#Childish Boots and Steps

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

Dorsal Atlântica  - Childish Boots and Steps

[revasserium]

Can i request OPLA zoro where he doesn't get along with reader but calls her my girl in front of a baratie waiter who was flirting with her.

my girl

zoro; 2,438 words; fluff, kinda enemies to lovers, fem!reader, straw hat!reader, lots of banter, slow...burn?

summary: just cause you don't see eye to eye doesn't mean zoro's down to watch you get hit on while he's in the same bar, either.

a/n: again. i've got no excuse. pls continue to send more requests feed my opla!zoro obsession u__u

it is perhaps what therapists and psychiatrists would call an incompatibility of character. or maybe something about you and him that simply acted like two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles. or maybe luffy had just jinxed it when he’d said the first time that he sensed some “tension amongst the crew”, but it’s no secret that you and zoro don’t exact see eye to eye.

in fact, sanji thinks, it might only be a matter of time before you each try to take the other’s eyes out permanently.

“you’re really not worried?” he asked luffy as they’d watched zoro and you bicker all the way down the wobbling boardwalk leading up to the baratie, you sniping at zoro for getting in your way and zoro biting back something equally acerbic and childish about you being too clumsy to be a good pirate.

“huh? why would i be worried? they get along just fine!” luffy had laughed, eyes bright and round as he’d readjusted his hat and bounded off towards the entrance, whooping about being hungry enough to take down an entire sea cow.

“wh —”

“bit rich, since you and zoro are always at each other’s throats, no?”

nami bumps sanji’s arm as she strolls by him with a stack of empty crates. sanji squawks, readjusting his own bags before jogging after her.

“c’mon, you know that’s different!”

nami smirks but doesn’t grace that with an answer, instead, she lets her eyes flicker back to where you and zoro are still snarking at each other even as the bewildered looking fishman at the front leads you all around back to the kitchen entrance.

“— wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d just —”

“yeah? and if i’d just stayed put like you said, the entire going merry would’ve gone up in smoke cause last i checked, wood is very flammable!”

“the merry’s not that fragile.”

“you wanna bet?”

“yeah, maybe i do —”

“what’s goin’ on here? didn’t i tell you lot to get lost?” zeff’s gruff voice interrupts your bickering as the peg-legged chef looks from zoro to you and then the rest of the crew, “gotta new one, didya? don’t remember you from the last time these idiots were here.”

“she’s barely an upgrade from the clown head —”

you slam your heel into the toe of zoro’s boot and he hisses, nearly dropping his armful of crates.

“what he means is that i’m the brains of the operation —”

“we don’t need brains —”

“oh, so you’re admitting that you didn’t have any before i got here?”

zoro glares, dropping the crates as luffy pushes past you both to clap zeff on the shoulder and offer him a huge stack of berry.

“we came to pay you back for the meal last time! and to buy a new one! and… maybe some extra food stuff if you’ve got it.”

zeff opens his mouth to answer but it’s drowned out by the sound of your voice as you jab a finger into zoro’s chest.

“— just because you can’t hold more than one cohesive thought in your head at once doesn’t mean that —”

“— what’s that even supposed to mean? like you can think about two things at once?”

“enough! you two — outta the kitchen, now! i won’t have your lovesick teenage yappin’ distractin’ my line chefs!”

you both jump at zeff’s voice, and an unpleasant heat creeps into your cheeks as you realize that the entire kitchen had indeed gone very quiet, most of the white-clad workers staring at you and zoro.

“i need a drink,” zoro says, rolling his shoulders as he sidesteps you and pushes his way out of the kitchen.

“look, sir, i didn’t mean —” you take half a step forward but zeff jabs a finger at the doors still swinging in zoro’s wake.

“i said out!”

you glance between zeff and the rest of your crew for a split second before turning and scrambling from the kitchen, looking abashed.

“oh no, c’mon zeff, you didn’t need to yell at her like that —” sanji sighs as he tries to go after you, but nami nails him in the stomach with one of her arms.

“nope. this is something they need to work out on their own. and you’re on grocery shopping duty with me, remember?” she flashes him a smile even as he deflates slightly and turns back to the work of haggling rations out of the baratie’s storerooms.

you find zoro already posted up at the bar, even though the hour is still early enough that there’s only a few other patrons, mainly keeping to themselves. you fight the urge to march up to him and give him an earful about embarrassing you in front of sanji’s old master like that but zeff’s words about making a scene keeps your lips clamped shut.

instead, you seat yourself as far from zoro as humanly possible and wait for the bartender to sidle over. he flashes you a winning smile, making no attempt to conceal the way his eyes drag from your hair to your face and then down to your cleavage, where his gaze rests for a beat too long before he clears his throat.

“what can i get you, gorgeous? something sweet and bubbly, perhaps? or maybe something a bit more dark and… seductive? i can have a custom drink whipped up for you in a few if you’d like… on the house, of course.”

he shoots you a wink that has your eyebrows hiking up your forehead.

“laying it on thick, are we?”

the bartender shrugs, seemingly unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm.

“place like this doesn’t exactly breed subtlety.”

you make a noncommittal noise before sighing, “i’ll have a dirty martini, shaken not stirred, straight, with a twist, please.”

to his credit, the bartender doesn’t miss a single beat, “ah, a woman of taste, though i’ll admit that i prefer my martini’s naked instead of shaken, hm?”

he waggles his eyebrows and if it weren’t for the loud cough from down the bar drawing the bartender’s attention, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

at the opposite end of the bar, zoro taps his empty drink glass against the waxy hardwood, a vein ticking in his jaw. he’d listened to the entire exchange with a growing annoyance festering in the depths of his stomach. and here he was, hoping for a moment of quiet without the sound of your voice yammering in his ear. he shoots the bartender a glowering look as the man refills his drink and tries to make his way back down the bar to you.

zoro tosses the entire drink back in one and sets the empty glass down with a loud clack, clearing his throat as the bartender turns to stare at him. he holds the man’s gaze for a full three seconds before looking pointedly down at his glass and the bartender’s face visibly reddens.

“here you are, sir — the last three are on the house.”

the bartender lines up five identical drinks in front of zoro before marching away and zoro has to give it to the guy. he does make a good, stiff drink.

still, as he tries his hardest not to glance down towards where you’re sitting, sipping slowly at your martini, he can’t help overhearing the stilted stabs at conversation floating down the length of the empty bar. the bartender lavishes you with questions, asking about your travels, who you came with, where you’re from. you, for your part, never give him an answer more than three words long — travels were good, my crew, an autumn island.

zoro briefly wonders why you don’t tell the guy off like you so often did him. then, he briefly wonders if the fact that you’re always so easily set off by him means something. then, he not-so-briefly wonders why, if he’s always been so bothered by you, that he’s still thinking about you in the precious few hours he has to himself.

he clicks his tongue and downs another drink just as you finish your first.

“c’mon darlin’ — just a hint — what about the first letter? shall i try to guess?”

you sigh into your now empty glass as the bartender asks your name for the third time in a row, though to no avail. suddenly, a warm, solid presence appears next to you and the next thing you know, zoro’s arm is brushing up against yours as he leans over the bar to bear down at the bartender.

“right, now if you’re done trying t’pick up my girl, i think i’d like the check.”

the bartender blinks up at zoro, uncomprehending for a second before a blotchy redness seeps into his cheeks.

“y-your — you haven’t said a word to each other since either of you got here!”

you swallow passed a bewildered laugh as you glance up at zoro to find a challenge clear in his eyes. you slowly swivel back to the bartender with a light smile.

“ever heard of a lover’s quarrel?”

the bartender sputters as he stares between the pair of you for another long second before scurrying off to fetch the check. zoro chuckles under his breath, his earrings clinking softly in the dim light.

“damn — i really wanted another drink,” you say, staring at your empty glass.

wordlessly, zoro plops one of his in front of you. it’s the second to last.

you bring it up to your nose for a sniff before making a face.

“god that smells awful!”

“fine then, more for me.”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t drink it!”

you bring the glass to your lips for a small sip. it’s tastier than you’d imagined but it still burns a line down your throat as you shiver.

“h-holy shit —” you cough, wiping at your mouth, “how many of these have you had?”

zoro shrugs, sipping on his own glass with a careless ease, “dunno. don’t really keep count.”

“ugh… this could knock out a war elephant…” you make another face before you take a second sip.

“figures you can’t hold your liquor, drinkin’ whatever girly shit you ordered.”

you round on him, “martinis are not girly!”

“tch. whatever.”

you settle into a huffy silence. zoro’s arm is still pressed against yours and neither of you makes to pull away. for a while, the only sounds in the bar are the soft clink of ice on glass and the light, liquid splashing of the ocean waves.

“why didn’t you tell him off?” zoro’s voice is quiet and when you turn to look at him, it’s to find him staring. you hold his gaze steady and don’t look away.

“why should i? he’s no one to me.”

“you don’t seem to have a problem yellin’ at me.”

you shrug, your eyes flickering back to the too-strong drink in your hand.

“i don’t tend to waste my breath on people i don’t really care about,” you say, your voice soft and careful and honest. zoro sucks in a slow breath, his mildly alcohol addled brain trying to process what you’d just said but his thoughts are interrupted by a peel of loud, raucous laughter echoing in from the dining room beyond.

“c’mon, sounds like dinner is served,” you say, grinning as you push off the bar, jerking your head towards the dining room door.

zoro lets out the breath before downing the rest of his drink and leaving the empty glass on the bar to follow you.

at dinner, you bicker less than usual and zoro is even more quiet than he normally is. though he wastes no time ordering another round for the table. no one really comments till zeff comes round at the end with the check.

“dinner’s already paid for but i was told that this is for the ‘lovebirds from the bar’,” he says, as he drops the drinks bill in front of zoro with a deadpan sort of look.

for a full ten seconds, no one moves. and then, usopp’s jaws hit the floor as sanji’s eyebrows jerk towards the ceiling. nami sits back with a satisfied smirk as luffy nods happily at the two of you before turning to grin at sanji.

“see? told you they get along fine!”

sanji has the decency to sputter just as usopp leans forward to point between you and zoro.

“wait… whaattt?”

you make to tug out your wallet but zoro slaps a stack of berry on top of the bill.

“give our compliments to the bartender,” he says with a slight smirk as zeff takes the money, glancing up at the two of you.

“yeah? what’d he make that’s got you so impressed?”

you purse your lips as you make a show of shrugging, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

“oh, just a mean dirty martini.”

zeff lets out a loud bark of laughter as he takes the berry and clomps back towards the kitchens, shaking his head. zoro chuckles beside you as he stretches an arm over his head and lets it settle casually on the booth back behind you.

later, as everyone is making their way back towards the going merry, nami catches up to you on the docks, looping an arm through yours and pinning you with a meaningful look just as sanji sidles up to zoro and bumps him with a shoulder.

“so…” nami says, grinning as she tugs you forward a few steps.

“so.” sanji clears his throat, casting zoro a sidelong glance.

“wanna tell me what that was about?” nami asks.

“care to elaborate on that back there?” sanji questions.

you and zoro both take a deep, long breath. zoro glances up to see the way you toss a lock of hair over your shoulder, your bright laughter carrying back on the breeze. you allow yourself a smile, and you don’t have to turn to feel zoro’s eyes on you as both of you turn to your respective companions and say —

“i’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

opla!zoro reqs are (as always) open!!

[rueclfer]

saturdays are for the blondes // fratboy smau part three

a/n: bakugou probs gives the bare fucking minimum as a frat boy like barely participates in the campaigns and rushes/recruitments and the only reason why he hasn't gotten booted yet is bc he's frat president kirishima's scary dog best friend and helps him make decisions lmao *written under cut*

denki kaminari, katsuki bakugou, hawks

"Embarrassing how much effort I put in for a man who doesn't even want me." You dramatically sigh as you gently tilt Katsuki's head back by his chin, and holding the opening of a chilled bottle of water up to his lips.

Walking out to see him alone under the dim buzzing light barely hanging onto to the roof and hunched over a bush with his palm pressed against the side of the frat house to hold himself up was a sad sight for you to see, but you couldn't help but enjoy the rare humiliation.

He scowls and swats your hand away, wiping his mouth against the back of his hand.

"The fuck are you talking about?" He coughs into the collar of his shirt.

"What? Am I wrong?" You press your lips together, suppressing a growing smile, and setting the empty bottle on the window ledge beside you

He rubs his temple in annoyance, clearly not near sober enough to have a conversation about his feelings. "Irritating as fuck is what you are."

With the noise of the party and thumping music leaking from inside of the house, you two were left alone by yourselves in the side yard with the occasional person or two stepping out for a smoke or to vomit.

"I'm just teasing, Kats." You chuckle, reaching up to rake your fingers through the sweaty strands of hair glued to his forehead. "It's not that serious."

"I told you not to come out here, didn't I?" He mumbles, closing his eyes and leaning his back against the wall.

"Well, Denki's occupied with the other brothers and I'm not going to leave you out here yacking in the bushes."

He remains silent for a moment, lazily intertwining his fingers with yours and swinging your hands from side to side.

"Dumbass." He murmurs under his breath. "Too nice for your own good."

"Trust me, I know." You roll your eyes. "Let's get you to your room? You look like you might drop any second." You attempt to wiggle your hand out of his iron grasp.

"It's too god damn loud in there." He groans "Stay here with me."

His flushed cheeks and swollen lips made his usual scowl falter into a perpetual pout, making your nerves twitch and it impossible to say no to him.

"You're not scared of anyone seeing us like this? Being so close? Me taking care of you?" You peer around for any sign of watching eyes.

"Like it matters. Everyone knows you're mine- or they should at least." He tightens his grip on your hand.

"Yeah? Prove it, then" You challenge, sparking a quirk of interest in his eyes.

A lazy smirk grows on his lips as he looks down at you through his lashes, scanning every corner of your face before he pulls you in against his chest and leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

"You wanna give everyone inside a show or some shit?" He mutters against your lips, peppering kisses in between every few words. "Give me 10 minutes with you out here and I can sober up real fuckin quick."

"That, or also," You wrap an arm around his torso, and the other slapping a hand over his mouth, pushing his face away. "you can ask me out on a date, dipshit."

He narrowed his eyes, furrowing his brows in the process.

"Nu uh. No fucking way. You don't want to go out with me."

"Yuh huh." You mock his drunken childish tone, keeping your hand clasped over his mouth. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I think I love you." He muffles behind your hand. "So that'll be a fucking wreck for both of us."

"Wha-"

He pulls your hand away from his mouth and cuts you off with his lips with more desperation and force as he pulls you closer to him by the back of your neck and grip around your waist.

An efficient way to shut you up.

"Don't remind me about that tomorrow, alright?" He mutters against your lips, knowing well that if there's one thing his mind will cling onto in this drunken state, it'll be this moment with you in the side yard where your cheeks are perfectly flushed from the alcohol and cold nice breeze, your hands all over him, and his heart racing as he admit to you and himself for the first time that he loves you.

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 5

max Verstappen x single mom!reader (with logan sargeant)

{masterlist}{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, minimally proofread, disgusting amount of fluff Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4153 auth.note: logan girlies rise up, new banner, also broke this into two parts for reasons, this is a poly fic now and I need to update the summary too don't I spotify: i made a playlist

Kevin sighed heavily, his breath fogging the window. Wiping it away with his hand, he kept staring outside. As though by sheer willpower he could change the weather. "It's rained all day."

Max chuckled, swirling his coffee in his cup. "I know, maate. But it's getting better now, yeah?"

The boy shrugged, turning and jumping down from the sofa. Max knew he had to be bored. There were only so many races and demolition derbies he could put together with the few toy cars he'd brought. The tablet he sometimes played on was charging, and they'd already watched two movies since that morning.

Sighing, Max finished his coffee in one gulp and set his cup down. "Right, come on."

Kevn looked confused, even when Max shrugged on his coat and reached for Kevin's boots. "Where we going?"

"Anywhere but here." Max grinned as the boy rushed to him, nearly falling over as he tried to shove one of his feet into a boot. "We'll go out in the rain, yeah?" he suggested, helping him get his boots on then his raincoat. "It's just a little water."

"Can we splash?" Kevin asked hopefully as he skipped to the stairs.

"Wouldn't be a walk in the rain without a splash," Max promised, picking him up and carrying him until they were outside. Kevin immediately pushed the hood of his coat back, closing his eyes and giggling as the rain landed on his face.

He made sure to get plenty of pictures for y/n of Kevin riding his scooter along the asphalt, and of him trying to jump hard enough to make the puddle water splash above his head. And then he had to do it himself, the boy's childish glee contagious to the point his side ached from laughing. The rain let up and Max knew he had to be ready to go back inside but no, it was time to hunt for wildlife. His shoes squished with water at each step as he held onto Kevin's hand, letting the boy lead him to where they'd spotted groundhogs earlier in the day.

"What if they drowned?" Kevin asked worriedly a few moments later, wringing his small hands and looking down into the flooded hole at the base of the barrier.

"I'm sure they didn't, mate. They're smart, yeah?" Max squatted down, looking at the hole. "They know how to get away from the rain."

"They're on the other side of the wall," a voice said behind them.

Max wanted to be annoyed at the interruption. But Kevin's face lit up at the sound of Logan's voice, and within seconds he was trying to scale the wall.

"I'm too small." Kevin's voice was mournful and accompanied by a world-weary sigh.

"C'mon, I'll hold you up." Logan extended his hands, giving Max a quick nod as he lifted Kevin.

Straightening, Max moved over to peer over the wall, seeing one of the groundhogs creeping away. "See, little mate? They're fine."

Kevin looked and sounded relieved, waving at the animal though it didn't seem to care. "I like animals, Mister Logan."

"Country kid. There's a bunch of geese over on the lake, you wanna go see?" Logan asked.

And he had to tag along. He couldn't just push Kevin into Logan's care, even if the guy was seeing the boy's mom. Kevin chattered nonstop about animals, telling a garbled tale about a goose that had chased him in the park. Squeezing past the turnstile, he waved at the security to indicate the child was with him. Not that he needed to worry, since Kevin already knew the person by name.

"Wow," Kevin breathed in awe as they stepped onto the temporary platform and he saw the dozens of geese gliding over the water.

He looked on as Logan affectionately pushed Kevin's damp hair back from his face, keeping a firm grip on his hand when he walked to the very edge to look down into the water. The breeze sent a chill through him and he worried that Kevin might be cold, too, but didn't want to ruin his fun. Just a few more minutes. It was almost the time y/n had said she'd be done.

"You're good with him," he said to Logan once they were on their way back. He kept his eyes on Kevin, who had gotten back on his scooter and was just ahead, steering so he splashed anyone he passed. But he felt Logan look at him in surprise.

"You think so?" Logan asked.

Max nodded. "He can be a handful, yeah?"

"Yeah, but… He's a good kid." The smile was evident in his voice. "You… You ever think about having kids?"

Only if they looked like… He sighed, nodding. "Sometimes. You?"

"Not really." Logan cleared his throat. "Not until recently."

And now it was time to change the subject. Because—

"You're close with y/n." It wasn't a question.

His stomach twisted. "She's my coworker. An important member of the team."

"Well, yeah, but… You don't watch Checo's kids when they're at the track."

Fucking Americans and their need to point out the obvious. "Okay, so I'm close. I guess I'd consider her a friend." That hurt to say and he didn't want to investigate why. "Why?"

"Maybe you don't know, if you're only – Do you know why she's shy about a relationship?"

Fuck.

"I mean, we've gone out a few times, but." Logan sighed. "I just thought you might know. You're closer to her than anyone else."

"I don't know," Max said, trying his best to not sound annoyed. Watching Kevin, he slowed when the boy stopped to show his scooter off to Oscar. He spotted a Red Bull shirt up ahead and knew it was y/n, was certain when Kevin squealed and took off towards her, leaving Oscar holding his scooter. Stopping, he turned to Logan. "I don't know why, but I think it's because she's a single mom. His dad's not around at all, that's all I know."

Logan nodded. "Thanks, mate."

Max wrinkled his nose. "You've been around Alex and Oscar too much. It sounds weird when you say mate."

"I can't help it," he laughed. "Not enough Americans around here."

"There's a couple," Max said, nodding towards Kevin and y/n, who were slowly heading back towards them. And though it hurt, the words formed in his mouth. And though he didn't want to say them, they came out. "She likes you. Little mate likes you. I think… If you don't push her, it'll work out like it's supposed to."

"Really?" Logan looked over at her, and Max felt the usual bitterness in his chest when he smiled. "Thanks, Max."

It wasn't fair. Max knew that was something that only would be acceptable if Kevin were to say it, because only a three year old could make that statement and not be looked at with disdain. So he kept it to himself, swallowing down the jealousy as Logan moved first, taking up the boy's scooter and meeting y/n and Kevin. He felt unnecessary and wondered why he moved to join them when he could be heading to the motorhome to change his shoes and get ready to go back to the hotel for the night.

She reached out, smiling as she squeezed his arm. "Thanks so much for keeping an eye on him. I can tell he had an amazing time."

Suddenly he didn't feel useless. "We both did, but he was going stir crazy."

"I'm glad you took him out." She looked him up and down while Kevin jumped in a nearby puddle, encouraging Logan to join in. "Did he splash you?"

He looked down and saw the water and bits of mud splashed up his legs. "Ah, a little bit. Then I had to do it myself."

"You did?" she giggled, squeezing his arm again and letting go. "Oh I wish I could have seen that."

"I'll send you the video," he sighed as her hand slid down his arm.

"Mama, gotta pee."

"C'mon, kleine maat." Max reached for him, waving off her insistence that she could do it. "I've got to change anyway. I'll take care of it while you get your stuff packed."

"Thank you, Max," she said softly. "I just need to check in with the other admins about tomorrow then I'll be up."

He nodded, settling Kevin on his hip. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck, head resting on his shoulder as he was carried off. "Toilet then we'll get dry yeah? And—"

"Grote maat?"

"Yeah?"

Kevin sighed and Max wondered if he was just tired. It had been a long day and as far as he knew the boy hadn't had more than a thirty minute nap just after lunch. Or maybe he wasn't sure how to say whatever it was he wanted to say. "Nothin'," he finally mumbled.

"It's something," Max said gently, catching the closing door with one foot and pushing it open so he could enter the motorhome.

"I don't have a daddy," Kevin blurted once they were upstairs and Max was setting him down.

Max blinked, freezing for a few seconds. "Hasn't your mum talked to you about that?"

"No… Yeah. She said…" His face screwed up in thought.

And Max remembered he had to use the toilet. Guiding him into the bathroom, he turned his back to give him privacy, using the time to take off his coat and sodden shoes.

"Laura has a daddy," Kevin announced once he'd flushed.

It took him a couple seconds to remember who Laura was. "Yes… Her dad has the same name as you."

"But he's not my daddy."

"No, he's not," Max sighed. Picking up the discarded raincoat, he threw it over his shoulder and held the boy up at the sink so he could wash his hands. "What did your mum say?"

Kevin drew in a deep breath. "Not everybody gets a mama or a daddy. Some people get both." He shook the water from his hands and stretched to get a paper towel, his expression far too serious for one so young. "I love mama."

Max swallowed the unbidden lump of emotion in his throat. "I know you do, kleine maat. She loves you too."

"Mister Logan likes her."

Max inhaled slowly and let it out even slower. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, setting Kevin down and ushering him from the bathroom. "But that—"

"Do you think he'd be my daddy?"

"I don't—"

"You like mama."

Oh no. No. He had to put a stop to this. "I—"

There was a gentle knock on the door and Max would have gladly kissed whoever was on the other side. "We'll talk later, yeah?" he promised in a rush, moving to wrench open the door and more relieved to see y/n than he should have been.

"Hey," she said, slipping past him. "Alright, doodle bug, let's get ready to go, okay?"

"I'm just gonna… Change," Max said, still numb from Kevin's assertion. Grabbing a clean set of clothes from his suitcase, he carried them into the bathroom and closed the door with a sigh.

Maybe spending so much time with the kid was a bad idea. Obviously he thought that time together equaled a father figure, and since that would never happen, he should pull back. Let her be happy with Logan. Or not. Whichever path she chose wouldn't include him, so there was no need for him to continue to stick around.

He could hear them talking softly, wondered what Kevin was telling her about his afternoon. Wondered what her reaction would be to her son suddenly wanting a father. He had probably brought it up before, so she would just deflect or give him her usual answer, and—

"Max? Have you got his raincoat?"

He blinked, saw the bright blue coat he'd tossed over the sink. "Yeah, sorry. A couple of his cars are in here, too. Just a minute."

"No rush, I'm making him change into dry clothes." Her voice faded as she walked away from the door.

When he came out a few moments later, Kevin was pouting as she worked a comb through his hair. Wordlessly he draped the raincoat over the back of the chair and dropped the cars into Kevin's bag then made sure to give the boy a quick smile while smoothing his own hair.

"Want Mister Max to fix it," Kevin said suddenly and Max grunted in surprise when the boy suddenly bolted towards him.

Y/n shrugged, tossing the comb to him. Sitting back on her heels, she rolled her shoulders then bent to make sure none of Kevin's toys were hiding under the couch.

Kneeling down, Max shared a smile with Kevin and began to gently work the comb through his unruly curls. "Your mum has more experience with this than me," he whispered.

"But she's tired. Work," Kevin whispered back.

He almost laughed, wondering what Kevin considered his own work that day. "Do you know what she does?"

Kevin shrugged. "It's on her phone. Pictures and movies for the online people."

"Bit more than that, but yeah. And she's very good at it," Max promised, focusing on guiding the curls back from the boy's face.

"Can you do it? Or do you just drive?"

So that was what he did. Just drove. "No, I can't do what she does." He felt her watching them and looked over at her. "She's the only one who can do it."

"What are you two talking about?" she asked.

"Taxes!" Kevin answered with a giggle.

Max grinned, shaking his head as he finished combing his hair. Aware of her disbelieving look, he shrugged. "You heard him, we're talking about taxes."

"What about taxes?" She narrowed her eyes.

"They suck," Kevin said with all the certainty only a child could produce.

Max tipped his head. "Exactly."

She snorted, taking the comb and slipping it into her bag. "You're lying but whatever. Let's get your—" She stopped, because Max was already helping Kevin with his raincoat.

"Keep your hood up outside, yeah? You don't want cold ears." Max sat down fully, stretching to get a dry pair of shoes from his suitcase. "Do you need a ride back to the hotel?"

"I was just gonna Uber," she said, zipping up the bag of Kevin's things. "Gotta stop and get some dinner, so—"

"Y/n."

"Hm?" She looked at him as he stood. And sighed. "Okay."

"Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

Okay. He cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket. "Unless you and Logan…"

"No." She looked on while he moved to help Kevin with his rain boots. "He's… Got stuff on his mind."

"The car?" Max guessed, seeing her nod. "I don't blame him. It's fucking shit."

"Max!"

"It is," he said with a shrug. "He'd have better luck with a bicycle."

"That might be true, but—"

"He's good," Max told her. "It's not him, it's the team and the cars. They brought him up too soon and when he wasn't immediately amazing they lost faith in him. You can't earn points if the team is constantly shitting on you."

"Max," she hissed.

And he felt himself blush. "Sorry," he mumbled to Kevin.

"Mama says it too," the boy told him.

"The point is—"

"Vowles is stupid, that's what the point is. Instead of supporting his driver he's telling the world he's looking for someone new. He favors Alex, gives him the better car, and leaves Logan to struggle." Max straightened and sighed. "Logan's not perfect on the track, y/n, but he would be improving if his team believed in him and helped him learn."

"I know," she whispered sadly. "He's—" She pressed her lips together. "Are we even supposed to talk about it?"

They probably weren't, but he didn't care. "Doesn't matter. He's what?"

"He's worried about next year. He loves this," she said. "It's what he's worked so hard to get to, and now it's slipping away."

And Max knew she was falling for the American. She, who'd known the man for barely a month, showed more concern for him than the so-called team he drove for. He wondered if Logan had any idea. "I'm sorry," he said softly. When she looked at him doubtfully, he sighed. "I really am, y/n. But we've got more than half the season to go. Don't give up hope, yeah?"

"I'll do my best," she murmured. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Worry," he finished with a nod. "I know. C'mon, let's go, yeah? Get him some dinner before he falls asleep."

"Not sleepy," Kevin said, ruining the announcement by yawning.

"We were talking about you," Max murmured once they were in the back seat of the car and on their way from the track.

"What?" The fading daylight was just enough for him to see her look over at him.

"Taxes."

"Oh." She chuckled, shifting Kevin in her lap as he leaned against her. "That's what I always tell him when me and Ellie are talking about something I don't want him to know."

"Good idea." He looked down at his phone, replying to the messages he'd been ignoring from his father. "Did you know I just drive?"

"Yeah, you should really start doing Uber," she teased.

He snorted. "Sixty or seventy laps, three hundred kilometers an hour. Practically a Sunday drive in the country."

"Well… Isn't it usually?"

"You're not funny," he muttered, ignoring his fathers lengthy questions about strategy and stats for the weekend and opening his messages with Christian.

"I'm hilarious. You just have no sense of humor."

"The groundhogs at the track are funnier than you – Ay!" he laughed when she shoved his shoulder.

"You're such an ass, Max."

"Y/n," he gasped in mock shock, pointedly looking at Kevin.

Kevin, who was almost asleep.

"Fine, you're such a butt, Max," she corrected.

To his delight, they playfully bickered all the way to the restaurant she'd ordered their dinner from. And from there all the way to the hotel. It was fun and playful, and kept Kevin from falling asleep, and he reveled in making her laugh so hard as they climbed out of the car at the hotel, turning to get Kevin. Max waved her off, holding the boy and pausing to greet some of the fans waiting, ignoring their questions about who Kevin was. He had a sinking feeling that the photos – and movies, as Kevin called them – would be plastered online before he reached the elevator and wondered if he should have let her carry her son inside. But she had to know it would happen, and he could only hope the fans online would be polite.

"Thanks, Max," she said when he carried Max into her hotel room. He opened his mouth to say she was welcome, but she continued, "I don't mean just this. You've done more than anyone would have expected you to for me the past couple days."

While she spoke she unpacked her and Kevin's food, and Max instinctively moved to help Kevin out of his boots and jacket, sending him to the bathroom to wash his hands. "I really don't mind."

"You sure?" she asked, looking up from her phone.

"I like—" he stopped when there was a knock on the open door.

Apparently Logan didn't have too much stuff on his mind. Exchanging a nod in greeting, Max looked away, his lightened mood dimming as y/n spoke to him, insisting he come in and eat, she'd gotten an extra burger. Despite Logan's assertion that he was fine, she had him seated at the small table in no time and Max wondered how it felt, to be fussed over so affectionately. Kevin, even though he was tired, greeted the man with exuberance, and at least he knew what that was like, and wondered if he looked that happy when the boy climbed into his lap.

"I should get going," he said, feeling like a third wheel. Like he was intruding on a private moment.

She looked ready to say he didn't have to, but nodded. "Okay. Thanks again, Max."

"Anytime," he promised.

"How do I look?"

"Amazing."

Y/n huffed. "You didn't look!"

"Sorry!" Ellie turned from the counter and her eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"Too much?" she fretted, tugging at the hem of the black dress. She would swear it had been a few inches longer in the shop.

"What's the end goal for tonight?" her friend asked.

"Dinner?" she answered slowly.

"And what else?"

She sighed. "It's just dinner, El."

Ellie leaned to make sure Kevin wasn't coming into the kitchen and lowered her voice. "Have you slept with him yet?"

"Ellie."

"I'll take that as a no." Ellie nodded. "Then it's perfect."

"What does that mean—"

"He's tall, so put on your highest heels. And since your tits are out and we're not in Carolina, grab my shawl. That blue one, it looks great with your eyes."

"My tits are not out."

"Please, one good sneeze and you'll be flashing him." Ellie smiled knowingly. "It's okay to want to have sex, you know."

Y/n huffed again, reaching to run her hands through her hair but stopping when she remembered how long she'd worked on the simple updo. So she settled for an annoyed gesture. "I know that. I just – He – I'm – El, it's been four years. And last time—"

"Not every guy is a Josh," Ellie said gently. "Give yourself some credit, babes. You were young and a little dumb, and now you're older and wiser."

"I know," she sighed.

"You worry too much. You like Logan, he likes you. He and Kevin like each other. You've been seeing him for over a month now."

Nodding, y/n opened her mouth. But her best friend kept talking.

"He's a good guy. Stop holding him at arm's length."

"But what if—"

"What if you let yourself have a little fun for the first time since you got pregnant with Kev? What if you put yourself first even if it's just for one night? What if you have the best night that makes the four hours of getting ready worth it? What if—"

"Okay, okay, okay! Point made," she said with a groan. "It was three hours."

"You really hate admitting when I'm right." Ellie crossed the small kitchen and hugged her. "You look great, sweetie. He'll drool even more than he already does when he sees you."

"Ew…"

"Fine." Ellie squeezed her tight. "No woman has ever looked more gorgeous than you look tonight, and no woman ever will. Traffic will stop, heads will turn, and everyone who sees you will wish they could be graced with one of your smiles."

"That's better." She laughed softly, hugging her friend back. "Okay, he should be here soon, I've got to get my shoes."

"And the shawl."

And the shawl. By the time she found it in Ellie's closet she was nervous, palms sweating as she fixed it around her shoulders and checked and rechecked and then triple-checked her appearance in the full length mirror. He was there, she could hear him talking to Kevin and she took several calming breaths, jumping when Ellie entered her bedroom.

"Here," her friend said, reaching to slip something into her purse.

"What—"

"Just in case. He is from Florida."

Y/n looked at what she'd dropped inside and slapped her friend's arm. "Ellie."

"Come on, before Kevin gets him to watch Cars again."

Sighing, she nodded and closed her purse after making sure she had everything. Logan was on the sofa with Kevin and her breath caught a little, both at how patiently he was listening to her son 'read' his book and at how handsome he was. She was so used to seeing him dressed casually so each time he wore something other than jeans and a hoodie it was a pleasant surprise.

"You look gorgeous," he said when they were outside. He'd said great upstairs and she still felt the surge of feminine adrenaline over how he'd stared for a full ten seconds before speaking.

"Thank you." His palm burned the small of her back as he guided her to the waiting car, and when he opened the door for her he sighed her name. She wondered if it was a good thing to start a date with a kiss and decided that it was. Because it made her feel gorgeous. Great. Beautiful.

Wanted.

Driving to the restaurant, his hand strayed to her knee and she covered it with hers, meeting his eyes when he stopped the car.

"Are we still figuring it out?" he asked softly, turning his hand and lacing their fingers together.

"I think we already have," she answered, swallowing when his hand squeezed.

Wondering why it wasn't as scary as she'd thought it would be.

Taglist:

@leodette | @trisharee | @littlegrapejuice | @lilypat | @manicpixiemom | @spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris | @kravitzwhore | @younxii | @silentreader128 | @samantha-chicago | @mrsbrxkkxr | @cmleitora | @jasons-little-princess | @toldyouitwasamelodrama | @aundercover | @kiwi43-81 | @awritingtree | @voidsfics | @misartymis | @goldenchemistry |

[tojipie]

How does toji feel about halloween in general??

read this and immediately pictured our man leading both his kids up someone’s doorstep like “hey make sure you grab an almond joy for me :/” and “my back hurts >:(“ I LOVE HIMMMSNCHDJS

dilf!toji but there’s passing mentions of him working in an auto shop so maybe mechanic!toji ? who knows. no warnings for this one !

────────────────────────

toji always found halloween a little childish. holidays were a very rare occurrence growing up, so celebrating anything besides a paycheck or his latest divorce didn’t strike a chord in him.

he usually spent the 31st of every october begrudgingly taking his kids around the block for candy he could’ve bought for them himself. he’d stand to the side, still clad in his work clothes as the two of them eagerly held out their candy bags—pillowcases from his bed that he’d grabbed last minute.

sometimes an elderly woman would greet them at the door, eagerly handing his two mini-me’s a box of raisins or a handful of cough drops. he’d quickly usher them off the doorstep with a polite thank you, silencing their whines with a “shhh, i know, i know, just give em’ to me i’ll eat em’ at some point.”

sometimes a guy his age would open the door instead, sharing a knowing look with toji, a little nod of the head even simply to say “yeah, i’d rather be drinking a beer right now too.”

and sometimes—rarely— toji gets the chance to talk his game at a pretty lady. he knows he looks good, even with flecks of motor oil staining the front of his sweatshirt and faded jeans. that much is proven about 0.8 seconds into the interaction when the girl he’s eyeing rushes to put more candy in his kids’ bags, shooting him a bashful smile.

you’re different though, toji knows that as soon as you look up to address him.

“where’s your costume?” you tease, eyeing the older man as you hold a bowl of chocolate out for megumi and tsumuki.

he stands there for a couple of seconds, dumbfounded as you wait for an answer.

“… what?”

“where’s your costume, it’s halloween.”

a fit of giggles erupt from the children in front of you at your inquiry.

toji frowns, then laughs quietly, climbing up the steps to look down at you.

“where’s yours?” he states plainly, cocking his head to the side as his kids bound down your steps and settle in the grass.

“i’m not the one trick-or-treating here.” you state plainly, looking up at him with a confident smile.

toji leans against your doorway, still towering over you with that sleazy grin. “huh, guess you aren’t.” he admits, reaching for his phone with one hand and pulling up the “add new contact” page.

you laugh as he slips the device into your hand, typing your name and number in a bit too eagerly.

“and what was that for?” you ask, feeling the heat from his torso engulf your hand as you slip the phone into his sweatshirt pocket.

toji pushes off of the doorway, “so we can talk about our costumes a little more at my place.”

your knees practically buckle at the invitation, nonchalant facade melting off your body and into the pavement with ever step he takes down your driveway.

the two kids bound over to their father as he makes his way towards them, hugging each of his legs as pats their backs quietly.

“is she gonna be another lady you do kissing with?” megumi asks, balancing his little body atop his father’s impossibly solid work boots.

“hey, quiet.” toji laughs, scooping the younger boy onto his hip and taking tsumiki’s little hand in his.

[forever-rogue]

yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss

AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”

This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”

“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”

“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”

“What about us-”

“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”

He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”

“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”

“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks. 

You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson. 

Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you. 

“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”

Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And yet…you managed to fuck that right up. 

It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to. 

But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do. 

You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process. 

“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you. 

Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back. 

As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.

But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside. 

“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.

“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”

“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”

“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”

“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”

“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”

“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”

“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”

“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”

“I can get you out of the window-”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Of course you did.”

“Joel-”

“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”

“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”

“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”

“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”

“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”

“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."

[noosayog]

[9:12 PM] Kageyama Tobio

wc: 800

warnings/content: fluff

“Tobio, it’s cold,” you complain. 

“It’s winter.” 

You pout. “Okay, and?” 

Silence. 

“Tobio, I’m cold.” 

More silence. 

“TOBIO!” 

“I told you to bring an extra jacket,” he says as he wraps his own scarf around your neck. “You can’t have my jacket.” 

“You’re mean,” you grumble, shrinking your neck to dip as much of your face as you can into his scarf. 

He hums in distant acknowledgement. 

Tobio’s always been awkward but you figure the years of dating and living together would have knocked that out of him. For the past few weeks however, it’s like he’s regressed to his high school state of socialization. 

It’s also been a little strange that homebody Tobio has finally been taking hints with the yelp screenshots you’ve been sending for years and taking you to dinners at nice restaurants you have been wanting to try. At least he has a professional athlete salary and sponsorships to keep this lifestyle up, you suppose. 

“Did you enjoy dinner?” 

A soft grunt. 

“Did you like it more than the last place?” 

A hum. 

“Well, I liked the place we went to last week more.” 

Silence. 

You stop and Tobio doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps walking, face to the ground, deep in thought. 

You let him get about 10 steps away before you’ve had it. With his track record of ignoring you for the past month, you figure he’d get all the way home before even noticing that he left you in the cold. 

“Tobio!” You emphasize your frustration with a childish little stomp of your boots on the pavement. 

He startles and turns around. “Why are you all the way back there?” rushing back over to you and mumbling a quiet apology. He grabs your hand and begins walking again, but you stay rooted to your spot. You yank your hand away and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I’m not moving until you tell me what’s on your mind.” 

Tobio looks around and says, “can we not do this here?” 

“I’m not embarrassed about making a scene out in public if that’s what it takes for my boyfriend to tell me why he’s been such a bad boyfriend recently!” 

He blinks a bit at that, as if the thought of being a bad boyfriend has only just occurred to him. You watch the expressions fly across his face; first a furrowed brow and open mouth to rebut, then a pause as if he remembers all the dinner dates he was in outer space for, then resignation with a sigh and one hand running down his face. 

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll tell you, but at home. It’s not good for us to do this outside when you’re already freezing.” 

Despite his gentler tone, it does nothing to soothe the unease. Does Tobio maybe… want to break up? If that was really it, you think it’d be better to do it at home, away from prying eyes anyway. 

You nod, lips wobbling a bit. Tobio flashes you a slight smile, one of the firsts you’ve seen in weeks. You don’t know if it makes you want to cry or smile back at him. 

“C’mon,” he says as he once again reaches for your hand. This time, you allow him to guide your frigid fingers into his coat pocket where they brush against something hard. 

Still in his pocket, you unwind your fingers from his and feel for the item again. Feels like a velvet box. 

Tobio freezes. 

You wind your hands around the box, thumbs beginning to drift over the divot in the box. 

Tobio grabs your wrist and yanks it out of his pocket, just before you can close your fist over the item. You’re staring at your empty hand that was ejected from his pockets, semi-comprehending the situation.

When you return your gaze to Tobio, his face is red and it’s not from the cold. The flush reaches down to his neck before being hidden by his turtleneck; you suspect it reaches all the way to his sternum, like it does when you’re in bed together. 

“Tobio…” 

One of his hands is rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes are averted. You reach up and cup the reddest part of his neck. The cool from your fingertips jolts him and he meets your eyes with his comically widened ones. 

“Is that what I think it is?” 

“No! Well, maybe. I- uh.” 

“Is that what all these fancy dinners were about?” 

Every question you ask seems to make your large, 6’2” boyfriend shrink before your eyes. He lets out a large exhale. “This is why I wanted to do this at home.” 

You giggle a bit and let him go. Content that you’ve figured out what has been bothering your boyfriend and excited for what was waiting for you at home, you skip down the path towards your shared place. “C’mon, Tobio! Let’s go home. Can you believe I thought you were going to break up with me?” you laugh. 

This time, it’s you who notices that Tobio’s footsteps aren’t following you anymore. You turn around, about to urge your silly boyfriend to walk faster so you can get your present that’s at least a month in the making. 

Only to find Tobio on one knee.

[aanxiousangel]

I'm always dying for more asl bros content pretty please *sparkly dog eyes*

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ, ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ~

anˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ANONNNNN YOU READ MY MIND AND STOLE MY HEART goshhhhh i love asl bros I COULD CRY <3 its a little unedited tho fml :') ((and if its not obvious ace is my BABYYYY)) wcˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 2965 total cwˏˋ°•*⁀➷ jealousy, y/n smacks tf out of ace, y/n is kinda fuckin drunk..., cheesy shit

Portgas D Ace

Fire Fist Ace. Loved by many, loved even more by women on the islands. You decided to join him in sailing, tired of being stuck on that island. Sure, you saw Ace as a brother for a long, long time. But…it was inevitable. You hit puberty and suddenly, it wasn’t some sibling bond. It was nothing but blood, sweat, and tears to fight off the emotions.

I mean… Come on. He was tall and fucking hot. Literally. You lost count of how many times he almost burned you when he was still learning how to control his devil fruit powers. In turn, you poured ice cold water on him as some sort of punishment. He wasn’t happy in the slightest.

Eventually, you two grew into some fine young adults. And I mean fine as hell. Pirates swooned over you left and right until they saw Ace constantly by your side. Despite them catching somewhat of a memo, the fangirls did not.

Women flocked to the ebony-haired beauty with ease, practically dogpiling upon seeing him to get to him. Often enough, it earned him a free round of drinks and food in an attempt to catch his attention. It made your skin crawl constantly.

And while he definitely seemed like a flirt, he couldn’t care less. He did enjoy the food and liquor though. He was just so oblivious to you glaring daggers from the bar.

Little to your knowledge, Ace purposely scared men off by your side, throwing evil glares or quite literally spitting fireballs at them. Like your own personal guard dog.

One night, you’d had one too many and you couldn’t help but get irritated. You paid your tab, not giving Ace and his groupies a second glance as you stormed out. It took the drunken sailor a moment, not thinking it was you storming out at first. But the second he caught a whiff of your sweetened scent, he jumped the table, darting out after you.

Hell, you were already halfway to the ship when he spotted you. Have you ever seen a man run so fast in heavy ass boots?! Fuck no. But his impending steps scared the shit out of you. You drew your katana, spinning around to meet Ace’s neck with the blade.

He could see the fear in your eyes until your brain registered it was him. There was a moment where your gaze softened, but quickly turned sour. It made his heart ache. You never gave him that look.

“Why did you leave? The party wasn’t over!” Ace rasped, still catching his breath as you sheathed the sharp blade.

“Go back, Ace,” you snapped, a slight slur between your words.

“C’mon, Y/N, come back with me,” he pouted, knowing it made you weak. His damned puppy-pleading eyes and lip quiver always had you giving in.

“No,” you snapped, turning on your heel to continue going home.

“What the fuck?” Ace fell into step alongside you, staring in disbelief. “You actually just… Y/N! What did I do?”

“Nothing, Ace! Go party with your fanclub,” you huffed out, running a hand through your grimey hair. Gods, you were beginning to sweat just from anger.

“Wait, fanclub? Those chicks? Is that why you’re so pissy?” His voice had risen, as if he had a right to be upset with you. You just wanted to get out of there.

“Pissy?!” You half-laughed half-scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks.

“Yeah! Pissy! You’re bein’ childish!” He mocked your exasperated tone.

“Oh, because you can talk!” A sarcastic laugh escaped you as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Ace sucked his teeth, “Don’t be a bitch, Y/N.”

Before you could think about your actions, your palm was stinging and his jaw was slack with shock. Neither of you were exactly coordinated at the moment so it was his jawbone catching most of the impact. His hand carefully cupped the stinging sensation, his jaw moving side to side.

“Fuck,” you whispered, staring at him all doe-eyed. “A-Ace, I’m so sorry. I-I…”

“You really pack a fuckin’ punch,” he chuckled, not meeting your eyes.

“I swear it won’t happen…again…” You watched as he took a deep breath, looking up at the sky.

“Stop bottlin’ shit up. That’s exactly what happens. You fucking blow up,” Ace’s voice held no anger, no malice, nothing. He sounded almost like a parent scolding their child.

“I’m going back to the ship.” You whispered, stepping back.

Ace’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, yanking you into him. Nausea hit as you stumbled into his chest. You couldn’t even warn him before it spewed from your mouth, eyes watering as you choked.

“Ew! Y/N!” Ace whined, quickly jumping back.

“You throw a drunk person–” Another wave hit you, forcing you to vomit on the stone road, “And you expect them not to vomit?”

“You stink,” Ace shuddered, stepping back.

“Obviously,” you sobered up, standing up carefully. There was a bit of vomit in your hair making you cringe. “I need a shower.”

“Shit, now I do too,” he whined again, freaking out that a drop of vomit splattered on his leg.

You rolled your eyes, “Could have one of your maidens clean you up.”

Ace frowned at you, “Come on! I thought ya dropped this whole chick thing!”

“Whatever, Ace,” you walked up the gangway, leaving him on the edge of the docks.

You didn’t hear his heavy boots following behind anymore. It twisted your stomach into knots as you walked through the empty ship, finding your way to the bathroom. Your hands weakly worked the nozzles to turn the water warm, eyes still unfocused from the amount of sake you downed to forget the image of him. Specifically the women flanking his sides, shoving alcohol and food down his throat. Somehow, not their tongues.

Steam fogged the bathroom as you undressed, a little wobbly on your feet. Puking was definitely your least favorite thing to do after a party. The door swung open as you worked the buttons on your shorts, a sharp scream escaping you.

“Tell me what the hell I did,” Ace shut the door behind him, hands on his hips like a sassy woman.

“Ace! Get out!” You covered your breasts immediately.

“Tell me what’s got a stick up your ass!” He wasn’t even focused on your tits. Just the fact that he couldn’t understand why you were genuinely angry at him.

“I’m naked, asshole!” You felt dizzy, heavily embarrassed by his intrusion.

“I have boobs too!” Ace motioned to his muscles, clearly not giving a shit how you were freaking out.

“Those are pecs!? Are you dumb?!” You tried shoving him towards the door, but he wasn’t budging.

“Same shit. Now talk,” his boot tapped impatiently as he pouted.

“Oh, my god! Turn around!” You whined, needing to get in the water while it was still hot.

Ace rolled his eyes, turning around. You shoved the rest of your clothes off, almost eating shit as you hid behind the shower curtain, soaked with water. He glanced back, seeing your shadow against the opaque drape.

“Start explainin’.” He moved to sit on the countertop, leaning back against the wall.

“It’s not a big fuckin’ deal, Ace.” You thoroughly washed your hair, the massage making your eyes roll back. Fuck, how long had it been since you felt this clean?

“It is to me, Y/N. That should mean somethin’ to you.” He muttered. Maybe you were hearing things, but he sounded hurt.

“It just gets on my nerves to see women obsess over you.” You stated, closing your eyes as the water drained the bubbles from your locks.

“Someone’s jealous.” His smirk was evident in his voice.

You stayed silent. It wasn’t easy to lie to him. Nor did you want to confirm his suspicions.

“Y/N?”

Nope. Not doing it.

“Y/N.”

You were planning on staying silent but he yanked open the curtain, half worried that you’d magically died in the shower. He let out a sigh of relief when you shrieked, smacking his hand away to pull the curtain back into place.

“Pervert!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“I thought you dropped dead, idiot!”

“Are you dense?!”

Ace pursed his lips, staring at your eyes. What did he do wrong? Obviously, opening the shower might’ve been was wrong. But the anger. You were so angry with him… It actually hurt his feelings. Poor baby.

“Ace, why are you so stuck on this?”

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

And there goes your heart. It ached at his words. If you weren’t soaking wet and bare, you would’ve hugged him. So, you did the next best thing you could think of. You told him the truth.

“You’re an idiot.” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. A habit when you were giving in to whatever he wanted.

“Ouch. Hurtful,” Ace crossed his arms.

“No, not because of that. You’re so fucking blind, Ace. I’m…fuck. I like you! So, yes, I get upset when women are touching you, getting all of your attention. You flirt with them in front of my face. It hurts. You always do that shit.”

Ace’s poor face. His jaw slacked, staring at you. He was stuck on those three words. Was he seriously that drunk..? Was he starting to hallucinate? Had to be. Not…not you, right? How could he be so blind? He was a god at reading women, so, why not you? Right up until this point, he assumed you still saw him as your older brother.

“Earth to Ace?” Your hand waved in front of his face.

“You like me…” He exhaled, not realizing he stopped breathing for a few seconds.

“Yeah, kinda just said that.” You yanked the shower curtain closed to finish up.

“You like me!” Ace yanked it back open.

“Stop that!” You tried fighting his strength without ripping the thin plastic.

“Hell no!” Ace jumped into the shower, almost falling over as he cupped your face. “You fucking like me?! Since when?”

“Sh-ince–” He squished your face too much, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Ace!”

“Sorry.” He retracted his hands, resting them on his hat.

“Since we were kids, dumbass,” you rubbed your cheeks softly.

“I’m so stupid,” Ace breathed.

“You are,” you went to turn back to your shower, but he was quicker.

The tiles were ice cold against your back. The warmth of his lips made up for it though. He pulled back, looking down at you.

“You taste like vomit.”

“Ace!”

Flame Emperor Sabo

The stars twinkled against the midnight sky. You poor thing, drinking away your feelings. It almost became a monthly ritual. You’d sneak off in the dark with a heavy bottle of sake and sit on the shore’s edge. Water rippled around your toes, leaving icy kisses against your skin.

It wasn’t that you enjoyed being drunk out of your mind. It just took the edge off most times. You actually kind of hated the burn. The flavor wasn’t too great. Flavor… Huh, your mind lingered on wondering what Sabo tasted like. Just one little kiss. Wouldn’t that be something…

This was the first night you finished a whole bottle so you weren’t coherent whatsoever. You didn’t catch the footsteps walking up behind you or his voice softly calling your name. Not until his hand rested on your shoulder did you look over and see him.

His blond curls and black attire made you smile lopsidedly. You thought that you were just starting to see things from your inebriated state. Fuck, how strong was that liquor?

“You look like Sabo,” a giggle escaped you followed by a hiccup.

“I would think so,” he chuckled softly, sitting next to you. “Why are you out here?”

“I don’t know,” you turn your gaze back up to the stars.

“Are you sure about that?” Sabo hummed, gazing up at the sky.

“It’s dumb,” you snort, rubbing your heavy eyes.

“Tell me. I’m a great listener, you know,” he chuckled.

“I just really like him. No…I love him.” You sigh, your eyes growing heavy. You desperately try to fight it off, but it’s getting harder by the second. “But he doesn’t feel the same. So, I drink to force it all out. Or push it down. However it works. It’s a thing now. My thing. I don’t know how you found me.”

“Who?” His voice cracked, his eyes moving to glance at you subtly.

“Sabo.” Now it’s your own voice’s turn to crack. “He’s so sweet, so passionate. He doesn’t have time for a relationship though…”

He stays silent. Did he hear you right? Were you even sure? He could see the bottle was empty. There was no way you were all the way there. You must’ve been drunk out of your mind.

“See? ‘S dumb,” you mumble tiredly. “Just…don’t tell him I told you.”

“I won’t.” He watched your eyes slowly close, your body letting the waves lull you asleep. “I promise.”

Sabo scooped you up, bringing you back to the ship. He made a B-line for his quarters, tucking you into his bed. Out of respect, he wasn’t going to sleep with you. He couldn’t. But…your hand latched onto him tightly, brows furrowed in your sleep. Sabo tried to tug your hand from his coat but fuck, were you strong.

Sabo sighed and slid in beside you, holding you close. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

“I know,” you mumbled drunkenly against his chest, feeling his body tense up against you.

Monkey D Luffy

Oh, sweet Luffy. Such innocence in this strong fighter. It was laughable really. You could absolutely do anything and he wouldn’t bat an eye. Wouldn’t dare second-guess that you were just being you. After all, you two grew up together. Well, you four. But you followed Luffy on his adventure, some sort of instinct to protect this naive kid.

You were really into him. The whole crew could see it from miles away. Nami and Franky always teased you about it. Hell, even Sanji teased you. He tried giving you love advice, but you’d give him a pointed look and he would roll his eyes.

“You don’t have to look at me like that.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright! Alright! Tch. I know.”

You’d bring Luffy snacks while he was busy doing things around the ship–if he wasn’t already scavenging the fridge. Or force his stinky self to bathe. He’d scream halfway across the ship, telling the crew you were kidnapping him. Robin would tease that you were like his mother which you’d shiver in disgust.

“So, you enjoy being a parent?”

“What?”

“You’re like his mom.”

“Ew… That feels so wrong.”

One Sunday evening, Luffy came creeping into your room. He watched you carefully, extremely confused. You looked up from your book, raising your eyebrow as he flinched.

“What’s wrong, Luffy?”

“Bath.”

“Is it broken?” You get up, leaving your book on the bed.

“No. You didn’t make me take one.”

You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Um, no, I didn’t.”

“Why?” He tilted his head and it made you smile.

“I’m not your mom,” you shrug softly, rubbing your arm awkwardly.

“So?” Luffy, still confused, went over and started tugging you along. “I know you’re not.”

“Where we goin’?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Bath.” He made it sound so obvious.

“You want a bath?” Your hand flew up to your mouth to stop your laughter.

Luffy stepped into the bathroom, pointing at the tub. “No… Yes… I don’t know.”

You started the water, plugging up the drain. He watched you, pouting. Why’d you stop fighting him? Was he being too annoying? His chest felt funny as he stared at you.

“Why aren’t you making me take one?” He asked again, poking your side.

“I figured you didn’t want it.”

You weren’t just going to up and tell him Robin’s comment made you feel strange and distant. You didn’t want him seeing you as his mother. Not when you had feelings for him.

“You’re lying. Your nose moved.”

“What?”

“Your nose. It did that thing when you lied.”

Your face went red, looking away from him. You shut the water off and nodded at it.

“Get in.” You glanced at him.

“No. Why are you lying? We don’t lie to each other.”

Luffy was right. You two didn’t lie to each other. It was just something that stuck all throughout the years. You sighed softly, dropping your head between your hands.

“I know and I’m sorry. But I can’t tell you.”

“That’s the same thing as lying.”

“Luffy, get in the damn tub.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean!” Luffy whined.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” you rubbed your face, looking up at him. Dammit. He was adorable. Cute. Really fucking attractive. Especially when he wore his shirt open… Crap. “Luffy, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Luffy tilted his head again. “What’s wrong?”

“No, like, I love love you.” You mumbled.

“What do you mean?” He sat in front of you, forcing you to look at him.

“Like… I have a crush on you, dummy. I love you. In love,” You bit your inner cheek, nervously tapping your heel on the floor.

“And…you didn’t want to make me take a bath because you love love me?” Luffy got up, taking his clothes off.

You looked away until you could hear the water splashing, “It’s not going to make sense.”

“Oh, well,” Luffy laid in the water. Before the effects could fully weaken him, he yanked you into the tub with him. “I think I love love you too.”

“Asshole!” You sputtered, looking up at him now drenched.

Luffy grinned, puckering his lips. Maybe he wasn’t so naive.

[x-aefx]

Malachy Granger x fem!oc

Warnings: age gap, smoking, swearing, suggestive but not smut

“Fuck you Avery! God-you’re so fucking clueless!” Callum shouted, his school uniform worn messily with the coller button undone and his shirt visible under his jumper. He walked backwards, facing Avery as he screamed at her.

“I’m fucking clueless? You can’t even zip up your trousers, dickhead!” Avery screamed back, causing Callum’s eyes to instantly drop to his trousers where his fly was unzipped. He rushed to zip it up.

Her short school skirt blew gently with the breeze, her school shirt that was untucked offered little protection from the cold air.

“You fucking bitch!” Callum screamed, embarrassed and angry.

Avery angrily stormed off, holding her arm high in the hair as she held up her middle finger to him.

Callum began storming after the girl with nothing but determination, eager to reach her with each angry step. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles turning white as his fingers digged into the skin of his hand.

Malachy, who had been watching the whole ordeal, watching her, strode across the street and stopped infront of the young school boy. He placed one hand on his chest, preventing him from walking another step, the other hand was on his shoulder.

“Don’t fucking think about it.” Malachy warned, his voice cold and left no room for arguing.

The boy was young, with almost a childish face and features. Malachy towered over him easily making him more intimidating.

Callum pulled away from the unknown man roughly, he huffed before storming off in the opposite direction defeatedly.

Knowing he wouldn’t come back, Malachy turned and watched the mysterious girl striding away in the distance. Her school skirt was short, exposing her legs and her shirt was tight.

Malachy noted she wore the same uniform as Amy.

The walk from school to her house was a quick one. Avery kicked the empty beer bottles that littered the floor out of her way, walking past her dad who lay passed out on the couch, she rushed upstairs to her bedroom to change out of her school uniform.

Her dad wouldn’t care that she was mitching school, or that she had gotten another detention that she wouldn’t bother attending. He didn’t care about anything once he had his drink and weed. She was glad it was her final year at school, then she could leave this shitty town.

Avery shrugged off her school shirt, unbuttoning the buttons hurriedly. She replaced it with a black tank top, covered by a flannel. She changed out of her school skirt and into black denim shorts. She wore her black boots and a variety of long necklaces. She pulled her short blonde hair into a messy half up half down style.

She quickly left her room and hurried down the stairs. She didn’t take a second glance at her father, leaving through the door and slamming it shut after her. She hoped it would wake him but knew it wouldn’t.

Her rushed footsteps slowed down as she placed the fag between her lips. She searched her pockets before realising she had left her lighter at home. “Fuck!” She cursed.

Looking around she realised she was at the Boat Hut.

She seen a man standing near the entrance, lighting his own cigarette. Avery decided to make her own way towards him. Once she was closer she realised he was a slightly older man with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a black leather jacket and black hoodie underneath, the hood of which was raised over his head.

Avery didn’t let her confidence falter when his eyes met hers and a smirk formed on his lips at the sight of her approaching. He blow out the smoke as his eyes trailed up and down her body.

“What can I do for you, young lady.” He spoke almost as if he were taunting her.

“Can I borrow your lighter. I left mine at home.” Avery said rather bluntly. She stared at him expectantly, Callum had ruined her mood and taken all her patience.

Malachy raised his brow teasingly, making a tsk tsk tsk sound with his mouth. “That’s not very polite.” He faked offence.

Avery stiffed a groan. “May I please borrow your lighter.” She said sarcastically, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

Malachy took out the lighter from his trouser pocket, he held his hand out waiting for her to take it from him. When Avery reached out to take the lighter from his grasp, he pulled back his hand quickly.

“Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me.” He warned her, referring to her action moments prior. Avery stared at him intimidated. She shifted her weight onto her other foot, thinking he was angry until he brought the lighter to her mouth. He lifted her chin with his hand, lighting the cigarette for her as he watched her closely.

Avery stayed quiet, inhaling the fag gratefully.

“I seen you arguing with a boy earlier.” Malachy hummed. “Who was he?” He couldn’t resist asking her. He felt an unknown feeling building in his stomach.

Avery wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t dare, remembering his earlier warning.

“Just this boy from school.” She said vaguely.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Malachy found his breathing was heavy as he watched her inhale and exhale the smoke.

Avery looked up at him with a raised brow and smirk, her head tilted to one side. “Not anymore.”

They both felt droplets fall from the sky and land on their skin, becoming heavier by the second until it was completely pouring.

Malachy roughly pulled her by the arm and into the boat hut away from the rain and cold.

“Hey what the fuck!” Avery shouted in surprise.

“Be grateful I’m not making you stay out in the rain.” He walked closer to her. He pulled his hood down, allowing Avery to see more of his face.

Avery stepped back.

“Maybe I should have left you outside.” Malachy continued his taunts. stepping closer to her. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and placed it down on the ashtray on the nearest table.

Avery remained silent, taking a step back for every step he took forwards. She couldn’t deny he was good looking, mature, unlike Callum. He looked strong and masculine not short and weak. Like a proper man.

“Would you have run back to that little boyfriend of yours.” Malachy almost laughed at the thought of him. He took the cigarette out of Avery’s mouth when he was close enough. The back of Avery’s knees hit the couch, she fell onto the leather seat with Malachy standing between her legs. She couldn’t look away from him.

“Would you?” Malachy repeated. One of his hands reached down to cup her cheek, caressing the skin gently.

“No.” Avery breathed out, eyes glued to his. She became desperate to earn his attention, his touch.

Malachy hummed in approval.

“Have you ever been touched by a real man before?” He asked suddenly, his voice low and rough.

“No.” Avery confessed, she felt herself becoming aroused, hot to the touch the more he looked at her or she heard his voice.

Malachy tutted.

He lowered himself so he was kneeling inbetween her legs. Both his hands found their way to her legs, moving upwards slowly until they reached her thighs.

His touch made every hair on her body stand up. It was something she had never felt with any of the boys she had been with in the past. They were boys when he was a man. Guys her age weren’t the same.

“I can take care of you.” He whispered the promise, his hands moving up and down her legs slowly, brushing her inner thigh. “I’ll show you how a man takes care of you. How you deserve to be treated.”

Avery’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation that flowed through her entire body to her very core. Her mouth opened slightly.

“Do you trust me.” He said lowly, stopping his movements as he leaned in closer to her.

“Yes.” Avery breathed out, aching for more.

“Good girl.”

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [5/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3454

Summary: Aemond gradually embraced the rugged and untamed ways of the wildlings, adjusting to their customs and survival skills in the harsh environment they inhabited.

As dawn broke, the first fingers of light seeped into Aemond’s tent, casting a gentle, golden glow that wove through the coarse fabric. The sun’s early warmth stirred him from his slumber, and he awoke with a serene awareness of another day granted to him. The sleep he had savoured was a rare gift from the gods especially when he stepped foot in the north. 

The finest sleep he had enjoyed in months.

Surely this humble tent wasn’t as extravagant of his chambers in King's Landing. The Wildling’s tent was as if it brings comfort to him than the Night's Watch barracks. Here, the simplicity of his shelter was a luxury in itself, a sanctuary far superior to the cramped mattresses and the chill of the stone walls. Aemond’s gaze fell upon the fur and blankets that cocooned him—a gift of warmth from the Wildling woman who had shown him unexpected kindness;  he knew he might never be able to fully repay her. As he drew the fur closer, he inhaled deeply, savouring the lingering scent of the wild, a subtle fragrance of her that spoke of forests and untamed lands. 

Aemond took his time layering his new clothing that formerly belonged to the wildling named Yuri, one of her wildling companions. He wondered if she herself could make good clothing. Putting on the thinnest layer first, he wrapped the sheep skin next around his waist up to his chest. After several layers, he topped it off with the wildling’s distinctive camouflage fur coat. Tying it up, he peeks through his tent, finding the area already alive. Stew boiled as children ran through the snow. 

Far much different that the smallfolk yet they were just as simple as they were. 

He slips on his boots also made out of thick fur, possibly sheep skin. 

Tying his hair like he always did since he was a child, 

He looked up to the tent’s opening. 

It’s time. 

Parting the tent’s entrance, revealing himself as Aemond stepped out of his tent, he felt eyes on him. Some were the same, some were positive stares. Through all that, he couldn’t help but to feel a sense of insecurity washing over him. Yet he masked it well enough, walking through the crowd, searching for familiarity in this foreign world he walks in. And he finds his answer well enough when he spots her. 

Sitting on a wooden log on the edge of the camp, beside the stallion he brought from castle black, sharpening her arrows. He stepped closer as his heavy footsteps stomped through the snow. Heavy enough for her to notice him, turning her head around. “Snow haired! You’re finally awake. A good night's rest, I suppose?” She teased with a childish grin across her face. “It was well enough,” he said with a smirk. His wildling friend could only smile back before carving her handmade arrows once again. 

“Do you sharpen your arrows everyday?” He asked curiously. 

“No, not everyday. Just for special occasions or for hunting,” she said as she shook her head. “And what is today’s occasion if I may ask?” Satisfied with his question, the she wildling turned her head once more. “We are going to take you…hunting, Prince Aemond.” Saying his title with a hint of tease, standing up before him. “Taking me for a hunt?” He repeated. 

“Why yes. If you shall fight with us, we would like to see first how well you hunt. How you ride your horse, how quiet your steps are–,” tapping his feet with her bow, recalling how heavy his footsteps were wearing her kind’s heavy boots, “–and how true you were of your skills in swords and such.” 

“You want me to prove myself to you?”

“Oh not to me. But to the Chief, to Gruff, to Yuri, and the whole tribe, basically. I have no doubt for you, my prince,” she mocked with a chuckle, bowing ridiculously in front of him. “Do not taint my title,” Aemond said, a bit frustrated with her childish behaviour yet his words did not scare her, it just made the situation more amusing to her. “You clearly are no fun! But is it true though? Are you actually a prince?” Her bow reaches out to swipe his hair away from his shoulder in which he swats it away with a scowl in his face. “Yes, I am.” 

She snorted. 

“You don’t act like one.” 

Walking away to their horse, Aemond took hold of her with his grip on her arm. 

“Was that supposed to be an insult?”

She snorted once again. Amused with his temper. 

“You tell me,” she cockily said to him before taking her arm away. 

“Besides, I can’t imagine you sitting on a tall palace drinking wine as your servant pour you more into your cup. Whilst you stare down at your people like some kind of god–,”

“–I hate to break your imagination, but I simply do not do that–,”

“–Now you just made me doubt for a second. Maybe you really did do that in your lavish castle,” she teased with a laugh. “And what? You have ten girls surrounding you?” She mocked once more, turning herself to face him as she walked backwards. “If you are asking if I have ten whores, no I do not,” he snarled. “I beg to differ, snow haired. I bet you cuddled with them all day as they fed you the ripest fruit in the realm!” She cackles, throwing her head back as she started to walk side by side with him

“And what of you? You yourself are surrounded by two men,” Aemond bickered back, playing with her games. 

“Gruff and Yuri? You disgust me. They are like brothers to me.”

“But do they see you as a sister?–”

“–Gruff has a wife and Yuri has two children. Do not speak of them that way.” 

Surprisingly, he was satisfied with her answer. 

They walked side by side as the sun shone down on them. 

“But do you actually have maidens by your side?” He heard her ask. 

“Maidens? No, not all the time,” he hummed, his hands behind his back. 

“Not all the time? Then when do you have maidens beside you?”

He knew of the maidens she meant. Not just ordinary girls but women who threw themselves at him. Lovers or mistresses. He recalled one or two. Sylvie and another woman he replaced her with. He doesn’t even know if Alys is considered one. But he didn’t want to admit this to her. And he does not know why. She was just a stupid wildling, why would he care what she thinks of him? She could not change his past and he should not care if it did affect the way she looked at him. But he couldn’t. 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” He instead said, smiling smugly at her. And he swore to the gods he saw a faint of red tint in both of her cheeks. Surely she had them before because of the cold but he could differentiate her usual red cheeks with a woman’s natural blush. “Badly is a strong word. I was just merely curious,” she replied, inserting her arm into her bow. The one eyed prince has a smirk painted on his face as he watches his flustered friend walking ahead of him. It seems he had struck a chord. And he liked it. 

Hunting was a rare activity for him at his youth. His father was too sick to even teach him how to hold a bow and arrow or even a sword. The last time he went hunting was for his ten-and-four nameday. Ser Criston Cole was the one who guided him, Aegon, and Daeron through the woods to catch the biggest boar they could find. Even in that, ser Criston was the one who slew the boar himself for the guard told him that he should not risk himself with hunting since it could put him in risk. 

And now Aemond finds himself hiding between trees and shrubs, sitting close with the she wildling. The others hid in other places around them as the snow fell from the sky, slightly covering the area around them. “Look!” She said, pointing towards a doe, walking curiously around the forest as it sniffs an area uncovered by the light snow. “It should be an easy target,” smirking at the one eyed prince before lending him her bow and arrow. A crossbow, yes he has taken hold of that weapon. But to act as an archer? He is ashamed to admit that he is untalented of that particular skill. “I shall skin the deer–,”

“–No, I want you to do it. Prove to them,” she insisted, nudging his arm with her bow. 

If he lied– no. There is no escape to this. 

“I am untalented with this weapon,” he said, boring his healthy eye onto her eyes that resembled the doe they’re hunting. His heart rate quickened when he didn’t earn an instant answer from her. They were cramped as they hid themselves quietly from their prey. In a swift motion, she positioned herself beside him, guiding his calloused hands to her bow. 

“An untalented can be talented if they try,” she whispered. 

Her whisper was relevant for their situation, yet he felt tiny bumps erupted across his arms. Every word she spoke was like a spell to him, obeying her as he took the bow into his hands. Her small calloused hands guided him to the bow’s grip, close enough for him to feel his cheek pressed to hers. 

“You have your foundations for archery. You just need to take another step further– Keep your grip tight, now pull the string back.”

He did as she told him to. 

Fixing his fingers with hers, calloused and rough that made him want to know every single story behind it. 

He took a deep breath, aiming at their prey. 

“Do not let it slip. Just breathe,” she whispered to him. 

Aemond’s hands were steady, but his pulse hammered like a war drum in his ears.

His bowstring flicked, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he drew the bowstring back, the taut cord singing a soft, tense note. But it hits a tree beside their prey, causing it to flinch and move from its place. 

No, he failed.

“Oi! Catch that deer!” He heard Gruff say from a distance, assuming he said it to the other wildlings that came with, but Aemond wanted to prove himself. He was the one who startled it, letting it run. So he took no choice, leaping from his spot and sprinting to the deer. Startled by a human’s presence, it started to run. But Aemond was close enough to leap and trap the deer with his arms. Tackling it down, he pulled out his dagger. 

Ready to stab his hunt.

But he looked down, finding the doe’s eyes looking up at him with fear. 

It was alive, and it reminded him so much of her. 

Doe. 

He asked himself, why did he become so weak?

Was it grief? Fear? Was it all consuming his bravery?

Or did he just know how to feel once more?

To be alive like he was before they took his eye?

His train of thoughts were suddenly interrupted when an arrow shot through the doe’s body. He looked back, and saw her standing not far from him, lowering down her bow as she saw how distraught he was. She saw through his cowardliness and he was ashamed of it. All this time he thought of her as his prey, someone he could easily devour. But now he was the one who felt powerless. 

He even could not shed a single blood from a doe. 

“You are angry.”

The tent’s flaps were yanked open with a force that sent them flapping wildly against the tent’s sides. Aemond stormed inside as she followed along behind him. His boots pounding the earth with a ferocious rhythm that echoed the thunder of his anger. Each step was a declaration, a defiant stamp that shook through the small, confined space. He grunted, throwing his sword and dagger away. 

“Snow haired–,”

“–Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing at her as he glared the seven hells out of her. 

“Is your temper that short, Aemond?”

“My temper can be as short as I please.”

Ignoring her question, he sits down and looked away at her as he felt so defeated. 

“Then why was it short today? Was it because of the doe?”

“No,” he coldly replied. 

“Then what is it?” She asked again, sitting on the fur covered ground beside him. Then he felt it, her hand placed on his shoulder. “If it is not because of the doe, then what is it?” Her tone is careful and gentle. Aemond forgot the last time someone asked him why he was angry. Not why he did what he did, but why he was angry. He turned his head slightly towards her direction, but not fully showing her his vulnerability. 

“When you first saw me, what was the first word that came to your mind?” 

A comfortable silence. 

A faint laughter of small children bleeding through the tent. 

“Different,” she answered honestly. 

“How so?” He asked, not daring to lock his eye with her. 

“Your hair. It was silver. And your posture, your physique was not big and rough like northerners,” she explained further. “Did I scare you? When we exchanged words in that bridge?” Playing with the dagger he previously tossed away. “I know I should be, and I was at first. I was scared that you would not help me or my people,” she answered again. “But did I– scared you?”

“You’re asking the wrong person, snow hair.”

A chuckle erupted from him. 

A genuine one. 

“It all felt so easy back then. To kill, I mean. I rode Vhagar on dragon back and burned everything to the ground as I please,” he told her, spacing off to a distance recalling his rage and anger throughout the war. “She was my pride and glory— my dragon, Vhagar. The only thing that preserved my identity and power as a Targaryen prince,”

“So you were not a kind prince,” the spearwife pointed out, listening to every word he uttered. 

“I believe so. A war cannot be won merely by someone occupying a position on a council or residing in a castle. It requires more than just strategic planning and oversight from a distance. Someone has to take direct action on the battlefield, face the dangers, and engage in the conflict firsthand. That was the role I had to take on, and I embraced it more than anyone.”

“But it was not a pure act, I must admit. All the bloodshed I have done were sins that I must pay— and I believe the way to pay for my sins were to suffer like them. The Gods kept me alive a little longer for me to endure the torture I have placed upon— innocent lives at war. I suffered when I placed my foot on winterfell. I suffered when I heard of my brother’s death. I suffered when the gods left me to realize that the war was not worth all the pain.”

Throwing his dagger aside, Aemond clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles paling. It was true—he was furious. His anger was directed at his own blind ambition during the war, the realization hitting him with a pang of regret. Everything he had fought for now seemed meaningless, and he was tormented by uncertainty about his family's fate. While he remained free in the wilderness, he could only wonder what had become of them, knowing he had abandoned them in the process.

Where is duty? 

Lost in his own labyrinth of his mind, he didn’t feel her shift. Their arms touched as the wildling leaned on to speak,

“Everyone who took part in a war has ever felt that way, Aemond. They all thought about what-ifs to escape for a moment from their fate. A war must be won one way or another. But even the one who wins made as many sacrifices as you did. You both endured the same grief as the other.— Both spilled as much blood as the other.” 

“But you are still alive now. You might see it as a punishment, but you have a purpose in life.” Placing her palm on his chest. “You are more than just a pawn at war. This place is not your realm anymore. We live beyond the wall and you are free. You are welcome to be anything, for the wilderness does not limit the people.” 

“But what is my purpose if I am not a Targaryen? What is the purpose of being free if I know that the people I love are caged in the walls of—.” He halted, a pregnant pause. 

Aemond swallowed a lump in his throat, desperate for an answer. 

“Then that is your purpose, is it not? You are free so you could rescue your loved ones from misery. To lead my people back into the wall— pass through it and sail your ship home. Save them from their torment. When 5 people are trapped in a cage, without any of them escaping or letting loose from its cage, they would all be trapped in that cage forever. But you— have escaped. You are outside of your cage and it is your mission to find the key and let them all out.” 

As the wildling’s words flowed, a spark of intrigue ignited in the the one eyed prince’s eye. Each carefully chosen phrase seemed to resonate deeply, building a sense of connection and understanding. His posture relaxed and their gaze sharpened with growing admiration. Slowly turning his head to face his now companion. 

“How old are you, wildling?” He asked.

“I just turned twenty years of age. Why do you ask?” 

“I am one year older than you, yet I feel like a boy beside you.” 

She smiled gently at him, letting out a bashful chuckle.

“Your mind is clouded by your emotions. I am sure you are just as intelligent as anyone.” 

The air crackled with a charged tension. The girl and the prince sat close, their proximity amplifying the intensity of their unspoken connection. Shadows danced on the fabric walls as they exchanged glances that lingered longer than usual, each look revealing a flicker of vulnerability and curiosity. The silence between them was thick, filled with an electric anticipation, as if every word they might speak could unravel the depth of their hidden emotions.

“Preserving my identity as a Targaryen means so much more to me than I can imagine,” he whispered.

“Then preserve it. Don’t let it slip away from your grasp.”

Their nose almost touched as Aemond felt his body drawn to her. The way she never felt him lesser, validating his feelings that no one could ever did in his life. Helping him to crawl out from his own darkness. 

Her eyes still reminded him of the doe he failed to kill. He could devour her right now if he wanted, for she was supposed to be his prey and pawn. But something changed within him. He does not wish to over power her. He does not want to exploit her the way he did with the others. She was his prey but he did not want to make her as one.

He refused to kill the doe.

He refused to harm his doe.

His doe.

Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, he sighed. “But I have changed now. I am not the same person I was in the war,” he confessed.

“Then what shall you do about it?” She asked.

Reaching out for his dagger once more, he looked down upon the sharp edge of it. “The Targaryens were identified with its silver hair, and I would like to keep it that way.”

Taking her hand gently in his, he placed the dagger in her palm.

“But I want to leave bad omen from my identity. For I have changed. My hair was long when the war started— and now it has ended. It is time to cut away the man I once was.”

a/n: they’re evolving😈😈😈 STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER🌷✨🎀

[itsabouttimex2]

Deep Sea Sympathies

Yandere Sun Wukong

(Syntax alphabet is up next, then an LSO + Primal . Feeling super down, so I wrote something a little sadder. The villain tiers post I spent two days writing and rewriting again and again got anonymously sent to another user, who skimmed the majority of it, left out my opening and ending points, and called at least one of my criticisms “ridiculous” and even has a reblogger claiming that I “hate Macaque”, that I want “everyone to hate Macaque” and that I’m “salty”. Maybe it’s childish, but that kind of hurts when I’ve spent literal months making content for the show (often involving Macaque) that I genuinely love. I only wrote that list because I wanted to give my honest opinions as a break from my usual content as I prepared to watch and write for Season Five. Maybe I’m in the wrong and my rant was just stupid? Do you guys want me to delete the “Season Five Prep” posts?)

“I still can’t believe MK got me back into this,” the simian before you chuckles. “But I’m kinda glad he did. I really missed drawing. I forgot how good it felt.”

“…I see,” you “answer”, maintaining a stiff and poised position, staring down at the collection of utensils that the hero is using. “Are you… having fun, then?”

“Aww, bud. Come and take a seat, okay? Look, I’ll even put out a little mat for you. Come and take a seat,” he invites, plucking one of his transforming ginger hairs to make a proper cushion for you.

His tail winds lazily around your leg, tugging you closer and closer to the squishy orange padding.

“C’mon, bud,” he says, cutting through your hesitation. His voice has a powerful edge under all the sweetness- reminding you that the Monkey King is someone you can’t say no to. “I want you to draw with me, kiddo.”

Wukong is fond of this- pulling you into little “bonding sessions” that take up the whole day and leave you without time to spend with anyone else.

It’s funny, though, really- you are the last person that need be manipulated away from others.

“The Great Witch of Gloom,” was the title that you had been assigned. Before you had a name, before you had taken a step, before you had so much as uttered a cry… your fate had been decided.

You were to be a wicked soul with dark motives and a darker heart.

As old memories flood into your ever weary mind, Wukong arranges a few sheets of paper in front your mat. The grip of his tail slowly tightens, and you cease all stalling.

Lowering yourself to the ground, the mat provides a cozy cradle to shield against the cold wooden floor.

“…it’s almost Winter,” you mildly comment, tracing a finger against a smooth plank. “It’s getting colder.”

“Oh,” the simian casually asks, scooting his mat closer to yours, “you like the snow?” Here’s chance he always adores- any rare tidbit of info you offer is a chance for him to spoil you, stocking up on presents and snacks in an attempt to drown you in platonic love.

It didn’t help that you always felt so indebted after he was done stacking gifts into your arms and bag.

“So, bud- what’re you gonna draw?”

The curiosity in his voice is almost innocent, almost sweet. He pushes the multi-tiered box of crayons towards you, smiling.

“C’mon, pick a few out!”

Awkwardly; and with a shaking hand to boot, you reach for the box.

It’s… not a comfortable sensation. Waxy paper around thick wax sticks makes for an awkward feeling in your hand, and you slightly recoil from the hueless cylinder.

“Aww, kiddo. No one draws with white- heck, you’d be better off eating it! Not that I’ve, uh, ever done that.”

“…I don’t know what to do,” is your blank confession that leaves Wukong quirking an eyebrow.

“What, you don’t know how to draw? You’vd never had… oh. Oh, kiddo.”

Realization colors his golden eyes, leaving the simian king with a sympathetic frown. Your parents wouldn’t have ever let you have something as fun and bright as crayons, would they? How could he have forgotten that?

It had been a nightmare for the Monkie Kids to pry information out of you, and a further mess to try pushing you towards a healing state.

And, honestly- Wukong’s doting ministrations really didn’t help. All the love and gifts in the world could not undo your traumas- but certainly left you feeling as though you were mired in debt.

Not that you had the words to voice those feelings, leaving Wukong to continue piling on with his affections- all in the futile hope that he could love away the demons of your past.

“Okay, bud. Maybe we stepped out of your comfort zone, huh? Alright, my bad. Tell me what you wanna draw, and I’ll pick out the crayons for you, okay?”

“…I don’t know what to draw, though.”

His frown deepens. It’s hard to think that someone as young as you could be so… he wouldn’t say broken. That was far, far too cruel a word for someone he loved so dearly. You were… “cracked”, maybe. A little “tarnished”.

Like you had given up on seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and decided to instead drift slowly along in a dark ocean.

…actually…

“Bud, don’t you like the beach? C’mon, why don’t you draw something from there, yeah?”

“…could I?”

Your little words break his heart. You shouldn’t have to feel like you need permission for something as simple as drawing a damn picture. But you *do*, so he answers with false cheer-

“Of course, kiddo! Draw anything you want!”

“…how do… how would I draw… a jellyfish?”

Finally, a real smile graces his lips.

“I didn’t know you liked jellyfish,” he says, in a too familiar voice that lets you know you’ll be receiving a loaded armful of themed plushes and stress toys in the very near future.

Another load of guilt, another load of debt.

“I’ll take you to an aquarium one day,” he tacks on, unaware of your growing insecurities. “And we can look at them together.”

To him, this is healing. Love and affection and unending comfort.

And certainly, Wukong is far better a guardian than your parents were. Instead of blaming you for powers you couldn’t control, he was always ready with praise and applause. Instead of resigning yourself to rotted garments rummaged from the trash, you had brand-new clothes and warm shoes. You were never hungry. You were never bored. You were never alone.

And, above all else- you were loved.

But you were not happy.

And you doubted that would ever change.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Eijrio Kirishima x Reader - Heart Can't Take It

Summary: You and Kirishima finally make up after a big fight.

Warning: Slight angst, fluff, make out, implied sex, tooth rotting sweet stuff

You've both giving one another the silent treatment for over a week now, even electing to be assigned new patrol partners at work. Was this the end of your relationship? Over a silly argument that, looking back, neither of you could even remember the reason for? He couldn't let that happen.

That's why he now stood at your door, still in his costume, hot off the clock. You both stated at eachother, almost forgetting that either of were ever angry, but he put his boot over the threshold anyways, just in case you decided to slam the door in his face. "Can we talk?"

Now you both stood in the living room of your apartment, feeling as if you were back in high-school with childish crushes on one another. "I miss you, babe." He finally admits stepping towards you.

"I miss you too," you repeat his sentiments, also stepping forward.

"'Fore we talk, can I have a kiss?" He asks, sheepishly, hoping a sign of affection will break the ice. You nod, cheeks burning and wait expectantly for a peck on the lips. Leaning down, his hands cup your cheeks and he plants the first kiss he'd given away in almost two full weeks onto your waiting lips.

Except, he forgot to pull away. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, taking his lips away just enough to move them before pecking again. "For bein' so stubborn." Another peck. "Shoulda come talk to you," And another. "Sooner..."

You couldn't keep the relieved tears from spilling down your cheeks back as you fell into the same pattern. "No, I'm sorry," you argued weakly in between kisses. "Shouldn't have yelled at you," You pressed another desperate hiss to his lips. "Like that..."

In such little time, you were both on your couch, sweetly making out, whispering sorrowful apologizes into one another's mouths. "Can't even remember," he pants licking away a strand of saliva from his lip. "What we...we're fighting about,"

"Me neither," you confessed, brushing your lips over his. "Whatever it was, it wasn't worth being away from you..."

"Agreed," he smiled, melting a bit at your expression. "Thought I was gonna die this week, can't stand bein' away from my baby."

"Me too," you lamented, hanging off his neck with an exhausted sigh. "Don't ever leave mee again, Eiji..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, babe." He replied with a grin cracking across his face, sharp teeth gleaming in the light. "Let's never fight again, 'kay?"

"'Kay," you agreed with a small giggle which became all the sweeter when you felt him begin to lift you off the couch.

"Now, how's about we make up for lost time, huh?" He asked playfully, cradling you in his arms as he stood. "Think skipping workouts, ordering in, and spending the rest of the day is in order."

Before you can say yes, he's already peppering kisses up and down your neck and carrying you off to the bedroom. "Missed you so much, baby," he murmured, laying you down at the foot of the bed. "Never wanna go another day without kissing this pretty face," To punctuate the statement, he presses a loving, longing, passionate kiss to your swollen lips. "Please don't ever make me, my heart can't take it!"

And then, through relieved sighs, and appreciative touches, you promise one another to never repeat the same mistakes twice. A senual and solum vow to remember your time as apart as a cautionary tale as to the consequences of miscommunication. Needless to say, you did bicker a few times after that, but there was never another time you both didn't immediately make moves to reconcile. Your pride wasn't worth going a second without being absolutely devoted and obsessed with one another.

[pholla-jm]

A Little Crazy

IMAGINE: A LITTLE CRAZY~ ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: non-established relationship. not proof read. mention of blood. gorey. use of weapons. ****************

When you first joined the crew… Zoro was a little bit wary of you. 

You didn’t seem like the pirate type, yet here you were. Happily bouncing across the deck with the Captain.

Maybe you were just childish like the Captain? 

He would think that… but something was just different. 

Sure, Luffy is childish, but he’s a pirate at heart. But when Zoro looked at you, all he could see was a cute little person wearing skirts and dresses all the time. Whenever he saw you during your free time, you were either coloring or crocheting. 

He’s never actually seen you fight either. Whenever there was a fight going on, you would run off- doing what you were tasked to do. 

He often wondered how you were even recruited to the crew. 

One day you were tasked with Zoro, and it was safe to say he was a bit hesitant.

He didn’t want you to be a hindrance to him. He didn’t want to constantly look over his shoulder, just to see if you were safe.

“Ready to go?” 

Zoro was snapped out of his thoughts to see you waiting for him. You were wearing a white long-sleeved crop top with a bow in between your chest, a light pink mini skirt with high black platform boots. To top things off, you adored two pink bows in your hair and you were carrying a tote bag.

Zoro rolls his eyes, “yeah. Let’s just go.” 

The both of you start walking together with no conversation ensuing. The only thing being said was from you… correcting the way he was going.

On the pathway, two men were walking towards you.

You didn’t pay any mind to it, since you thought they would be on their way.

However, Zoro kept one good eye on them just in case. He didn’t like the way they were eyeing the both of them. 

As the two men walked by them, it seemed that everything was just fine. Just maybe he was overreacting a little bit. 

However, a slap was heard and the next thing he had seen was blood spewing in the air. 

To the untrained eye, the person wouldn’t have seen what happened. However, with Zoro, he saw everything. 

The man closest to you had smacked your butt… and the next thing you did shocked him. You swiveled, taking the knife that was in your bag… and cut his hand off. 

Zoro was a bit shocked. He didn’t expect you to be carrying that in your bag.

The look on your face sent shivers down his spine. With a wide smile, eyes wide, and pupils shrank- you only stared down at the wailing man in enjoyment. 

“You bitch! You cut my hand off!” The man screeches as he holds onto his wrist. He was on his knees, tears running down his face from the pain.

His companion stares at you in shock as well. 

“And you touched my ass. It seemed like a fair deal to me.” 

His companion raises his fist, ready to strike you. But you were faster. Using the weeping man as leverage, you push him down and use him as a stepping stone to stab the other man in the chest. 

The man chokes a gurgled gasp as blood pours out of his mouth. The man struggles to fight back against you, but you render him completely useless as you push him to the ground. 

Zoro could only watch in amazement as you stabbed the men over, and over again. All with a large smile on your face. 

Once you deemed the men dead you stood up with that smile still on your face. The crazy look in your eyes slowly disappears. 

“Sorry about that.” You say while straightening out your clothes. 

“Oh, um, don’t worry about it.” 

Zoro eyes you up and down, taking in your bloodied figure. He wasn’t used to this… but he found it quite charming.

It was a different side of you that he quite liked. It made his heart beat a little faster than normal, something that he wasn’t used to. 

“Should we get you cleaned up?” He asks, referring to the blood that was plastered on your skin. 

“Oh,” you pull out your knife covering. 

Zoro lips pursed as he eyes the pink crochet knife covering. 

“Do you think it’s ruined?” You ask, pointing out the red splotches. 

Zoro sighs at the whiplash of your personality. Something he wasn’t expecting, but he realized that he didn’t mind it. 

“No…” Zoro starts already dreading and regretting what he was about to say, “It’s still… cute.” He mutters the last word like it burns his tongue. 

Your face lights up at his words, happy that said something nice about your crochet knife covering. 

“Thank you.” You gleam while bending down to wipe the knife clean of blood.

Placing the knife where it belongs you turn back to Zoro. 

“Ready to go?” You ask him.

“Hold on.” 

He rips off part of the hem of his shirt. Bringing up the piece of cloth, he wipes away some splattered blood from your face. 

The proximity causes you to freeze up a little. But you enjoyed the warm feeling it brought you. 

Once he pulls away, you can see the slight pink on his face. You enjoyed seeing the pink on his face, it suited him. 

You were determined to see that pink on him more often.

[oneforthemunny]

I’m loving these blurbs girl!! Can I request something for my favorite cowboy where sweet girl tries to convince Eddie that she doesn’t need his help with everything around the house because she’s a strong independent woman! (even though he spoils her rotten and makes sure she doesn’t have to lift a finger 😂) love you!! 🩵

this is so sweet girl of her omfg. a little bratty and moody and she takes it out on him like that, then he turns around and just watches until she has to ask lmaooo. spoiler- that's how this blurb is gonna go haha. slight dom/sub undertones but no actual smut.

"Don't lift that." Eddie's gruff tone calls from behind you. The sound made your skin crawl, shoulders tensing with annoyance. "I'll get that. Just leave it."

"Oh, no," You snapped back sarcastically, teeth grit in agitation. "I'll get it."

It was silly, childish even, you knew that. The argument was just that, silly. You'd gone out to see Eddie, trying to coax him inside to eat lunch with you, stop working and give you a little attention.

"I gotta finish this, honey."

"You could finish it later. Please? Come eat inside with me."

"You know I gotta get this done."

"But you can't do it later?"

"No, I got other things to do."

"You always have something to do."

"Yeah? I sure do. Maybe if you helped me instead of poutin' all the time, it'd get done quicker."

You knew he was teasing, from his snarky, sing-song tone and curling of his lips. But it infuriated you, rubbed you all the wrong ways.

So, determined and furious, you slipped your little rubber work boots on and some extra gloves that were a bit too big for you, opting to help Eddie with his chores.

"Quit that." Eddie clicked, tossing the hay bale in the corner with a soft grunt. "You're gonna get yourself hurt, now, just let me do that."

"No," You snapped, blocking his hands that tried to take the small hay bale away from you. "You say I never help you, so I'll do it. I got it."

"That's too heavy for you. You're gonna hurt yourself-"

"-No," You sneered, teeth grit, gloved hands slipping under the rope that held the hay in place. "I won't. I got it. I don't need your help."

Eddie paused. For a moment, he contemplated catching you by your chin, making you apologize, but he knew you'd probably like that- that it was what you wanted. Instead, he crossed his arms, standing back to watch you.

"Alright," He nodded coolly. "Go on."

You shimmied your hands under the straps just like you'd seen Eddie do before, bending your knees, before you tried to pull up, only to drop it right back on the barn floor with winded grunt. Why the fuck did hay weigh that much? It's fucking straw?

Eddie smirked in the corner, watching you try over and over and over, shuffling a few steps before dropping it right back down, winding yourself.

You looked over your shoulder sheepishly, eyes cutting to see him there, a silent pleading in your eyes. Eddie shrugged. "You said you could do it. Go on then. Move it for me."

Mean, oh, he was being so mean today. You pouted, huffing with a petulant fury. You tried again, and again, and one more time until your back felt like it might snap.

"Ok," You grumbled, dropping the bale with a final grunt of failure. "I can't do that one, but I can do something else."

"No, you told me you could move that one." Eddie shook his head. "What? 'S just supposed to stay there?"

"No," You hissed, eyes narrowing in annoyance, embarrassment. "You can just move it over there, and I'll do something else-"

"-Me?" Eddie jabbed a gloved finger to his chest, voice lifting with that arrogant teasing tone he loved to mock you with. "Now how's that fair? You told me you can move it, and now you're just gonna demand I move it? Thought you were helpin' me."

"I am." It came out more like a bratty whine than a statement. "I just can't move that one."

"So you want me to move it then, hm?" Eddie lifted a brow, lips twitching to hide his grin when you huffed and gave a curt nod. "Fine, but you better ask me. Better ask me reallll nice and I just might."

"Seriously?" You snapped, tongue clicking in annoyance.

"Yes. C'mon now, baby, you told me you were gonna move this, and now you can't? That's really settin' me back." Eddie shrugged. "Least you could do it gimme a pretty please?"

Your cheeks burned. For a second, you contemplated telling him to fuck off, stomping back to the house- but you knew the stubborn bastard would stay out there all fucking night if he had to, stand out there and leave it until you came out and asked. Might as well do it now, get it over with so maybe he'd get a little soft with you, give in and come inside and eat with you.

"Fine." You gritted with a nasally huff. "Eddie will you please-"

"-eh," Eddie lifted a finger. "What're you 'sposed to say?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, jaw setting in irritation. He was just trying to embarrass you now, get you riled up and whiny. "Will you pretty please move the hay for me?"

Eddie smirked, pushing off the wooden wall, hands sliding under the hay bales and lifting it with a soft grunt, walking it towards the stables with the others. "Now was that so hard?" He quipped, hands dusting the other off.

You rolled your eyes, turning with a huff. "Why don't you try askin' me nice like that to come inside with you, hm?" Eddie hummed.

You turned just enough to give him a pout, one you knew had him buzzing with excitement, eyes widening and grin widening, a sure sign that you were close to getting what you wanted, you always did.

"Eddie, will you pretty, pretty please come inside and have lunch with me?" It was a little more sarcastic than what he would have liked, but he relented, tossing his gloves to the side, following you into the house, opening the screen door for you, smacking your ass playfully just to hear you squeal when you slipped inside.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦

It was an old wives tale that you put no stock in: that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach — though this time, it worked, and it worked better than you could have ever imagined. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 2.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, extreme tension of the spicy kind, implication of a poly relationship (Steeb and Bucko are married but it doesn't stop them) and they are menaces

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ Look, I can't help what I did here. I just thought of their uniforms. You're welcome.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Moments Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @stuckybingo 𝗕𝟱 — Firefighter AU — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a day. And on days like this, you turned to baking; sugar was a sure-fire way to improve anyone’s mood. 

You weren’t sure how you had gone that overboard, though. Your kitchen, once spotless and organised, was in disarray with trays of muffins and cookies that were overloaded to the point they were almost overflowing. 

It wasn’t a baking disaster, no — it was just a severe overestimation of the ingredients, that’s all.

The clouds out of your kitchen window looked stormy and grey, and a steady breeze rustled the trees lining your yard, and you sighed, glancing back down at the array of sweets. You came to a decision then. The firemen — and firewomen — at your local station; they were always giving to the community, fearlessly putting their lives on the line to save others and help them.

They deserved some sweet treats, too. 

With your arms ladened with containers of baked goods, you placed them on the back seat of your car and then started the engine. The fire station of your small town wasn’t too far away, so you cranked up the volume of your radio and began the quick drive, a big smile on your face.

There was a bus parked just down the road with the sign for children boarding, and the smile on your face widened. Today must have been field trip day, and where better to do it than here? Children were standing just inside the station's roller doors where a truck sat, lights flashing bright; red and blue bouncing and reflecting off of gleeful, childish smiles. 

You hummed quietly to yourself and parked your car, a small distance away to keep the driveway clear — after all, emergencies didn’t stop just because children and baked goods appeared. 

A loud whoop of a siren echoed as you made your way to the open roller door and the children squealed, making you grin behind the towering containers in your arms, overjoyed to have picked such a cheerful day to share. 

“Kids, settle down,” a deep voice called, the smile evident in the tone. You peered around the doorway and saw a fireman, a toothy smile surrounded by an immaculate goatee. “Now, are you ready to see how we get down the pole,” the man pointed over his shoulder towards the shining fireman’s pole by the stairs, “over there?”

A collective cheer came from the children and you lowered your arms just a little bit so you could see over the top container better. The doorway was partially in the way so you stepped inside, and the man spotted you. “Hi there,” he said, and you smiled back. “Just a minute. Buck can help you when he gets down here.”

“No worries at all,” you said, and Sam — as his name badge on his chest showed — winked before turning back towards the pole.

“Buck, Steve! Show these kids how it’s done.”

Heaven above, you were not ready for what would come sliding down that damned pole. 

The squeak from the sole of boots and the pull of skin against metal sounded and your mouth opened in a quiet gasp, the containers nearly tumbling from your arms. 

A blonde man, the size of a fucking tree, you swore, slid down first. The pants of his uniform were held up by red suspenders that lay over an extremely muscled chest, on full display through an extremely tight grey shirt. He landed on the cement floor with a grunt and spread his arms out, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he took in the clapping children. 

“C’mon, Buck,” he called, looking up at the hole in the roof. “Get down ‘ere!”

It was a miracle that the children cheered again, because the noise that left you when ‘Buck’ slid down the pole was not dignified. 

‘Buck’ was just as, if not, taller than the blonde you assumed now was Steve, and definitely broader. Dark brown hair fell down his face in strands while the rest was kept up in a messy bun. His grin was wide, happy, and bright, and his face was covered in a light dusting of stubble. The dark red, almost burgundy shirt that he was wearing was arguably tighter than Steve’s.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered when Bucky stood next to Steve, throwing a tattooed arm over Steve’s shoulder, grinning down at the kids that barely reached their knees. “Oh, fuck.”

Fate wanted to laugh at you, however, because it was at that moment that both Steve and Buck looked over at the open doorway, their grins growing wider by tenfold once they managed a glance at your floundering expression. 

“Take care a’her,” Sam, the man with the goatee said before gathering and herding the kids towards the far wall, where uniforms and helmets hung ash stained, but proud.

They sauntered over, and it was all you could do to not fall to the floor with wobbling knees. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said brightly, and you bit back a whimper. “What can we do for you?”

Uselessly, you glanced between the two of them – struck by how damn handsome they were up close. It put all your calendars to shame. 

“Doll?” Buck said, raising a brow and offering his arms to take the containers. “Lemme take them for you.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, immediately growing anxious at the loss of the barrier you had to hide behind. “I-I baked them for you guys, as a thank you for all you do for us–”

“Is that a batch of cookies I see?”

Bucky turned at the voice, but Steve was still staring at you, a smirk growing on his pretty pink lips–stop it! You chided yourself. 

“Clint, back off, they’re mine!” Buck yelled, pulling the containers tighter to his chest and shifting closer to Steve until their shoulders bumped.

A snort sounded behind them and you watched another blond approach, rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” Clint said, waving a hand as he entered what looked like an office. “Like your husband would protect you when he could take them all for himself.”

Immediately you looked at Bucky’s left hand, ignoring the way the intricate tattoos contrasted against his skin in the light, and saw two gold bands — one wider than the other with black and red stones. You felt crestfallen, it was a shame–

“What’re you staring at, sweetheart?” Steve piped up suddenly, a dangerously mischievous glint in his eyes. “You eyein’ up my husband?”

The ground couldn’t swallow you whole quick enough, and your eyes widened. “No!”

Buck laughed and shook his head. “Like you weren’t enjoyin’ it, punk.” The containers shifted in his arms and he offered his hand. “I’m Bucky, and this here is Steve.” You offered your name and gasped as Bucky pulled on your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“Stop swooning and just ask her out for coffee, you fool,” Steve snapped and rolled his eyes, taking the containers from Bucky and striding away, pausing only to wink at you. 

Time had frozen. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “What the hell just happened?”

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Bucky said, staring at what you would guess to be Steve’s ass as he walked away. “Anyway,” he turned back to you and you realised belatedly that he was still holding your hand. “Thank you, doll, we appreciate it a lot.”

You looked up at him and smiled the best you could — you were still reeling from the shock of whatever the hell just happened. “You’re welcome,” you said quietly, and Bucky tilted his head slightly. It was like a punch to the gut, seeing his hair brush against his cheeks, and the way his grey eyes shone in the light. “I better go–”

“Where you goin’?” Bucky interrupted. He was still not letting go of your hand. 

Staring up at him, you struggled for words before settling on, “Home.”

Bucky raised a single brow in question, and shook his head slightly, as if amused. “You don’t sound so sure about that, honey.”

Oh, god, you thought. 

“Come stay a while, the kids are leavin’ soon,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the kids with a nod of his head. “And this way we can give our compliments to the baker directly.” His smirk — god, it would be the death of you. “I owe you a coffee, c’mon.”

The tug on your hand was like a jumpstart to your heart, and you followed on autopilot while Bucky walked towards another door. His heavy boots slapped against the floor and you watched his back ripple as he walked, barely restraining yourself to just reach out and run your hand over the muscle, to feel the power and strength of them. 

“There he is,” Steve said suddenly, his head poking out the door just ahead. “I was about to come and pull you off her.”

“Like you wouldn’t join in, punk,” Bucky huffed, and you stiffened, your mind racing. Just what kind of marriage was this? 

The door opened and Bucky pulled you inside. It was a breakroom of some description with lockers lining one side of the room, while tables littered the middle, surrounded by mismatched soft chairs. A red-haired woman was perched on a black chair just inside the entry, while a younger man stood at the lockers – both of them were staring right at you as you entered behind Bucky, the young man with wide eyes, the woman with narrowed eyes, like she was appraising you.

“Who’s this?” The red-head asked, a sly smirk pulling at her lips when she glanced down to see Bucky still holding your hand.

“This is the lovely dove that baked us all these goodies,” Clint piped up suddenly behind you. 

The young man ran towards Steve who was setting out the baked treats, snatching one with a laugh when Steve pushed him away. “Kid, you got no damn patience, d’you?”

“No,” he answered, and he looked at you, waving happily. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Hi Peter,” you said softly. Bucky pulled you closer again and you were suddenly against his side, his arm over your shoulder and all you could smell was him — woodsmoke, some kind of spice, and just Bucky. You gulped quietly and smiled at the red-head who stood slowly and made her way over to the table, then Steve. “I hope you like them,” you gestured to the containers.

“Make way!”

Bucky pulled you to stand beside the door and the man with the goatee appeared, grinning happily and making a beeline to the table of containers. “That’s Sam,” Bucky whispered, pointing at Sam’s back with the hand over your shoulder. “He’s the fire chief.” Then he pointed at the woman, a slight smile on his lips when you looked up at him. “That’s Nat, and I am terrified of her.”

“I heard that, Barnes,” Nat said suddenly, her back still to you as she perused what was on offer. “Watch it.”

Unseen by her, Bucky grimaced exaggeratedly and saluted. You laughed.

“Alright,” Steve said, clapping his hands. He took a seat on a couch you didn’t notice before and he patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit down, sweetheart,” he said, though you had no choice because Bucky had started to steer you towards him. “You deserve to enjoy your baking, too.”

You landed with an oof against Steve’s side, and Bucky followed, sitting on the free cushion with a loud groan. “Haven’t sat down all day,” he complained. Steve rolled his eyes and offered you a muffin that you took with a smile. 

The containers slowly emptied and so did the room. Clint, Natasha, Peter, and Sam had filtered out to the office, leaving you alone with Steve and Bucky. 

“So, sweetheart,” Steve purred suddenly, and your gaze snapped to his face. You could feel Bucky shift next to you but you were trapped in Steve’s gaze, a deer in headlights. “What d’you say, huh?”

You baulked, not even registering Bucky’s hand on your shoulders, slowly moving up to grip the back of your neck. “What?”

Steve chuckled and Bucky huffed a laugh, putting more pressure on the back of your neck – enough to cause you to shiver. “Come home with us, doll,” Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse. A shudder flew up your spin and you couldn’t form words. It was all too much of a shock–

An alarm echoed in the breakroom and you jumped a foot in the air. 

“Damn it all,” Steve groaned.

Bucky looked to the ceiling and let go of your neck. “Always the fuckin’ way.”

“What’s happening?” You asked, looking between the two as they got to their feet, slight frowns on their lips. 

“Time to go save lives,” Steve winked. “Tell ‘er, Buck, I’ll see you out there.”

You watched Bucky nod and offer a hand to pull you up, only when you took it, he pulled you tight to his chest, a slight chuckle rumbling in his throat when you let out a small noise of surprise. His hands gripped your shoulders and pushed you back so he had to bend slightly to look you in the eye, it was all you could do to not whine needily at the action — why was he so damn tall, you cursed. 

“Here,” Bucky said, pulling a small card and a pen from his pants pocket. He stood there for a second scrawling something, and then he handed it to you. It was a phone number. “Call me later.”

There was a shout from out by the truck and Bucky winced. “I gotta go, doll,” he rushed, and he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, the stubble on his jaw tickling slightly. 

“Okay,” you said numbly, still in shock. Bucky smiled and ran from the room; the yells of his crew audible even over the alarm. Slowly, you ran your finger over where he kissed your cheek. 

You couldn’t shake the warmth you felt when you sat next to Steve, nor could you shake the comfort you felt from Bucky’s touch. It was surreal. They were married to one another, but yet, here they were so openly flirting with you – you were intrigued, happy even for that fact.

Suddenly, as you walked back to your car parked a small way away, thumbing at the small card in your hand, you realised bringing treats to the station may have just changed your life. 

And you could not wait.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 1

Jaded by her fiancé’s disinterest in her ambitions to become a professional wrestler, Delilah Parrish’s life takes an interesting turn when one of WWE’s top names offers her the support she’s not getting at home.

Pairing: Jey Uso/OC

Warnings: As we go along...

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was initially a Roman fic but I realized I have too many upcoming stories featuring him, so I switched it up and passed it off to Jey. Hope you enjoy!

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

“Come on, Parrish, move your ass! Get on her!”

The damp, unruly strands of baby hair in Delilah Parrish’s eyes temporarily obscured her vision and made it difficult to take on her trainer’s instruction. Brushing them away impatiently, her mind flitted to the next line of offense, but her opponent had tackled her to the canvas before her thoughts could fully register. The hard surface made unfriendly contact with her body, but the rushing adrenaline helped fight off the pain, and she battled with her opponent trying to twist her body into a sleeper hold. Delilah tried to concentrate on countering the hold, but between the hundreds of thoughts scrambling around her head and the yelling coming from outside the regulation wrestling ring, it was a near impossible feat.

“For fuck’s sake, Parrish, what are you doin’?” Pounding his palm hard on the mat, her trainer, Makena 'Tank' Kalua, shouted again. “Quit pullin’ her arm like that! You’re gonna break it!”

The other woman, an older, more experienced student named Janie from England, easily slipped out of the armbar Delilah was attempting on her and sat up, seizing both of Delilah’s legs and twisting them in a figure-four leg lock. Usually it was Delilah’s job to sell this move, try to roll over to ease the pressure, or even grab the bottom rope for relief, just like she’d learned. Instead, she kicked her legs carelessly, grunting as she wildly fought out of the hold.

“What the fuck! Is that what I taught you?” Tank screamed again. Blowing the whistle around his neck, he reached under the bottom rope and grabbed Delilah by her leg, forcibly dragging her out of the ring and setting her on her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Huffing irritably, Delilah yanked her arm away from him and marched away to the other end of the warehouse, ignoring Janie and the other girls that glared wearily after her, wondering what Tank saw in her to begin with. Delilah wondered that herself sometimes.

Ever since she was a little girl growing up in the tiny town of Pensacola, Florida, she dreamed about being in the middle of the fabled squared circle, performing for sellout crowds all over the world, making a name for herself in the notoriously tough wrestling business. And now she was finally getting her chance. In two days’ time, she would be partaking in her very first singles match, lacing up the boots she had worked two extra shifts at the local gym to afford. At last, she was taking that small step towards her dream.

So why did she not feel ready? Why was she doubting herself at the last hour?

One word; Andre.

She was starting to lose count of how many fights they’d gotten into in the six months since she’d embarked on what her fiancé openly thought was her childish desire to become a professional wrestler. Once he realized that it wasn’t just some hobby she would lose interest in after a week, his support began to dwindle more and more as the months went on. There were heated arguments between them on a weekly basis it seemed, mostly on what her ambitions were costing the couple financially. After all, they still had a wedding to plan; their already tight budget was being nibbled at by her exorbitant wrestling class fees. There were bills to pay around the house; she’d already squandered a month’s salary to purchase her wrestling outfit and boots. Yesterday, Delilah had kept quiet, refused to argue, and let Andre vent all he wanted. But this morning, her nerves were starting to kick in over her upcoming match, and when Andre began another tirade as he headed out to work, she not-so-politely shut him down. Tempers were lost and words were exchanged, and both left the house angry. Delilah hadn’t heard from him all day. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t need his crap today.

Evidently, Tank didn’t need her crap either. The trainer usually gave her some leeway but today he wasn’t having it at all. “Hey, get your ass back here!” His deep, angry voice sounded behind her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Where ya goin’ huh? You wanna run home like a little girl?” he asked her. “Go ahead, go.”

“Just stop, alright?” Delilah snapped, her fists clenched involuntarily as she fought the urge to hit him right in his face. Unfortunately she didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he weighed over a hundred pounds more than she did and was an entire foot taller than her, and certainly not with his over two decades of wrestling experience in comparison to her puny half-year.

Moving closer to her, Tank placed a calloused hand on her shoulder. “What’s goin’ on Dee? You’ve been acting up today.”

Delilah knew she was among the very few trainees Tank afforded the luxury of his concern and sympathy. She liked to think it was because she was one of the teachable ones, easily picking up the wrestling moves like she’d been doing it for years. She was always one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave, helping set up the ring and take it down after classes. Her attitude was refreshing, and she eventually managed to become something resembling a friend to him.

But there was only so much friendship could do for her current situation. Running a hand through her hair, Delilah tried to figure out where to start answering his question. She was fuckin’ tired, for one. She was wrestling in front of an actual crowd in a mere forty-eight hours. Her fiancé was being an ass. Her pride however, wouldn’t let her say those things out loud. That he considered her to be a friend didn’t mean she had to go crying to him for every problem she had. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she murmured, choosing to focus on the Polynesian tribal tattoo spread over his right arm.

Tank rolled his eyes with a huff. “We both know that’s bullshit, but if you say so.” Turning back for the ring, he sighed heavily. “You got sixty seconds to clear your head, then you get your ass back in that ring. We got shit to do so hurry up.” With that, he walked away.

She expected no other response. He never coddled her, not during working hours anyway. She didn’t want him to, either. The last thing she wanted to look was weak in front of fellow trainees; people, as Tank always reminded her, who wanted this career, who wanted this life, more than anything else in the world. And that brought her back to the same question she’d been asking herself for months.

How badly did she want it?

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

The next couple of hours seemed to go on forever. Tired, bruised and battered from a long day of training, Delilah hitched her bag over her shoulder and cast a glance at the round black clock on the wall as she walked towards the exit of the warehouse. Andre had sent a text message that filled her with hope of reconciliation after their heated morning. Maybe they could sit down and talk about what had happened, and hopefully work things out like they always did.

“Hey, Parrish, come here a sec,” Tank's voice sounded out of nowhere. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Sighing heavily, Delilah turned her gaze towards the doorway of the small office where he stood. “Do I have to? I gotta meet up with Dre.”

“He’ll be there when you get home,” he dismissed her excuse. “Come say hi. You won’t regret it, come on.”

With a quiet groan, Delilah shuffled toward the office. “I hope not,” she mumbled, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the hulking, tattooed figure sitting on Tank's desk. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Oh shit!”

Tank's grin widened as he pushed her further into his office. “Told ya. Delilah, meet Jey Uso. Jey, this is one of my students, Delilah Parrish.”

Standing up from his place on the edge of his friend’s desk, Joshua Fatu extended a hand to the toned beauty standing in front of him. He smiled when she placed her hand in his, noticed how it trembled. “Sup, Delilah, nice to meet you,” he said.

Delilah tried to reply, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten its primary function. She could feel her face burning as she continued to hold his large hand, wanting to let go but somehow unable to. It wasn’t every day she shook hands, or was even within a mile radius of Main Event Jey Uso himself. She’d been a big fan of his ever since his debut with his brother, Jimmy. To see them evolve and grow from a tag team to singles stars was so rewarding. The Bloodline storyline was must-see TV for her, and she had found herself sympathizing with the Right Hand Man over the course of the storyline. She followed him on X and Instagram, and had a couple of his Yeet T-shirts. To be in the presence of a man whom she watched on TV every week, a guy she grew to idolize and respect so much, was beyond mind-blowing.

Before her silence could grow awkward, Delilah removed her hand from his grasp. She’d always hoped that the day she got to meet a WWE Superstar, she’d act much cooler and more composed and not like the average tongue-tied fan. She knew she just failed miserably.

Josh crossed his muscled arms over his chest, his gaze firmly on her face. “So Delilah, Tank tells me you gotta lot of potential, uce. Says you’re very talented,” he said, his deep, gruff voice tinged with curiosity.

“Well, all those bumps he’s taken over the years have finally damaged his brain cells,” she said sarcastically, smiling when she drew a laugh from both men, particularly Jey.

“Nah, I’ve known this fool for damn near twenty years now,” said Josh, jerking his thumb in Tank's direction, “If he say you got talent, then you got talent.” He sat back on the desk and let his eyes admire her, silently wondering just how smoking hot the body hidden underneath the baggy clothes was. “So how long you been training?” he inquired. 

Delilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “I started working out about nine months ago, tryna get in ring shape,” she answered. “But I’ve been training for about six.”

Josh nodded his head. “And your first show’s the day after tomorrow, right?” he queried, keeping his eyes on hers.

“My first match,” she corrected him. “I’ve been to a few shows, done some ring announcing, valeted a couple of times,” she added proudly, as though that would make her look more credible in her idol’s eyes. As she spoke, she stole the chance to look him over. Diamond Cuban links glittered around his neck and both his wrists and gave a shine to his fitted Nike sweatsuit that covered up the tattoos she knew decorated a good portion of his russet skin. He was taller than she expected, and just as ruggedly handsome. And those eyes…a hint of danger lurked behind the jovial, friendly facade, very much giving off bad boy vibes. Against her will, she was intrigued.

Ignoring the eye-fucking session going on in his office, Tank patted Josh’s shoulder. “A’ight y’all, time to get outta here.” He ushered the two of them out of his office and towards the exit of the gym. 

“So…what brings you back to town, Jey?” she asked Josh as they walked side by side behind Tank.

The Samoan smiled at the young woman who hadn’t stopped blushing since they met. “Not much. Just hangin’ out with family and shit,” he replied. “Thought I’d come visit my mans over here, but now I hear there’s a show in town, I may just stick around a while longer.” He paused, noting the way her face paled a little. “You nervous?”

Delilah blew out a breath. “Honestly? I’m terrified.”

Josh shook his head. “Naw, don’t be. Focus on all the positives, how far you’ve come, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and bit her lip. That was reassuring, just a little bit. “Thanks,” she said, noting that her trainer’s car was heading their way. Tank always dropped her off at home as he lived not too far off from hers. “Well, I better get going. It was so cool to meet you, Jey,” she added, thinking it better to wave this time rather than shake hands. 

“Same here Delilah. And trust me when I say I’ll be seeing you more often in the future,” Josh replied.

For some reason, it sounded to Delilah like there were a handful of promises in those words, but she waved off the silly notion immediately and opted to leave before she made a fool of herself in front of the Jey Uso. It felt like she was walking on air as she approached Tank's car, still star-struck, still stunned by the last couple of minutes that had just happened.

But then, as she slammed the car door shut, she remembered what was waiting for her at home, and with a tired sigh, she was forced to push the moment away, forced to forget about the intense brown eyes that continued to stare after her even as the car drove away from the warehouse.

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

Thoughts so far?

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting!

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