#//might take me a minute to get my sea legs back

[divinedistraction]

@asoulunbound said: "I just want a nice, easy life. What's wrong with that?" (Peitho for Eros, Welcome back! <3)

Eros hadn't really been paying attention to the little rant Peitho had been going on, rather more concerned - or perhaps distracted - by the loose thread he'd seen on the sleeve of his shirt. He'd begun pulling at it somewhere near the beginning of her speech, and was now staring at a handful of off-white thread that was once the end of his sleeve.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he replied, pouting at his ruined shirt, until at last he finally caught on the tail-end of Peitho's argument, "Wait, what? Nice and easy? Since when? Nice and easy is so... so dull."

[okwonyo]

SWEPT ME OFF MY FEET ── them lifting you up。

INTRODUC𝓲NG 𖥔 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f .. r 11OO fluff established relationship 、 kissing skinship use of profanity

ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG ｡｡ is very strong. so, of course, when you would tell him that you always loved that scene from ‘dirty dancing’ when the man lifts the woman all the way up (despite not watching the movie), and he tells you that you both can recreate it: you accept.

“are you sure you can catch me?” you would yell at him from afar, making sure he hears you. you get yourself ready to sprint towards him before receiving having an answer.

stretching his arms in your direction, he would reply, “just go for it and you’ll see,” then, you would run to him in full speed. his hands would hold your waist firmly when you get close to him and he would lift you up when you jump.

you would be held in the air for a while before falling directly in his arms. would catch you quickly before you can fall on the floor, thank god.

JAY ｡｡ after a party or a dinner, would make you sit down next to him as he takes off your heels for you after you would tell him that your feet hurt. “has it been hurting for a long time, baby?” he would ask after he would finish, his hand resting on your thigh now.

you would put your forehead on his shoulder, hiding your face while letting a hum that confirms his theory��� he saw right through you. would sigh, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you should have told me sooner.”

he would gently nudge you away before getting up. then, would take your heels in one his hands and give them to you before offering you his hand for you to take and help you getting up.

without much of a warning, would slip his arm behind your knees and the other on your back. you would yelp when you feet wouldn’t touch the floor anymore, realizing you are being carried bridal style by your boyfriend.

JAKE ｡｡ “don’t you want to swim a little?” your boyfriend would ask you, eyes wide and shining— puppy like. his desire to go in the sea would be obvious.

after you would tell him over and over that he can go alone, would swear he doesn’t want to go without you. in fact, you do want to go swim as well, getting up, you would sigh; “the water seems cold,” because it’s your only worry.

taking your hands in his, would pull you closer and put your arms around his neck. would lower himself a bit to put his palms on your thighs, “jump,” then would catch you when you do— settling your legs around his waist.

little by little, would walk into the cold water, making sure your body gets used to it before going into it fully. might not let you down even after you tell him you are okay now.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ as the gym rat as he is, would spend most of his time without pushing heavy weights at the gym. would get extremely annoying — endearingly — when he is at your apartment instead of his, during his musculation session day.

you would find him doing russian twists in the middle of your living room two minutes after you woke up, and you would laugh before going to get ready for the day.

“you are not finished yet?” you would ask him, seeing him doing pushups when you come back. “i’m hungry, when are you going to finish?” you would question and a groan would leave your mouth when he would respond ‘in a while’.

so, you would try to make him stop by sitting on his back while he workouts. alas, he would barely budge. “you are the perfect weight,” he would say, a little bit breathless as he would push up. “i’ll use you for hip thrusts next.”

(excuse me, what?)

SUNOO ｡｡ with his arms wide open and a huge smile spread all over his face, would wait for his beautiful girlfriend— which happens to be you— to get off of work.

he would start to get a tad bit worried as he watches several people passing by and leaving your workplace, but not catching even the smallest glimpse of you.

his arms would start to get a little bit tired when he finally hears your voice, calling out for him on top of the stairs right in front of the front door. and would stumble a bit when you jump in his arms from the third to last stair.

would hug you tight, placing a hand on the back of your head and closing his eyes while the scent of your shampoo fills his nose. for sure would not let you down until you reach the car.

JUNGWON ｡｡ being chased and bothered with him as your boyfriend would not be a foreign concept to you. especially to get your attention; pinching you, poking your waist, and the worst tickling you.

this time, he would opt for the three successively. first, would come next to you as you do the dishes, pinching your arms as he asks for some attention. secondly, would poke, not only your waist, but your cheeks too, when you don’t give him a glance. thirdly, would start tickling you right when you finish your chore.

unfortunately for him, would not have the time to do much before you push him away and start running in the apartment, “leave me alone!” you would scream as if you were chased by a monster in the streets— your boyfriend would do everything but that.

when you get in the hall and struggle opening the room’s door, because of the fact you ran and you would be laughing, would sprint to you then lower himself to hug your legs. lifting you up like a bag full of potatoes when he gets up. and, when he would let you fall on the bed, there is no chance for you to escape.

RIKI ｡｡ in the wake of laughing for a good minute after watching you trip on over your feet and fall in the middle of an almost empty street, would genuinely start to worry for you.

“everything happened so fast, i couldn’t catch you, i’m sorry,” he would tell you while helping you get up. “did you break anything?”

with flushed cheeks, because of the fact you laughed too much (he wouldn’t laugh if you didn’t, he is not lame), you would tell him that you are perfectly fine. would squint his eyes, not so sure about that.

kneeling in front of you, and offering you his back, your lover would tell you to hop on. there would be no way for you to refuse— therefore, you will find yourself being piggybacked for the rest of the day.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open ！

(..◜ᴗ◝..) lethal layout, i can’t lie ... thank you for reading, mwah 💕

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

The creator had a:

sea streaked child

WC:800

Cw: reader is said to breastfeed but isn't written doing so

Checking the blinds to make sure they were clean, remaking the ruffles so they are even.

Furina had spent her entire morning jittery walking everywhere in the palais mermonia.

Now across the room she is digging in between the blue roses hiding any less than stellar bloom under one of its prettier sisters.

Changing the tea set on the table in the middle of the room, cerulean blue, cobalt blue and sky blue swapping places faster than Neuvillette can pay any mind to.

She sighs, looking defeated at the sets and almost begging them to tell her which one is supposed to be best yet for one second the teapots looked like mocking faces. Throwing herself on a loveseat the room starts to feel smaller and she isn't even totally sure what tea to serve.

“Breath” neuvillette says from the desk, ever since he took over the leading role in Fontaine he spent more time between pages of legal documents, if that is even possible “they are arriving for a simple chat to check on the general management of the region”

“How do you even expect me to be calm when they themselves asked for my attendance for this meeting!” she sits up wobbly, the soft swirling getting worse “I can't even remember what cake you told me they liked… this is going to be a mess”

“Their grace has quite the sweet tooth, as long as what you planned doesn't have coffee it's going to be alright”

“Why no coffee?”

“miss furina… they gave birth a few days ago, it’s disadvised to breastfeed and have caffeinated drinks” seeing her nod and her little ahoge bobbing along he feels the need to confirm “that not only includes coffee and variations but also most teas” and with that she jumps to her feet, quickly excusing herself to make some changes.

“That child…” he sighs as he reviews the documents he wanted to show you and a rough overview, his head resting against his hand and a finger between his teeth. Feeling the door whining softly he laughs from the bottom of his throat “back soon early?”

And as his heart skipped a beat as you spoke “Oh, my, I know I am 30 minutes early but I thought you would like to meet me particularly” you walk deeper inside the room, past the meticulously fixed flowers that you wouldn't have noticed the mistakes on and past the three teapots on the table, each a slightly different shade of blue. Now standing besides neuvillette and facing the documents he just noticed the bundle of white cloth you held onto.

“Did the crops get better with the method I recommended? It left me worried when I left”

“The production got better, if you want to check the report is here” he offers the three papers stuck together by a metal clip when he notices that doing it with a single hand might be hard “if I might help you” he positions his arms to grab the baby and you let her between his arms

“Let's hope she stays asleep, she is such a colicky baby” you whisper but as soon as you finish the sentence she opens her eyes and starts wailing “my goodness…” you sigh deeply.

“Let me take care of it, just focus on that” he stands up and tries to mimic what he saw parents do with their small children whenever something upsetting might come up during the trials and small children would cry.

He grabs her neck and head with one hand and her legs with another, cradling her like you. As he was swaying softly the blanket covering her hair slid down to show pointy ears and softly cartilage mixing on her thin white hair.

“Is she…” but is soon shushed by you, pointing at the door and then to your ears, the message very clear ‘someone might be listening’ but he keeps his eyes glued to you only to catch you mouthing a soundless yes. His hands cradle her head onto his neck, soft blue cartilage sneaking past his fingers.

Now soothed, you two find comfort on the soft sound of passing the pages and Cordelia's breathing, the baby's name he would later find out.

“NEUVI I managed to get a cheesecake and fontas did i save this?!” Furina pushes past the door, holding a full size strawberry cheesecake and hugging three fontas against her chest but seeing you head on thinking you weren't on Fontaine yet “HIYY”

The screech caused Cornelia to get startled and start wailing “Miss Furina.” neuvillette says sternly, almost like a father telling off his daughter. But the only thing it caused was for her to see him hugging a baby suspiciously similar to him which didn't take her long to join the dots.

“OOAH!”

“Furina please stop scaring my daughter!”

[paperultra]

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

[megalony]

We Made It

This is an Evan Buckley (Buck) imagine, it's probably my longest one yet I had so much fun with the fluff and angst in this. Thank you all for the 911 requests I'm slowly getting through them all. Any feedback would be great.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Christopher joins the Buckley family out for a day trip to the pier but when a natural disaster hits, they all fight to find each other and stay together.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Eddie, everything okay?" (Y/n) leaned against the door and slung her bag on her shoulder.

A bright smile lit up her face and took Eddie by surprise but it helped to wash away the anxiety he had pooling in his stomach. He hated to turn up unannounced, after all he hadn't messaged or called either her or Buck to let them know he would be dropping by, but it was an emergency.

"Yeah, sorry I know I should have called… I need a favour."

"Sure, what's up?" (Y/n) opened the door more to welcome him in but her smile turned into a lopsided smirk when Eddie moved to the side and revealed the small figure hiding behind him.

Christopher.

A broad smile lit up his cheesy face, his curls were flopping all about his head and he had his backpack on.

"Did you get called in?" (Y/n) kept her voice quiet but Eddie's pursed lips and the small nod of his head told her all she needed to know. Eddie wasn't supposed to be on shift today but he'd been called in and he couldn't refuse. And he didn't want to keep imposing on his Abuela and asking her to have Christopher because even though he was a golden boy and never played up, he was still a handful.

"I get it if you can't have him, I just didn't know who-"

"Hey, he's always welcome here. And it just so happens we're off out on a road trip," (Y/n) leaned down to Chris's level and gave him a smile. "Fancy a day out with the Buckley crew?"

"Yeah!"

(Y/n) loved the way he smiled and adverted his eyes to try and hide just how happy and excited he was. She moved out the way and ushered him inside, letting him hobble his way through to find out where Bella was hiding. He was a great kid to look after and (Y/n) knew Eddie was always happy to take care of Bella if they ever needed or asked him to. The kids got along well together despite Christopher being eight and Bella being only three.

"You're a lifesaver, thank you." Eddie leaned forward to give her a quick hug before he glanced at his watch. He had to run before he was officially late for the first time.

"No problem, text when you want him back."

"Thanks."

He had arrived at just the right time, ten minutes later and he would have missed them. They had decided a little road trip was in need to cheer Buck up while he was still off work, waiting for a date when he could go back. He had been glad of the break which meant he could spend time with his girls.

While his leg had been in a cast, (Y/n) had helped him up and down the stairs, helped him shower and cook but the best part was Bella trying to look after him. Evan had sent thousands of pictures to the team of Bella trying to feed him, give him drinks, rub his head, draw on his cast and then the pictures where she fell asleep on him to 'keep him company'.

His daughter had been his saving grace, spoiling him and doting on him and Evan got through each day because of his two girls.

Now he was back in action, they thought a day trip out might be good for them all and Christopher was going to add to the excitement.

"Evan, babe we have an addition to the trip."

"Who?"

Walking down the stairs with Bella perched on his hip, Evan looked at (Y/n) before he looked around the apartment and a grin lit up his face when he saw a familiar flop of curls sat in front of the tv.

"Did Eddie need to work or something?"

"Yeah, do you mind?"

"Course not, he can go on the big rides with me. Chris, are you ready for the best day out ever?" They had already decided this morning that they would stop by the pier in the afternoon. It was the perfect place to play games, have some fun and food and there were a lot of kiddie rides for Bella. Evan waved his arm out to coax Christopher over to them since they were all ready and packed up to go for their day out. But his eyes turned back to look at Bella who was cuddled up into his chest.

She had her light sandy hair put up in two little pigtails and she was wearing a yellow jumpsuit with a big smiling sunflower in the middle. Both her hands moved to pat Evan's chest lightly and when she looked up at him with those wide eyes, he could feel his heart melting on the spot.

"What 'bout me? Will you go on stuff with me, daddy?"

"You know I will sweetheart." He moved his hand to cup the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss to her temple before he reached down to pat Chris on the back and guide him in front of them.

"Alright, off we go."

***

"Bella, babygirl I do need to breathe, you know?" Evan gruffed but his mixed expression gave away the fondness he was trying to supress. He squinted up at his daughter and rolled his lips together but the slight curve at the corner and the softness in the crease of his eyes showed he wasn't telling her off.

She was stood up on his thighs with both arms tightly bound around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head. It was endearing and Evan loved her cuddling up to him but he still needed to breathe and she was making it hard leaning against him like this and holding his neck with quite a lot of force.

She let out a small whine in response but loosened her arms and kissed his hair repeatedly before she moved her hands to swiftly hold his chin and tilt his head up towards her.

When she puckered her lips, Evan grinned madly and pushed up to give her a small peck, making a loud 'mwuah' sound that always made her giggle.

"Smile, I'm gonna send your dad a picture, show him how much fun you have with us." (Y/n) poked her tongue out between her teeth as she smiled at the three of them sat opposite her at the table. Bella had been sitting patiently with her waiting for the boys to finish the ride they went on but as soon as they came off, she clambered over the table and onto Evan's lap.

Evan tilted his chin up and grinned with one arm around Bella who smiled sweetly and pressed her cheek on top of Evan's head. And with his other arm, Evan reeled Chris into his side who held up the cotton candy he'd just got and started to laugh.

(Y/n) snapped the picture, catching in the food and drink splayed out on the table so show Eddie Chris was having a good time and had had his lunch and a rush of sugar.

"Alright team, what's next?" (Y/n) put her empty drink on the tray of rubbish next to her before she looked at them.

They had driven out and gone to a beach half an hour away, then they came round to the pier. Evan had gone on a lot of rides with Chris, (Y/n) took Bella on the smaller rides and all of them went on the waltzers which made (Y/n) feel sick. But they still had the ferris wheel to do, the water rides on the other side of the pier and all the games and stalls to try out. Dinner was ticked off their list though and after the pier they had the toy shop to head to before they went home.

"We need to win something," Chris stuffed the last of the cotton candy in his mouth and looked between the two people he thought of as family. His dad was always referring to them as uncle Buck and auntie (Y/n).

"Yes we do, what games are you good at?"

(Y/n) strapped her bag over her shoulder and rested a hand on Chris's shoulder when he slipped his hands into his crutches and started to look for a stall with good prizes.

"Come on babygirl, let's go win a load of prizes." Evan held Bella's hands and effortlessly hoisted her up until she was sat on his shoulders. He held onto her waist and she held his lower arms rather loosely considering how tight she had held him previously. But she was used to sitting on his shoulders, Evan preferred to carry her or hold her up like this because he was too worried of her running off and losing her in a crowd.

At least with Chris there was no risk of them losing him here.

For the duration of their walk around the pier, (Y/n) kept her hand looped in Chris's backpack strap to make sure he didn't wander too far or risk bump into people.

"Buck, this one." Chris turned to look back at him with a lopsided grin and squinting eyes, his way of looking sweet and cute to get Buck to agree and play the game of throwing balls at tin cans to try and win a stuffed teddy.

Evan turned his head and nodded but when he went to lift Bella over his head and put her down, she all but screamed and grabbed his forearm but her other hand dug into his short hair. She pulled his hair between her fingers to try and stop him from picking her up. Bella didn't want to move, she wanted to stay right where she was, safe and sound on his shoulders where she didn't have to move and she could be close to her dad.

"Ow that's naughty! No, you're coming down now girlie." Evan winced and grunted while he hoisted her over his shoulders and planted her down on her feet next to (Y/n) who quickly grabbed her hand. But Evan knew he wouldn't be able to stay mad at her because she was already biting her thumb and her eyes were welling up, ready to start crying because she had been told off.

Bella swayed on her feet, still biting her thumb and clenching (Y/n)'s hand in the other while she watched the boys. She would stay silent until Evan smiled at her or said something to her and she knew she wasn't in trouble anymore.

"Buck, I won!" Chris pointed at the enlarged teddybear that was about his size and weight which he couldn't carry all by himself. He watched Buck clap and give praise and move to grab the teddy but when Chris turned around, he noticed Bella was still pouting and looking uncertain. "Bella carry it,"

Evan froze for a moment, glancing between the two kids before his expression softened and he motioned for Bella to come over to him. When she stood in front of him, Evan leaned the teddy over her shoulders but kept hold of it by the arms. Letting her believe she was actually carrying it when really it was more like a hat resting on top of her head.

It was just the thing to make her smile and giggle and add a skip in her wobbly steps until she was prancing like a pony with Evan slowly walking behind her, going a lot slower than he normally would.

They all followed Chris towards the end of the pier until they could sit down on a bench. (Y/n) sat down on the edge next to the teddy bear that they put down on the floor, Bella stood up on the bench next to her wedged between her and Evan. And on the end, Evan picked Chris up and let him stand up and hold the barrier, keeping a tight grip on his shirt to make sure he didn't wobble over the side.

What a phone call that would be to Eddie, having to explain Chris had toppled over the side of the pier and took a swim.

"How you feeling?" Reaching across Bella who was transfixed on watching the tide, (Y/n) leaned over and brushed her fingers against Evan's cheek, trailing her fingertip down his jaw when he smiled and tilted his head to the side to look at her.

"I'm okay, I feel a lot better- oof," Evan closed his eyes and bent his head forward when Bella started to sway from side to side and reached her arm out on top of his head to steady herself on him. The amount of bruises Evan got from Bella was unreal, he could come home from the station unscathed without so much as a water mark and then the next day he would be littered with scratches and bruises from his little monster.

"You'll be able to go back to the station, the blood thinners aren't permanent, babe." (Y/n) continued to brush his cheek and leaned over to peck his lips, smiling against his lips when they could both hear Bella humming to herself. She could see just how far Evan had come these last few months, he had had three surgeries on his leg, did physio and exercises every day and he had followed the doctor's advice to the dot. All the hard work he had put in wasn't going to be for nothing, (Y/n) just knew it.

"How you doin' Chris? What are we gonna do next?" Evan looked over to his right and squinted up at him when the sun beamed down on them. There were still a few games they could play and they all wanted a go on the ferris wheel which Bella was the right height for. But it was up to the kids and since Bella didn't care what they did, it was down to Chris.

"Hook a duck!"

"Alright-"

"Daddy," Bella patted Evan's hair like she was smoothing it down and he turned to look back at her, smiling up at her until he saw her furrowed brows and the way she was bending her knees like she was trying to do some kind of funny dance.

"What, babygirl?"

"Where did water go?"

Both Evan and (Y/n) frowned at one another and quickly moved to turn around and peer over the side of railing the kids were clinging to. What was she talking about? There was a whole sea out there, why did she suddenly think the water had vanished? She had been watching it for the past few minutes, it couldn't have vanished before her eyes?

Something burned down in (Y/n)'s stomach and she could feel her lungs popping and deflating as anxiety broke out in her system.

It wasn't the lack of water at the bottom of the pier that caused her worry, it was the turbulant view of an appending wave that surged her panic. That was larger than the usual surfing wave that occured on this beach. (Y/n) had never lived anywhere where this had happened and she'd never been so close to see one in person.

A tsunami.

Before she knew what she was doing, (Y/n) batted her hand out until she found Evan's bicep and she dug her nails into his skin, clenching her fingers around him like he was somehow going to make this better or turn the wave away and demand it stop where it was. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to do but she couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

"Evan…" His name came out nothing more than a broken sound that she could barely hear but she felt the way his muscles tensed and he shot up from the bench without tearing his gaze away from the water.

"Get off the pier," His voice was barely above a whisper but he was getting into action mode already. "Get off the pier! Move back! Get off the fucking pier!"

His voice sounded like a siren to everyone else who had gathered round to see like it was some sort of beautiful spectacle instead of a harrowing omen. They shouldn't be gathering round to watch, couldn't they see how massive that wave was or work out what that implied? They all needed to leave, not rush closer.

Chris gasped but he didn't have time to react or talk when Evan hastily grabbed him and tossed him over his shoulder. There was no time for Chris to walk or he wouldn't get far and they needed to be as far away from the shore as possible, they needed to be in-land. Evan kept his arm secured over Chris's back and he pushed away from the bench, reaching his free arm out for (Y/n).

Terror had hold of (Y/n) by her heart and it made each breath and each pulse of blood feel horrid and broken but she had to push through it. With trembling gasps, (Y/n) hoisted Bella into her arms, holding her face against her shoulder and her other arm tightly wrapped around around her small waist. She kept her daughter cocooned to her chest and ran forward as Evan grabbed her elbow so he didn't lose her in the rush that was going to come.

The pair of them bolted back across the wooden pannels, aiming to keep going and going until the inevitable flood overtook them. If they could at least get to the end of the pier then it would be a little better but Evan doubted it.

And when he turned to glance behind him, the water was almost at the bench they had just left.

They were running out of time.

"Here! Down here!" Doubling over, evan placed Chris down behind a vacated shall and as swift as anything, he grabbed (Y/n) by her hips and hoisted her over the side before he jumped across.

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and buried her face into Bella's hair who was whimpering against her chest, unsure what was happening and why everyone was suddenly screaming and panicking. She pressed her back up against the wood and felt Evan kneel down beside her and hold his arm around her while his other arm deadlocked around Chris.

They had to stay together.

"Oh God, Evan…" (Y/n) nudged her forehead into his shoulder and felt his arm tighten around her waist until it felt like an iron bar was grafted into her skin but it was comforting. It was the only thing grounding her racing thoughts from making her pass out.

"I won't let go babe! I won't I swear-"

He couldn't breathe. He had underestimated just how powerful the water was going to be when it hit. Wood broke and splintered on impact and each broken pannel hit Evan in the head, the arm, the legs and his back like he was being beaten black and blue.

It didn't matter how tightly Evan kept his arms around his family, he couldn't hold them all or keep them safe at his chest.

When the water hit, Evan got twisted and lifted from the floor and that was it. He could feel his fingers scratching into Chris's shirt but (Y/n) left his arm after maybe five or six seconds at most. The water lifted Evan up instead of dragging him down like he expected and it gave him a chance to gasp for a deep breath before something smacked into his foot and toppled him into a gushing wave. He seemed to spin in a circle and race down towards the floor like a diver reaching for the ocean.

A panel of wood smacked into his forehead right across his eye and that was when his world turned black.

Something akin to a bubbling scream gurgled at the back of Evan's throat and he was sure if he could he would have been sick. Everything was water, his lungs were full of water, his clothes were weighed down by water, the current was holding onto him with deep imbedded claws and dropplets were rolling down his eyes.

A tree branch smacked right into his lower sternum and stomach, knocking the water out of his lungs and letting him take in a strangled gasp and open his eyes. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear but when it did, he started to scream.

Where were they?

Why wasn't he back at the pier? How far had the water dragged him? Evan couldn't tell where he was, the water was at a third story level, covering the road, the landmarks, the signs and the building names and distinctions. All he could see were towering buildings, floating cars, broken glass, bodies and unworthy items floating beside him. Everything from chairs to lamps flew past him at top speed and gave him no direction of where he had turned up. All he knew was he was no longer at the pier.

"C-Christopher! (Y/n)! God, Bella? Bella baby where are you?!" Each word became clearer when he took deep ragged breaths but his voice rose two octaves until it sounded like a teen who hadn't hit puberty yet.

Chris didn't have balance or coordination or enough ability to find something to cling to and stop from floating away into the next state. Evan didn't even know if he could swim. And (Y/n) was somewhere around here, she had to be but if she was injured she couldn't swim and if she could swim, what if she hit something?

What if she didn't have hold of Bella anymore? She was three, she couldn't swim, she could barely tolerate getting a bath. This was far too powerful for her to stay afloat or swim or avoid getting scraped or punctured by something.

Where was his baby girl?

"No, God no," Evan let the tears fall, he let awful, hoarse screams scratch past his salty lips as his eyes burned from the beating he had taken and the tears he was shedding. He couldn't get the picture of his daughter floating past him out of his mind. Her little body floating limply past him, never to be seen again. Evan wouldn't survive if he couldn't see her face again or hear her laugh or her calling his name.

Evan screamed all their names again and again until he couldn't do anything but gasp for air and spit the water that flooded his mouth when he tried to push up higher on the tree branch that was currently keeping him afloat.

"Buck! B-Buck!"

"Christopher!" Evan looked around wildly, blinking away the droplets clinging to his lashes but he couldn't see where Chris was. Until he squinted into the distance and noticed a small head and a pair of arms clinging to a telephone pole.

One down, two to go.

"I'm coming! Stay there, hold on bud I'm coming!"

Bringing his legs up, Evan awkwardly shuffled over the branch and dived back into the current that was thankfully heading towards Chris and not away from him. He seemed to be sat right in the middle of the current that flew him down the middle of whatever street he was on.

As soon as he was within reach, Evan stretched out in front of him like someone desperate to find the light in the darkness and when his fingers barely touched Chris's shoulder, Evan grabbed him. He punctured his fingers into Chris's shoulders until he was sure he had bruised him and he pulled him from the pole.

Evan turned onto his back and lifted Chris onto his chest so he could still breathe and stay afloat but his head turned madly to try and find somewhere to move. They couldn't stay floating through the street, it was too dangerous. They had to get somewhere high and safe and wait until the water lowered enough to walk through or help arrived.

Did the fire and rescue come out during a tsunami? It was a natural disaster, surely they had to come out, but how would they get here, a truck couldn't float?

"Truck, truck." Chris waved his arms out beneath the water to stay floating on his back but he tried to splash towards the truck that was elevated and sat on a slant. It was resting on something but he didn't know what.

"Good, good boy! Alright l-let's go there."

Moving yet again, Evan hooked his arm tight around Chris's waist and tilted until they were both trying to stand up in the water so they could kick, bat and shimmy towards the truck.

He wasn't sure where the effort or the energy came from, but they swam like eels through the water until Evan could grab the open window and reel them in.

"Up, up."

When Chris grabbed the rail on top of the truck, Evan moved him up onto his shoulder so he could keep him high above the water and so he could put his feet into the windowsil and lift them both up. Chris let himself go floppy so Evan could push him over the rail and get him safe on top before he flopped on his chest next to Chris, exhausted.

"Are you okay?" Evan crouched on his hands and knees, coughing up the last bit of water and trying to take a second to make sure he could see no injuries on Chris. He couldn't be telling Eddie he had gotten his son hurt during a tsunami and if Chris was badly hurt, Evan wouldn't be able to cope in this situation.

But when Chris smiled and shook his head, Evan merely gasped. How could he be smiling at a time like this? Wasn't he afraid of what just happened? Shouldn't he be crying and screaming and shouting for his dad, demanding help arrive and take them away?

He looked like he had a black eye coming along and there would no doubt be scratches and bruises but he didn't seem like he was badly injured and that was a big weight off Evan's shoulders.

Evan himself felt okay. His head was pounding, blood was starting to dribble down into his left eye along with the water seeping off him. his ribs hurt, his arm was scratched and he was sure a few lower ribs were either fractured or broken. But he was relatively okay, he could run off the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins. He would be functional until he could find out what happened to the rest of his family.

Tears started to flood Evan's eyes until he could barely see when Chris leaned forward and cupped his face in his hands and gently patted his cheek.

"You're hurt." Chris tried to smear the blood off Evan's forehead and the action made Evan sob.

"I'll be alright, buddy."

"Auntie (Y/n) and Bella, are we gonna find them?" Chris started to brush away the tears falling from Evan's eyes that turned a darker shade of blue and started to twitch.

"God, I hope so."

***

"Daddy!"

"I know you want daddy, baby, I know. We'll find him," (Y/n) could barely keep her voice level but she had to try and sound promising and encouraging. She had cried too much already.

If she cried any longer Bella would realise she was lying. How was (Y/n) going to know if they would find Evan and Christopher unharmed and alright after this? She might find one and not the other. She might have to give Eddie the worst phone call of his life and break his world. She might find Evan too late and shatter her own world entirely.

It had been a miracle that (Y/n) had stayed so close to Bella. After Evan drifted, (Y/n) realised Bella had been sucked out of her arms and carried off further ahead of her. A branch punctured into the bottom of her chest and a chunk of metal smacking into her forehead had done nothing to deter (Y/n) away from chasing her baby through the water. She watched her daughter bob up and down through the stream, gasping and struggling to stay afloat until she got tangled up in a bush that stopped her from going any further downstream.

(Y/n) had managed to grab her and use some nearby rope to tie Bella to her chest so they couldn't separated again.

Leaning forward, (Y/n) folded her arms over the roof of the car Bella was perched on and she pressed her forehead on her arms. If she was going to cry she needed to smother her sounds and not let Bella see so she didn't panic and get upset again too.

"No, daddy!" Bella's tone changed and she started frantically pointing, her sobs now ceasing into nothing.

"What?"

Turning around as much as she could, (Y/n) almost screamed when she saw a familiar figure looming in the distance. How on Earth did Bella know that was Evan? From way over here, he looked like a broad figure standing on top of something. But then again, his hair was always dark and flat when damp and he had wide shoulders, thick arms and a reduced torso. He was distinctive, thank God.

"Evan? Evan, please, please be him!" (Y/n) tried screaming his name but it only made her injured side ache and her lungs burn. She let bella continue to scream at the top of her lungs and wave her arms to direct him over to them.

A fire burned inside (Y/n)'s knotted stomach when she watched him dive into the water. It had to be him, what stranger would answer to his name and head their way? They weren't exactly in distress, they weren't being carried away by the water they had managed to find somewhere to stay safe for the time being.

"Daddy!"

"I'm coming, baby it's me! (Y/n), (Y/n)!" Evan flung a floating shopping trolley to the side and pushed another wooden beam out of his way as he coarsed through the water towards his girls. He could feel Christopher's arms tight around his neck and his weight pressing down on his back, reassuring him that the eight year old was alright and still with him.

He had started to give up hope of finding his girls, it was getting harder and harder to stay positive around Chris until he heard a distant crying. He had been looking round and round for what felt like hours, then when he and Chris moved over to a broken building that had been safe to stand on, he heard the voices get clearer.

There they were. (Y/n) had managed to stay with Bella or at least follow her and find her again and when Evan reached them, they would all be together again.

As soon as Evan was within reach of the dark blue BMW the girls were clinging to, he scrambled onto the boot and manouevred Chris from his shoulders to the top of the car. He helped him shuffle slowly on his stomach until he was safely on the roof and out of harms way.

"Bella!" Chris wrapped an arm around her and started to giggle when she shuffled between his legs and cuddled close to him. She was desperate to jump down into Evan's arms but one look at his stern expression told her to stay where she was. And that meant the closes source of comfort was the person who she thought was her cousin.

"Oh baby! Oh I thought- I…" Evan couldn't repeat what had been rattling through his head, lest he wanted to have a nervous breakdown and sob in front of the kids.

He thought he'd lost her for good.

He gripped the edge of the car and shuffled along until he was close enough to dig one hand into the top of the car and use the other to wrap his arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders. He reeled her into his chest and felt how badly she was shaking when she let out a feeble mewl into his chest. Her face tucked into the middle of his chest near his collar bone and both her arms wrapped around his torso, digging her nails into his flesh to reassure herself he was actually here, safe in her arms.

"Evan…"

"I'm here, I've got you, you're safe."

He couldn't press enough kisses to her wet, matted hair and each peck made her cry harder until she was sobbing and bubbling and whimpering in his arms and all he could do was shush her. If she didn't stop he was going to breakdown.

"Get on the car baby, we need to sit up with the kids until the water goes down enough to walk." Evan let his arm slope lower down until it was firmly around (Y/n)'s waist but his head snapped up to Bella when she spoke.

"Mummy's stuck."

"What? Stuck how?" His head pivoted back down to (Y/n) and he coiled his arm back to his side so he could hold her chin between his fingers and tilt her head up to look at him when she kept her eyes adverted down. He thought it was strange that she had Bella on top of the car but she herself was still half submerged in the water. It didn't dawn on Evan that she might be sitting in the water because she was stuck, he thought she was just trying to test the level of the water or wait and get ready to move again.

"My leg," (Y/n) glanced up at the kids before she lowered her voice, "I- I couldn't swim properly and hold Bella, I tried to get to the car… my foot went through the window, the glass-" She broke off, breaths hitching higher with each word.

Bella had been screaming and choking at the same time and (Y/n) didn't know what to do. The moment she got her unstuck the current took them and a wave submerged them and both of them panicked. When the car came into view (Y/n) knew she had to do anything and everything to reach it and get them both safe but she couldn't let them continue to float away and risk drowning or becoming separated again.

One slippery hand on the roof of the car wasn't enough to ground them to it and (Y/n) was in such a hurry and frightened that in her haste, she tried to put her feet on the car any way she could to grab it and stay secured to it.

Her right foot went straight through the glass window up to her mid-thigh and she could feel every shard of glass imbedded in her leg to the hilt. If she moved an inch either way, a searing hot fire pulsed through her nerves and made spots dance in front of her eyes.

So (Y/n) sat with her left leg floating on the bonnet of the car and her right leg jammed in the window, waiting for help to arrive or for enough courage to filter through her so she could pull herself free and keep moving. She didn't have to wait any longer, the one wish she had been praying for had been answered. Both the boys were here in front of her, they found their way back to her and they were alright.

"Okay, brace yourself on the roof and I'll take a look," Evan pecked her forehead again before he reached down to grab the doorhandle so he had something to ground himself with like an anchor in the sea.

It was hard to see much in the murky seaweed coloured water. Bits of everything floated past him from socks and leaves to paintbrushes and cans of pop. But he didn't have to go far down at all to see the problem. There was a large shard of glass imbedded in the underside of (Y/n)'s thigh, that was why she couldn't move.

He pushed back up to the surface and looked around before he grabbed a floating branch that looked sturdy and thick.

"I'm gonna break the glass to get you free, then I can check the damage properly and patch you up. Deep breaths, this is gonna sting sweetheart," He whispered the last part in her ear before he submerged himself again.

Punching and using force underwater felt pointless when the water took over half his energy and his swing but he had to try. He jammed the branch repeatedly into each area of the glass until finally it started to give way and break off into smaller jagged pieces. And it gave Evan the chance to slowly hold (Y/n)'s upper thigh close to her bum and slowly pull her leg back.

When she was free, Evan rounded her side and scrambled up onto the bonnet before he crouched back down and leaned into the water. His smile was enough to calm (Y/n) down and she held onto his shoulders, letting him grab her under her arms and slowly hoist her up out of the water as both kids cheered.

"Alright, alright baby I'm gonna lay you on your front so I can check the damage, try stay still."

Evan lifted his leg over (Y/n)'s back so she was held between his thighs before he lowered her down until she was laid down on her stomach on the roof. The glass was in the back of her thigh and he had to sort it.

"I'm sorry baby."

"What f-"

Both Chris and Bella coiled back in fright when (Y/n) screamed before she smothered her mouth and nose with her hands and bit down into the palm of her hand.

Evan grimaced, swiping the tears away with his shoulder when he loosened his belt and strapped it as tight as he could around (Y/n)'s upper thigh. He pulled it so hard it sank into her skin like a new layer of flesh and it caused her leg to jerk out. When the pin was secured in the button, Evan kneeled down in front of her and pulled her so her upper half was laid over his knees.

He bent over her, smoothing her hair behind her ears as she sobbed into his muck-ridden jeans. Each sob made her shake and each jagged breath made her leg pulsate and throb and it circled back round to make her cry even worse and all Evan could do was shush her. He hummed into her hair, kissed the back of her head and pressed his fingertips into her skin to try and calm her down.

He couldn't remove the glass from her leg because it was stemming the bleeding and it would make her bleed out if it was removed. But Evan couldn't just leave it there and let the rest of the blood drip around the wound. He had to cut off the blood supply to the wound and the only thing he had that would suffice was the belt keeping his jeans up.

"Shh, it's okay baby, I'm so sorry but I had to. I love you so, so much."

After a few minutes, (Y/n) punctured her teeth into her lower lip to try and stop herself from crying, she had to be brave for the kids.

There was no way she could sit or stand up when the glass was still in her leg so she settled for pulling herself a little higher up on the roof like she was sunbathing and getting a tan on her back. She kept her arms folded and rested her chin on her arms, trying to smile through the tears and the pain that was making her delirious.

"I'm okay," She whispered quietly when Christopher reached a hand out and gently rubbed her shoulder, unsure what else he could do.

"Daddy…" Bella held her arms out towards Evan and shuffled out of Chris's arms. She hadn't seen him or touched him since before the tsunami hit and she was desperate for some comfort. She had been calling out for him for what felt like hours, days, years to the frightened toddler and now he was here, she hadn't even gotten a cuddle yet.

"Come here babygirl,"

That was all the encouragement she needed to scramble forward onto his lap and curl up against his sodden chest. She didn't care about his damp, musky shirt that now smelled horribly of fish, sewage and whatever else was floating in the water. All she cared about was that his broad chest was pressed up against her face and his strong arms were curled around her and when she felt him kiss the top of her head, she mewled quietly like a kitten.

***

"I think we can walk through this now, everyone is heading in that direction, there might be shelter or a hospital somewhere nearby." Evan tiredly looked down at (Y/n), trying to add a little hope to his broken voice.

They had been sat on this car for an hour or more and they couldn't wait much longer. Evan had kept watch of (Y/n)'s leg and her lower chest where he knew she had a puncture wound and both were leaking blood like a slow but steady river that trailed over the side of the car and dribbled down into the dusty caramel coloured water.

He needed to get her to a hospital before she lost too much blood or got an infection or something worse happened. They were safe but isolated here. There had to be a hospital or a make shift hospital nearby.

And (Y/n) agreed, she was growing tired and the longer they stayed here, the less likely she was going to be to move.

"Alright you two, we're going to find some help, wait there for a moment."

Evan sat Bella back down next to Christopher before he shuffled to the edge of the car and slowly slid down into the lapping water, annoyed that he was just starting to dry off and now he was going to be cold and sodden and sticky again.

The water barely reached his knees and it was thinning out by the second.

"Come here bud," Chris smiled and reached out for Evan's arms, letting him pick him up and slide him into the water as gently as he could in case anything sharp was hiding beneath. "Can you walk through this?"

"I think so."

"Good. Sweetheart, you ready?"

A tepid smile mixed with a grimace twisted on (Y/n)'s lips and she shuffled to the edge and looped her arms around Evan's neck. She took a moment to kiss his jaw and bury her face in his neck before she nodded and let him do the work. His hands were tight and secure on her hips and he pulled her closer, leaning her weight on his chest until he could lower her down into the water.

(Y/n) could barely feel her right leg. It was like an awkward sense of pins and needles but it didn't hurt, her leg felt like it was under anaesthetic, it was limp and felt thick and puffy and loose like it was disconnected. She had to lean all of her weight onto her left leg and loop her hands around Evan's bicep to make sure she didn't fall, but she was upright.

She would shuffle and hobble through the water, she had to.

"Baby girl come here so I can get you." Evan wrapped his free arm around Bella and swiftly picked her up from the car but the moment he leaned down to try and put her in the water, she screamed. A horrid, ungodly sound left her lips and rickoted through Evan's ears and make him wince and shriek in response.

"No daddy no! D-don't let me go! DADDY NO!"

Bella started to bash her tiny fists into Evan's chest so much she was starting to hurt him and each scream resonated through his ears until he had to shout her name to get her attention.

He pressed his hand against the back of her head, tangling his fingers into her crimped hair as he pressed his lips against her forehead to shush her.

"Okay baby girl, it's okay. I'll just carry you, shh you're safe I promise. Daddy's got you."

He didn't want to carry her all this way, as much as Evan loved holding carrying and cuddling his little girl, this was different. He had (Y/n) to think about, she could barely stand up and hobbling through this was going to be a big trek for her. Evan had been hoping the kids would walk beside him and he could either carry (Y/n) or at least take her weight and keep lifting her so she didn't have to move as much.

But he couldn't put Bella down, not in this state. God, she was never going to get a bath again.

They didn't know how far they trecked through the water slugging around their ankles. They didn't know how many people they had passed or how many bodies floated in the water nearby. No one could count the amount of cars, trees, electrical items, bikes, cupboards and shoes that had floated past them.

But each of them were getting tired.

Evan couldn't keep walking for much longer, his head and his heart could go on for miles because of the three people who were depending on him, but his body was past its limit.

He had Chris clinging to his left leg, one arm curled around his leg and the other hand was in his pocket so he stayed close and kept himself upright. Bella was asleep in his arm, her legs curled up on his chest and her head lolled on his shoulder. It was a relief she was asleep because neither parent wanted her to witness or remember the violent, horrifying images that were surrounding them.

And then there was (Y/n), both her arms around Evan's neck, her head tucked into his chest and her body stooped over. Her left leg was limp and useless now, she was dragging her foot behind her collecting mud and grime like a hoarder. Evan took half her weight and she hopped on her good leg or dragged her foot and shuffled awkwardly through the sludge.

It seemed like forever until the road actually became visible and the water drained away into a clear, if wrecked, street.

They had been given directions to the nearest hospital and all of them had been praying for some sort of vehicle to pass by and give them a lift but they had no such luck. They had to keep walking until they found what they were looking for.

"Evan… I can't," (Y/n) couldn't even voice what she was feeling or tell him what she wanted or needed. All she could do was stare up at her husband, her firefighter, her saviour, and bite her lip.

She wanted to sleep, she wanted to sit down and have a nap and wake up all better and patched up with this event far behind them in their past with their future ahead of them. But the longer they walked, the less sure (Y/n) was that she would be okay after all of this. She just wanted to stop.

"Bella, baby girl, there's no more water. I need you to walk with us, stay right between my legs if you want and hold onto me, but I have to carry mummy now."

Evan woke her up gently and peppered kisses all over her face to brighten her up and make sure she knew everything was alright. There was no water anywhere in sight to frighten her and make her cling to him in fear of drowning. He didn't care if she walked with Chris, walked between his legs or right behind him holding onto his other leg like Chris. Just as long as she walked so he could carry (Y/n).

Bella began to whimper and squirm but Evan didn't give her chance to panic, he crouched down with (Y/n) doubling over and leaning on him, and placed their daughter on her feet. She stood firmly on the floor, panic and uncertainty in her eyes before Chris reached a free hand down to hold her hand.

"Up you go sweetheart, this will be the safest way for your leg." He crouched and turned his back towards (Y/n), wiggling his brows to make her smile and lighten the mood.

He didn't want to carry her on his chest when he had a feeling Bella would stay in front of him. He couldn't carry her bridal style because it would be too awkward and he could hurt her leg. But a piggy back ride was the next best thing, he could keep her safe and still see where he was going and her leg would just dangle over his hip. He wouldn't be in reach of the glass to knock or disturb it.

With a smile that showed how weak and disorientated she felt, (Y/n) looped her arms around her husband's neck and let his hands hold her thighs. He scooped her up with ease and settled her on his torso before he straightened up and nodded at the kids to start walking.

"Off we go."

Somehow, Evan felt safer, more secure and had a slight boost of energy and adrenaline with (Y/n) on his back. He had her safe in his hold and he didn't have to watch her struggle and hobble, he had been desperate to carry her and now he could, he felt better. Despite the discomfort in his ribs that he was sure were broken and the dizzy feeling clouding his head, he pushed forward.

He had his wife on his back, Chris clinging to his leg and his daughter waddling slowly between his legs, holding Chris's hand for safety and reassurance.

The sun started to set behind the horizon when the four of them slowly shuffled, hobbled and dragged their feet towards the hospital they had been dreaming about for hours.

"We made it," Evan choked through his words and he could feel the tears suddenly spilling down his face like a waterfall. They did it; they got here, it took them all afternoon and a horrid start, but they got to the hospital. Now they just needed to find someone to help them and they could get patched up and finally relax. As soon as everyone was checked over and (Y/n) was taken care of, Evan could calm down.

He would think, breathe, eat, sleep, cry, when his wife was tended to and out of medical danger.

"You did it baby," (Y/n) whispered quietly in his ear and kissed the junction of his neck behind his ear and jaw. She felt him shiver beneath her touch and she nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder. It was hard to fight off the sleep that was fighting to win the battle.

"Cap, it's good to see you," Eddie patted Bobby on the shoulder and managed a bright smile despite the day's work that had unfolded. Staying at the hospital had kept him busy and being a temporary medic was a delightful change for Eddie. He felt a little more useful here than he had back there in the water a few hours earlier.

But whatever Bobby was about to say drowned out into static when Eddie looked just beyond him.

"Oh my God!" Eddie's fingers dug into Bobby's shoulder and he ended up yanking him down a little before he suddenly let go and bolted past the hospital reception that was crammed with people.

He stumbled down the path, his heart beating frantically against his ribs causing the vein in his neck to pulse and make him feel faint.

What had he done?

Why did he drop Christopher off with them this morning? Why did he add such extra pressure on the two most important people to him? He should have found some other childcare for Christopher, he shouldn't have turned up out of the blue and landed them with him. They looked like they had all been through the heart of the storm and then some. Why did he give them the added pressure of Christopher?

If he didn't they might have gone somewhere else on their day trip than wherever they took the kids.

Eddie didn't know what to do when he reached them. He wasn't sure whether to grab his son and hold onto him for dear life, check over Bella, confiscate Buck and wrap him up in a hug or take (Y/n) and carry her through reception. He froze in front of them all, his arms paralysed out in front of him as he couldn't make up his mind on what to do.

"Daddy!" Christopher let go of Bella's hand and stumbled forward, making the decision for him as he threw himself into Eddie's waiting arms.

"Oh, Christopher, are you okay?" He didn't look like he had been through the tsunami, he looked more like he had gone swimming in the sea than through a horrific natural disaster. "Buck, I- hey girlie, oh it's okay." Eddie kept one arm around his son but his free arm looped around Bella when she ran across to him and grabbed his leg.

"Uncle Eddie,"

She couldn't hold her dad properly when he was carrying (Y/n) and she was desperate for comfort. If she couldn't have Evan, she was sure as Hell going to have her uncle Eddie instead. Her little arms stretched up and grabbed at Eddie's neck until he understood and picked her up, holding her against his chest when she began to cry.

"Buck, what happened? Chimney I need help over here!" Bobby bypassed Eddie and stood in front of Evan whose legs were starting to wobble as floods of tears poured down his face.

"Buck, God where were you?" Chimney tried to look him in the eye but he wouldn't look at any of them, all Evan could do was cry, keeping his gaze down to his feet. "Stretcher! (Y/n) I'm gonna check you over real quick then we'll get you inside and patched up, okay?"

"Hm,"

She couldn't open her eyes any longer, her face nuzzled into Buck's neck again and her arms squeezed lightly around his neck. It took all her effort to smooth her fingertips over Evan's chest to let him know that he was okay and they had made it.

Chimney patted his hands all down her back, felt her ribs in case they were broken and observed the puncture wound in her lower chest that wasn't extensive but it would definitely need stitches. But when he looked down at her right leg, his lips rolled together and he eyed Bobby with uncertainty. Her leg was extremely discoloured from the cut off circulation, blood was still dribbling slowly down her leg and the glass could have any number of infections on it that could penetrate her soft tissue and cause damage.

She had to get into theatre now before her leg became unsavable.

"Pulse is good but her breathing is shallow and her leg is in bad shape, that glass needs to come out now and the blood supply needs to be reconnected before the leg is lost." Chimney turned to find two nurses had arrived with a slightly lopsided stretcher but it would do. (Y/n) was now a high priority and she would get first admission to an operating room. "Okay (Y/n) we're going to gently ease you off of Buck and onto your stomach on this stretcher."

"Stay very still Buck, we've got her don't worry." Bobby patted Evan's shoulder before he and Chimney both got hold of (Y/n).

They moved an arm beneath her chest each and carefully held her thighs before they pulled her back. Her head fell back so slow and floppy it looked like she was a ragdoll whose neck had just broken. Her arms were lifeless and useless at her sides and she felt like jelly, one wrong move and she would split forever.

Bobby moved round and leaned backwards so (Y/n) could lay on his chest and Chimney could manouevre her legs and they lifted her up onto the stretcher. He turned her head to the side so she could still breathe properly and they placed her arms on the stretcher tucked up against her chest before Chimney gave a thumbs up for them to take her.

"Buck, buddy let's follow them inside and stay with (Y/n). You and Bella can stay close by and we will get you checked out." Bobby pressed one hand on Buck's back and the other on his chest both to check his breathing and to try and comfort him and steady him when he looked like he would keel over.

He knew Evan and Bella wouldn't want to be separated from (Y/n) and if they went now, they could stay in the closest waiting room to her and get seen by a nurse. Evan's head looked bad and he could have other multiple injuries they didn't know about.

As soon as Buck saw Eddie take the kids inside to follow (Y/n), his knees gave out.

His hands latched around Bobby's arm, his body went down with a harsh thud to the concrete floor on his knees and his breathing turned shallow and limp.

"Wow, wow! Hey, you're okay. You're all here in one piece, you're all gonna be okay. Come here," Bobby spoke with a calm and unusually soft voice like melted butter and he pulled Evan into his chest when he didn't refuse the contact. He let Evan tuck his face into his shoulder, switching between little panting breaths and big gasps before he let out a shrill cry that sounded like his throat had been scratched raw.

"I- I got them all here. They're all safe," Evan started to rock himself back and forth until Bobby and Chimney both did the same, holding onto him and checking his vitals at the same time.

"You did it Buck. You did it."

[melodic-haze]

☆ — DEMO TRACK: bottom!Robin (HSR) x top!Reader

☆ — GENRE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Semi-public sex (it's in a venue green room), reader has a cock/strap

Can't believe that my first post is Robin thirst (I say that when my acc theme is literally her 💀) but I REALLY can't stop thinking about fucking her in her private dressing room LOL

Like imagine she calls you in or smth as a form of "distraction" from "pre-performance jitters" with both of you knowing FULL WELL that she isn't nervous in the least. She's even acting the part: her eyebrows furrowed, a hand lightly tugging on the fabric of your clothes as she's asking you to stay with her

"I don't think I'd be able to get out there and sing without your help." Her eyes look at you as if she were pleading, though you've spent enough time with the singer that you easily spot the tiniest glimmer in that alluring sea of green, "Won't you care to stay a little while longer..?"

Doesn't really take long for it to go from simply talking and hanging out to bending her over on the table. All it took was a squeeze here, a graze there, and suddenly neither of you can keep your hands off each other

Could be that she's laying down on her back, legs spread and on your shoulders as you move your fingers in her to find that sweet spot that has her singing your favourite song made just for you on the fly. Could be that she's facing down as you use her wings as handlebars to keep her upright and she can see herself and her perfect image get absolutely RUINED and railed by none other than you on the mirror and her insides just clench at the sight

Her appearance is absolutely MESSED THE FUCK UP right now (the hair and makeup people are Stressing) but Robin really can't bring herself to care. Not when her brain's gone to who knows where. All that's important right now is chasing that high until she--

You hear a somewhat urgent knock on the door, your efforts stuttering at your moment's intrusion, "Miss Robin? We need to set you up in five."

You don't see or hear your pretty little angel respond, though judging by the dazed-out look on her face it's clear that.. well, it's not as if she's so dazed out that she can't begin to process the current events—it's more like she doesn't want to process it.

Apparently whoever it was didn't take the hint because the staff's voice rang past the door once again, "Miss Robin? Are you there?"

You eventually see her sigh resignedly, her eyebrows furrowed genuinely this time as she cleared her throat and answered awkwardly, putting all her strength into making sure she doesn't sound like some fucked-out mess.

"Yes, I'm fine! I'll be there on time," she let out a seemingly good-natured laugh to sell the charade, though the corners of her mouth twitched the slightest bit.. before she bit her lip as she slowly grinded herself on you. "Though careful there—worry like that and-- mm.. I might think you like me."

You hear the staff member stutter past the door before footsteps begin to scurry away. With the way your lover was just moving, you'd have thought that she wanted to continue.. but she pushes herself off of you and pulls up her panties with a small apologetic smile.

She tells you that as much as she really wanted to continue, she shouldn't. She has a job to do, and being late or skipping on a show just wouldn't do! She promises to finish things with you when she's done, and that promise comes in the form of cleaning her slick off of you and leaving a lingering kiss.. before asking you to help her with getting her appearance back to looking AT LEAST presentable LMAOOOO

It takes you both more than five minutes and the staff are baffled but it's not like you can explain it 😭😭 so have fun with the scrutinising stares 🫶

Robin's got better self-control than me I would've died if I had to perform while bricked the fuck up LOL. But trust me when I say that it's worth it when she gets off the stage and she pounces at you and begs you to finish what you started bc she deserves it as a reward after a hard day of work, right?

[emmaiscool22]

Love Isn't Easy

Eustass Kid x female strawhat!reader

Warnings: angst to a teeny tiny amount of fluff, tipsy reader?, minor cussing, SOFT!KID (that's a warning itself lol), mention of a girl's night

this takes's place after wano (so minor wano spoilers!!!!) purely fictional and noncanon!!!

word count: 2328

I sit on a barrel watching Brook play his violin. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, I couldn’t help but feel the dread in my stomach. I take my eyes off Brook and to the shoreline of the island we stopped at. As soon as we ran into the Kid Pirates, Luffy declared that we were throwing a party despite Kid disagreeing. How he ended up getting Kid to agree, I have no idea. 

“Are you alright, Y/N?” 

I jump, surprised at the voice. I crane my neck to look behind me, the stress leaving my shoulders when I realize who it is. 

“I am not sure if I am being honest, Robin,” I answer. 

She nods, sitting next to me. I move my eyes from her to the redhead across the ship, his laugh booming across the lively atmosphere. I move to take another sip of my drink, the burn doing nothing to settle the uneasiness in my belly. 

“You should talk to him.” 

“He already said what he wanted to,” I sigh, remembering his words on Wano.

Robin looks towards him and back at me, “What about you? Did you say what you wanted?”

Robin glances at Kid, noticing his eyes following me while my attention is focused on Brook. I take a big gulp of my drink, emptying it. I set it down next to me and grab another one, popping off the lid. I don't want to be here, I am in no mood for partying. 

“Whatever I do, I can’t get my mind off of Kid. It’s ruining me, Robin,” I let my feelings out for the first time, “I can’t sleep, his words just repeat in my head.”

“I never loved you. I will never love you.”

I stand up, moving forward, stumbling slightly. “I am headed to bed.” 

Before Robin can say anything, I head towards the girl’s quarters. In the middle of my journey there, I am stopped by someone voicing my name. I know that voice. I wordlessly shake my head and continue, needing to get off the deck. He says my name again, closer this time. I need to get off this ship, I think. My march to the girl’s quarters changes directions to the beach. The laughter and music fade into the background the farther I get from the ship. I stop when I feel far enough away without losing sight of the ship. I nestle into the sand, hoping to stake a claim here for the rest of the night. My heartbeat slows as the sea breeze and the tide calm me down. 

“Why did you leave?” 

I stiffen. 

“I wanted some fresh air,” I mutter. 

He chuckles, “That’s a lie.” 

I didn’t say anything else. I want to scream at him, tell him everything that has been consuming me for the months since Wano. But I can’t. 

Kid plops down right next to me in the sand. “I might not like him, but Strawhat sure knows how to throw a party,” Kid gulps his drink, throwing the empty bottle in the sand.

I still say nothing. 

“So we not talkin’ or somethin’?” He asks, turning his body towards me.

I try to find the courage to say something, anything, but alas, nothing comes to mind.

He stares at me trying to catch my eyes that are firmly set on the rolling tide. After a couple of minutes, he speaks again

“You know,” he starts, “Heat and Wire miss your presence on the ship. Said that something is missing… I don’t know. I told them we knew you were only stayin' for 2 years but they got attached to you.”  

I couldn’t help but scoff and mumble, “All I did on your ship was complain about you and missing my friends.” 

“She speaks!” He shouts and laughs. 

I stare at him. I forgot how his smile covered his whole face, or how he would whip his arms around when he got excited. The muscles flex as his flesh arm waves around in the air. No. I can’t think about him, not like this. Not when he broke my heart. I move to stand up and wipe the sand off my legs. My feet taking me towards the ship once more. I didn’t want to be alone with him. Suddenly a hand grabs mine, pulling me back. 

“Leaving me so soon?”

I shiver at his words. I can feel tears beginning to slide down my face. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Kid pulls at my hand once more to get me to turn around. He says something, but all I can hear is my heart trying to tear itself out of my chest. Suddenly, someone starts calling my name from the ship, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

“I have to go back,” I whisper, tugging my hand harshly out of his grip. 

I sway towards the calling voice, the alcohol still moving about my system. I can see Sanji leaning over the edge of the ship, looking down at the shoreline for me. A couple heads peek next to him, Robin, Chopper, and Luffy. I remember Robin's words from before: 

“What about you? Did you say what you wanted?”

I do have things I want to say. I spin around, catching Kid off guard. He looks at me with surprise at my sudden actions. “What are you doing?” he demands. 

“I don’t want to love you anymore.” I blurt out. 

His eyes widen. 

“I don’t want to love you, but for some reason I do, even though you hurt me. I fell in love with you during the two years I was on your ship, and I felt like you loved me. We spent every day training together, and hanging out, and I felt like we got close. I wish I was the one you thought about before you went to bed, or the one you wanted to spend your days with. But in Wano you told me the opposite after I confessed my love for you... Why won’t you love me back?”

It takes him a moment to speak, “let’s get you back,” he grumbles, “you’re drunk Y/N.” 

At his words, I cry harder and drop to my knees, his flesh hand grabs my shoulder, “Don’t touch me!” I sob. He tries to say something but his mouth just opens and closes. His metal hand comes to my other shoulder to hoist me up, but my words have him stumbling back. 

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!”

My hand grabs at the sand and chucks it towards him. My sobs ring out into the open air along with the faint sound of music and laughter. 

“I would listen to Y/N, Eustass,” a voice commands.

My eyes stay on the sand, while Kid’s head snaps towards the voice. A gentle hand rests on the shoulder in the place of Kid’s. A soft voice whispers, “You are okay Y/N, we are here for you.”

The hand begins to gently stroke my hair. I look up and lock eyes with Nami. 

“Can you stand up?” She asks. 

I nod my head slowly, planting my hands on the ground to push my body up. She wraps an arm around me and leads me towards the ship. 

“Y/N-” Kid starts but is cut off by Robin.

“You hurt her enough, don’t make it worse.” 

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

“He’s an idiot, Y/N,” Nami states while she brushes my hair. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your night,” I sigh, “I could see you and Killer getting along.”

Nami laughs, “Oh Y/N, he couldn’t handle me.”

We both laugh, warmth coming to my chest as I smile. The silence that follows is comfortable, basking in each other's presence. A soft knock comes from the door, the door squeaking open, revealing Robin, smiling slightly. After a few moments of chit-chatting, Nami stands up.

“Let’s have a girl’s night,” Nami shouts, “I will ask Sanji to make us some snacks! We can do our nails and have a good time together!” 

I smile and nod, and Robin voices her agreement. Nami skips out of the room to find Sanji while Robin and I get out all of the nail polish. Once we settle onto the floor, I take a moment to look at her and gather up the courage to ask her the question I have been dying to know the answer to since the beach. Reading my mind, she states, “He didn’t hurt me,” she smiles, “After you walked away, he asked me to grab Killer and that was it.” 

I nod slowly as Nami bursts back into the room along with Sanji, who is holding out drinks and our favorite snacks. “Y/N-swannnnnn, Robin-swannn!” He guides the tray to us, “Here you are, my lovely ladies!” 

He hands us our drinks and snacks, and leaves the room, letting us know that he can make us anything else we want. For the next couple of hours, we pamper ourselves, doing our nails, and hair, and talking about our most recent adventures. 

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

I toss and turn in bed, shoving the blankets off my legs. Laying there for a few moments, I cover back up, uncomfortably cold. Groaning, I decide to get up and make some tea, hoping it will help me sleep. I slip my sandals on, glancing at Nami and Robin to make sure I haven’t woken them. I slip out into the hallway, no one in sight. The Kid Pirates must have gone back to their ship at some point, I think. I make my way to the kitchen only to be stopped by the sight of a shadow by the head of the Sunny, “Luffy?” I whisper confused about why he was out here this late, moving my way toward the dark figure. 

“Sorry sweet cheeks,” Kid mutters, “I am not Strawhat.” 

I take a step back, startled by his presence, “K-kid, what are you doing here?” 

“I was thinking about you if I am being honest.”

I take another step back, the idea of tea lost in my mind, just hoping to escape to the solace of my bedroom.

“I am sorry for what happened on the beach,” Kid apologizes.

This stops me from moving. Kid apologizing? 

I find my voice, “Killer tell you to say that?”

“No,” Kid snarls, “I wanted to fucking apologize myself.” 

I take a deep breath and I dare myself to be bold, “What are you doing here?”

“I was practicing…” he trails off.

“Practicing?”

“I need to practice without Killer shoving words down my throat.”

“I don’t understand.”

He doesn’t respond and just looks at me. I suddenly feel self-conscious at his scrutinizing. We stand in the darkness for a few minutes, before he breaks the silence.

“You asked me why I didn’t love you back earlier.” He pauses before he continutes, “Umm, Killer told me I needed to sort out my thoughts and feelings before I talked to you again. But I hate the idea of not talking to you. When you confessed to me after I ran into you after escaping Udon, I was surprised. I couldn’t believe it. Why would you love me? I said the things I did to hurt you, I can’t have you loving me. I am incredibly selfish. As soon as you said it, I wanted to take you away. I wanted- I want you all to myself. But I hurt you instead of telling you the truth.”

Kid takes a deep breath, and grabs my hand. 

“The truth is, I realized that I have developed strong feelings for you. It started as a simple admiration, but over time, it has grown into something deeper. The way you make me laugh, the way you care for others, the way you fight, and the way you light up a room with your presence... it all captivates me. When you found me after Kuma separated your crew, I knew I was fucked. The look on your face when you asked if you could stay on the Victoria, I couldn’t say no. I knew I loved you the minute you told Heat off for stealing food from your plate one night at dinner. I am selfish for telling you this all now but -” 

I cut him off, “You love me?” 

He nods, “Yes.”

“And you’re not just saying it to say it 'cause it's what I want to hear?”

“I love you Y/N.”

“It would have saved me a whole lot of tears and heartache if you just told me.”

Kid nods again, “I know.”

“You hurt me.”

“I know.”

I take a bold step forward towards him and wrap my arms around him. His arms slowly wrap around my body, his warmth seeping into me. 

“It’s going to take me a while to forgive you, but thank you for telling me how you feel.”

“I understand,” Kid says, “but can I ask you something?”

I pull back from his embrace, enough to see his face staring down at me, “what is it?” 

“Can I kiss you?”

My heart hammers in shock. But slowly, I nod my head, not trusting my words. His flesh hand moves to cup my cheek while his metal one lays across the small of my back. He leans in halfway, his eyes searching mine for any sign of wariness. When he finds none, he closes the gap, his lips hovering over mine. I can feel the warmth of his breath and the slight tickle of his lips ghosting mine. I push my toes into the ground, leaning up to press my lips against his. His chapped lips move in sync with mine, but before either one of us can deepen the kiss, Kid pulls away, his forehead against mine. “I am sorry again for how I acted, I am going to try and make it up to you before our crew departs.” Kid mumbles. 

I don’t say anything, just take him in. I couldn’t forgive him just yet but I knew that I would love him forever. 

[lvlyghost]

I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS SO MUCH 😩❤️😍 the way you characterize ghost is so good I can't 😭❤️ I wanted to ask if you could maybe write something for me since your writing style is sooo good frfr

How about ghost and reader have an argument that was started by ghost and he goes a bit too far breaking the reader and making them cry and be just a shell of themselves how would he feel when he sees the readers state and how would he fix it with a happy end please

Broken Wings

Pairings: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Summary: After a night out, things seem to take a turn in your relationship with Ghost.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tw: angst, hurt/comfort, self doubt, jealousy, probably ooc!simon, curse words. lots of grammar mistakes, poorly edited you know the drill🐝

A/N: i loved this request sooo much, though i did have a lot of trouble when writing it since i wasn't feeling too inspired. also had two different stories but ended up deciding to post this one i might post the other one idk, hope you like this anon! I did try my best🫶🏻🤍🩷✨corrections are appreciated; remember english isn't my native language 🐸

Masterlist✨

"I like you." You said with big bright eyes.

"But no one can know about this. Just you and I. That's enough." He answered, hand tracing the side of your face.

You blink rapidly. You have always been daydreamer. It caused you tons of problems although you tried to do your best when you were out on missions. Ghost is walking ahead of you, boots sinking in the sand beneath your feet. The waves crashing on the shore is something you like listening to and seeing too but under different circumstances. Both of your gear clink with every step you take, it's the only sound as well as the sea that swallows the tense silence that falls between the two.

Things have been rather... strange since two days ago and you've tried to talk to him about it. It wasn't weird for Ghost to push you back every now and then, he was a complicated person and you couldn't be more different from one another.

You were the sun and he was the darkness that came at night or so he had said one night at the common room back at the compound. He was stoic, grumpy and hardly found himself enjoying somebody's company. You on the other hand, even though you wouldn't consider yourself the most outgoing person like Johnny, still you liked talking unlike him. You loved going out with the task force. And most importantly you loved when Ghost joined because you loved him, you loved having him around, despite his gruff responses or annoyed looks.

You jog though your legs shake and tiredness sets in your body.

"How much farther until we get there?" You ask, ignoring the fact that his frame goes rigid when you speak . He doesn't acknowledge you at first. All you hear is a small sigh leaving his lips. You kind of wish he wasn't wearing the damn sunglasses so you could see his eyes.

They always said a lot.

"Thirty minutes. Give or take." The answer is short and cold, breaking your heart a little more than before. Still, you decide to try again.

"Sir, is something bothering you?" Before he can stop it he scoffs, shaking his head. "What?" Brows furrowing on your features. "Simon..."

He stops all of the sudden, turning to face you with a tense stance.

"First of all don't bloody use my name out here. Secondly it's your own fault we've been walking for hours. So don't go asking if something's bothering me, Sergeant."

Taking a step back you open your mouth.

"My fault? I was doing my job!"

"Didn't know your job was to get your fucking head blown off!!" He seethes. "Fucking hell you can't be this reckless and expect me to clap at your poor acting on the field." Your heart begins to race, he had never said such things to you. Taking a small step back your grit your teeth, you hated that his words were making your eyes blurry. This was the Simon you never wanted to see. And yet there he was. "Now we lost the damn intel thanks to you." He spits. But something isn't adding up.

"It's not just that. You've been acting strange for a few days now, Ghost. Don't come and tell me it's just because I did what I was supposed to do!" He stiffs yet again. Jaw clenching so hard you fear he might break it. "Not missing the way you avoid me ever since..." you close your mouth shut. "The pub..." he shifts his weight from one foot to another. The waves are increasing and now reach your feet, dampening your boots. And then you remember him storming off the local pub before he even finished his own drink. Everyone had heard the hard slap to John's arm when he had tried to calm him down. God why didn't you pay more attention to that moment? Because you both had agreed to keep your distances? And going after him was out of discussion? Then the next day you'd barely seen him, just for a short moment during debriefs and that was it. The moment you had gotten up from your seat he was gone. And today you were supposed to go to a special op that had soon become a problem that eventually led to the two of you in the middle of a beach, it was a cloudy day and if it weren't for the heavy layers you wore you're certain you'd be shaking. Sometimes –and you were ashamed of it– you were oblivious to many things and it seemed that Ghost's anger toward you was one of them this time. "What happened?"

He inhales deeply.

"It's over. That's what happened."

Your heart sinks and you swallow hard. Your whole body loses color when he mutters those two words. Out of all the things, all the possibilities you thought he'd say to you, he decided to end everything. Shaking your head you try to touch his hand but he doesn't let you.

"Ghost where is all of this coming from I don't understand!" You choke out. "We were fine..."

"No. You were fine. If I wasn't enough you should've just said so."

"Stop... you... what the hell are you talking about???"

"Nothing that matters anymore. Keep walking and don't say another word. That's an order."

He turns and keeps walking as if nothing just happened. As if he didn't just completely broke your heart.

'You were fine'.

What was that supposed to mean? You think, walking a few meters behind him, scared to even say anything else; to even try to grab him by the arm and force him to talk. It would only make things worse right now.

By the time you reach the safe house it's started to rain the silence between the two is deafening and tense. Ghost's cold demeanor and hurtful words have left a scar. Never in a million years would you think you'd be here, with a broken, shattered heart and no explanation from his part.

Words that pierced through your soul.

That day something died inside you. And he was the reason.

-

Two weeks, three days and seven hours.

That's the time that's passed since that day at the beach. Two weeks since Simon broke you and gave you no reasons.

You're a disaster.

You barely eat or get any sleep. There's dark circles under your eyes and you're sure you've lost some weight too. Ghost has been gone on a mission alone with Johnny for a week now, which left you with a lot of spare time to think about the two of you.

More tears stream down your face when you remember that day. Had you missed something important? Was Ghost's mind somewhere dark? Somewhere it shouldn't be? God knows he was... difficult to say the least. But every single time you tried, tried to be there for him. Did those late nights at your home meant nothing? Had he not seen the way you looked at him? Had you not shown him enough of your affection? Everything you'd do for him if he simply asked?

Getting up from your bed you get ready for another day. Not bothering to lace your boots just shoving them inside your shoes you walk down the hallways until you get to the training room. Gaz is talking to John in the far corner, the Captain's arms are crossed over his chest while Kyle frowns and shakes his head. You don't to even go and salute them as you normally would do, instead you put your earphones on and hit the treadmill.

It doesn't last long though; after one minute someone stops it by pressing down the off button. Your brows knitted together as you stop, turning to look up at Gaz who smiles politely.

"Sorry for that, sweetheart. You okay?" You nod, but say nothing more. "Come here." He pats your shoulder and helps you down from the treadmill. If you could smile now you would. But no even the faintest, softest grin leaves your lips. Gaz takes a quick glimpse at your face and rubs the back of his neck. "You know, Soap and Ghost just got back. Heard Lt. was asking about you."

"Oh." You murmur. "Okay." You don't move nor dare to meet his eyes. "I'll just head back to my room."

"Uhmm. I- what I meant is he's looking for you..." Shaking your head you walk away, not having the energy to face Simon right now. And why did he need to see you? Made pretty clear that you two were done, therefore was no need to see each other unless it was work related.

-

"You really do like it here don't you." Your body goes rigid. This was supposed to be your safe place. The roof of the armory was rarely visited by anyone at this hour. Simon's voice seems softer than ever before but you don't answer. Not even turn to acknowledge him. You hear muttered words and then he crouches down to your level. "Price said you're not eating. Do we have to send you to the military counselor now?" How dare he? After all he caused this. You know he doesn't mean it in bad way, somehow he cares for you deep down. Your hands ball into fists, fighting the urge to snap at him, to push him down and just break him the way he broke you. But you don't because you still love him, and could never bring yourself to hurt him. Simon is staring intently at you, waiting, hoping for any sign. He knows he shouldn't be here. Bloody hell he knows you shouldn't even look his way never again. He deserves it. Every bit of it. "Talk to me, love. Please." It's a low whisper. A plea.

"What do you want Ghost?" You ask softly. Simon leans closer, sitting down with his legs propped up against his chest and arms resting on his knees. It's a funny look for someone his size.

"Jus' wanted to see you." You scoff playing with your hands, refusing to lock eyes with him because if you did you'd be done. "Wanted to explain..."

"Then just do it!" You sob. Your lower lip trembles. "And then leave."

"Fine." He agrees. "But I'm not leaving. I- I made a mistake, and took it out on you okay? I was scared."

"Scared?" Your head snaps to where he is sitting. It's painful just to look at him. "Why would you be scared Ghost?" You retaliate

He grumbles, never fancied when you called him that when you were alone. Quite the contradiction given the fact that he told you not to call him his name that day at the beach.

"Because I saw you." He points out. "That night. Everything you're missing for being with someone like me. Can't even show proper affection because it's not me... and you deserve more than that. More than me."

"Ghost..."

"No. Lemme finish, love." He swallows. It's always amusing how controlled he seems. "I lost it, yeah? You looked so happy. How on earth do I deserve you, on what universe do I deserve ya'?"

Sucking in a sharp breath you recall the moments that preceded the events. The sound of music blasting through the speakers, when you joined the rest of the soldiers on the other side of the pub. Private Miller had slung his arm over your shoulders in a friendly manner. You laughed and drank too much that night, it was joyful. Everyone was there, your team. You never thought he felt that way about it.

"Oh my... Simon." You cover your mouth and cry silently. He hesitated for a moment before pulling you close and into his lap. "Should've known something was wrong. Forgive me... I should've stayed with you, follow you after you left." You cry out.

You were scared too, for very different reasons. That he'd get tired of you eventually, that if you weren't cautious enough your secret would be known. Both would get suspended thus separated and discharged.

"No, love. You shouldn't have to go running after me. I should be running after you. Now forgive me, say you will. Or else I might just lose myself for good." You cradle his face in your hands lifting the balaclava just above the bridge of his nose. Thumb tracing his lower lip. Your tears have dried.

"I've missed you so much, Simon. All you gotta do is talk to me, always." He tightens his grip around you. "You think Price would let us go home tonight and not ask questions?"

His chuckle is short and soft.

"Yeah. I think he's known for a while now."

[wolfiesmoon]

Ice skate date?

TWST x gn!reader

characters featured: riddle, azul, ruggie

since i am obsessed with the concept of teaching (almost) grown men how to skate, i return with brainrot (twst edition)

but then again i have a feeling that a lot of the characters have no idea how to ice skate (due to various reasons I'll get into here) . if there happen to be any events or lore where the characters actually know how to ice skate consider this to be a fun little au where they dont

｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡ Riddle Rosehearts

There's no time for useless things when you want to achieve perfection.

That's what Riddle's mom told him when he expressed interest in anything but studying. She had every minute detail planned out and a "useless hobby" would not fit in.

Therefore, Riddle never learned how to ice skate. You can imagine he has his reservations about going to the rink with you.

After a bit of convincing and lots of reassuring him that you won't laugh under any circumstance, he begrudgingly agreed to go.

As soon as he stepped on the ice, he felt unsafe, like he might fall over at any moment but you quickly held out your arm for him to hang onto.

"Thanks." He looked a little startled which almost made you laugh but you shouldn't break a promise.

His grip on your arm tightened as he attempted to glide across the ice beside you. Seems he's really afraid of falling.

"Relax, you'll pull my arm off if you squeeze it that hard." You reminded him gently. You have a feeling you understand why he's so determined to not fall even once and avoiding the stares of curious children.

His grip on your arm loosened but that made him stumble on the ice and almost fall over and he immediately gripped you again. At this point you're worried you'll lose circulation.

"Riddle, it's fine if you fall. You shouldn't worry too much." You smiled, remembering how you used to fall a lot back when you were first learning to ice skate.

"Even I still fall on the ice a lot. This is nothing like a magic history exam, you don't need to be perfect. There's no way to be completely perfect here, anyways."

"I know that. Do not patronize me." Riddle huffed, leaning onto you more and attempting to slide on the ice properly.

"I was not." You wondered if you were too vague with your advice. Did he even get what you meant to say?

Actually, now that you take another look at him, he looks more relaxed and at ease. "Riddle, you idiot. You don't have to act so modest when you're glad I understand you." You thought to yourself, looking lovingly at his determined face.

｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡ Azul Ashengrotto

Honestly, where would he learn to ice skate under the sea? He never even used legs until his teenage years, so ice skating was completely out of the question until now.

That being said, he felt less than confident stepping on the ice.

It was still water, but he didn't like it in this solid form. It was much too slippery and unpredictable for his liking.

"Come here! You can do it! Come on!" You were standing around 5 metres to his right, beckoning him to come over as if he's a toddler who's just learning how to properly walk.

"Drop the babytalking, please." he was definitely not amused which only made you giggle harder.

"Oh, but I was so benevolent as to help you learn how to ice skate. What a shame that my help is so unnapreciated." you did your best Azul impression.

"Wow. I would compliment your acting skills if this wasn't completely innacurate and used to make fun of me." despite that, he managed to somehow make his way to your side, stumbling a few times.

You smiled cheekily, pointing at the edge. "Hold onto that. And onto me too, if you want." He did as you insctructed, looking a little nervous and unsure.

A little kid passed by the two of you, staring curiously at Azul. It must be a little weird to see someone so old just learning how to ice skate for the first time. You anticipated the little children staring.

You could feel him squeeze your arm slightly tighter at that and he seemed to be looking outside the ice rink, avoiding your eyes.

You gently took his hand.

"It's fine. Don't think about it too hard."

You felt him stiffen for a moment.

"You're honestly pretty scary sometimes, you know that?" you had no idea in what sense he meant that since he still didn't look your way. But you have a feeling his cheeks are pink right now.

Doesn't matter either way since he squeezed your hand lovingly.

｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡ Ruggie Bucchi

"Aw man, I just can't get this right." You helped Ruggie up for what felt like the hundreth time. He had free time this weekend so you suggested ice skating, to which he immediately told to he doesn't know how to.

Thinking back on it, it makes complete sense that he wouldn't know how to ice skate. The Sunset Savanna is a very warm nation so snow doesn't fall there and Ruggie didn't exactly grow up in the best living conditions either so he wouldn't have been able to afford a trip to a colder nation anyways.

"You'll get it soon enough." He didn't seem dejected at all even after all the failed attempts to keep up with you, which was nice to see.

"I hope I do, or Leona will get mad at me for being late to tuck him in."

"I still can't get over how ridiculous that is. Tuck him in? What is he, a toddler?" You sighed, catching him when he stumbled over and he thanked you cheekily.

"King's orders, what can ya do." He shrugged. He thinks he's almost got the hang of it now. That's a good thing. Very very good.

"Why are you so determined to learn by today? You know we can always come back some other time." you held his hand, helping him keep balance.

"Isn't it obvious? It's cuz I wanna go on an ice skating date with you. A proper one!" he grinned widely at you, feeling proud of himself.

"Okay, you romantic." you rolled your eyes playfully. The closest you'll get to an "ice skating date" is a beginner skating class for teenagers. Atleast in this short time frame.

But you have to admit, the way he said it with so much determination was downright adorable and almost made you want to cover the rental ice skate fee. Almost.

He'll probably conjure up some insane scheme to avoid paying for them anyways. Which makes you worry about getting in trouble with not just the school, but also the law.

You should probably hold him back this time, huh.

[luvnami]

shinazugawa sanemi is NOT the love interest of my dream office romcom! - chapter 3 (fuck me - no, not literally!)

ɞ an | this is a buildup to the okinawa trip arc in ch4 and ch5. i promise, we'll get more juicy bits soon! i wonder what will happen when sanemi and reader are on an island all by themselves... likes/comments/rb are appreciated. do let me know what you think about the fic! find the masterlist here ɞ cw / wc | mangaka!mitsuri and manager!obanai, sanemi's manboobs, blowjob mention, mdni (18+), 1.5k+

You think you might like ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ a little more than what you’d rather admit. You spend your weekend flipping through the first volume of the manga, in-between folding laundry and washing dishes (one of the many banes of your existence). 

The story starts off like any other: the protagonist visits her grandparents in Okinawa for summer vacation. She dreams about the ocean views and blue skies, but meets a boy her age that shows her the island’s secret: a magical gem that grants the user a single wish. As the pair explore the island and fall in love, they try to ignore their inevitable separation at the end of summer. 

The volume ends there. You put the book down and stare at the dark sky outside your apartment window, briefly thinking about a life where you’d wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. There’s no boss breathing down your neck for project proposals, no skyscrapers obscuring the light-polluted sky. You close your eyes. If you try hard enough, you can almost smell the salty sea and hear the caw of seabirds.

Nope. It’s just a dream, after all, and the reality you live in is unfortunately a lot more pathetic than an idyllic Okinawan life. 

You wake up the next morning to your third alarm, blasting from your phone as the device vibrates off your nightstand and clatters to the ground. It’s Monday and you have 15 minutes to get ready for work. You curse and jump out of bed, though your comforter tangles around your legs and you tumble onto your bedroom floor with a muffled thump. You waste an extra minute unwrapping yourself and nursing the bump on your knee. 

You race around your tiny Tokyo apartment in record time to make yourself look somewhat presentable for the office. No matter how attractive you think a beefy, handsome manager scolding you for being late would be, Shinazugawa would rather have your head on a pike (which is, contrary to popular belief, not as attractive). You thank yesterday-you for having enough sense to iron your clothes in advance. You wriggle your head through your shirt, grab your blazer and bag, and bolt out the door – though you end up having to turn back because you’ve forgotten ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ on your bed, and you’re meeting with the client today.

The morning rush is as unforgiving as ever. You make space for yourself on the packed train by shoving your way through, muttering ‘sorry’s that don’t sound very sorry in the first place. You look at the time on your phone. Maybe you’ll have enough time to grab breakfast at the convenience store. As the doors open and droves of people step off the train, you yelp and clutch onto a handlebar to avoid being swept off with the crowd. So much for that Okinawa dream.

You make it to the office on time and in one piece. It’s a miracle, really.

“Hey, you’re not late today!” Masachika grins. 

You pretend to swing your fist at his head. He easily dodges, laughing it off. You spend the next ten minutes scarfing down your breakfast (red bean bread and a carton of juice) as Masachika tells you what he did over the weekend: taking care of his niece, watching a movie with his partner, the new recipe for chicken nanban he tried out. Way more entertaining and productive than your own weekend. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you spent half the time writing a new smut fic, so you lie about preparing for today’s meeting. The doubtful face Masachika gives you makes you feel a little bad, but not enough for you to tell the truth. You really, really don’t want to elaborate on how your protagonist gets eaten out by a vampire hottie. 

At 9.30am, you head over to a meeting room with Masachika and Shinazugawa. Your clients are already seated inside. The author, Kanroji Mitsuri, is all pretty in pink. Her eyes glitter and for a moment, you’re stunned, recoiling as sparkles and flowers pop up all around her face with a lovey dovey theme song playing in the background. Her aura shines like the sun. 

“Shinazugawa! Hi!” she smiles, and you’re almost knocked out by the pureness that radiates off of her. 

It’s a stark contrast compared to her manager, Iguro Obanai. Kanroji and him are as different as night and day. He’s dressed in all black and has a face mask on, with a glare so deadly it makes you want to prostrate yourself and beg for forgiveness for breathing the same air as him. You’re not quite sure who’s more terrifying – him or Shinazugawa. The more you think about it, the more you consider resigning from your job and living as a NEET, so that you never have to interact with men who haven’t outgrown their puberty-induced rebellious phase (i.e., Shinauzawa Sanemi and Iguro Obanai who think that glowering at everyone and everything is cool. It is not. It makes them look unapproachable and like a prick, not quite quiet and mysterious and Edward from Twilight as they intend to be. Though, you’re not one to gentle-parent a man into being socially approachable, so that’s on them to figure out). 

“Shinazugawa,” Iguro mumbles, though it doubles as a greeting. “Let’s make this fast. We have a lunch appointment after this, and I hate being late.”

You take a seat with Shinazugawa opposite Kanroji and Iguro, as Masachika serves everyone tea. Thankfully, even though your boss has a temper that reckons he must’ve been born out of Satan’s asshole, he’s professional and dependable when it matters. It turns out that Shinazugawa and Iguro have worked together before. A pair of unlikely friends, though you keep that thought to yourself since you do want to live to see another day. 

The meeting goes by smoothly. Kanroji is easygoing, and agrees wholeheartedly with the idea that you propose – a large poster set-up at a train station. It’ll help passengers connect the story of the manga with a vacation destination, and reach out to a varied audience on their daily commute. You’re relieved as Kanroji gushes excitedly over it, though you try to ignore the daggers that Iguro is throwing at you with his eyes. Shinazugawa silently nods along as you speak. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t interrupt you. 

The meeting ends with setting a date to see each other again in a month. You attempt to scamper off to your desk after sending Kanroji and Iguro off, but Shinazugawa calls for you and Masachika to stay back in the meeting room for a little longer. 

“We’ll make a trip to Okinawa this weekend,” he says, arms crossed over his chest (drool-worthy, strong and broad, insert another fifty adjectives here to convey the sheer delight of a man’s boobs). 

You gape. It isn’t strange for teams to conduct field research to understand the subject of their projects better, though Okinawa seems a little out of the company’s budget for you to take Shinazugawa at face value. 

“Seriously?” Masachika scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “What a waste. I took the weekend off because I have to take my parents to the hospital for a check-up. I guess it’ll just be the both of you, then.”

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. 

“Alright. I’ll see you at the airport Saturday morning,” Shinazugawa nods at you.

Cut the cameras.

You are not about to go on a two-day-one-night trip to Okinawa with your manager. Sure, the purpose of the trip is to collect research material for your project, but it doesn’t help that it’s Shinazugawa Sanemi is the one going with you (read again: SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI, HOTHEADED BOSS, KNOWS YOU WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT HIM, AND IS HOT AS FUCK).

Heaven and hell must be plotting against you, because you don’t know if you’re overcome with joy or despair. 

You hope that you’re sharing – NO! You will have separate rooms. There will be absolutely no tomfoolery. This is not a real life fanfiction fever dream come true, where there is only one bed and Okinawa will be storming all weekend so you’re forced to stay indoors with each other’s company. This is a very professional work trip, thank you very much. 

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath. “Yeah. I can do this.”

You’re strong. You’re independent. You will not fall for the office eye candy that is Shinazugawa Sanemi. As much as you can appreciate any well-groomed and decent looking man, office relationships are a line you’ve never considered crossing. It’s dangerous yet enticing, although you’d rather spend your time worrying about your 13th month bonus than sucking someone’s dick in the office storeroom on your lunch break. 

Shinazugawa gives you a puzzled look. The more he tries to understand you, the more he realises you are simply an enigma to him. He doesn’t know why he even bothers. A vein pops out on his forehead. 

“If you’re done talking to yourself about nothing, then you can go back to your work,” he seethes. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, we’re on our way!” 

You squeak out an apology and shove Masachika out of the meeting room. 

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me with Shinazugawa,” you sniff. 

“I know you’ve dreamt about it. Make sure to use protection, okay?”

“Shut up! It’s not like that!” 

Masachika laughs and you whack him over the head.

[ferigrieving]

semper ad meliora.

⊹ ࣪ in which its the little things.

ft. tsukishima kei - fireflies at night, 1k words

⤷ masterlist ; requests open ; 02 oikawa tooru

in the heart of a tranquil countryside, where the night sky unfolded like a vast, velvet blanket adorned with countless stars, you found yourself wandering through a meadow, aglow with the soft luminescence of fireflies. hand in hand with tsukishima, you methodically rubbed your thumb against the palm of his hand as you two walked.

“look at these damn bugs,” he muttered, lips curling into a smirk.  “they’re like tiny, floating lanterns. almost makes this backwater place you’ve gotten us lost in tolerable.”

“yeah. they're beautiful, aren't they?” you murmured, voice a low melody against the stillness of the night. tsukishima rolled his eyes at your statement, but there was a glimmer of something softer as he watched the fireflies dance. “yeah. guess they’re alright.”

as they wandered deeper into the meadow, the air became thick with the scent of blooming flowers, and the distant murmur of a nearby stream provided white noise to the already beautiful evening. it was a perfect night for an adventure, and tsukishima couldn’t help but tease you about your insistence on bringing a picnic basket.

 “you’re such a hopeless romantic, y/n.” he quipped, a playful smirk ghosting over his lips. “what’s next? gonna serenade me under the stars?”

you elbowed him lightly in the stomach, chuckling softly. “maybe i will, asshat. let’s just enjoy the moment first, yeah?”

you two found yourselves enveloped in a shimmering sea of tiny lights, the air alive with the gentle hum of insects and the soft rustle of grass. tsukishima couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over him, a rare moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of his everyday life.

you reached out, hand finding his with a gentle squeeze, as you spotted a cozy spot beneath an ancient oak tree, its gnarled branches reaching towards the heavens like a guardian watching over you both. 

spreading out the picnic blanket, you take a seat beside tsukishima, whos stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows,  his curiosity piqued by the contents of the picnic basket. you giggled as you heard his stomach grumble, and whined when he retorted by pinching your cheek.

tsukishima watches you with a mixture of amusement and affection as you unpack the contents on the picnic basket, revealing an assortment of sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a thermos of tea.

“pullin’ out all the stops, aren't cha ?” he remarks, a teasing glint in his eyes as he reaches for a strawberry.

“wanted tonight to be special, or whatever,” you huff and smack his hand away, taking the strawberry he was going for and swallowing it in one bite, stem and all. “just like you.”

tsukishima’s cheeks flush at the unexpected sentiment, but he quickly covers it up with a smirk, popping a grape in his mouth. “well, dont get too sentimental on me now. you’ll ruin my reputation.”

you chuckle softly, eyes filled with affection as you reach out to gently brush a stray blond lock away from his forehead. “your reputation could use a little tarnishin’ every now ‘n’ then, kei. might do ya’ a little good

“yeah yeah, keep dreamin’ loser.”

you two sit in comfortable silence for a while, savoring the club sandwiches you had brought and the company of each other. as the minutes tick by, you open up the thermos and pour two cups, the rich aroma wafting through the air and enveloping you in its warmth.

“tea?” you offer, taking a sip of your own tea and recoiling when it comes to be steaming hot.

tsukishima accepts it with a grateful nod, but not before teasing you of course. he takes as a sip, relishing the comforting warmth that spreads through him. “you think of everything don't you?”

you shrug, a soft smile playing on your lips. “only when it comes to you.”

your eyes meet, and in that fleeting moment, everything else fades away- the worries, the doubts, the complexities of the world. just you, kei, and the fireflies that continue their ever-eternal dance around the forest.

as you continue to sip the hot tea, the night deepens around you two, the darkness only punctuated by the soft glow of fireflies. tsukishima leans against you tentatively, unsure if he should push his luck by cuddling with you.

he decides theres nothing more than he’d want than that, and leans his head against your shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his presence. moments later, he finds himself laying on your lap, looking up at you as a if you were an angel.

“y’know.” he begins, and jabs you in the stomach when you mumble a playful ‘what now! “i never thought i’d find someone who could put up with… me. i guess.”

“did i accidentally spike the tea..?” you murmur, thinking dramatically. “you’re being such a sap, i wonder if i accidentally brought the wrong kei here.”

“if i didnt know any better, i’d say you planned this whole thing just to make me less insufferable.”

you laugh, leaning in closer to tsukishima. “well, it seems to be workin’. youre almost tolerable. almost.

he feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “almost? damn, thanks for the boost of confidence, asshole.”

“you know what i mean, kei! you’re not so bad when you’re not a stick up my ass.”

tsukishima grins, conceding defeat with another pinch to the cheek. “fine, fine. ill take what i can get. but dont expect me to be startin’ writing love poetry or some cheesy shit like that anytime soon.

you chuckle, squeezing his hand affectionately. “ i wouldnt dream of it. your sarcasm is poetry enough for me.”

as you two finish the contents of the picnic basket, you find yourself reluctant to leave the tranquil sanctuary beneath the oak tree. but eventually, the chill of the night air begins to seep into your bones, and you two reluctantly gather up the remnants of the picnic.

“here,” tsukishima offers, fitting his purple hoodie over your head as you protest. “cant let you gettin’ sick on me. who else would i bother if you died?”

“you’re sick and twisted in the head, kei.”

with one last glance at the fireflies, their soft glow fading with the approaching dawn, you and tsukishima make the trek back through the meadow, hand in hand. the world around you two is hushed now, as if holding its breath in anticipation of a new daw.

as you two reach the edge of the meadow and the first light of dawn begins to paint the sky in hues of pink and gold, tsukishima turns to you, an uncharacteristic softness in his eyes that startles you.

“thank you, love.” he murmurs, caressing your cheek softly, looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world. you hoped you were to him, anyway.

“for what?”

“...everythin’.” he replies, heart swelling with a gratitude he’d much rather not vocalize.

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up. 

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?” 

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. ���At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms. 

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you. 

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely. 

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.” 

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours. 

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm. 

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you. 

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.” 

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—” 

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you. 

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real. 

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago. 

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.” 

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes. 

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that? 

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth. 

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth. 

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face. 

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.” 

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold. 

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist. 

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name. 

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt. 

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?” 

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you. 

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

 The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.” 

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along. 

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.” 

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it. 

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?” 

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can. 

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot. 

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped. 

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you. 

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

[candycandy00]

So I thought I’d introduce the concepts for my JJK Fairytale AU. Some of you sent in some interesting suggestions, but in the end I decided to go with the most famous fairytales that would fit. I’m already writing the first one, Gojo x Cinderella. You’ll notice some of these ideas are more developed than others. Here are the others I plan to write. 

Please vote for which one you’re most interested in! I’ll write them all but I’m curious about how much interest people have. It might affect the order I write them in. 

Geto x Little Red Riding Hood

Reader is a young woman traveling through the dangerous woods to reach a safe house. This is a kingdom ravaged by war, and she’s a medic. She has medicine and supplies that she needs to bring to a military safe house to treat some injured soldiers there, but there’s a big bad wolf (Geto) stalking her. He was an enemy soldier she saved once, now turned into a werewolf, and hungry for her in more ways than one. 

Toji x Snow White

Reader is a beautiful young woman living in a small rural village. There’s a huntsman who lives close by (Toji) who is a lot older than her, but she has a bit of a crush on him. For his part, he thinks she’s pretty but also thinks she’s too young for him (she’s like 20, he’s late 30’s). So he mostly ignores her. He’s known for being an excellent hunter and gets hired to go hunt dangerous animals in the woods. The evil queen hires him to take Snow White into the woods and kill her, but once he actually spends time with her, he might decide to just keep her. 

Choso x Rapunzel

Reader is gathering herbs in the forest and stumbles upon an old watch tower inhabited by a cute but antisocial hermit (Choso) who seems sweet and keeps talking about his brothers who are “out” and will be back any minute. She starts visiting him regularly because she likes him, but she suspects his brothers might be dead and he just can’t face it. One day she gets attacked by a wild boar and injures her ankle. Choso finds her and takes her back to the tower. She faints and wakes up to find that he’s locked her in the top of the tower and won’t let her leave, because he’s afraid she’ll leave and never come back, just like his brothers. Choso as a classic Yandere. Reader’s only plan is to grow her hair out long enough to make a rope with it to escape. 

Higuruma x Little Mermaid

Reader is a mermaid in love with a lawyer who lives in a coastal town and specializes in shipping contracts (Higuruma). She makes a deal with the sea witch and signs the contract to get human legs in exchange for her voice, but when she formally meets Higuruma, she ends up showing him the contract. He’s flattered that she did all this for him, but (like in the original story) the new legs cause her terrible pain, every step feeling like walking on glass (seriously the original story was fucked up). Will this genius lawyer be able to find a loophole in her contract and free her? 

Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty

Reader is a princess who was cursed at birth. If she ever pricks her finger on a needle, she’ll fall into a deep sleep/coma. Her parents recently died, leaving her as the young ruler. Her first step is to hire a new captain of the guard, a mysterious and powerful man rumored to be a murderer (Sukuna). She’s instantly attracted to him, and despite her obvious flirting, he rejects her everytime, smugly saying a dainty princess like her couldn’t handle him. But when she ends up pricking her finger, Sukuna recognizes the curse, and knows that she’s still aware of everything, can still feel and hear everything. And the only way to break the curse is to fuck her. 

Nanami x Beauty and the Beast

Since multiple people mentioned wanting Reader to be the Beast, I’m going for it! That’s right, Beast Tamer Nanami! Reader was cursed by a witch to be a beast (she’s still cute though, more like a lil bunny girl lol) and her royal parents are ashamed of her so they banish her to a secluded castle. Then they hire Nanami to take care of the place (and Reader). 

[nocaptainonthisship]

Something Blue

"Hal, seriously, what the fuck?"  Even whispered, the words reverberated oddly in the little anteroom. Too much emphasis on the consonants, sharp and crisp the way she'd been taught. Even spitting mad, Galadriel’s elocution lessons lingered. 

"What?" He always garbled his T's, the letter half gone and half transformed into a D until half the time she couldn't understand what he'd meant to say at all. This one was clear, though, wide-eyed, playful innocence on his face. He knew what he'd done, no matter the confusion he feigned. 

"Keep your voice down. The photographer is right out there.” She bit her lip sharply and tried to follow her own advice. “We talked about this. Months ago." 

"You're gonna have to remind me, baby." 

"A black suit is not traditional. It's not appropriate! This isn't the funeral portion of Four Weddings and A Funeral."

In the tight space, standing so close, he had to tilt his head down to give her a full once over, as if his jaw hadn't hit the floor when she walked into the room five minutes ago. Well, they'd both been speechless, if for entirely different reasons. 

"Is this 'traditional', then?" he scoffed.

"Pardon me?!"

"Gal, you look like the girl from Little House on the Prairie.”

On a different day, she might linger on the way his accent grew thicker towards the end, as if the mere mention of the prairie called him to his childhood home. A different day. Not today. She would not be charmed by him today. 

"You want to insult my dress right now?"

"I was trying to pay you a compliment. You're the one being insulting." 

"I *told you*, Hal. I don't care that you're thirty-two and still clinging to vestiges of your woe-begotten youth." Woe-begotten he mouthed, lips quirked up at the corners. "You know what I mean." 

He did, he always did. The same way he knew when she said woe-begotten, what she really meant was working class and with an affiliation for punk rock and goth and all the dark and dirty aesthetics implied therein.

"You promised me you wouldn't wear all black, just for one day. I love you, exactly as you, but just one day so my mother doesn’t freeze me out." She'd been reduced to whining and wheedling now, and it wouldn't be long before the frustration bled into tears. Nothing had been going according to plan, none of it was the way she thought it would be. Earwen had commandeered and countermanded every decision she could until it barely felt like Galadriel’s day at all. She hadn’t even brought her mother to the dress shop with her, hoping that the clothes, at least, would be them and nothing else. Her eyes started to sting. "I told you about the blue, right? I gave Mel a swatch, she said she’d take it with her to get your suit, she... You promised me."

"Hey, hey, it's ok. Have I ever broken a promise to you before?" Galadriel sniffed before shaking her head. "Right. So before you come for my head, can I show you something?”

He stepped back as far as the limited space in the glorified closet would allow and unbuttoned his suit jacket. The trousers, it turned out, weren't nearly as baggy as they'd seemed at first glance. Yes, they weren't as close-fitted as was trendy, but the wider leg suited him, counterbalancing the lankiness that made his mother call him 'string bean' even to this day. The jacket, that sea of black which had first made her see red, opened and Galadriel had to blink a dozen times a minute so her tears wouldn’t spill and send streaks of mascara down her perfectly made up face. 

The lining of his suit, which the tradition she'd tried and failed to insist on would have favored a darker fabric, was a soft, baby blue. It matched her dress, almost too perfectly. Except for the places where tiny black words walked across the fabric. 

Without conscious thought, her hand reached out to touch it. "What is this?" she asked, unable to do more than whisper. The whole thing had rather stolen her breath away.

"Emails," he said, as if she was just supposed to know what that meant. She did know what that meant. Hundreds of emails across hundreds of days after he'd finished his exchange year at Oxford and she hadn't yet found the courage to transfer to Columbia.

Hundreds of times they'd said "I love you," without ever saying the words. Both too self-assured, too self-reliant, too stupid to take a chance on being happy if it meant budging an inch. Galadriel had been the first to cave, filling out her transfer application in secret. Halbrand, of course, was the one to assign true meaning to it, a pizza box sitting on the floor between them as they laughed and caught up. He'd said "I love you" - out loud and on purpose. 

Galadriel blinked the tears from her eyes. It was such a blatant display of unadulterated affection, sickly sweet and so thoroughly American of him, she vowed then and there never to mention this to her father or uncles, lest it be the subject of drawing room ribbing for the rest of their lives. 

Privately, she’d cherish this forever. She’d frame it, if she could. “Halbrand,” she said, her voice shaky, watery. 

“There’s one more thing.” He had that gleam in his eye, mischievous, secretive, up-to-no-good in a familiar way guaranteed to make her smile. He tugged his shirt from the front of his trousers, but before she had a chance to process the way her mouth went dry at the sight of the dark hair dusting his abs, he tugged up the waistband of his pants. 

Silky soft, baby blue. 

“Now, if you’re done yelling at me and blubbering at me-” he hunched down then so they were at eye level, so she could see him eager, patient, kinder than she deserved after yelling at him in a supply closet, and just the tiniest bit lascivious - “maybe can we go take these photos and finally get married.”

She’d tell him later, that the boxer briefs he wore were a perfect match for the lingerie set his sister Mel had gifted at Galadriel’s hen do. A set she now wore under several layers of tulle. 

Maybe she’d just show him. 

🩵

For @justatinycollector and @stitchingatthecircuitboard

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 10 - Intoxicating distractions

It's been a bad mixture of circumstances that made this take as long as it has. Normally it's just a matter of having to write between lengthy bouts of brain fog and fatigue, but unfortunately this summer hasn't been the best for me and I'm only now getting pseudo back in the swing of things.

I was planning on finishing up all of the Hamunaptra arc in this chapter, but I got tired of wanting perfection for the second half and the couple of you who stick around for this one deserved to not wait any longer.

So, here I am - breaking my own weird internal chapter flow rules. For the first time since May, have a healthy portion of 4.8k words~

Point of note - there's some Gaelic written in this chapter. Please don't google translate it as it gives you the wrong meaning. Just paste it into a search bar instead. It's from a very lovely song~

Shock, it seemed, was your body’s default response to trauma.

The aftermath of the chaos was a lead weight in your gut, sitting heavy and churning the already upset bile in your sensitive stomach. There wasn’t a direction you could turn that wasn’t the embodiment of wanton destruction and needless massacre. Trampled tents and belongings were either pulverized or in a state of disarray. Lifeless bodies like discarded toys amongst the rubble, flayed open and strewn across the wreckage as if tossed aside carelessly by their former masters. Charred remains smoldering in the sand, the smoke making your eyes sting almost as much as the odor, outer layer of crispy skin still bubbling long after the corpse was cooked. 

The cold distance of disassociation shifted into an unsettled queasiness at full force, giving you only moments to recognize the acidity racing up your throat before collapsing to your knees in the dirt, the bitter mess splattering between your hands unfortunately not out of place in this setting.

Maybe your reaction might have been different if you’d been forced to witness the fallout of that eerily similar night on the ferry. Maybe you wouldn’t be bent over hurling up rations behind a broken pillar that felt as collected as your emotions. But the souls of the deceased had been lost to the bottom of the Nile and you’d been spared the horrors up close. 

There was no such luck this time. 

Kyle must notice you first, calling out your name with rattled urgency as you rise on shaky legs from your hiding spot, grateful your clothes had at least been spared from your embarrassment. There was an instant relief at seeing your cousin standing before you, hands firmly grasping your shoulders keeping you at arms length while taking in your disheveled appearance for any sign of injury or impairment. At first glance, he didn’t seem any less worse for wear himself, something you were entirely grateful for.

“Jesus! You alright, dolly?” The hands on your shoulders slid to your upper arms, gentle stroking motions ironing out the lingering chill in your bones, concern evident in eyes that raked over your frame in detail.

You weren't confident with your nod, still processing the last few minutes of wanton bloodshed. Your cousin’s careful touch was a blessed balm for your struggling nerves, taking in a few deep breaths in time with his own as he worked to ground you. 

How someone could get used to this violent lifestyle you’d never know.

A startled gasp left your throat as you were promptly whirled around to face a fuming pair of cerulean orbs, blue waves turbulent as his emotions consumed him raw. You could almost be washed out to its churning Mediterranean Sea if not for the tight grip his fingers dug into your flesh, nostrils flaring, each word emphasized with a jarring shake. 

“Bloody fuckin– the hell ye doin’ out ‘ere, lass?! Huh?!”

The second time staring down the Scotsman’s wrath was no less intimidating than the first. Here you were smack dab in the middle of another hazardous situation - at first glance having apparently not learned your lesson from last time - surrounded by corpses that could’ve so easily been you. What savage fury had once been loosed upon the men responsible for this carnage was now pinpoint fixed on your trembling form. 

Lips parted like a gaping fish, opening and closing as you struggled to explain the circumstance that led you here under the riptide of his ire. He didn’t even allow you time to formulate a coherent response before he was promptly shoving your face in his chest, catching you off guard while bulky forearms wrapped around you to an almost crushing degree. Your hands braced on his sternum were the only things keeping your nose from getting smashed and giving you some minor space to breathe.

“Ye were supposed tae be safe, ya daft hen...” There was palpable anger in his tone, but also a weary frustration as he unconsciously squeezed you tighter. “Wha’ part of don’t move did ye not comprehend?”

“I’m sorry…” your voice soft, teetering on wobbly, “One of the camels–”

Johnny cut you off again with a growl. “Dunnae care about no damn beast, hen. Only you. Ah say stay, ye stay. Got it?”

There was nothing you could say to justify your actions to them. You hadn’t meant to end up in the thick of it, truly. Kyle might be your cousin, but there wasn’t an ounce of fighter in your side of the bloodline. If the adrenaline hadn’t kept you singularly focused on your goal of retrieving the runaway animal then maybe you’d have noticed its intended path earlier and could’ve turned tail, avoiding this whole fiasco.

Instead, you made yourself appear foolish, something that tugged on your chest with a bright blossom of shame.

Johnny realized himself at the sound of your unbidden quiet whimper, his stance relaxing marginally as he forced a steadying exhale from his lungs, tugging on his own reins. Hands turned from smothering to cradling, next words spoken tersely but with much more self-control.

“Ah cannae protect ye if I dunnae ken where ye are - neither of us can. Ah’m thinkin’ yer tucked away from danger when ye’ve really been right next tae me the whole time. Cannae so easily take the offensive when ah’m forced ta do the opposite. Make sense, lass?”

Humming your affirmation with another soft apology, you closed your eyes against the gruesome visions surrounding the three of you, his lessened grip allowing you to maneuver yourself more comfortably in his hold, arms reaching around his stocky build with fingers groping into the back of his shirt like a lifeline. Kyle’s tender touch joined his, knuckles stroking soothingly down the back of your arm as they each placed a chaste kiss to your crown.

His arms were still around you as the remaining members of the other expedition hesitantly approached, a pregnant pause as they shifted and looked between themselves awkwardly as if silently debating who amongst them would be the one to speak, eventually settling on Hutch.

“Whaddya fellas say to a small truce…?”

It was almost an insult when the offending camel came trotting back a short while later, as if it had merely gone for a casual midnight jaunt rather than almost costing you your life chasing after it in the first place.

What remaining tents could be salvaged were moved farther into the city towards your thankfully untouched encampment, the few remaining workers left behind to scavenge through the rubble and properly dispose of the bodies of their slain brethren. You held a slight disdain for the Americans sitting comfy on their cushions nearby, content to let the hired help do all the heavy lifting while they gloated in their sorting of their precious valuables, inspecting for any minor cracks and dents that could cost them even a fraction of a pound off their eventual asking price.

The majority of their group had just been killed in cold blood. The least they could’ve done was help pile the corpses, something even your boys had assisted with after seeing you back to your tent with pointed looks not to wander off this time. 

Besides their uncaring attitudes, it was less tense than you thought seated across the blazing fire from the others. Even Graves seemed to have been whipped into his best behavior after everything that went down, gracefully keeping his mouth shut and facial expression free of sneer. No one wanted to really converse, retreating to their own corners to try and forget the night's events.

“Bastards are like fucking cockroaches,” Roze spit out, violently ripping into a piece of jerky with her bared canines and more gusto than needed.

“Thought we taught them enough of a lesson last time,” chirped Oz with an air of self bloating. “Showed them they picked the wrong crowd to tango with.”

“They chased us off the boat, mate,” Kyle snarked as your pair returned from their labors, intent to settle down for the night. “Hate to break it to ya, but I don’t think we were the ones who made off with the upper hand there.”

Even the glowers directed towards him for contradicting their senseless beliefs didn’t stop your cousin from nicking a bottle of something strong from the Americans. 

“You mind?” Oz spoke up as Kyle brazenly yanked the dark glass from his hands, trotting over to plop down next to Johnny who’d taken up residence to your right.

“Call it a tithe for savin’ your arses and letting you stay the night over here with us.” The bottle uncorked with a coherent pop, a subtle fizz releasing into the dry air before Kyle gave it a quick swirl. Whatever contents he sniffed inside must’ve been good enough for his palate, tipping his head back to take the first swig with a satisfied groan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

That reaction was good enough for you.

“For once, dear cousin, I find we are in agreement.” In lieu of a soothing cup of chamomile, if there was one thing you could use after the excitement of the day, it was a stiff drink to help clear out your ruminating mind. 

Leaning across the space with your arm outstretched for the bottle in question, he happily handed it over to you with an encouraging chuckle. “Good on ya, dolly.” 

Johnny merely raised an eyebrow at you in question, not having seen you as anything other than proper since your first introduction in the prison cell.

You ignored it as you inspected the label, squinting to read the smudged ink on crinkled paper, clearly water damaged from its previous dip in the river. Shiraz from a vineyard in Khollar; written out in simple scrawl. Peering inside you found a light pale liquid, a flavor profile comparable to that of an old sherry - dry and nutty. At first taste it parched your tongue, settling on the back of your soft palate, different from the sweeter aged varieties you preferred but not an unwelcome tang. 

If you could share a brandy with your cousin in your father’s old smoking room then you could certainly down a bottle of dry wine in an ancient forbidden city.

The evening progressed with not much shared conversation between the twelve or so of you still remaining, both sides opting to chatter amongst themselves despite the close proximity. It certainly wasn’t any skin off your back, losing yourself in the strong ABV as if it was a more succulent port, in a place far more rose tinted than here amongst the wafting smell of camels.

You rarely - if ever - allowed yourself to indulge, noting only a small handful of instances during the last decade you’d ventured past the point of tipsy over a game of cards with the other noble women of society. It was ‘unbecoming’ of a lady, a twilight activity best left to gentlemen's clubs where the rich white men of the ton congratulated themselves on being masters of the universe.

Whoever said men were the only ones permitted to have all the fun hadn’t been privy to the goings on behind closed parlour doors.

Still, you ended up just as sloshed as your cousin for a change, grateful for the way the warming alcohol buzzed in the back of your brain and loosened the tension from your shoulders. It was freeing having the ability to shut your brain off for a few scant hours, granting a short reprieve from the all too real worries the night sky had brought with it. You could forget all about the bloodstained granules you’d traipsed through on your way back to camp, trading coppery cabernet for nutty shiraz.

The pale waning moon hung bright in the dappled sky, nestled amongst a symphony of speckled jewel tones and painted galaxies that glistened like bioluminescent mermaid scales. A sight like no other; your wayward imagination was easily lost in the spiraling fractals of cosmology, floating above like kicked up stardust from the twirling of dancing deities. It was one of many things you’d come to appreciate outside the realm of the bright Egyptian cities. Too much of it was hidden by the industrial glow of a bustling population to be visible from the balcony of your estate. Out here with only flickering firelight to illuminate the space, the heavens were on naked display.

The rattled snoring from your cousin provided an added ambiance to an already jostled night, having curled up into a ball some minutes ago despite swearing to only resting his eyelids. Perhaps if he hadn’t needn’t to be saved only a few moments prior from a less-than-dignified face planting into the spitting firewood then you might’ve been more inclined to believe him, having yanked him backwards a hair’s breadth from the flames, his self imposed vertigo doing a better job impersonating a tilt-a-whirl than a man.

Johnny, meanwhile, hadn’t partaken despite the badgerings of your cousin. An oddity considering what you’d known of the man. Though, you supposed, someone needed to retain their sobriety should another event befall your troupe. 

Didn’t stop him from delighting in your own inebriated state, bullying your full attention now that the others had bid their goodnights.

“Yer oot yer face, lass,” he chuckled at your expense, his thumb wiping away a dribble of spilled wine from the corner of your mouth as you fought to keep in the intoxicating liquid from a previously made humorful comment. “Right mad with it, ye are.”

You watched in a hazy rapture as he brought the thick digit to his mouth, tongue swirling around the calloused pad, lips sucking off the taste with a bit more zeal than necessary and far too much eye contact for what was appropriate.

Swallowing the shiraz in your mouth, you wiped your chin with the back of your hand before addressing his remarks. “Apologies for breaking the illusion of primness and propriety.”

“It’s yer own stomach ye’ll be boakin’ up,” he shrugged with an air of teasing, still keeping an eye on you should the urge come to pass. “Haven’t ya hurled enough fer one night, lass?”

You glowered over the rim of the bottle, face struggling to remain flat and unamused despite the twitch in your lips stating the contrary. “Low blow, MacTavish…”

“Ah, so it’s MacTavish when yer cross with me, aye?” 

God, he was an insufferable bastard. Lounging there all smug with that mischievous twinkle and those prominent laugh lines. Why you just wanted to lean over and lick them clean off his stupid face–

No.

“You’ll hear me saying ‘Johnny’ again when you do something to earn the privilege back.”

“Oh, ah plan tae earn it alright.”

The subtle innuendo wasn’t at all subtle, but in your current state it was hard to distinguish between what was mere banter at this point and the fervid looks he’d been doling out since your second meeting.

You scrambled for a change of subject, hoping for a much needed distraction from the steady pulse between your thighs.

“You did something earlier that caught me by surprise. In the temple,” you prodded. “Curious for a catholic boy to worship at the altar of another god.” It was an honest question if not a bit ribbing, reflecting back to his quiet presence next to you in the inner sanctuary of Horus, head bowed in silent reverence towards a figure not affixed to a cross.

“Havnae been a good boy in a long time now, lass. War will do that ta ye.” The shrug he gave was nonchalant, as was his tone. But there was something strained to his words that spoke of deeper issues held towards his faith. “But ah see no harm in honorin’ a sacred space, ‘specially in such a desolate place like this. If the old gods wanna grant us safe passage fer a kindly visit then ah won't be sayin’ no tae a helpin’ hand.”

That hadn’t been the kind of diversion you’d been poking for, and you weren’t far gone enough in your cups to keep prying at an open wound. Somber didn’t suit him and you desired to have your playful companion back.

Instead, you set about grabbing at his weathered journal, snatching it up from its unattended spot near his bedroll in hopes to garner a more lighthearted reaction.

The leather binding was well worn, skin lightened where the natural oils of his hands rubbed off on the spots where he frequently cradled the book. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it - no engraving or even simple initials embedded on the spine marking it as his. But it was clear that it had gone with him to the edges of the world and back. Large water splotches warped the hide. Dark blood stains you couldn’t be sure were his. The curled edges of the pages crinkled and dirtied from muddy fingertips. You could even detect the faint smell of cigarette smoke and musky cologne, something similar to the fragrance currently attached to his skin.

“Gonna pry into mah deep dark secrets now, hen?” Johnny quirked a brow in intrigue, though he made no attempt to halt your endeavours.

“Well now it’s not nearly as much fun if you’re letting me do it,” you grumbled good naturedly, causing a light hearted chuckle from him before flipping to the first of many pages.

You expected to find clever writings and gossip upon turning the cover, illegible chicken scratch venting at the harshness of life abroad. Maybe a few rambles here and there at certain spectacles of particular enjoyment. What you hadn’t envisioned was a book filled with detailed illustrations and odd sketches that told the stories he'd witnessed without call for an alphabet; words made real taken shape on the page. Some were more juvenile in form - stick figures and rough outlines, half formed thoughts in a hurry - while others were artistic renderings he'd taken particular care with in their recreation. There was no need for written word when he so eloquently laid bare his inner thoughts with practiced technique of shading and highlighting.

“Not wha’ ya thought ye’d find, eh?”

The question itself was rhetorical. It was clear he’d known he would catch you off guard, possibly used to the same reaction garnered from others in the past. Could you blame them though? I mean, who would expect a stalwart soldier like him to possess such artistic skill?

But was that… that small shake in his voice when he cleared his throat… was he…?

Turning the pages, a London skyline greeted you, sketches of back home amongst civilian life, a cute critter peeking out near the bottom corner of the page you recognized as Julius from various trips to the picture palaces during sweltering English summers (you’d seen a handful of the Alice Comedies yourself, the mixture of live action and hand drawn animation enchantingly brought to life by a young artist named Walt).

There were a handful of times the journal was plucked from your fingers and turned from view, certain secrets best kept hidden as he searched for a more appropriate page to let you explore. Whether the contents were too personal for you to engage with or even something deemed too grotesque for your comparatively innocent gaze, you weren’t sure. But you didn’t push the subject when he handed the item back to you, accepting the bits of his private thoughts he offered up willingly and with a grateful smile.

The pair of you spent an unknown length of time combing through the catalogs of his adventures, continuing to sip at the dark glass bottle, though far more occupied with the details on the page to really maintain any sort of solid buzz. Some depictions required more elaboration, you pointing at different sketches with all the enthusiasm of a child being read aloud from a favored picture book, eyes bright and inviting of the stories he was all too happy to share.

The tranquility of a small farmhouse backdropped against a sea of rolling meadows particularly captured your attention. It reminded you far too much of your youth spent exploring the wilds beyond your cousin’s childhood abode. “And this one? Where was this sketched?”

Wistful pride lit him from within. “That there’s mah home, lass.”

You inspected the illustration a bit more thoroughly at the revelation, brushing careful fingertips over the smudged graphite, imagining the scene with brighter colors and a warm gentle breeze rustling the long wild grassland. A modest barn was implied towards the west end of the property, the shadows of a fence winding a perimeter. Flipping to the backside of the parchment revealed the scene in more detail, tools stacked neatly along the inside of an open swing door, highland cattle grazing amongst the feed troughs within the confines of their pen. 

A bust of the fluffy beast stared you head on with hairy concealed eyes on the accompanying page, bumpy wet nose glistening and mouth open mid chew of its sweet herby meal. You could imagine long hours spent caring for its herd, the scritches his bushy mane must’ve received.

“Grew up a country boy, huh?”

“Ah ken mah way ‘round a tractor,” came the boasted reply.

You snorted. “Well, aren't you just rich.”

Johnny patted the small leather pouch secured to his belt, bursting with coin from your early morning victory and kept safe on his person. “Ah’ve earned mah keep.”

Lingering over the page a bit longer, you unexpectedly changed course, flipping from the very back of the journal, curious to see his most recent works. “Let’s see what you’ve been making of our current adventure, shall we?”

Blank pages waiting to be filled gave way to remarkable hieroglyphics embedded in your retinas as clear as day on the page before you, given far more detail than you would have otherwise given him credit for. There was no need for going back to create charcoal rubbings of the reliefs when you had all you needed right here on the page. Skimming further uncovered lifelike renditions of various statues housed within. 

Giant obelisks outside the temple of Hathor. A bust of Amun-Ra. The remains of the boat docks. Tiny replicas of ivory treasures. Hatshepsut’s stone sarcophagus. Pharaonic headdresses. A small ceremonial altar.

When had he even had time to put pencil to paper?!

“Jesus Johnny–”

“There we go,” he interjected with a smirk at the return of his name, though you continued unimpeded.

“–do you have a photographic memory or something?! These carvings are immensely accurate for someone who can’t even read the language!”

“Not quite tha’ remarkable unfortunately,” he added. “Cannae seem tae recall the direction some of ‘em were facin’. Ah ken that’s important tae the syntax.”

“Damn near close enough…” you trailed off, muttering under your breath. It spoke volumes that you were having no trouble at all forming sentence structures from what little he had jotted down. The fact that he could remember the preserved paintings better than you… 

“All this from memory…”

“Gotta have a good eye fer detail if ye dunnae wanna get killed,” he explained. 

You hummed at his words. “Was wondering why a soldier like yourself had been taking such an interest.”

“Ah may be a brute, lass, but ah ken art when ah see it.”

You went unnaturally still halfway through flipping the page. Breath caught in your throat like a mouse in a cage, heart pounding in your ears drowning out the grumbled snorings of present company. You wondered at the drawing that took up the full span of parchment. Of all the things for him to–

A figure. 

You.

You’d seen others littered across his journal; learned their names and heard their stories. Comrades in arms, random strangers in pubs. An older woman who shared his same broad nose. 

But this was different. 

There was no mistaking the care and attention that went into creating the likeness of the moment. You recalled sitting by the fire the other night, the long winded conversation between you, sitting position reflected on the paper from his vantage point. At the time you’d assumed his pencil had been scrawling out notes - perhaps quiet confessions of the encounters that turned this expedition into something very different. Words that if spoken aloud and given life would reveal a man who regretted stepping foot outside his cell.

Who knew this admission would be the most damning of all.

“...you drew me?”

“Like ah said.” 

Ah ken art when ah see it.

Words escaped you at that. What were you supposed to say when faced with such a declaration? Thank you didn’t seem right, but making no comment at all felt even worse. 

It didn’t help that even in your inebriated condition the burn of his stare sent scorch marks flaring across your cheek like a flash grenade. Caught up in the well of emotions at the etherealness he used to portray you, you all at once became hyper aware of the scant few inches separating you and him, all but in his lap as he at some point scooted closer to peer over your shoulder.

Johnny smoothly pulled the remaining alcohol from your grasp, trading a heavy waterskin for your near-empty bottle of wine with only slight fuss from you at the loss. “C’mon, m’eudail. Let’s get ye soberin’ up so yer not dead on yer feet come mornin’.”

“That’s the third time you’ve called me that,” you remarked, handing the pouch back over after a few refreshing gulps. “May-doll. What’s it mean?”

“Means yer a right pain in the arse.”

You heavily considered calling his bluff, but on the off chance you were wrong you didn’t need to look any more stupid than the nickname implied. “To be expected from such a harsh dialect,” you countered instead.

There was that glimmer of trouble again. “Ye think mah native tongue barbaric, lass?”

“Well it’s certainly not a romance language,” you chuckled in response, rising to your feet and nearly tipping ass over tea kettle until his firm grip yanked and manhandled you right into his lap. It was on the tip of your tongue to break out in a fit of giggles at your clumsiness, but one look from him with those deep passionate eyes kept you spellbound and tongue tied in a chinese knot.

“Ye want a gent that’s soft and eloquent, or a man who kens how tae get the job done?”

The heated furnace in your belly blossomed at the suggestion in his words. While your maidenhead was still intact, by no means were you a stranger to the pleasures one could bring themselves in the secret of the night. Your fingers knew best the way your body curved and constricted around delicate digits. Those same feelings stirred like a famished beast, gulping down thick buckets of desire, your fervent gaze made bolder by shiraz darting briefly down to his lips in what you hoped was quick enough to sneak past his purview. 

The way his pupils dilated told you you'd failed. 

“How about a man who can do both? Does the art of courtship die with the fall of chivalry?”

A calloused hand stroked over your face, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over the sliver of skin beneath your bottom lip. He held your chin the way you held your breath as he leaned forward to softly graze his nose against yours. There was no way he didn’t hear your heart pounding out of your chest, the way your lungs rapidly gulped in shallow gasps of air. How you had to adjust your legs to take the edge off the burn.

His words were a mere whisper against your lips, tasting his breath as melodic phrases flowed from a silver dipped tongue. “Ged nach eil sinn fhathast pòsd’ tha mi'n dòchas gum bi. Fhad’ ’s a mhaireas mo dhà dhòrn cha bhith lòn oirnn a dhìth.”

Johnny must be one of the fae, you surmised, the way he ensnares you so easily like a siren’s call with foreign words only your heart gleans the meaning of. The vocalizations are rough - yet delicate and sensual in the enchanting lilt of his homeland. There’s witchcraft winding its way around your spirit, sent from heather covered mountains and babbling brooks; crafted by dwarves and perfected in sacred mushroom circles. It’s the only logical reason as to why eyes as soft as his have taken complete control over the lifeblood thrumming in your veins.

There’s a moment where you’re all but certain you’ll meet in the middle, where the dance the two of you have been skirting around will finally come to a head and you discover how much sweeter the shiraz is when tasted from his mouth. 

But when his lips settle on your brow, you fight not to let the disappointment show. 

“Off tae bed with ye, lass,” he murmurs softly, “dunnae want yer cousin tae skelp me fer keepin’ ye up too late.”

<< ✿ Previous ✿ <<

[lex-the-flex]

Heavenly

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Embarking in the sea depths, a new relationship rises as the ocean freezes.

Word Count: 631

Warning(s): None, PURE FLUFF AND HOTNESS. Leon and the reader finally confessing their feelings, friendship —> relationship, just two agents in love, and HIGH SEXUAL TENSION.

A/N: Thanks for voting guys! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy! Happy Valentine's day my loves! ❤️

Taking another sip of soda, the cool liquid settles your stomach as the taste of ginger lingers on your tongue. Setting down the glass bottle on your leg, you leaned back on the desk that was attached to the wall. Reaching for your leather jacket on the wooden table, the door to the small break room opened, and Leon rounded the corner.

Lifting the green bottle to your mouth, a smirk filled the space between your lips. Unzipping the outside pocket of your dark jacket, your fingers reached for a tiny tin of mints.

"Hey, I was wondering where you were. Shen May said you'd be in here." Leon said, leaning over one of the folding chairs at the employee table.

"Yeah, I was starting to get sick from looking at the monitors. The Captain said they kept ginger ale in the mini fridge. So here I am." You replied, motioning to the icebox.

"Are you alright? Want some gum?" Leon asked, already reaching in his pocket.

"I'm alright. But thank you." You answered, setting down the empty bottle.

Nodding to you, Leon stands from his place at the chair, and steps to you.

"It's so adorable that you always keep gum in your pocket. Reminds me of my first day at the D.S.O." You said with a giggle.

"Ah, yeah. That was after I ran into you in the hallway and spilled coffee on your sweater." Leon joked, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, my favorite sweater might I add!" You teased, punching him in the arm.

"And I repaid my kindness two minutes later by giving you my jacket." Leon said, moving in front of you.

"Which I still have, by the way. And there was free gum hidden in the inside pocket.” You replied, moving your head up to face him.

“You do? I was wondering why I never got it back…” Leon whispered while leaning ever so slightly towards you.

“You know I do. Would you like it back?” You ask with a smile.

“Not a chance. It looks better on you anyway.” He says, hovering his lips over yours.

Pressing his pink lips to yours, Leon places his hands beside your hips, not wanting to move out of line. Nudging past your knees, Leon gradually moves in between your legs, desperately wanting more. Deepening the kiss, your hands work quickly to slide his leather jacket off his broad shoulders.

Dropping the jacket to the floor, your breath goes hot just as you break the kiss in hope of gaining some air. But Leon is quick to get his lips back on yours. Gripping the small of your back with his gloved hands, his fingers squeezed the soft skin underneath the tucked hem of your dress shirt. A deep growl rumbled in Leon’s chest as his heart started to pound wildly in his ears.

A few quick whimpers rise in your chest whilst Leon undos a couple of the buttons of your sangria colored shirt. The sounds of your lips molding together made your body go limp to where you grip loosened around the back of his neck. Pulling you closer, his lips slid down to your collarbones, gently sucking on the sensitive skin. Running your fingers through his mass of dark hair, the man plays with the cold chain of your silver necklace.

“Lee… Leon.” You gasp, begging for air to enter your lungs.

Raising his lips back to yours, a smile creeps up into your mouth.

“Yes?” He asks.

“What do we do when this is over?” You ask.

“Well for one thing, I’m gonna take you out to dinner, and then I want to spoil my new girlfriend.” Leon explains, before biting your bottom lip, and enjoying the sound of your laughter.

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