck me.”

Freezing on top of you, he grabs your hand away making you let go of his hair as he stands on his knees, his body towering over yours. “I tried to be nice remember this.” He tells you before he grabs your hips pulling you even closer to him as he puts them on his shoulders. Now with your waist arch he gets a better access to your ass and gives it a hard smack, before he starts slamming into you.

His thrusts are fast and hard – exactly how you like it. His dick hitting all the right spots in you while his hands are gripping your waist strongly, keeping you in place. Seeing how much you enjoyed the slap on your ass, he does it one more time, causing you to scream his name with pleasure and your pussy squeezing around him. But your pleasure is quickly cut as he pulls away from you and your needy cunt.

“Fuck no.” He curses grabbing his hair with both hands in frustration. The condom has broken. Reaching to his nightstand to search for another one he can’t find any. Taking the broken condom off him he throws it to the side. Looking back at you and the confused look you have on your pretty face, your naked body spread across his bed, your pussy covered in your juices squeezing around nothing missing his dick he makes a quick choice one he hopes he won’t regret later.

Grabbing your face in both of his hands he gives you a sweet sloppy kiss on the lips. Tracing his hand down on your body to your clit he starts to play with it. “The condom broke. Please, tell me you’re on a pill.”

You heard nothing from what he says. All you can focus on right now is how good is he making you feel, which leads to your response being a moan, which Ace overhears for a yes – yes, you are on a pill.

Instead of getting to continue with what he has been doing, Ace tells you to turn around on your belly and lift your ass as high as you can. Doing exactly what he has told you, you embrace yourself with what is coming. The feeling of his dick until now in you has been a bit painful, but in this position, you in all fours, he is going to abuse the life out of your pussy.

Seeing the red mark formed on your ass cheek from before Ace can’t help but slaps you once more, watching the way your ass juggles from the impact of his slap. Guiding his dick to your entrance he taps it a few times with the tip, causing you to buckle your hips at him, begging him without words to fill you up with himself.

Sliding his dick in, both of you share a moan from the new sensation, the feeling like you have never been this close to anyone before is driving you both mad. Grabbing a handful of your hair, Ace pulls it, making you arch even more. “Now be a nice bitch and take it as the good girl you are.” He hisses with pleasure as he starts to rock his hips in and out of you unapologetically hard and fast.

You are a mess of pleasure and moans. The last time you have had sex was more than a year ago, maybe even a year and a half, and it wasn’t even good. But this man, right here and right now is literally rocking your world and you are willing to take every inch he has as long as the pleasure never leaves you.

Pulling your hair to get you closer to him as he leans to you, he whisperers in your ear. “You like being fuck like this don’t you? Like a little slut ready to take every inch I give to her.” In response you moan, but he wants more. “No, no, no. Use your words baby girl.”

“Yes, yes Ace.” You say, your voice almost breaking. “I’ll take all of you, just don’t stop.” Letting go of your hair he pushes your head back to the pillows.

Your pussy is squeezing and dripping all around him, making a mess on the bed and you haven’t even cum yet, but he feels like you are close, very close and he himself is not far away from his own pique.

The feeling of your second orgasm for the night starts to build up. That same feeling he has made you feel earlier is coming back – the trembling in your legs, the heat in your lower belly, all of this is coming back but stronger.

One more smack on your red ass cheek follow by a hard thrust is all what is needed to send you to the edge. You cum all over his dick, your cunt squeezing around him hard, so hard that before he can stop himself and pull out, Ace is cumming inside of you. Coating your walls white with his hot cum.

It takes some time for both of you to calm down. After collecting his breath Ace finally pulls out of you, watching your little sweet pussy leaks some of his cum mixed with your own.

Leaning over your limp body he gives you a kiss on the shoulder. “Are you okay?” He softly asks.

You are not sure if you are here on planet Earth or somewhere far away in the galaxy. You have never been fucked like this. You hear Ace asking you something, but you are too wasted and tired to answer, all you can do is just look at him.

“Hey, please tell me.” He pleads with a soft tone. It’s obviously that you are exhausted, but he needs to know if you are okay, if he has been too harsh with you or not. “Was it too much? Are you hurt?”

Hearing the worry in his voice you try your best to answer him. “Don’t worry Ace, I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. Let’s go to sleep now.” You tell him with a sleepy voice and very heavy eyelids, but with a satisfy smile across your face.

Seeing your sweet smile as you turn around on your back, gives him the peace and the satisfaction that you are in fact okay and obviously pleased. “Give me a sec. I need to clean us both.” He winks at you, but you don’t see it as your eyes are already closing and you are already asleep by the time he comes with a warm wet towel to clean the mess you to just made.

The sunlight coming from the open curtain of the window irritates you. Scrunching your nose and squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to remain asleep and ignore the irritation. Giving up, you finally open one eye. You almost never forget to put the blinds down, how drunk have you been last night to forget it?

Lifting just your head, dizziness hits you up like a truck, making you grab your head and squeeze it. A groan leaves your lips. You haven’t felt like this in a very, very long time. Your mouth is dry, and you are extremely thirsty. Giving yourself some time to adjust to the light and the heavy feeling in your head, you blink a few times. Something is wrong.

Raising one eyebrow you wonder since when the ceiling in your bedroom has turn white? Are you still drunk? Running one hand over your face you look to your right side. Instead of seeing the door to your bathroom you are met with a big dark oak chest of drawers and a lot of basketball and rock bands posters on the wall.

The moment you realise you are not home, and in fact that you are in somebody else’s apartment, you freeze. “Fuck.” You quietly curse yourself. Slowly you move your eyes down to your body, wrapped up in dark blue light covers. You can feel that your body is bare, but you hope that you are wrong and when you look under the covers you will find yourself dressed in your little black dress. Sneaking a peak under the covers, you gasp. You are as bare as the day your mother gave birth to you.

Your internal panic is interrupted by a little shift of the covers next to you. The memories of last night hits you like a truck. The guy you met in the bar with Boa, and then staying with him to play poker, and then going with him to his place and you two having sex; all of this comes at once.

You withdraw a deep breath and stop breathing. What do you do now? Is he awake? You hope he isn’t.

Allowing yourself to breath again, you slowly turn your head to the left, eyes squeezed tight, afraid to open them. Counting to three in your mind, you slightly open one eye and thank whatever power is out there that he is still asleep and his head is turned to the other side, and you are met with nothing else but his messy dark locks.

You need to think fast and stop panicking. Whatever has happened happen. Now you need to get out of here before he wakes up.

Taking the covers off from you, you slowly slide you right leg to the floor, making sure that your movements are as quiet and quick as possible. Once you feel the wooden floor on the tip of your toes, you lift your body with one hand and get up from the bed, almost loosing your balance and tripping on the ground you managed to stay still.

Cursing yourself one more time as the headache hits, you grab your head but remind yourself that there is no time for this. You have stepped on something soft. Looking down you sigh in relief. It is your bra. One out of three, no five of your items found. Putting it on quickly and tiptoeing around the room, the next thing you come upon is your dress. With one quick swift move you put it on your body and finally you don’t feel so exposed. Walking to the other side to the bed your eyes land on your stockings and purse right next to the door. Four out of five found now what is left is your panties.

Where the hell could he possible thrown them? Walking to the door to pick your stockings and purse you turn around to make sure that he is still asleep and thankfully he still is.

You can’t help but stare at his sleeping form. He is cute. Laying on his belly, both hands wrapped tightly around the pillow, slow steady breaths leaving his slightly open mouth, some of his dark locks falling over his face.

Part of you wishes you haven’t slept with him, that way maybe you two could have been friends or something, but now you must remind strangers.

Looking down your eyes spot your panties. Right next to his side of the bed. Right next to the bed. But what is next to your panties makes your eyes widen. A condom. Obviously a used one. You are happy to know that you two have used protection so there is one last thing for you to worry about, but couldn’t he throw it away in a bin or something? Scrunching your face in disgust you look away.

You have two options – tiptoeing to there, maybe risking waking him up, but grab them, or just turning around open the door and run. The decision is taken fast. With one swift and quick move you are out of his bedroom, leaving your panties behind. A parting gift goodbye for the great time you had last night some might say.

Leaving his bedroom, you find yourself in the living room and from there it doesn’t take you long to find the entrance door. There you also found your heels. Putting them on, you quickly leave the place. Running down the stairs and then outside the street, as fast as you can considering the fact that you are wearing twelve centimetres heels.

After three or four streets away from his place, you finally stop to catch your breath. Your heart is beating fast. You still can’t believe what have you done. Laughter starts building up in you and soon you find yourself laughing loudly. You can’t believe what you have done – in the best way possible.

You feel alive. You feel you. The you, you have been once. The you, you have missed so much.

With trembling hands, you pull your phone from your purse. You barely have any battery left and a lot of missed calls and text, mostly from your best friend Boa. Looking around you see a taxi passing by, so you raise your hand to stop it. Getting in the backseat of the cab, you tell the driver your address.

With the remaining life of your phone’s battery, you call Boa. She should be leaving for the airport soon. She picks up almost immediately.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been texting and calling like crazy? Are you okay?” She doesn’t even bother to say ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’, she is straight to the point as usual.

Clearing your throat your response. “Sorry. I’m fine, just… lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time? Really?” She snorts mockingly. “Did you just get up? Your voice sounds so raspy. And why are you talking so quietly? Oh my, are you not alone?” If only you could see her face right now. It is all lighten up with curiosity.

Looking at the front mirror making sure that the driver is focused on the road and not on your phone call you quietly answer. “I’m on my way home, in a cab.” As much as you are a bit ashamed, you are also a bit euphoric. A small smile forming at the edges of your mouth.

The gaps from the other end of the phone is loud. “Did you sleep with him?”

Even thought she can��t see you; you nod while humming in response, a little giggle escaping your lips. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“You slut.” Boa screams in the phone, giggling with you and sharing your euphonical feeling. “How was it? I want all the details. Was it good or bad? You know it doesn’t matter. What is important here is that after what – two years, you finally got laid.” You start laughing at the overly excitement of your friend over you sleeping with a guy. “Don’t laugh. Tell me. Now.” She demands.

“Well, I can’t right now.” You mumble, glancing at the driver. “But all I can tell you right now is-” Lowering your voice even more you whisper in the phone. “Two times, Boa. He made me finish two times.”

The memories of the charming stranger fucking you last night comes to your mind like a vivid picture, making your pussy squeeze itself, causing you pain, a sweet aching reminder of how good he has made you felt.

“Two times? Two real orgasms? Like real real?” Boa is in shock from what she has heard.

“Real real.” You repeat.

“Wow. I’m speechless. He didn’t give me the vibes of a guy who know how to fuck.” She chuckles.

A bit surprised by what you have heard, you ask in between giggles. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” She laughs. “I felt like he would be one of those guys who just stick it and move it you know, no beat, no rhythm, no nothing.”

“Yes, I get what you mean, but no.” You can feel the blood rushing to your face. “He was very rhythmic with both hands and, well… you know.”

“Lucky you. I’m so happy for you, you have no idea.” She tells you. “When are you two meeting again?”

“Yeah, about that.” You withdraw your breath with a hiss. “I ran away before he wakes up.”

“You did what?” Boa screams.

“Come on, Boa. You know how I’m currently. Last thing I need is a guy in my life.” You murmur a bit sad, the reality slowly coming to you as you remind yourself that you just had one good night, but one night like this doesn’t chance your current life.

“You don’t need to date him or anything like this.” You can’t see her, but you can feel over the phone the roll her eyes make. “You can use him for a booty call. Your personal sex toy.” She whistles.

“We didn’t exchange any contacts.”

“Oh my, you’re a lost case.” She sighs. “Anyway, at least you got laid pretty good. But want more details.”

“When you come back, I’ll tell you.” Running a hand over your face, you lean your head on the backseat.

“But this is in like a week or so.” She whines. “You know what? Fine. When I come back. I need to get to the airport anyway, but one last thing before we hang up.” She tells you know in more serious tone. “Go and buy a plan B.”

“We used protection.” Rolling your eyes and clicking with your tongue, a makeshift of a hum and laughter leaves your lips.

“Better safe than sorry.” You friend replies.

“Better safe than sorry.” The words of your best friend repeat in your mind like a broken record. You still can’t believe that all three-pregnancy test are positive.

How? How did this happen? You two have used a condom. You saw it with your own eyes. Did the condom break? It must have. But still, it is your fault for not taking extra precautions. You shouldn’t have forgotten to take the plan B when you should have taken it.

None of these matters now. You are pregnant. You are pregnant and it’s your fault – partially. It is the guy’s fault as much as it is yours. How could he have finish in you? Was he out of his mind when this happen?

Being pregnant right now is not the worst thing around this situation. The worst thing is that you have no idea how to contact or find him. All you know about him is … his name and if you remember correctly, he is a firefighter. But that is all. You don’t remember where he lives, you don’t know how usually he goes to the bar you two met at nor you remember where the hell this place is, you basically know nothing about this man except that you are knocked up by him.

“Good job (Y/N). Now what?” You ask yourself.

Now you need to find your baby daddy. No, now you need to decide if you are going to keep the baby, so maybe you don’t need to worry about finding the dad, right?

END NOTE: I have edited the beginning probably five or more times, (also side note - this was my second time writing smut, so any type of criticism over it is welcomed). I wanted to show how low Reader confidence is while still making it logical to say - fuck it, and go and sleep with a man she has just met. I hope I managed to deliver it good enough. Why she is the way she is will be revealed later on, so no spoilers, just be patient. Same goes with Ace. His past will be revealed on later on. This is just chapter one - the beginning of this journey, with I hope you are willing to follow ♡

Every like, comment, reblog and message is deeply appreciated by me so feel free to share ♡

Thank you for reading my storied ♡♡♡

Taglist - OPEN: @orange-milky @igoontoonepiece @m1kkso @boomboom-tanjiro2019 @aceismyloveforever @firelilyofthevalley @ye-old-hermit-woman @fulltravelerdreamland @ffinosie @sungiebby @mrstraffy @ren-ni @acidblack @certain-tragedies @pmgranate @praline357 @stuckinthewrongworld @hlkenoace

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writing, format, header & dividers © cinnamoonblue fanart by @usa_rinko_ on Twitter/X ©cinnamoonblue, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

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lunamoonbby · 12 days ago

Text

All Of Yourself - 3

Source for Pic

All Of Yourself 3

Word Count: 6514

Tags:Fem!Reader; Ruthless!Law; Obsessive!Cora; Intense!Doffy; Soft!Cora; Dark Themes; Modern Day World AU; Cora Lives; Law is damaged; Doflamingo is a walking red flag; Mafia Romance; Dark Romance Vibes; Dub Con; Degradation; Praise; NSFW; Oral Sex (reader performing); Penetrative Sex (P in V; P in M); Choking; Posessivness; Overstimulation; Multiple Orgasms; Filthy talk; Biting; Ownership; Physical Restrainment; Reverse Harem (no M/M, they only focus on you); Multiple Penetration; Orgasm Denial; Why choose romance; Pierced!Law; Porn With Plot; Rough Sex; Still Unsure About Good or Bad Ending; Voyeurism; Spanking; Dom!Law; Somnophilia; BDSM; Use of aphrodisiac; Future Tags Will/May include: Breath Play; Dom!Doflamingo; Anal Play; Edging; Jealousy; Stockholm Syndrome; Free use of sexual toys; Violence; Torture; Blood; Gore;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You're on the run. The Donquixote Family is your only chance of protection, but that comes with a cost: you. All of you. Law demands control. Doflamingo claims ownership. Cora offers love. Trapped between their wants and your needs, where do you draw the line between captivity and surrender?

Notes: Please do enjoy this very much Doflamingo-centred chapter. It was fun to write. Here's hoping it finally unblocked my creativity. *sigh*

Note 2: I seem to find a pattern here. I OBSESS over a song and a new chapter comes out... make sure you take a listen, it's the EXACT vibe I want for this fic.

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

Divider by @cafekitsune

Law had left the morning after and would be gone for God knew how long. At least, that was the only information Cora had for you. Cora assured you that Law had left on business—something he needed to clean up, people who needed to be interrogated—but you knew better.

You had pissed him off.

Sure, he might’ve been doing business too, but you ultimately knew he would much rather spend time away from you and the inconvenience that you posed, than put up with your advances.

You had screwed up. Even if you really were just trying to help him.

Doflamingo was strangely absent too, but maybe that was for the best. You knew he wanted to know all your secrets, and you were scared of the methods he might use to get them. Even though you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, perhaps it was for the best.

You felt safe. For once in a very long time, you didn’t have to keep watching your back, or sleep with a knife under your pillow and one eye open.

When Doflamingo granted you protection, you thought you would be stowed away like their dirty little secret. Kept in misleading captivity, a gilded cage, left to your own devices until one of them decided they needed you.

But not sweet Cora. Cora never left you alone. You were in his room, his bed, his bathroom, his arms. He was obsessed, addicted in a way that made your heart swell. You knew it wasn’t love. But it was a twisted form of adoration. Maybe some way to heal from his own trauma, something he had yet to share with you.

Considering where you were and who you belonged to, his attachment to you was definitely the lesser evil. And yet… a twisted part of you, a hidden something you didn’t want to analyze, craved something else… someone else. Law… Doflamingo… you feared them, but your body responded to them in ways it didn’t with Cora.

They were different, and you needed them with equal fervor.

Yet you were enjoying the bliss of being Cora’s. He touched you like you were the answer to his prayers, beheld you like you were a goddess walking the earth, kissed you like you were giving him the air he needed to breathe.

And when he fucked you, he did it with reverence, leaving no inch untouched, no pleasure ungiven, no orgasm denied.

You were his.

But you knew, with absolute certainty, that you owned him.

-*-

You were summoned like a pet.

The afternoon sun was starting its descent, and you had been in Cora’s room reading a book he had brought you while he was away on business when a light knock on the door startled you. When you opened it, a staff member informed you that your presence was requested in the office.

And then left. Without any further information about why you were needed or who had summoned you. Though, instinctively, you knew.

Doflamingo. He had finally decided it was time to learn your secrets.

You took a few moments to gather your wits and strengthen your resolve. He would not get what he wanted without a fight. You still didn’t trust the Donquixotes enough. The information you held was valuable, and they could easily sell you to the highest bidder.

Doflamingo was only loyal to his family, and despite having granted you protection, his family would always come first.

Plagued by these thoughts that you reached his office. When you opened the door, you were blown away by its sheer opulence. If the other room—the one you had been brought into when you arrived—lacked furniture and personality, this one overflowed with both. Dark wooden panels, shelves of liquor and books, priceless art hanging on the walls, dim lighting, lush carpets, and a velvet chaise made this room unequivocally his.

The scent of his rich cologne—woodsy, spicy, forbidden—inflamed your nostrils, sending a warm tingle down your spine that you chose to ignore.

Doflamingo sat behind a dark mahogany desk, a throne of different sorts, for he was still every bit a king. One leg was draped over his knee, his head tilted to the side in curiosity, and his eyes hidden behind tinted lenses.

You shivered.

“You asked for me?” Try as you might to keep your voice steady, a small shiver of uncertainty still made it tremble.

He picked up on it—how could he not?—and his lips twitched with amusement. You stood by the entrance as the staff member closed the door behind you, leaving you both alone in a space that, despite being large, felt strangely suffocating.

Silence ate away the time, the antique grandfather clock in the corner ticking ominously, like a soundtrack to Doflamingo’s grand power play.

You trembled first, and just like that, he had the upper hand.

“You look so cozy in my brother’s clothes, pequeña. Do they make you feel safe?”

What?

You stared down at the oversized dress shirt you were wearing, something you had taken from Cora’s closet when the staff came looking for you. Your fingers gripped its hem and clenched, a sense of helplessness mixing with frustration.

“That’s irrelevant. Sir,” you added when his eyebrow quirked up. “I have no other clothes, and I refuse to walk around naked. Your brother lent me this.”

Further amusement showed on his face, making it twitch before he spoke again.

“What do you mean? You have a room of your own. You have clothes. Silk and lace, makeup, and an ensuite just for you,” he scoffed. “We are mobsters, querida, not savages.”

You felt heat creep up your neck and settle in your cheeks, setting them ablaze with embarrassment and frustration. How were you supposed to know they had given you a room? Cora kept you in his bed, in his room, in his arms.

“Oh, I see,” Doflamingo said, a low laugh emerging from his lips. “My brother has been keeping you all to himself. Too afraid that you'll leave him if he lets you go.” Another chuckle. “Pathetic…”

“He’s not pathetic!” The need to defend the one Donquixote who had been nothing but kind to you rose in the form of heated words you had no way to stop.

Doflamingo’s smirk faltered as he observed you, trying to read you.

“Interesting,” he muttered. Then he rose, took off the jacket of his impeccable wine-colored suit, and placed it neatly on the back of the chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he walked towards the shelf that held the liquor bottles—mostly whiskey. “He’s been coddling you too much, leading you to a false sense of safety.”

You shifted in your place to face him, still standing in front of the door, as if that gave you the possibility of running away from him. Fool.

“You granted me protection. Am I not supposed to feel safe in your home?”

“I granted you protection from whatever or whomever you were running from. You forget that you are now living amongst devils. You should never feel safe around us.”

A warning?

He let out a prolonged chuckle, his eyes glinting behind his tinted lenses. Then he poured a drink from a smaller crystal bottle—unlabeled—and started to walk towards you.

“Living with a little bit of fear is always the right way to do it. It makes your emotions run stronger.” With two long strides, he was towering over you. Craning your neck to look into his eyes, you clenched your fists, trying to control the erratic beating of your heart. “It makes your desires burn hotter.”

The unhinged smirk on his lips widened, his gaze finding the maddening throbbing of your pulse on your neck. His attention made the vein flutter harder and sent a shiver down your spine.

“Salud,” he exclaimed, grabbing your hand and placing the glass in it, urging you to drink.

You had no idea what was in it. Knowing Doflamingo’s reputation, it was either a spirit so magnificent it might’ve been made especially for him.

Or something more dangerous.

Your tongue tingled with the need to taste the liquid, your hand, still held by his larger one, trembled, your nerves showing. But you hesitated.

He cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. “It’s not poison, pequeña. It’s just something to… loosen your inhibitions.”

A drug, then.

He chuckled, and without letting go of your hand, brought the tumbler to his lips and took a sip. Your throat burned. His hidden eyes never left yours. When he finished the sip and brought the glass to your lips, you opened them.

And drank.

“Perfect,” he hummed, and his voice vibrated in your skin. The liquid dripped down your throat, burning you in its path and igniting your senses.

What was it?

Doflamingo removed the glass from your lips and leaned down; his tongue swiped your lower lip to collect the tiny drop left behind. The trail of the wet muscle blazed and burned, and the need to have him bite you instead of lick slammed your senses, coming out of nowhere.

“Hmm… Princesa, you taste like lies and omissions,” he drawled, pulling his face back just enough to lean against your ear, his whisper sending tingles down your neck and perking up your nipples. “You carry the scent of fear and betrayal with you like a shroud. What happened? Who are you running from?”

Your hand was still wrapped around the glass, held by his, and it was so hot that the burn was nearly painful. You clenched your other hand, your jaw locking as you felt the slight caress of his cheek against yours.

The heat from the drink was still blooming inside you—spreading. It burned from your throat to your lungs, down your belly, and settled low in your abdomen. It reached everywhere, making every pore, every single inch of your skin come alive.

He pulled back, letting go of your hand and taking the tumbler with him. Then he circled you. You didn’t turn to meet him, but your body felt him everywhere. “Can you feel it? The heat? The want? The need?”

His finger ran deliberately down your nape.

You bit your lower lip so hard it nearly drew blood. Holding your breath to contain any incriminating sound that might escape you, you made the awful realization of what you had just ingested.

An aphrodisiac.

“Let it sink in, cariño. Let loose. You’re not in danger anymore—well,” he chuckled, and the warm hair brushing right behind your ear sent a wave of heat to your core, making you clench your thighs instinctively. “That’s a lie, and we both know it. What I meant was that your life is no longer in peril.” His hands rested on your shoulders—lightly, very lightly—and then he ran them down your arms, the expensive cotton of the dress shirt rough against your over-sensitive skin yet, at the same time, maddening. “I told you before, what I want is your soul.”

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, its accelerated beat sounding like a mating song. God, you needed him badly. Your body thrummed and hummed at his light touch and at every sinful word coming out of his perfect lips. Your brain kept feeding you images of the night you arrived and how thoroughly he ruined you.

You wanted it again.

His hands came up to your front, undoing the three buttons of the shirt with slow precision. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, a clear indication of your state, even though you weren’t speaking.

Slowly, Doflamingo peeled the shirt off you, letting it pool on the floor at your feet and leaving you bare to his scrutiny.

Heat. So much heat.

Sweat was already dripping from your temples, beading at the hollow of your throat. Your thighs were sticky, and you knew that wasn’t sweat. How in the world were you already dripping when he hadn’t even touched you properly?

How powerful was this aphrodisiac?

“Do you need something, princesa?” The innocence lacing his voice was equal parts dangerous.

You faced his empty desk, trying to focus on anything other than his intoxicating scent. “No,” you answered too quickly, too harshly.

Breathlessly.

“Liar,” he uttered. One word alone, but you could feel his disappointment. And dread settled alongside want inside your stomach. He pulled away from you, circling you like a predator taunting his prey, stretching the agonizing moments where the prey already knows it’s dead and there is no way of escaping, but where the predator still plays the game like there’s any chance of surviving it.

“Make no mistake, you will tell me one secret—one truth—tonight,” he stated, his voice so heavy with certainty that your stomach churned in response. “It is up to you to choose if you will share it willingly or not.”

Pictures of tortured, limbless bodies flashed before your eyes. Secret, and not-so-secret, documents that you had had access to showing all the horrors the Donquixotes were capable of. Were you to be subjected to the same torture, too? Would he call Law to surgically extract information out of you until you were begging them for your death?

Had they not granted you protection? Would they be capable of hurting you themselves?

“Come here,” Doflamingo demanded, chasing away your thoughts. You turned slowly and found him spread-legged on the chaise, one arm hanging on the back of it, his other hand patting his thigh in a sinful invitation.

Your breath caught in your throat. Even if you wanted to run away from him, you couldn’t; you were burning. Liquid fire was spreading through your veins, consuming everything in its path. You knew only one way to smother these flames, and he was beckoning you to him.

So you went.

Each step made you more aware of your body, and each move made your arousal ramp up to infinite heights. You could swear Doflamingo could smell the slick dripping between your thighs.

You didn’t care.

When you reached him, you were more than ready to be ravaged. He patted his thigh again, and you turned slightly to the side, aiming to sit properly on his leg, but he tutted at you, a mischievous grin spreading his lips.

“Not like that, querida,” he admonished. No more explanation was necessary. You turned to him, supporting your hands on his broad shoulders and straddling him, your knees sinking slightly on the velvety plushness of the chaise. You didn’t sink onto his lap, though, opting to hover over him, even though you wanted nothing more than to grind yourself against him for some sort of relief. He was still wearing his slacks, and you were feeling self-conscious about ruining them with your arousal.

He tutted again, placing his hand on your hip and applying pressure. You sank right into the hardness of his cock.

You closed your eyes, rolling them back as a shiver of pleasure coursed through your body when your clit came into contact with the rough fabric underneath you. This time, you actually drew blood while holding back a pathetic whimper of need.

Your hands slithered down to Doflamingo’s chest, feeling the tautness of his muscles coiling as he rolled you shamelessly against him. God, God, God! The amount of need and want building within you was insane.

With your eyes still closed, you felt the rumble of his chuckle in his chest before he let it out through his lips.

“You are so needy, princesa. Ruining my pants, gripping me so tightly but still trying to hold back those pretty noises,” he murmured, moving his mouth along the frantic pulse of your neck. The hand on the back of the chaise moved to grip your jaw, cupping it tightly. “Eyes,” he commanded.

You reluctantly opened them, knowing they would give away the turmoil of incessant desire building inside you. He pressed on your hip, forcing your core to grind harder against his clothed length. Your clit throbbed, and you moved your hips along to get more and more friction. Your legs trembled, your breath shook, and your nails sank relentlessly into expensive fabric.

Doflamingo held your eyes behind tinted lenses, and you knew you were about to shatter.

One more grind, just one more, perfect grind, and you would—

The strength he applied to your hip forced you to stop your motions, and this time, no force in heaven or hell could contain the frustrated whimper that parted your lips.

“Who are you running from?” Doflamingo asked. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he swiped it against your lips, collecting the little drops of blood you had drawn earlier and sending another wave of heat to your center.

You arched your back in response, your nipples grazing the fabric of his shirt as he still held your hips, keeping you from moving them.

“What do you know?” He fired another question, his lips brushing against yours while you panted, sweat drenching your body as you were held right on the brink.

“Nothing?” Doflamingo let out a dark chuckle. “I’ve got all night, cariño.” He let go of your jaw, slithering his hand between your thighs, circling your entrance—teasing you. “Dripping wet. So ready to be taken. I can give you the relief you seek if you give me one truth. Just one.”

Your lips remained sealed. You couldn’t tell him. You had no idea how long you were going to be able to hold on to your truths—your secrets—but you couldn’t let them know what you knew. If the secret got out, then the people after you would know where you were and who you were with. And even though the Donquixotes were devils, there were monsters far more evil than they.

“I admire your resolve, I really do. Let’s see how long you last,” he said, his words sounding more like a threat than a warning. His fingers moved, and he inserted two inside you with a curling motion.

You held back the ungodly moan ready to escape your lips but couldn’t control the shaky huff that flared your nostrils. Your nails sank so hard into his chest that he hissed, his grin turning feral as he bucked his hips up unwillingly.

Then it hit you. This was torture for him as well; he had taken a sip of the aphrodisiac.

No, no, it couldn’t be. Just a sip shouldn’t take his control away like that. But that meant that he was having a hard time controlling his lust simply because of how much he desired you.

That thought didn’t have time to linger in your mind as Doflamingo withdrew his fingers from you just as you were about to come. A groan left you, and you trapped an expletive behind your teeth before he used one hand to grip your wrists together behind your back.

“You will tell me what I want to know. It’s just a matter of time, or how much of this you can take,” he mumbled against the hollow of your throat. He was still holding your hips in place, but he pulled on your wrists, making you arch your back further, and started to lick his way down your sternum.

When his mouth touched your breast, heat curled in your belly, the coil tightening further as you tried to control your panting. And then, achingly slowly, he circled around your nipple with his hot tongue, never truly touching its hardness, leaving you desperately lacking, pulsing with need.

Every inch of you was throbbing, shaking with desire. Your skin felt so sensitive that it was like you were burning from the inside out. And the fire only kept spreading further, burning brighter and hotter with nothing to stop it.

“It’s only words, princesa, no outside harm will come to you. I told you that you’re safe with us,” he assured you, licking his way to the other nipple without truly touching it.

Only words. God, yes. Only words. You could say it. And then he would end this maddening torture. You could…

But you wouldn’t.

His mouth returned to your ear, hot breath tickling your skin, sending a wave of dizziness into your head. “Do you realize just how easily I could make you come?” Your swollen clit throbbed with his empty promise. “One flick of my wrist and you’d be unraveling and writhing in my lap.” Your nipples tightened so hard they ached. “You’re so sensitive right now, cariño, that one brush of my finger would shatter you.”

He was right, oh, he was so right. And your achingly empty cunt protested when he didn’t do any of the things he was promising.

“Fucking admirable,” he exclaimed.

Then he let go of your hips and your wrists, leaning back against the chaise and observing you. You wobbled without the support of his hands and instinctively clenched your legs around him to hold steady. Without his hands to hold you back, you arched, ready to roll your hips and grind him to completion.

“Don’t you dare.” It was a command. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t even alter his tone, but the whisper forced you to obey all the same. So you didn’t move. And the pain of emptiness echoed in your atoms.

“Please…” you whispered against your better judgement. His eyebrow shot up, followed by the corner of his lips.

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” This was his leniency. His reprieve. Him hoisting his white flag while you pondered the pros and cons of giving up the information you held, the only bargaining chip you possessed, and, quite frankly, the unleashing of a death threat over your head the minute you shared it.

It wasn’t worth a few seconds of pleasure.

“Very well, then. Brace yourself,” he stated while his grin widened to unhinged lengths.

And then it was all a blur. Time passed. Sometimes slowly, other times maddeningly fast. Seconds, minutes, hours… you had no idea. It all blended as you were held in a limbo of ecstasy and torture.

Doflamingo kept edging you, leading you to the brink of climax over and over again. So many times you’d lost count. You were a mess of sweat, slick, tears, and drool. You were no longer shaking but rather quaking. Each taunt, each touch, each lick or brush of lips made you dizzy, your body thrumming and aching for him. Needing him. Desiring him. Lusting him.

It was madness.

You’d lost control of your moans a while back, your throat aching and raw after trying to contain them. You were sure some of your nails had cracked with how hard you dug them into his skin and the chaise. Your hair was so damp with sweat that it stuck to your scalp, and your feverish skin was scalding hot.

Somewhere along the line, Doflamingo had gotten rid of his sweat-soaked shirt, his spectacular torso glistening with sweat, too. His glasses lay forgotten somewhere over his desk, and his eyes, heaven forbid, glinted with madness and amusement.

You had no strength left. Nothing more to give, yet at the same time, you still held everything inside.

He had you lying on the ruined chaise—there was no way he was keeping it after what your bodily fluids had done to it—panting and holding back frustrated tears. You were shaking, just wishing the torture to end, even if he left you dangling on the edge, he needed to stop. You couldn’t take any more.

But this was Doflamingo. He wasn’t going to stop.

His fingers brushed your core and slipped inside without any resistance, given how wet you were. He curled them up and pressed, and, by God, that nearly sent you soaring. You arched your head back and let out a strangled cry. The loudest noise you’ve made since he started this.

Doflamingo stopped, his face leaning down, red eyes glinting to meet your own. “Are you ready to talk, princesa?” His voice was soft and ragged at the same time, the hours having also taken their toll on him.

No.

Yes.

Maybe.

The world was spinning too fast, the air was reaching your lungs too slowly, and the fire burning in your veins was too consuming.

Stop. He needed to stop. He—

“Teach…” you rasped, your voice sounding miles away; unused, raw, and aching.

You shut your eyes and let another stubborn fear trickle down your cheek. You couldn’t hold on to your secret.

“Ah,” Doflamingo said, making you open your eyes. “I see.” He seemed pensive for a moment, but then his grin returned. He withdrew his fingers from inside you, licking each of them as if he had just finished the greatest meal of his life. You hated how that turned you on even more.

You thought he was done. That he would send you away or leave you there to fend for yourself. Instead, he raised you so you had your back leaning against the chaise and kneeled in front of you.

Your breath caught in your throat—surely you were dreaming. You had blacked out from the incessant torture, and this was the result of it. Because there was no way in hell Donquixote Doflamingo would kneel in front of you.

“I asked for one truth. You delivered. You’ve earned this reward.”

Then, without warning, he spread your thighs and devoured you.

The first lick nearly sent you over the edge. Your head lolled back against the plushness of the chaise, a ragged cry leaving your lips like a prayer, heat searing away at every single inch of your skin, and ache blooming between your legs.

You were going to come.

Hours and hours of stimulation without release were going to make you crash violently and quickly.

Doflamingo was aiming for it.

His long tongue reached places inside you that made you whimper and squirm; the palm of his hand burned imprints into your thighs, spreading you open so he could feast.

You took a sharp breath…

And shattered.

The orgasm hit you like a violent tsunami, wrecking everything in its path. Wave after wave of pleasure numbed your extremities, ignited the fire in your belly, turning your panting into loud moans and soft prayers.

Too much.

Not for him.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t relent. Didn’t let you recover. Doflamingo’s fingers pressed harder into your thighs, holding you in place and bringing you closer to his mouth when you started to writhe away from his ministrations.

You sobbed, a few words dropping from your lips—might’ve been his name, might’ve been gibberish—and he continued.

A second orgasm followed the first without preamble, making your legs shake and convulse, your hips bucking from overstimulation.

And he didn’t stop.

Tears streamed down your face in rivulets, your vision blurred, your throat dry from moaning, gasping, and crying out.

Only when your body lay limp, exhausted, messy, and ruined did he stop. He rose, chin wet from your release, lips spread in a wide smile and glistening like a madman who had found his obsession and was unwilling to let it go.

Your body shivered and twitched involuntarily. All the orgasms he had denied you were being handed to you on a silver, murderous platter.

“We’re not done, princesa,” he rasped, his voice raw from holding back. He seemed like a man who had no patience to see all of his wishes fulfilled, so these hours he played you might’ve also been torture for him.

With a swift movement, he undid his belt, the button, and the zipper of his slacks, throwing them carelessly to the side. You barely had time to register the magnificence of Donquixote Doflamingo’s naked body before he settled between your legs, laying you back on the chaise.

“Your reward, mi querida.”

He lined himself up. And then he thrust.

Your back arched off the chaise, nails raking the ruined fabric as a cry that didn’t seem like your own tore through your throat. Even though you were more than wet, slick everywhere, you still felt the stretch of his cock against your walls.

It was divine and sinful at the same time.

And not enough.

With a deep grunt, Doflamingo grabbed your hips and pulled back. Then he thrust back in with such force it stole the breath from of your lungs. The pace he set after that was relentless.

He leaned forward, brushing his moving chest against yours, the sweat of your bodies colliding, the ungodly slaps of skin on skin making you even more aroused, turning your brain to mush and spiking your pulse to soaring heights.

Doflamingo slithered a hand between your bodies and furiously circled your swollen clit.

You came again.

By all the Gods that are and ever were, you shattered on his cock once more, just when you thought you had nothing left to give.

“Still not done,” he snarled, thrusting faster and harder, curling your legs and holding you by the knees as he pounded relentlessly. The chaise groaned and protested beneath you, and your cries and moans blurred into an unending crescendo.

He kept going, even as you lay spent, no control whatsoever over your spasming body. It twitched and trembled, shaking under his ministrations as he kept making you come. One orgasm building into another until you were nothing more than sensation and overstimulation.

Black dots floated in your vision, and your voice turned hoarse. You knew you were about to pass out.

But so did he.

With two more thrusts, he stilled inside you, coming with a deep, guttural growl as beads of sweat cascaded down his forehead and temple, gathering on his chin and dripping over your body.

For a moment, everything stilled except your ragged breaths. He held your gaze, and in your delirious state, you found something other than his usual madness.

It was warmth.

And then everything went dark.

-*-

You turned to the side and moaned in pain. Everything hurt. Every muscle, every limb, every bone in your body was screaming.

But there was warmth and softness all around you.

You slowly opened your eyes, finding that you were in a bed. Not Cora’s. Definitely not Doflamingo’s. The room felt impersonal, with its cream and white tones, pillows, a vanity, and a closet. Could this be the room Doflamingo told you about? Your room?

Doflamingo…

You shifted slowly, and the soreness between your legs made your heart rate climb. You swallowed, and your throat felt raw and bruised. Flashes of what had happened ran through your mind like a movie—an R-rated, filthy movie—and heat crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks.

You had never felt torture like the one Doflamingo inflicted upon you, but you had never felt that kind of pleasure either. With a soft groan, you buried your face in the pillow, trying to shy away from all the feelings and emotions creeping up on you.

Especially how you had caved and the implications that would bring.

That’s when you noticed the softness of the sheets, the sweet lavender scent coming from them and from you, like you’d been bathed and—one quick look down—dressed.

You sat up and swallowed a whimper from the strain. You were wearing a silk nightgown, deep red, short, and with a slit on the side that went up your thighs. Had Doflamingo dressed you? Bathed you? Cleaned you up?

Impossible.

He didn’t seem like a man who would do that. Doflamingo wasn’t soft or warm with anybody. He must’ve called Cora to do it. You ignored the little voice of reason telling you that Cora would’ve never left your side had it been him, and instead looked around.

The closet’s doors were left slightly ajar, and you could see rows of feminine clothes inside, as well as shoes lined up neatly on the floor. So this really was meant to be your room.

On the nightstand, there was a small tray with a covered glass of water, two pills—you assumed to be painkillers—and some food.

Your heart twisted strangely at the kindness, while your head still denied that this could be Doflamingo’s doing. With a soft shake of your head, you swallowed the pills with the water, tried to have a few bites of food, and, looking outside the window, realized it was still the middle of the night, so you settled down to rest some more.

You held your eyes open, gazing at the pillow next to you until they burned and started to water. Then you blinked and repeated the process. Your heartbeat ramped up to impossible heights as something like warmth bloomed in your chest.

The soft pillow next to yours was rumpled and creased, almost like someone had been lying there.

Like someone had stayed for a while.

Watching you.

-*-

Law stepped inside Doflamingo’s office with a scowl on his lips, as usual. He noticed the absence of the chaise in the corner, saw the smirk on Doflamingo’s face—promptly ignored it—and sat down on the chair facing the desk, crossing his legs.

“Great timing for your return, Law,” Doflamingo drawled, twirling a red wine glass by the stem with his thumb and forefinger.

“Is it? Because I would rather be elsewhere. I was looking forward to some R&R.”

“Rest and relaxation?” Cora asked from the corner. He was sitting near the open window, smoking, his face heavy.

Law smirked. “Not really. More like ‘ruin and repentance’. I’ve brought Caesar back, and I want to know why the Green Bit deal went to shit. I do the ruining, and they always repent near the end.”

Cora shook his head and sighed heavily while Doffy laughed behind his desk.

“Why are we all gathered here?” Law asked, cutting to the chase, his patience wearing thin.

“I got a name. Our esteemed guest told me who she’s running away from,” Doflamingo said, pausing dramatically for reactions that never came. “Teach.”

Law straightened in his chair, and Cora rose and started pacing the room, his cigarette forgotten in the ashtray.

“Marshall D. Teach? From the Blackbeard family?” Law asked, and Doffy nodded. “He’s after her?” Another nod. “Why?”

“Don’t know. I asked her for one truth and, frankly, she was too tired to give me more after that,” he drawled, amusement dripping with every word.

“Too tired?” Cora interjected, stopping next to Doflamingo and glaring at him.

“Oh, yes. Hours of careful interrogation. She was a very hard nut to crack.” The unhinged grin on his face widened, and Law knew without a shadow of a doubt that Doflamingo’s interrogation was nothing like the ones he liked to perform.

“Hours of torture, Doffy! I saw you carrying her out of here. She was out cold.” It had been a while since Law had heard this level of anger in Cora’s voice. Interesting.

“Torture?” Doflamingo laughed, setting the glass of wine down on the desk. “Hardly! It’s not torture when you're rewarded with orgasms. It’s foreplay. And I was very generous.”

Cora was seething. He started pacing again, his hands clenched into fists.

“She’s still recovering from what you did!”

“It means I did my job well, brother.” Doflamingo’s smirk turned into a frown, his voice turning low and dangerous, a clear indicator that he was done explaining himself, even to his brother.

“How can you—”

“I’ll get the rest of the information out of her,” Law said, interrupting Cora. Both brothers stared at him. Doffy with a hint of amusement, Cora with unfiltered anger. “If she’s sitting on information that might be important to us, we need to act. If Teach finds out where she’s hiding, we’ll become his next target.”

Not that he was afraid. The Blackbeards were a powerful family, with money, power, and many allies. The numbers they had were the only thing mildly alarming. What Law didn’t like was to be kept in the dark. He liked to know all the variables to a problem so he could formulate plans to succeed.

“I am not going to let you subject her to your kind of torture, Law. Not on my watch.” Cora’s stern warning made him clench his jaw. Law was no longer a child. Cora had no right to admonish him like that.

“This is important, Cora. You don’t get to play protector if she’s putting us all in danger. This is about the family’s safety.”

“She is under the family’s protection! She is part of us, whether or not it’s inconvenient for you, Law,” Cora asserted, towering over Law’s sitting form. Doflamingo watched them both with interest and renewed amusement.

Law’s jaw clenched. “Doffy only got half the truth. Half the truth could get us all killed. You want that to happen just so you can get your dick wet, Cora?”

Cora hummed in disappointment, shaking his head. “Don’t disrespect me, Law.”

A pang of uneasiness reverberated in Law’s chest before he brushed it away.

“I’m not. I’m just reminding you not to let your feelings get in the way of the family’s safety. She’s not worth it.”

“She’s worth every bit of it,” Cora spat, his eyes glinting with certainty.

Silence lingered in the air like a thick fog, the tension humming so loudly it was palpable.

Doflamingo got up, placing his palms on the desk and drawing their attention to him. “I will not have a woman sow dissent in this family. You can argue, and you can disagree. But you are family. She is not.”

Cora opened his mouth to protest, but Doflamingo’s glare made him swallow his words.

“However, she is under our protection, and we now know Teach is after her. We will look into his family and see what we can find. After she rests and regains her strength, we’ll speak to her. No torture,” he said, turning his eyes to Law. “No coddling,” he finished by locking eyes with his brother. “We will speak like four adults and get to the bottom of this.”

Doflamingo held their eyes for a moment before settling back on his chair and picking his wine glass up.

Cora’s gaze returned to the window and to the cigarette that had burned to the filter, smoking itself into nonexistence in the ashtray.

Law uncrossed his legs and leaned on his elbows, a pensive look on his face.

“Teach won’t wait for us to have a civil conversation like adults,” Law pointed out. “If—when—he finds out she’s here, and if what she’s hiding is as important as I suspect it to be, he’ll bring war to our doorstep.”

Doflamingo looked at Law over his tinted sunglasses, his characteristic grin returning with a low rumble of his chuckle. “Let. Him. Come.”

Cora sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor as the air shifted around the room with an unspoken understanding. You were under their protection. They would not break that promise.

Even if it meant risking war between two of the most dangerous families in the city.

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lunamoonbby · 14 days ago

Text

Intended

Part One - The Proposal

Call of Duty Medieval AU Knight!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Princess!Reader

With tired feet threatening to drag with every step he takes across the stone floors, feeling as heavy as the considerable armour he dons from head to toe, he pushes the immense doors open and steps into the room, dreading that he knows already what is to occur beyond these walls.

Though not a scholar by any means, and with one too many blows to the head throughout his years of combat, he remains far from a stupid man, wise enough to know what he is about to walk into, why the had King insisted that he cut his morning hunt short, a request the gluttonous man rarely makes, and present himself before the royal at once.

The young man had hoped to avoid this day if only for just a short while longer, to delay the inevitable conclusion he was walking towards at this very moment, but alas, the Gods had a different fate in mind for him it seemed.

To think, how different life has already become since the Queen’s passing no more than a fortnight ago, a sudden pain in her chest having worsened overnight until the bells in the steeple were announcing her demise for all the kingdom to hear.

With the customary period of grieving scarcely come and gone, her subjects were still mourning the loss of the singular person capable of keeping the King in line, all while the now widowed man was already itching for change.

“Took you long enough.” The King was to be found where he was always sure to be, at the head of the table decorated in a lavish feast, now only to enjoyed by one. He’d at least had the decency to wipe the remaining ale from his lips before addressing his most trusted knight, a few persistent droplets clinging to the scruff around his mouth.

Still clad in his bloodstained armour, for a short hunt did not necessarily equate an unsuccessful hunt, the Knight’s prizes were being dragged into the kitchens as they spoke, leaving blood stained trails in their wake. He stepped purposefully further into the grand room, his every step intentional until he was near enough to his King to detect the subtle sway in the way the older man held his cup.

The man was drunk, as he had been for a very long time now, though not yet appearing belligerently so.

In spite of his heavy armour and chain mail underneath, Ghost moved as silently as his name might suggest as he moved to kneel before his highness, lowering his gaze to the expensively tiled floor beneath him, one he’d come to know with great familiarity after nearly two decades under the man’s service.

“Enough of tha’. Stand up, boy.” The King’s booming voice echoed through the room, commanding his knight to rise. “What’d you bring me back today, hm?”

“Snagged a pair o’ deer up by the creek. Dozen or so hares. Few birds.” Ghost’s low timbre reached the man’s ears at the same time as his cup reached his lips again. He need not know about the boar he and his men had nearly caught before they were summoned back to the castle, what the man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Good, good. A more than adequate prize, considering. Very good. You never fail to succeed, do you Ghost?”

“Sir.” Was the only reply he would offer, along with a curt nod, never one to bask in the man’s praise.

“Haven’t called you here to discuss game, however.” The greying man clarified, glancing around to his handful of servants in waiting, stood silently in the shadows of the room, prepared to answer to their King’s beck and call. “Leave us.” He instructed, not needing to repeat himself before every soul was scattering this way and that, all too eager to be out of the man’s sight, though a few were certain to be found with ears pressed up against key holes in hopes of eavesdropping.

“I will keep this short, not interested in formalities these days.” the man began, grunting as he struggled to stand from his seat, swaying slightly in place until he was near enough to the knight to see his reflection in his armour. “Twenty-five years is entirely too long to have kept her sheltered the way her mother did. Ridiculous. As if keeping one hidden away would bring the others back. Senile woman. Should have done this ages ago. Long overdue. Owe every grey hair on me to that wench.”

Ghost allowed to man to ramble on, mumbling between sentences as though he could not decide whether he was speaking to himself or the only other soul in the room. Ghost remained steadfast in his place as he listened to the man go on, eyes silently taking him in. It was hard to believe sometimes, that this was the same man, the supposed King, who had over two decades ago slain each and every member of his family, sparing only the young boy he once was, bringing him back to the kingdom to be raised into the fearsome Knight they now called Ghost, only to repay the debt of having spared him his life. Never once had Ghost looked up to the fat man before him, not during his tainted childhood, and certainly not now as a man twice his size, serving him bravely throughout the years as he always has, though forever carrying a flame of hatred for his heighness.

“Her mother is gone now, gone, rest her soul. I need her gone, as well. Taken care of. No longer my burden, if you understand.” The King continued, finally slowing in his speech to glance up at the Knight for he stood easily over a foot taller than most men in the court.

“Are you askin’ me to kill her, sir?” Ghost inquired, without a hint of emotion in his tone. He was all too aware as to the her they were referring to.

“Worse.” The King clarified before taking another swig of his drink, his teeth coloured a deep red when he opened his mouth again to bear a snarky grin at the younger man. “I’m askin’ you to marry her.”

With a steadying breath, you dared to inch yourself closer yet, ignoring the tumultuous feeling in your stomach as the toes of your shoes dragged any loose hay along the floorboards with you. Your fingers clutched the at the fabric of your skirts, keeping them lifted enough as to not trip and fall too soon. Perhaps the impact would not be as painful as you were imagining, perhaps the fall would be the most frightening part of it all, a mere few seconds of wind rushing past your ears until it was all over, your woes solved for all eternity. Let them think what they might, say what they please, it would be of no matter to you in the end, nothing more than a stain on the cobblestones below when it was all said and done.

“What in the- what do ye think yer doin’ up there m’lady? ‘Ave ye gone mad?” A familiar accent called from the ground, the annoyance in his voice clear as day.

“Is it not evident, Mr MacTavish? That I am in the midst of ending my suffering once and for all.” You declared with your chin held high, refusing to meet his eyes as you attempted again to convince yourself to go through with this, to remember that this would be the lesser of two evils, the solution to a problem you could not otherwise solve.

“Come again?”

“I clearly intend to kill myself, MacTavish.”

“Not if yer intention involves jumping from there, m’lady.” The handsome stable hand clarified from the ground.

“I beg your pardon?” Only now glancing down at the man stood a mere few yards away, hearing his grunt of effort as he threw down the sack of grains he’d been carrying over one shoulder, his piercing azure eyes squinting to decipher your form through the low light of the torch flames.

“S’not high enough, ma’am. You’ll twist yer ankle at best, but yer certainly not going to kill yer self from that height. Sorry to disappoint ye.”

“Oh. Well- are you certain?”

“Positive. I myself jump down from there often, an’ I’m afraid I’m still standin’. Ye did not want to go any higher than that, did ye?” He questioned, stepping slowly closer with every word he spoke.

“Well, I am still a tad afraid of heights, you see.” You admitted, pinching the fabric of your sleeves in worry.

“Aye, I remember well. I’ve rescued enough of yer kites over the years, m’lady.” He agreed all too nonchalantly, not a trace of panic to be found in his voice, only mild irritation at the inconvenience you were creating for him.

“I see- uh- this doesn’t change my intentions! I will- I will find another way.”

“Of course, of course. Did ye want a rope perhaps? Seems like a fine night for a hanging, if ye prefer.”

“Gods no.” You rejected the idea outright, having witnessed one too many public hangings to know that the men’s limbs kicked and thrashed too much for your liking, fighting for life far longer than you’d prefer to experience yourself.

“Agreed. Perhaps we could fill a pail with water and ye could drown yerself. Nah, on second thought, ye deserve something quicker. A beheading might do the trick, though if yer aim was to remain subtle that one might be a touch too-

“Oh, forget it!” You exclaimed, stepping back from the edge of the barn’s second storey, all but huffing as you made your way down the rickety ladder, careful not to trip over your skirts in the process, though uncaring for how dirty or ripped they might become. None of it mattered anymore, carried the same importance as it might have only a moon ago, not when your mother was gone, the only person left in your family who loved you for who you were, the only one who stood up for you against your father.

“Now, don’t suppose ye’d want to tell me what this is all about then?” He asked soon as your two feet were safe on the ground again, reaching across to pull a strand of hay from your hair.

“Do not stand here and treat me as though I were a fool, pretending as though you haven’t heard.” You bit back at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I would imagine the deaf are the only few who have not heard the news at this point.”

“Ye always have had a way with words, haven’t ye m’lady?”

“John…”

“Apologies. Only tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He answered somewhat sheepishly, at least pretending to appear remorseful for his teasing. “Though I suppose it is a rather improper time to jest.”

“An excellent deduction.” You snapped, though the soft look in his eyes already had your cold exterior melting, unable to keep the facade up around him. “John- what am I to do? This- this all feels like a terrible dream.”

“Nothing is set in stone yet, m’lady. There has been no official announcem-”

“There will be no announcement! No engagement! They will shove me into a wedding dress and stick me at the altar as though I were a child’s doll and that is how the world will find out! You know how my father is, he will see to that this happens as quickly as possible.” You couldn’t help but to whine, unable to grapple with the idea that your worst dreams were coming true, that the day you’d been dreading since you were a little girl was finally coming to fruition.

With nothing to be said, John opened his arms in invitation, not a word needed as you stepped into his embrace and allowed his embrace to be the first comfort you experienced in a long time.

“What shall we do, John? How do you imagine we stop this from happening?” You spoke into his chemise, the smell of wood and dirt and sweat emanating off of him a familiar and safe aroma during such a tumultuous time.

“Ach, I dinna ken, m’lady.” He replied, leaning his cheek against the top of your head as his hands soothed up and down your back.

“There must be something that can be done. We simply have to think. Perhaps we could-”

“M’lady.” John interrupted apologetically, the look on his face when he pulled back was a pained one, a regretful expression you did not often see from the bold, confident man you’d come to know over the years. “M’afraid there’s nothing to be done this time, other than grin and bear it.”

“You’re speaking as though this is certain to happen!” You gasped, pulling back from his embrace, upset by the way he was unwilling to fight for you and your freedom as you were.

“And yer speaking as though ye have a say in any of it.” He countered. “What exactly do ye predict will happen to ye if you refuse your father, hm? What do ye think he’ll do to ye? Send ye away something far away if we’re lucky. Say he did so and jus’ throw ye down in the dungeons instead?”

You stared down at the ground as you toed a clump of dirt, the truth in his words not anything new to you, though hearing it from him didn’t lessen the sting or soften the impact.

“Now I pray every mornin’ and every night that yer mam’s soul rests in peace, Gods bless her. But she isn’t here anymore, m’lady. She can’t protect ye from this any longer. M’afraid I can’t protect ye from this, either. Oh, please no- do not cry, m’lady. Cannot bear to see ye cry.”

John quickly stepped forward and closed the gap between you both again, pulling you back into him as your tears threatened to spill over, the frustration and anger and sadness and helplessness and fear catching up to you all at once as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that this would be your new reality, whether you liked it or not.

For better or worse, as they say.

The stars had shifted outside, the darkness growing deeper as he hours changed and sand fell through the glass. John had calmed you down some, as he always seemed to be able to do, and had you both now sitting semi-comfortably together in the corner of the barn, seated on bales of hay and safe from any prying eyes. This had always been your little corner, a spot solely for the two of you, ever since John had begun working in the stables and caught your eye.

“John,” you whispered to him, though there was no one near, the words you were about to speak feeling too sacred to be said too loud. “I am frightened.”

“Aye, I dinna blame ye.” He replied, tightening his hold around your shoulders as you leaned further into his touch. “Cannot imagine being in your shoes.”

“He will kill me.”

“Nah, yer father will not lay a finger on ye m’lady. Not if you do as he wishes.”

“No, not him.” You clarified, shaking your head as you pictured a pair of dark eyes peering through the small slits of a Knights helm. “The Ghost.”

“Oh. Him.” Was the only reply John could manage, staring off into the distance with you as you both appeared to imagine the man in question. “I dinna believe he’ll hurt you, m’lady.”

“You know as well as I do the things he has done. He is cold, ruthless. Not a single one of his enemies has survived him.”

“Well, you will have to ensure you do not become his enemy in that case.” He tried to tease, though the smile never quite reached his eyes as he said it.

“John.” You spoke again, turning to meet his gaze as you took a steadying breath, not failing to notice the way his eyes dropped to your bosom for a fleeting second as your chest rose and fell. “I want you to take me.”

“M’lady, they would kill us both if we tried to run anyw-”

“No, no.” You interrupted him, correcting his misunderstanding. “Not take me as in flee. I- I want you to take me, John. To bed.”

“Oh. Oh.” John replied, his cheeks reddening to a deep crimson as he scratched the back of his neck, eyes scanning your face. “M’lady, you know I could not.”

“I will not have that monster be the first person to touch me, John. I want it to be you, after all.”

“Bonnie,” the pet name he used for you on rare occasions slipping out as you cupped his cheek with a warm hand, trying to convey the severity of your words to him. “Ye do not know how I long for ye. How much I wish I could be the one to feel ye, to show ye what pleasure can be found in another’s touch.”

Whether by gravity or coincidence, you knew you were both inching closer to one another, hot breaths beginning to fan across the other’s cheeks with every word said between you.

“Then please John, take me. Have me. I am yours.”

He plucked your hand from his cheek with both of his, bringing your palm up to his chapped lips for a kiss as he shut his eyes, as though he were in pain doing so.

“M’lady, ye know well as I do that we could never. The risks far outweigh anything else, I fear. Ye cannot imagine how it pains me to say so, for I do want ye. I need ye.” He registered, tightening his hold on your hand as he pressed it against his chemise where you could feel his heart beating beneath. “But I’ve always known that I can never have ye.”

Though his answer was expected, the disappointment was still poignant, an ache settling deep in the cavities of your heart as you nodded, avoiding his gaze.

“I can-” he added, reaching a single finger up under your chin to tilt your eyes back up to his. “Give ye this, however.”

That was the night John MacTavish gave you what you’d always dreamt he would, your very first kiss, tucked safely together in the back of that barn without a soul around to judge you, to sell you out, to report back to your father and ruin you.

If only life could have ended there, with his lips on yours, his arms around you and yours around him, hearts pressed together as they beat as one.

But alas, fate had other plans in store. And though you had never feared goblins or ghouls as a young girl, had never worried about the shadows under your bed or shapes in your wardrobe, you found yourself now with a growing fear of ghosts. Or at least, the Ghost.

Taglist: @lunamoonbby @connnn @backgroundgirl887 @iminlovewithjasontodd @zendariii @aminitacarrow @pookiei-bookie @kotterisanna

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lunamoonbby · 26 days ago

Text

Kid x reader

Part.2/??

Pt.1

@lunamoonbby

Tags/warnings: foul language, gore?(not really just wounds)

An: I think now’s the time to say that this is indeed a slow-burn because I am a painfully detail oriented person who need to explain every little feeling and detail in a story😔 anyways enjoy pookies

You had been on the ship for around 2 days now. On top of talking with Heat much more about nothing in particular, you’d also gotten more acquainted with Killer and the bdsm fella that had yanked you off of Heat when you first saw him. Killer actually mentioned to you that he was the ships vice-captain, cook, and doctor, so he was quite pleased that he’d was going to be relieved of his doctor role for a while. And the fishnet guys name was Wire, and actually a really good friend of Heats. He was quiet, but he talked here and there, you just had to really listen for it. The combination of how tall he was and how soft he spoke had the knack of pissing you off because you could never hear him, so you just pretend he was mute to ease your mind.

The captain, which you learned from Killer that his name was Kid, gave you a shitty room. Shitty was actually hyping it up a little too much. You were given a mattress so obviously pulled from an unused crew mates lodging room and stuck in a storage part of the ship. You were surrounded by barrels and you had to duck when you got up from the bed, and your only light source was a small candle you were given. Like what the fuck, his name was hella fitting because he sure as hell acted like a child

…

You were on the bowsprit at the front of the ship, or rather, on the skull of the dinosaur fossil that took the place of the bowsprit. It kinda blew your mind how un-aerodynamic this ship is. You’d been on many ships in your lifetime, hell that was your main form of transportation, just hitching rides from random sailors and nice pirates. It didn’t always end well but that was the beauty of it, not knowing if you’d make it out alive or if you were stuck on a ship with a cannibal or something, which you remembered, actually fucking happened to you. As crazy as all of it was, you wouldn’t take a second of it back. As painful as it was to leave Heat and your small little town, which was all you knew at the time, it was truly the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. Even with all the bar fights, all the creepy old men, and every near-death experience, you’d still wish to remember it all even on your deathbed, every single moment.

Your little radio was strapped onto your belt loops, playing your little cassette tape, your favorite one. It was your mix tape, one you didn't buy in a store because it was your favorite band or had a mix of songs you liked on it. This was the mixtape you took out every time you wandered upon a nice person who happened to sing or own an instrument. None of the songs were perfect but they held memories of every encounter you had that was most likely pleasant, any time you'd met with a musically inclined person it never failed to blossom into a beautiful night.

A muffled song had ended, with a little bit of laughter and chit chat from you and the woman who sang, and the next track began to play. It wasn't necessarily your favorite song, but it was sung by your favorite person you'd met so far. It was an older man, and he had deep red hair and sailed as the captain of a crew full of awesome people. He had let you hitch a ride on his ship and it stands as one of your favorite trips ever. You drank all night and day, and it was good alcohol, not shitty sake…and he was a fair and honest man who treated his crew like family. He had one arm but he acted like it wasn't even a problem, it hindered him in no way shape, or form. He told the best stories and made you laugh and gave you an actually decent room, basically a royal suite compared to whatever you had now. You'd actually fallen in love with him a bit, but you reckoned that was just your nature, you loved everything, good or bad so you just kinda brushed it off. Untill he kinda sorta confessed, but that was the day you were supposed to leave, the day he had to drop you off. You already got over your little crush but hearing him say he loved you and wished you well meant a lot to you. He didn't try and hold you back or guilt you into staying, just gave you a sweet farewell and a cold beer before you left.

You tapped your toe gently to the muted guitar and makeshift drums in the background, humming with the rhythm and singing along with his drunken voice through the crackly speakers. “Goodbye horsesss,” you mumble out in a state of focus as you hop down from the skull and begin to root around in your bag to assess what clean clothes you had left. You sing for a little bit, the voices of his crew chiming in here and there, making you laugh out a bit as you looked in your bag. You remember this part of the song specifically because he’d taken the liberty of yanking you out of your seat and swooning you around. Yours and his laughter mixed together while he sang lazily and his crews laughter and singing mixed in with the drums and guitar. They were a big reminder on why you still traveled.

You hear large footsteps approaching you, it wasn't a kid, these weren't angry, but they were still familiar. You look up as a big shadow is cast on you, Killer. He stood over you, his stance a bit awkward. Killer wasn't intimidating to you, he was just kinda there. “You uh, you mind helping me out here?” he says before turning his back to you to show a big gash between his shoulder blades, his shirt all ripped up in the back. “What the fuck?? I mean, uh yeah I'll help you but damn man, what the hell..” you internally sigh, you hoped this was a one-time thing. I mean yeah you were ordered to be the ship's doctor but you didn't think stuff would happen that you had to deal with, I mean for fucks' sake you were out in the middle of the ocean, there's only so much a person could do to themselves while on a ship, right?

Killer introduced you to the ‘med bay’, which was quite nice to your surprise. It was a fairly large room stacked with a good amount of medicine and bandages and other amenities. The room was oddly organized and well kept for a crew of basically all men aside from a few women, you just figured they used it often. “So you're the full-time doctor eh? How's that? It's got to be a pretty grueling job on a crew of men as reckless as your captain,” you said with an off tone. It was clear you were biting your younger about the red-headed man-child. He shrugs, well, somewhat, he flinched and stopped halfway through with the movement. “I mean not really, most of the guys are too prideful to ask for help, they're here only if they're dying really,” he says casually. You scoff, surveying the room for bandages and ointment. “Take your shirt off,” you say as you find what you're looking for. He does just that, throwing the pile of scraps on the ground. He hopped up on the large cushioned medical counter, making him much much taller than you, even more than he already was. You just sighed and hopped up on the counter with him and stood up behind him, giving you the perfect angle for patching him up. “So is there a pack of wild hyenas running around on the ship that I need to keep an eye out for?” you ask Killer, stifling a laugh at your own joke. “No,” he responds bluntly. “I accidentally got caught in the crossfire of Captains metal while he was target practicing,” he said as if that was the most normal thing in the world. “This is gonna sting,” you warn him just before you clean his big wound with a little alcohol on a small cotton pad. He didn’t even flinch that much, which surprised you. You continued to clean him up and talk to him. “So by metal, what do you mean?” You ask him, disinfecting his final wound. “Was he throwing knives? And if so did you get hit by the first a figure a few more would do the trick??” You ask sarcastically as you toss the bloodied alcohol pads into the little trash bin. He audibly sighed, like a sigh where you just desperately want the person you’re talking to shut the fuck up, he clearly didn’t find you as funny as you found yourself. “No, Captain has devil fruit powers, he controls metal and magnetic fields,” he says blankly. “Ohhh, so that explains the whole arm thing then,” you say piecing the puzzle together. His arm looked like a jumbled up piece of scrap metal, you had no idea how it functioned or how it was even held together, but now it made sense.

You applied the ointment gently to his wounds, earning a small quick inhale from him when you pressed a bit too harshly on one of his wounds. “I know, I’m sorry man I’m doing my best here,” you say apologetically as you go to put ointment on another wound. A comfortable silence fills the room, but only for a second, you couldn’t stand the quietness. “So what’s with the whole mask shebang?” You ask out of nowhere. He just stays quiet, paying you no attention. “Are you like severely disfigured? If so I think that’s a stupid reason to wear a mask.” You say bluntly. You hear his breath shallow a bit, and he shifted uncomfortably before speaking. “So what’s if I am,” he said defensively, “it’s none of your business,” he said sternly. “So…you are disfigured…” he grunts out in annoyance. “No, just ugly, but same difference,” he says as if he’s reciting a known fact. Without hesitation you harshly smack the back of his helmet, but you had a firm grip on his shoulder so his back wouldn’t tense or move. He grunts out in surprise and turns to look at you through the mask, “The hell was that for,” he asks in an angry tone. “When people talk about themselves like that it pisses me off,” you say harshly as you begin to bandage his wounds up with gauze. “You think how you look affects your life and shit,” you say angrily. Not at Killer, or people who think like him. I mean sure how he thought about himself pissed you off, but clearly he was just conditioned to feel this way about himself. You hadn’t seen his face but you knew he wasn’t ugly. He was kind and quiet, a bit blunt at times but that’s was okay, you were too. Looks had nothing to do with beauty, so why was everyone obsessed with their appearance??

“It does affect my life asshole,” he says in a frustrated tone. “Wrong,” you say immediately shutting him down as you reach around to grab the gauze you were wrapping his body with. “The people who think you’re ugly affect your life, and that’s only because you listen to them,” he seemed to un-tense his muscles, going quiet and not responding. “Beauty ends where judgment begins,” you say, kind of cringing at yourself as you tie up the last strap of gauze. “Sorry, you seem like a smart guy so I tried to be poetic with it, it’s was just embarrassing though,” you hopped down from the table and tossed all of the packages and dirtied swabs. Killer just stood up, and headed for the door, “You’re too good to be on this ship,” he muttered out, not breaking his stride as he exited the room. You just sighed and walked out of the room too. You were about to close the door when another crew member walked up to you. He was just a little bit taller than you and had an embarrassed demeanor to him. He stood in-front of you, both of you standing in silence for a second before he spoke up. “You’re a doctor right?” He asked as he lifted up his hand, that was burned pretty badly. You sighed out and opened the door again, “Yeah come on in,” you said. Before you shut the door a hand grabbed the door, another crew mate, this one spoke in a raspy voice, “Yeah I need you to fix my voice, it’s not talking right,” he wheezed out. Another one limped to you and complained about his knee. Soon enough you couldn’t see over the sea of men at the med bay door.

“Fuck me ay.”

Your little radio was singing its heart out, a random band cassette you’d picked up at a souvenir store or somewhere else, something to keep your energy up. It was well into the night, and there was still a good line of men outside your door, 10? No, more like 15, but you had gotten through the majority of them, you’d actually made great progress. Another major plus was that you got to know literally almost the entire crew.

“I mean yeah, I never went to killer for help. Yeah he’s the ‘doctor’ and everything but he’s also second in command. If I came to him for something like a hurt shoulder Captain would probably find me to be a pussy.” He said as he waved around the hand of his good arm. Davis, was his name, a sweet guy who sported the style of most of the members on Kids crew, punk mixed with some freak shit. You didn’t really know or rather, you didn’t really want to know why they were all dressed like they enjoyed having whips in the bedroom but hey, you’re not a judger, and it was actually quite fun to see all the cool outfits. Davis, like a true man, was severely downplaying his injury. ‘Hurt shoulder this’, ‘hurt shoulder that’, his shoulder was in fact, dislocated. You listened to him talk, laughing a bit at his words. “You men and your fragile egos, it’s quite funny actually,” you say, humming a bit to the music. You had sat him down on the ground to give you a better advantage on fixing this arm that was dislocated for god knows how long. “Okay, you’ll feel some pain in 1,2-,” you interrupted yourself and popped his arm back into place with a ‘click’. He screamed, loudly. “DAMN *NAME*, Why’d ya go at 2?! What was even the point of counting down?!?,” he said harshly as he rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the pain. You stepped away from him. “Cause you were expecting the pain at 3, so when I did it at 2 you were caught off guard and not as tense,” you say as you lend him a hand, helping him get up. He shrugs, rolling his shoulder once more, “Whatever,” he says, not rudely but just accepting your reasoning. “Keep it up gal, you have us all fixed by morning,” he says cheerfully as he patted your back running out of the room to go talk with his other friend which you had just stitched up a large cut on his shin. “Don’t lift heavy things Davis!!” You call out after him. He just glanced back at you with a thumbs up and disappeared into the crowd of men who were smiling and chatting about how great they felt.

Something in the air changed. The vibe shifted to where you just knew someone was there that was going to piss you off. You glance over to where a part of the crowd begins to clear, Kid. He cleared the distance easily with his big large strides and walked up to you as you leaned in the doorway. He just stared at you sternly before walking past you into the med bay. “Hey, Captain, line starts back there-” you’re cut off by a harsh yank to your hair and the noise of the door slamming shut. You and Kid were now in the room alone and he held your hair above your head, holding you harshly so you were forced to look at him.

“Why’re you doin’ all this,” he says, talking about what you can only assume is fixing up his men. You know, doing exactly what he asked of you. “I’m being your ships doctor like you told me too,” you say harshly and your pry his fingers off of your hair, earning an angry grunt from him. You back up from him once you’re free and rub your scalp. “Yeah I know you’re doing that but why are you having fun with it, these are horrible people,” he said as he narrowed his eyes at you, as if he were suspicious of you. “Because I didn’t want your whiny ass to bother me again, but seems like you prevail even when I do what you ask,” you grunt out, “and I’ll have you know that these men have all been very pleasant to treat,” you say in defense of his crew. He yells out angrily and punches the wall with his good hand, his metal one staying sort of limp at his side. “Damnit you piss me off,” he backs up and breathed heavily. “You’re annoying but I need your help…” he said quietly, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

Your gaze softened at him, his hard exterior flickered for a second, exposing to you that he was just a stupid boy who didn’t know how to process his emotions. You set aside your indifference about him and walked over to him. He glanced down at you and his eyes widened as you shoved him on to the medical counter, with not much struggle he noted. “What the hell woman??” He said in a confused tone, raising a brow at you. “Whats the deal?? Tell me, I’ve got a line of guys who were here long before you barged in here and they need medical attention too, so pretend you don’t hate me and that I’m just a regular doctor helping you out,” you say as you grab a couple of cotton swabs, ready to clean a wound.

“It’s not that simple woman,” he says gruffly. His metal arm then gently dismembers, the metal floating down into a big pile on the ground to reveal his amputated arm. “Oh wow, not to be rude or anything but I thought you were just doing that to look cool,” you said as you approached him, examining his arm as it shook pretty harshly and he groaned out. “It’s been happening for years now, I’ve got no idea what the hells going on,” his arm jolts and shakes as he grunts in pain. “It’s like my arms still there and it’s feeling things n’shit,” he said more angrily now.

“Yeah man, I know exactly what’s going on,” you say as you walk over to your bag, taking out a small device, one you’d remember using on the other red headed man’s arm. He’d let you keep the device because he had a spare, and you’d found out it actually helped with recovery from small injuries. You also sat like a fucking gargoyle and used this thing to ease your back pain from your horrendous posture. You walk over to kid, his eyes trained on the device like he didn’t know whether to trust it with his life or be extremely skeptical with it. “What is that.” He asks wearily, his arm still shaking vigorously. “It’s something I got from an old friend, they were missing an arm too, this sometimes eased the pain, sometimes didn’t, I have other methods too,” you peel back the protective film on the four sticky pads of the device and place it on the side of his arm right above where it’s amputated. “It’s going to send tiny spurts of little shocks into your muscles and it’ll help your pain…maybe…I don’t know yet this is kinda just like a trial and error experiment right now,” you admit in a blunt tone as you look up at him. He looks at you with an unamused expression, “so you’re electrocuting me to make my stump feel better,” he says in a deadpan voice. “Yeah basically,” you say as you begin to was towards the door.

“Don’t open that door woman!! Are you crazy I can’t let them see me like this!!” He yelled out. You rolled your eyes but made sure to slip out of the door quickly, keeping the gap small so no one could peep in. You scan the ground and spot one of your previous patients. “Ali!” You call out, gaining the attention of a strong, gritty, big man. You had treated him for a small cut to his finger, one that ‘hurt a lot’. He looked very intimidating, he was strapped with spikes and black leather, large guns in holsters on his back, but he was really just a kind soul under all that burly clothing. “Yes miss.*Name*?” He said politely, even taking off his hat when he spoke to you. It was quite comical, you stood barely at the height of his belt buckle, but he talked to you like you were his height. “Would you be a doll for me and fetch me a mirror about ye wide,” you say measuring with your hands a small distance horizontally, “and about ye high?” You say, doing the same motion with your hands just vertically. “Of course, Miss *Name*,” he said before putting his hat back on and walking off. “Thank you Ali!” You yell out to him with a smile before squeezing your way back into the room with Kid, keeping the door as close to you as possible.

“I told you not to open the door Woman!! What part about you respecting me did you not understand!!” He barked out at you. “I’ll start showing you more respect once you stop calling me ‘woman’,” you say, snapping back at him as you walk back over to check on his condition. His arm was still shaking pretty badly, maybe the machine made a little difference but if it did it was hard to tell. “Is it working at all?” You ask him, checking to make sure the voltage is at the appropriate setting. “Kinda,” he says with a grunt. “It’s not really doing much besides taking my mind off of the pain,” he said in a frustrated tone. “Yeah that’s what I mainly heard from my friend,” you said as you kissed your teeth. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, Kids face transformed from frustrated to worried really quickly. “Hold on! Hold on! Don’t come in!,” you shout out as you walk towards the door, opening it to where you could only stick your head out. One of the other guys you’d treated stood there with a mirror in hand, one similar to the proportions you’d asked for. “Ali said you needed this?” He asked a bit confused. “Ah! Yes thank you Hourra!” You say gratefully, grabbing the mirror with one hand, slipping it through the door. “Tell Ali I said thank you too! I appreciate it!” You said with a smile. He laughed a bit and rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks twinging pink. “Oh it’s really nothing, Miss,” he said bashfully before turning around and walking off, muttering to himself a bit.

You close the door and spin around dramatically, posing so that the mirrors covering your body and leaving you looking like your torso is missing. “Tadaaa, meet the crowd favorite,” you say with half-assed enthusiasm and you show kid the mirror. You don’t think you’d ever seen anyone that looked so disappointed and as underwhelmed as Kid looked right now. “I thought you were gonna get like medicine or something, you got me a fucking mirror?? What are you gonna do some black magic??” He asked sarcastically. “Please you have too much faith in me, I don’t really know how this works I just know it was one of the few things that kinda helped my buddy when his arm hurt,” you shrugged as you set the mirror down agains the cabinets and rummaged through the drawers. “And I’m glad you mentioned the medicine, maybe painkillers would help, we didn’t really have those on my friend’s ship,” you say grabbing a small pill bottle and popping out two pills and handing them to him. He took them without hesitation, you could definitely tell he just wanted this to be over with.

You picked up the mirror again, placing it in between his legs, being careful as to not slam in down in his lap. The mirror faced his un-amputated arm, while simultaneously hiding his shaking amputated one. “I never really looked to hard into it, but basically you just kinda pretend that this arm is your other arm,” you say as if you’re skeptical of yourself. The then take his arm in your hand and move it around a bit in-front of the mirror. “What?” He looked at you like you were crazy. “Listen man, I just work here, are you willing to try it or not?” You ask him in a tired voice. It had to have been around 3A.M you’d been up all day treated everyone on the goddamn ship, and not a single one of them questioned you as much as their captain. But then again he was missing an arm, which was much more severe than anything else you’d seen today, so you let it slide. “Fine, Fine, we can try it,”

You held his arm infront of the mirror and told him to only look at the reflection. You massaged gently around the areas where he told you it was hurting on his other ‘arm’, and surprisingly, it worked a bit. “How the hell…” he says in a breathy voice as a bit of the pain subsided. “Is it working?” You ask him as you massage his forearm. “Yeah, way more than your electric machine, but it still hurts like hell,” his eyes stay trained on the mirror curiously. “Yeah like I said, I don’t know how this really works I just know it sometimes helps,” you say as you take your hands off of him. He shot a glare at you as you walked away. “Where you goin?” He asked accusingly. “I’m just tossing out some trash and picking up, I’m not goin anywhere,” you say waving your arms in a dismissive manner. He huffs and begins to move his arm around a bit, looking at the reflection in the mirror. You stayed in there with him for about fifteen more minutes, itching his arm where he said it ‘itched’ on his ‘other’ arm and massaging where he said it hurt.

It was weird…yeah he was an ass to you but it was clearly because he was just stupid, so you didn’t really know how to act around him. You were currently laughing because he had almost dropped the mirror, trying to grab it with his amputated arm before realizing and catching it with his other arm last second. You watched it all go down in seemingly slow motion, which made it so much funnier in your mind. You were laughing the type of laugh that was in the back of your throat and had you holding your stomach, his stupid embarrassed face didn’t help your laughing fit at all. He suddenly grunted and picked up the mirror and shoved it against the wall, and the metal scrap pieces all formed back together in the shape of an arm on his amputated arm. He stormed over to the door angrily.

“Wha-Hey!,” you say in a disappointed voice as you go to grab his shoulder. “I thought we were having fun!-” before you could argue with him or try and assure him you weren’t making fun of him, he blew up. He’d already opened the door and was completely out on the deck, and so were you. He grabbed you by the wrist that touched his shoulder and yanked it away, pulling you close to his face. “You’re a resource, you’re the doctor and you’re just paying me to get to the port,” he said harshly. “I don’t ‘have fun’ with resources, is that clear woman?!” He yelled directly in your face. Well now you were pissed. He was being mean to you for no reason, and in-front of everyone too. The deck was filled with that silence from before, the one where you could tell everyone was looking. “I told you not to call me woman anymore!” You say angrily as you try to reach his hand to get it off of your wrist, but with the way he was holding you it was really hard to reach. He roared out in frustration, lifting you up higher and tossing you to the side. You went flying. Your back cracked against the wooden guard rail walls of the ships deck. Your breath was voluntarily knocked out of your lungs and your head flew back and cracked against the top of the wall. Damn it hurt. The splinters dug into your skin and your head immediately felt dizzy and heavy.

You looked at kid with the little strength you had in your neck. His face wasn’t angry anymore, he was surprised. It was obvious he didn’t mean to throw you that hard, but it was too late now. He acted angry again, storming off as if this was totally what he meant to happen. Once he left the deck and was out of view, people rushed towards you. Heat was the first one in-front of you. “Hey, *Name*, *Name* stay awake,” he said frantically as he lifted your head up, trying to get you to look at him. Neha Om and Hulda were in either of your sides calling out to you as well, shaking your hands and patting your legs to try and keep you awake. “Doll please, you’ve got to stay awake,” Neha said. “Yeah baby now’s not really the time to die,” Hulda said frantically. You laughed, not out loud but in your mind. Their voices began to slow and the night seemed to get darker. “I’m too tough to die from something like this,” you say weakly before closing your eyes and slumping over. You hadn’t passed out yet but you didn’t have the energy to hold your head up now. All the hands and the voices stopped and all you could hear were heavy muted footsteps. They stopped and you felt two large hands pick you up and begin to take you somewhere.

You didn’t stay awake long enough to find out.

PART 2 FINISHED

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