#I always keep her next to me when I see folks

[rivendell-poet]

Good *time of the day at your country*

I would like to make a request now that you posted a list full of ideas.

Could you write from the Fluff/romance list 7 and 19 with Legolas and a human!reader?

Soo the idea is that reader have body image insecurities ( because she doesn't have flat belly or something idk) and.. since Elves are literally the image of Perfection, reader often feels that Legolas deserves better. Even for the humans reader isn't something special. She feels unworthy every time people look at them surprised about how they ended up together and that an elf deserved better. One night when she cries about it in her room Legolas happens to hear her when he comes back (you can't never be quiet enough to hide form an elf) So yea i think i gave too much information, I'll shut up and leave the rest up to you :) have a good day.

Hi anon! First of all, thank you so much for your request - and trusting me to write this! The greeting made me smile as well, so thank you for that. Secondly, (and more importantly), I'm so sorry for the extended wait. Hopefully you still enjoy it, although be mindful of the angst.

(also don't worry about the info - as long as you've not written how the fanfic should go line-by-line I welcome more detailed requests <3)

❝𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭) 𝐲𝐨𝐮❞

Pairing : Legolas X Reader

Wordcount : 2.6k

Gender-neutral reader | TWs : Crying, the first half of this fic centres around negative body-image & reader disliking their body. Although this is countered, if it's something you're struggling with please don't force yourself to read <3

Summary : As a human, you sometimes struggle when comparing your body to Legolas. And sometimes it can get bad. Luckily, he is always there to reassure you that he loves you - no matter what.

A/N : Was feeling angst-y at the start, so if you want to read but skip to the comfort keeping going until you see the ✧ paragraph break (although this will skip some fluff/a good portion of the fic). Also sorry if this is somewhat disjointed. It has been edited, but was written over a longer period of time.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you try not to wince as you eagerly let the fabric fall back down over you. You don't look like you've been a member of the Fellowship, like you've fought Sauron's forces directly, you look like you've sat around and done nothing. Even after days of running and taking part in battles, your stomach doesn't lie flat - let alone have defined muscles. And the parts of your body that are more curved don't have that extra weight in muscle.

Even the bits that are more elven, more lithe and made of muscle, are still marred. This time by scars, a few raised and rough but most simply discoloured. All are eyesores, drawing attention immediately to the imperfections on your skin. It's even more obvious when you stand next to Legolas, his skin glowing and youthful. Even from centuries with a bow, his fingers remain uncalloused and smooth like silk. He doesn't seem to mind the contrast when he holds your hand. The silkiness against the craters on your skin. He also doesn't seem to mind the stares you two get when you're together. When he's close to you, and you're so obviously in love.

There are two types of stares you notice when people see you two like that. The first starts off fawning and admiring, and then you enter their gaze as well as Legolas. Then the positivity changes to more of a sneer, looking at the flawed shape of you compared to his perfection. The second type of stare is confusion, when their eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you as they wonder how you managed to convince him to like you.

It's even worse when you and Legolas go to the more formal dinners, when folks have to be polite with their words - so show even more disdain with their actions. The ones who know of Legolas's social status are even worse; how could someone of his noble lineage marry a commoner? It's one of these dinners you're about to be forced to attend, and one of these dinners you're dreading.

A soft knock on the door breaks your eye contact with the mirror, and you step away just as Legolas enters your room. His eyes light up when he sees you, looking you up and down before smiling. "You look beautiful."

"You're only saying that because I'm dressed in your colours." You tease, trying not to let your worry - that that is the reason he said - seep into your voice. He looks gorgeous in your colours, of course, they only serve to compliment his natural colours, making him look even more gorgeous.

"Not at all." He offers you his hand, immediately holding you tightly when you put your hand in his. "I hope you will enjoy this ball, some of my kin will be here."

"Elves?"

"Yes, from as far as my home." He pauses for a second, then smiles, "From Eryn Lasgalen."

"That's great news. Do you know any yourself?" You ask, trying to put the conversation on him. He thinks for a second, before telling you of the first elleth - a captain of the guard. In the meantime, you attempt to listen while trying not to think about what elves being with you means. If humans judge you as being unworthy of an elf, how will elves judge you when they find out you are with their prince?

Eventually, you manage to listen to Legolas again - hoping you haven't missed any vital information. His stories, and genuine enthusiasm, soon manage to lift your spirits and distract you from your worries. It works so well you're able to walk into the ball, not even noticing the others as you get to your friends. Aragorn welcomes you with a smile, you can tell he's grateful when genuine friends come over, and looks at the two of you. "By Valar, with the two of you and my wife I think everyone on my council has outdressed me."

He's lying, of course, dressed in a beautiful robe of wine red and forest green that somehow does not clash on him, but the words warm your heart. Aragorn has reason to lie about your appearance, but not as much as Legolas does. You offer him a compliment as well, "Nonsense - you both look lovely tonight. If you were not King of Gondor I'm sure many would think you an elf."

"Except for the beard, of course." Aragorn points out, eyes briefly flickering to where you assume the elves are.

"Then we have found an advantage for you not to be an elf." Legolas smiles, "It suits you."

The three of you begin to talk, not quite flouncing etiquette with the time you're spending with him, but getting close. Arwen catches your eye, and you see her begin to move towards you - Legolas murmuring in your ear that he will be back soon, unless you need him. You wave him off, before offering a smile and small bow to Arwen. With a laugh that sounds like music, she returns your gestures. "There is no need to bow to me. Your actions have put your standing well beyond mine."

"And the scandal when I don't bow to the queen?" You respond, trying to keep the mood cheerful while anxiety begins to swirl in your stomach. Realistically, Arwen doesn't mean anything by it - but the dip where velvet sits on scar tissue instead of regular skin goes from unnoticeable to uncomfortable. The wound on your finger almost seems to catch on something, even though it is long healed, and you're reminded of the perception of elves. It is said that scars tell a story - does that mean your mistakes are imprinted on your body for any elf to read?

At exactly the wrong time, Legolas appears again with an elleth maiden. No - not a maiden, a captain of the guard; except you would be forgiven for mistaking her to be a noble, or a muse for some talented artist. You recognise the name when Legolas introduces her, and your mind connects her to stories he's told - stories of grave danger. Except they've made her glow while they would have made you bruise. What would have been a scar on your face is not even an imperfection on hers. Taking a deep breath, you bow before introducing yourself.

You can see recognition in her eyes before she bows back, eyes flickering from you to him as she stoops. The action only worsens your nausea, and not even the presence of your love can alleviate them. Surrounded by three elves (and a man who is so fair he may as well be one) you feel even worse, and you duck to excuse yourself from the conversation.

Lost in the ballroom, you try to judge where you should go based on the presence of people. There are very few people near the food, and you realise you've missed the window. Not that the nausea would help in keeping any food down. Instead, you gravitate to a place with a manageable amount of people - easing into making small talk with other humans. As the conversation ends, a shock greets you as your next companion appears. Another elf.

She's just as beautiful as Legolas' friend, and is wearing a tight-fitting robe of pure white. Keeping up conversation decently well, you manage to hide your nerves until Legolas suddenly appears by your shoulder, holding a plate of food. It's a mixture of proper meals and canapes, but nonetheless a gesture that warns your heart. Swallowing whatever he'd been eating, he holds the plate closer, "For you."

"Thank you." Going for whatever he's eating, you come away with only a small bite - a biscuit-type thing that's thinner than a coin with a patte that tastes like spring. Perfectly elvish food. He doesn’t need to eat as much either, yet another difference. Finishing it, you swallow and smile at him politely while somehow hoping for the elf to come back. To your surprise she does, and you take advantage of the opportunity.

Some architect in Gondor was looking out for you, and you’re soon able to slip away from the crowds. You almost bump into a few people, but you’re elegant enough to not cause too many difficulties. None of the servants running the place stop you either, although there are a few eyebrows at someone dressed in such finery being around there. In fact, you make it all the way to your room before the first ragged breath makes it way out of you - tears threatening to spill, while breathing heavily to stop them. Not that anyone could hear you in your chambers. More tears water your eyes, and you think about letting them escape when a servant knocks on your door.

“Prince Legolas has sent up food, if you would like it.” You can hear the awkwardness in the messenger's voice, “And he wishes to inform you that there is no pressure to rejoin the event. He shall be up with you soon.”

“There’s no need.” You go closer to the door, “Tell him he can be as long as he wants. And you can take the food, I’m not hungry.”

“I will inform him now.” The servant leaves, and you listen to their footprints slowly fade away until you're alone again. Which is when you feel ‘safe’ enough to begin to break down.

✧

It feels like only a second ago you were by his side, but when Legolas looks around the room he cannot see you anywhere. The plate of food he still has for the two of you feels heavy in his hand, but he keeps hold of it while scanning the ballroom and walking around it. The two of you need to eat, after all. On his second lap of the ballroom Legolas realises that you’ve left, properly, and goes to one of the servants - asking for them to deliver the food and inform you that he’ll come to you shortly, and that you should feel no pressure to attend this event.

He excuses himself as quickly as he can, citing the ball as becoming overwhelming to the few who ask and hurrying up the stairs. The turns to your shared chambers are becoming muscle memory to him, although normally the two of you make this trip together - sharing your thoughts on whatever you’d just done, or talking about nothing in particular to not focus on the stresses of the day. As he approaches your floor he realises he hears no movement, and the only sound is him opening the door.

Until Legolas keeps moving forward - and his ears begin to pick up the stifled sound of sobbing. Of your crying. It makes him hurry up, going towards you as fast as he can until he truly realises that something is seriously wrong. The steps are still quick, but not running, and his mind begins to pace through what could be happening so that he may try and comfort you.

When he sees the plate outside your door, untouched and discarded, an idea of what’s happened begins to come to him. He knows the food that he’s picked out is your favourite, and so it won’t be that that’s stopping you. Getting to the door he gently knocks on it, and hears your cries suddenly begin to halt. He can hear the constricted breaths, and rushes to reassure you, “You can cry, meleth nîn. And please, may I come in?”

There’s silence at first, and he adds to his statement. “If you truly don’t want me here you can say, but I cannot hear you cry and do nothing about it. I want to help.”

Although there’s still no verbal response from you, he can hear a slight shuffling - and there is no voice of protest. Legolas begins to open the door, just enough to slip in before letting it shut behind him. As soon as he’s in the room his eyes go to you, heart slightly breaking as he sees the red rim around your eyes - the way they are still glassy. He can see your light tremble, as you stop yourself from crying in front of him, and he instantly goes to your side. “Please, never be afraid to cry in front of me.”

Legolas begins to pull you into him, and that’s what finally breaks the dam as you feel yourself begin to sob as tears stream from your face. He still holds you close, pulling you into a warm hug - letting you hear his steady heartbeat. He doesn’t force you to stop crying, merely humming and gently tracing circles on your back. “You can let it out… I’m here… don’t worry, I’m not going to leave.”

He holds you in his arms for as long as you need, until you finally stop and begin to shuffle out of his grasp - realising you’ve wept all over his shirt. He begins to let you go, but doesn’t let you stray far. Watching and waiting for you to be ready to talk. “I’m here for you.”

“I know.” You try to give him a smile, but it comes out watery - and you can feel the puff around your eyes, the fact they must be red and horrible. Some of the thoughts must show on your face because he frowns slightly, pulling you closer again.

“You know you are beautiful, meleth nîn.” When Legolas says it to you he says it with such sincerity, gently kissing you on the forehead. “You are beautiful like this as well, and I love you like this.”

Although it makes you smile, you try to protest. “I’ve just been crying-”

“And?”

“And my eyes will be horrible and red-”

“They look perfect to me.” His interruptions are gentle, but you can tell he means them. “All this shows is emotion, emotions like sadness, or like love. If you stop your eyes from shining in happiness it will be a bad day for all.”

“I’m not crying in happiness.”

“I’d rather your eyes show all emotion than none.” He seeks out your eye contact, and now that he’s mentioned love being visible in your eyes you can see it in his. In the way they round slightly with care, but have a faint shine in them that gets larger as you begin to smile - a shine you can only interpret as love. It is steady, and ever present, but seems especially obvious now.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“When all my imperfections disappear?” You try to put on a teasing tone, but it falls slightly flat.

“Imperfections?” His head tilts in genuine confusion, eyes searching your body but never landing on a specific place, almost as if he cannot find them. “If even elven eyes cannot see them, I begin to doubt they are there.”

The gesture makes you laugh, but you still hold out your hand to him - palm up for him to see the callouses. When he sees them a hand instantly closes around them, his fingers joining and resting against yours in a familiar position. Simply, he says, “The callouses by which I know it is your hand I am holding? The ones that show the dedication you have, the time we’ve spent together?”

Eyes searching, he follows your gaze to the other parts that stick out to you, resting a hand there or giving it a small kiss - each time with only love in his gaze, and no disgust. Then you realise you’ve run out of places, and Legolas can look into your eyes again. “I don't think I've ever loved someone like I've loved you."

A/N : Hopefully you enjoyed, and the comfort at the end as worth it. Finally getting back into writing one-shots, so will be attempting more of my inbox. Thanks so much for reading to the end, and feedback is always welcome!

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @ferns-fics / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624 ✧ wish to be tagged/update your taglist?

[merriblu]

Y‘all, my dog is behaving SO well. We met a 7 month old pup and the lady was teaching her not to play and pull on the line and Merri was such a good example. She sat and waited and you could just see her fighting to urge to play and pull as well.

OH OH AND THEN she stayed by me when I ordered her too (because the strawberry field is ready for harvest and my god I have never seen such a good little strawberry picker like my dog).

So I gave her some wider allowable distance so she could run down to the creek and play in the water.

She did not go to the water…

I looked for her on the trail and there she was… taking family photos with some strangers on a bench next to the creek. Of course I apologized but they were very nice and showed me their family photos… with my dog…

[5sospenguinqueen]

Play Pretend Pt 2 | Charles Leclerc x Law Student! Reader

Summary: Lightning McQueen realises he misses Elle Woods. Or, when Charles finds out your goals always had him in mind, he realises he should've done the same.

Warnings: Swearing. Redemption. Miscommunication

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest

2024 timeline and beyond

Not really impressed with this one so apologies in advance

Main Masterlist

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YourUserName just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

YourUserName i declare my date for the weekend guilty of being too cute and snuggly

3,558 comments

charles_leclerc i hope he is behaving

→ YourUserName he pissed in my slipper.

→ charles_leclerc how do you know it was him? whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?

→ YourUserName he fell asleep at the scene of the crime

maxverstappen1 what a cute little terror

→ YourUserName he’s forcing me to watch the imola highlights so he can watch his favourite driver win again

→ maxverstappen1 🦁🦁

→ danielricciardo that is such a lie, you literally told me yesterday that i was his favourite driver

→ arthur_leclerc you are all forgetting that his uncle is his favourite driver

lilymhe sleepy boy

→ YourUserName he wore himself out running away with my highlighters

YourBestFriend okay, these pics are cute but i still don’t forgive him for eating my pizza

→ YourUserName don’t tell the internet i let him have pizza, you’ll get me into trouble with his father

→ arthur_leclerc don’t make me tell on you

→ YourUserName i thought you still liked me :(

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YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl and others

YourUserName it’s official, your honour 🎓

4,007 comments

charles_leclerc leo and i are so proud of you, y/n/n. you worked so hard for this. enjoy every moment, you deserve it

→ YourUserName tell leo thank you for the cake. I’ll save him some for later ;)

→ User1 the wink? the wink! what does the wink mean?

User2 charles and y/n are the definition of exes who cannot stay away from each other. they don’t follow each other but they’re always lurking haha

schecoperez congratulations, y/n. look forward to seeing you soon

→ YourUserName thank you for the chocolates!

maxverstappen1 congratulations, y/n. can’t wait to see what you’ll do next

→ YourUserName kick your ass in karting

→ maxverstappen1 keep dreaming

→ YourUserName i think yesterday i proved i can achieve my dreams

User3 anyone else finding the red bull boys’ comments odd?

→ User4 no, they’re just being supportive like the rest of the grid?

danielricciardo fucking ace! well done, y/n. go forth and kick some ass

→ YourUserName who let you out of the old folk’s home

georgerussell63 how shitfaced did you get last night considering your graduation post is a day late

→ landonorris mate, she was worse than me

→ YourUserName don’t tell people that! i'm a lady

→ landonorris a lady who threw up on her kebab and then cried until pierre bought you a new one

logansargeant woohoo 🥳 it was lovely to be able to celebrate with you last night. thank you for inviting me

→ YourUserName thank you for coming! and teaching me some cool new moves

→ logansargeant yeah, let’s not talk about those. i think i put my hip out

→ danielricciardo and they call me old!

yukitsunoda0511 let’s go! well done, y/n!

lilymhe iconic elle woods behaviour

→ YourUserName what, like it’s hard

→ alex_albon getting you to drink water last night was hard

→ YourUserName 👎🏻👎🏻

redbullracing congratulations, y/n. we never doubted that you could do it

→ User5 ariana, what are you doing here

arthur_leclerc oh god, you are going to never shut up about this are you

→ YourUserName just say you’re proud of me and move on. i saw the giant bouquet of flowers, and don’t say they were from maman because i recognised your handwriting

→ arthur_leclerc damn.

YourUserName a big thank you to everyone who has supported me along this journey. to those who came to support me last night and put up with my awful drunken singing. and I suppose a thank you to the F1 grid for ensuring my home looks like a makeshift florist. i love the flowers but i will be chasing bees out of my home for at least a week

User6 they all got her flowers 🥹

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redbullracing just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and others

redbullracing no, it’s not hearsay. Y/N L/N truly has joined the Red Bull family as an intern for our legal term. we look forward to seeing what she can do, and hopefully welcoming her into the fold full-time tagged: YourUserName

7,377 comments

maxverstappen1 um, excuse me, why the checo hat

→ YourUserName obviously because he is the #1 choice to support

→ maxverstappen1 my insta handle indicates that i’m #1

→ YourUserName that was so cheesy. i hope it gave kelly the ick

schecoperez that is a perfect hat

→ YourUserName i agree. if you sign it for me, i bet i can get it to sell for a fair bit on ebay

→ redbullracing don’t worry. we’ve got loads you can have

User7 babe broke up with THE charles leclerc and then went, and now i’m going to become besties with your rival

danielricciardo i think she should just be my personal legal aide

→ YourUserName sounds like that’ll involve an awful lot of work for somebody who has just started

→ danielricciardo i’m sorry, are you saying i’m a handful?

→ YourUserName i didn’t think you’d understand me if i spelt it

landonorris you know, if you joined mclaren, we could provide you with a papaya jacket

→ YourUserName i wasn’t aware you had any openings

→ landonorris you’d do a great job doing my washing

→ YourUserName 🖕🏻🖕🏻

User8 can somebody check on charles? make sure he’s still alive after this news

→ User9 did you see that he liked this and then unliked?

georgerussell63 this is mercedes amg erasure

→ maxverstappen1 you’ll get over it but you won’t get y/n

pierregasly congratulations, y/n/n. it’ll be nice to still see you around the paddock again

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by YourUserName, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc BEST DAY EVER ❤️ thank you for everything, i love you all

20,125 comments

oscarpiastri congrats bro

→ User1 that’s no way to speak to your father

YourUserName leo and i are so incredibly proud of you charles. you deserve this, enjoy tonight x

→ charles_leclerc tell leo i can’t wait to celebrate with him tomorrow when i’m sober, and thank you for the gift x

→ User2 i love that they still don’t follow each other but are congratulating each other on their greatest achievements so far

→ User3 the kisses!!!!

User4 she should’ve been in the paddock

→ User5 she was! arthur posted a story celebrating, and you can catch a glimpse of her in the background

arthur_leclerc lets goooo ❤️

scuderiaferrari bravo charles!! so proud ❤️ here’s to many more

User7 the form on that dive 🍑

→ thisisnoty/n talk about buns of steel

→ User8 is this y/n’s secret account?

YourBestFriend congratulations, charles. we watched you cross the finish line and couldn't have been prouder

→ User9 we? who is we?

→ User10 we all know there’s no way y/n would miss his monaco win, even if they’re not together

YourMum félicitations, charlie. so proud to watch you grow from the teenager to this amazing man

→ charles_leclerc merci maman l/n. thank you for watching and supporting me <3

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YourUserName just posted

liked by arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and others

YourUserName fit for the weekend

7,220 comments

danielricciardo i can’t believe max didn’t burst into flames being that close to a ferrari jacket

→ YourUserName don’t be silly. he wanted to steal it

→ maxverstappen1 don’t tell lies. i kicked her out of the garage for her betrayal

redbullracing and why aren’t you in uniform

→ YourUserName i was given the weekend off?

→ scuderiaferrari forza ferrari

→ redbullracing then what were you doing in our garage

charles_leclerc leo said you need to come back from mclaren because you ran off with his rope toy

→ YourUserName oh, that’s what leo told you, was it?

User11 okay but is this confirmation that she was in the ferrari garage for charles?

oscarpiastri you left your 81 cap in hospitality

→ landonorris she did that on purpose because the 4 cap was much better

→ YourUserName @ oscarpiastri can you bring it to family dinner for me?

User12 everyone is a ferrari fan

User13 wait, wait, wait. family dinner?! who’s in attendance, yn!!

User14 charles has followed her again!!!

→ User15 i genuinely thought he would follow max before he followed y/n again

pierregasly not the best weekend for alpine but as a die hard chary/n shipper, it was a perfect weekend

(comment deleted)

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1 year later

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, francisca.cgomes and others

charles_leclerc mon coeur, the day i met you, i was a silly teenage boy who spilt his drink over you at a karting event in a way to gain your attention. and now, many years later, i can proudly call myself your fiance. every moment spent with you feels like standing on top of that podium. thank you for allowing me to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives

(to the general public, y/n says you have to be nice to me about my emotional caption. don’t forget, she’s a licenced lawyer now and can sue you all for defamation)

13,841 comments

pierregasly and to this day, i stand by the fact that telling you to spill your drink on her was the perfect way to gain her attention.

→ YourUserName i still can’t believe charles took your advice on how to flirt with women

→ pierregasly it worked though, didn’t it? and i am the proud boyfriend of beautiful kiks so, i am clearly master

→ YourUserName ew, keep your bedroom stuff to yourself

→ pierregasly you just lost your wedding present

oscarpiastri congrats you guys 🧡 i am so happy for you, my dad and future step-mother

→ YourUserName and you just got yourself banned from family dinner. i'm too young to be called stepmother

scuderiaferrari i think the theme should be disney cars

liked by YourUserName

landonorris simp

→ charles_leclerc @ YourUserName i told you he’d be mean

→ YourUserName sorry bebe but i’m not suing lando. his fans are tougher than i am

User1 charles can you fight? ‘cause your gf is too hot for you

→ charles_leclerc *fiancee

georgerussell63 mate, the fact that you managed to convince her to forgive you AND agree to marry you a year later

→ alex_albon it’s the dimples. who can resist

→ lilymhe is there something you’re not telling me?

→ alex_albon i’m in love with charles marc hervé perceval leclerc

→ YourUserName same

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and others

YourUserName the evidence is conclusive. your papa and i cannot wait to meet you, only another 5 months to go

#BabyLeclercComing2026

17,309 comments

charles_leclerc je t’aime plus chaque jour. you are the light of my life, as well as the day you agreed to be mine forever, you have made me the happiest man

oscarpiastri i can’t believe i’m going to be a big brother

→ charles_leclerc the bestest big brother

→ User2 i love that this joke is still running two years later

scuderiaferrari all i’m hearing is that we have roughly 5 months to build a baby seat into charles’ car

pierregasly omg omg omg omg omg. stay calm, stay calm. it’s HAPPENING

→ francisca.cgomes why did you have to tell him? now i have to talk him out of buying elaborate gifts

→ charles_leclerc i love how you’re both acting like you weren’t told on the weekend

→ pierregasly i’m just so excited!

→ YourUserName @ francisca.cgomes has he stopped crying yet?

→ francisca.cgomes no

maxverstappen1 i am so happy for you y/n. baby leclerc will make such an adorable addition to the red bull garage. you will make an amazing mother after the way you have bossed checo and me around these past two years

→ YourUserName i think you mean, cared for and cherished, not bossed

User3 wait, but isn’t this the reason charles and y/n broke up two years ago

→ User4 they broke up because charles was talking about kids straight away and y/n wasn’t ready. they’ve now been married for a year so i’m guessing she’s ready now

liked by YourUserName

redbullracing brb working on building a baby play area in the office so you don’t have to worry about childcare. i’m a good babysitter and we can babyproof the garage. it'll be great!

→ User5 i think it’s safe to say everyone at red bull are excited for baby y/n

schecoperez felicidades y/n and charles. what lovely news. mucho amor to you both

danielricciardo i ate way too many cupcakes at the announcement party though. i swear the frosting changed something inside me

→ User6 you’re telling me that the grid were invited to the baby announcement 🥹 be still my beating heart

→ User7 and according to inside sources, a few of them cried

→ alex_albon whoever’s telling you that i cried, don’t listen to them!

→ lilymhe don't lie to the people

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

charles_leclerc just posted

liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others

charles_leclerc when your little man can’t decide if he wants to be like his maman or papa from one day to the next so he combines both for his 5th birthday

15,384 comments

YourUserName not featured is baby lec running around with a mini gavel sentencing everyone to prison whilst wearing his race helmet

alex_albon i still think my sentence was a bit harsh

→ lilymhe you deserved those 10 minutes on the naughty step, you ate all the mini doughnuts!

→ alex_albon yes but he finished it by smashing me in the kneecaps with the gavel

→ YourUserName yeah, he gets that from charles, sorry

→ charles_leclerc 😱

redbullracing happy birthday to our favourite leclerc! we hope to see you back in the paddock soon

→ charles_leclerc stop trying to steal my son, you already have my wife!

→ YourUserName and i thought i was your favourite leclerc!

→ User8 admin going to have some angry parents to contend with on sunday

maxverstappen1 i still think uncle max wins best present

→ YourUserName i can’t believe you had it engineered to go that fast

→ pierregasly yes but uncle pierre will be helping papa charles to repaint it so it’s not covered in red bull logos

→ maxverstappen1 @ YourUserName if he does that, i’m going to unfollow him again

→ YourUserName ffs pierre, i just got them to publicly make up, kiks, tell him

→ franscisca.cgomes behave yourself

jensonbutton little man clearly knows his mum is way cooler

liked by charles_leclerc

danielricciardo please stop inviting me to events where there are cupcakes. i have no control and your mini monster just laughed as i sobbed whilst shoving another one in my mouth

→ landonorris i don’t think you should say these things online

charles_leclerc also not featured is y/n crying all morning about her baby boy growing up

→ YourUserName charl, don’t lie to the fans. they all know you’re the one crying

→ charles_leclerc but he was so little, and he used to come to work with us and now he’s telling us he wants to be just like his clever mummy and his fast daddy and - i just cannot 😭

→ maxverstappen1 @ YourUserName like i said on your wedding day, are you sure this is the one you want to marry?

→ YourUserName afraid so

→ charles_leclerc i would divorce you but you are a very good lawyer and i do not imagine i would come out of it so well

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

Requests welcome. I will be doing more Part 1s for some of the other drivers.

Baby Fever Angst Series

Daniel's Version | Max's Version | Lando's Version

Lance's Version | Oscar's Version

Tag list

@callsignwidow @luvrrish @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @lav3nder-haze @hc-dutch @mxdi0 @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @glow-ish @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @weekendlusting @lemon-lav @minkyungseokie @bibissparkles @emryb @barcelonaloverf1life @willowpains @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @rlalliehayes @softtina @marvelfangirl04 @love-simon @peachiicherries @rosecentury

[verstappen-cult]

i love ur writing sm🥹🥹 i would love a scenario where y/n is dating max & charles,and she's a somgwriter who often wakes up in the nighttime with lyrics in her mind and has to sneak out of bed to write them down/make voice notes of the songs so she doesnt forget😭😭 maybe sometimes they wake up and they love to listen to her singing but keep it a secret between them so she doesnt feel bad ab waking them accidentally 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Max is the first one to wake up when he feels you getting out of bed, being very careful as to not wake them. As always. He pretends to be asleep when he sees you turning around to make sure they’re still sleeping, and Max can’t help the smile that appears on his face.

He lies there, unable to fall back to sleep knowing what you’re doing in the living room.

Charles wakes up when he turns around and doesn’t feel your body next to him. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and snuggles closer to Max, who happily opens his arms for him.

“How long has she been awake?” Charles asks, head resting on his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’ve been hearing her for about ten minutes.” Max answers, closing his eyes and trying to make out your whispered words from across the hall.

“You think she knows?” Charles smiles against Max’s chest when he hears your beautiful voice, followed by a curse when it doesn’t sound right.

Max shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

They stay silent, barely breathing, when you start signing again. They’re glad that it’s three in the morning and the city is sleeping because it’s possible for them to make a few words of the song. You never let them hear your songs, at least not after they’re finished, so they feel pretty lucky when they witness these kinds of moments.

“Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long,” Max smiles. You’re back to writing the song that has become his favorite, even though it is definitely not finished but the words, the way you sing, what you’re trying to tell through those words? Max feels identified. “And I’ve been meaning to… ugh no!” He hears the frustration in your voice and wishes to be there with you to tell you how beautiful the lyrics are.

“You think we should tell her?” Charles looks up at Max, hand caressing his naked chest.

“No, or she’ll stop.” Max leans to place a kiss on Charles forehead.

“I don’t want that,” Charles pouts, closing his eyes to try to fall back to sleep with your voice. “I like listening to her process.”

Max silently agrees. He follows Charles’ example and closes his eyes too, still paying attention to the words falling from your lips.

“And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad and that must be why,”

Charles hugs his boyfriend tightly and places a soft kiss right above his heart. They both know the meaning of those lyrics, even if you haven’t told them anything yet.

“And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates. Then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet.”

Those are the last words they hear before falling asleep.

They don’t know at what time you went back to bed, but the next morning you’re sound asleep, snoring peacefully, snuggled between them. The only proof of your little escapade is your bulging notebook of lyrics on the coffee table and a blanket on the couch.

[starlightomatic]

hi, i just want to remind folks that a lot of people on here have personal connections to people who died or were kidnapped on october 7th. please keep this in mind when you want to understand why we react so much when people denying, minimize, or celebrate it.

a couple of months ago i met vivian silver's best friend. vivian silver was a long-time peace activist who was burned to a crisp so badly on october 7th that it took weeks to identify her body. my ex-boyfriend's family was friends with her as well, and they spent those weeks believing she was a hostage and hoping for her return, only to discover that she had been dead the whole time.

a couple weeks ago i met the sister of a nova festival survivor. she said that the hours when her brother was out of contact and they didn't know if he was alive or dead were both the shortest and longest hours of her life. another friend of mine lost five friends that day. yet another friend lost two friends who were on a biking trip in southern israel.

a couple who i know because they attended my childhood synagogue while in the US for two years lived in kibbutz nahal oz. they always told us how beautiful it was, and how they wanted us to visit it. now we can't; it's destroyed, with several of its residents killed. they and their two young girls miraculously survived after hiding in their safe room for ten hours before being rescued. a good friend of mine's boyfriend is from one of the kibbutzim that was destroyed, but he was not there at the time and so survived.

once, many years ago when the ex-boyfriend who i mentioned above (the one who knew vivian) were on a gap year in israel, i visited him on the kibbutz he was living on on a thursday night, and his friend gave us a ride to a bus station the next day to help us get to our shabbat destinations. the friend was headed on to visit friends at kibbutz be'eri, now destroyed, with over 10% of residents killed. i don't know if that man's friends survived.

another friend of mine, who was my coworker for several months when she was in the US last year, lived in metula in northern israel, on the border with lebanon. because of the war, she and many others are internally displaced within israel, because her home is not safe from rockets. recently, a mutual friend told me her house has been destroyed.

another friend of mine attended virtual synagogue with chaim katzman, a young man who spent time in the west bank protecting palestinian shepherds. when hamas fighters opened the closet he was hiding in to capture hostages, they shot him immediately, before taking hostage the women and children hiding in the closet with him.

in total, i have at least eight friends-of-friends who were killed on october 7th. the actual number is probably far higher, since i have a lot of friends in israel and many israelis lost people; but the eight is confirmed.

all of this to say: please understand when you're interacting with me and other jumblr bloggers that this is not theoretical to us. maybe to some of you, it's an academic excercise in seeing fanon's works in practice. maybe it's about decolonial theory and you might think "ah, well, decolonization is violent, what a shame but it was necessary." please remember it's easier to think that when you're not the one sitting at a shabbat lunch table with your mom's old friend who had to learn within the past few months that a woman she'd built movements with and was best friends with had been burned so badly she couldn't be identified for weeks.

i already know that people will believe the purpose of this post is to "generate consent for genocide" no matter what i say, but i'm going to say it anyway: nothing justifies genocide. nothing justifies the brutality that israel visits on the palestinian people. the people of gaza have gone through an order of magnitude more horror than what israelis have. the entire gaza strip is destroyed; people's homes, schools, mosques, orange orchards, everything. entire families have been killed with not a single surviving member. people have starved to death. people lack sanitation, menstrual products, and safe places to give birth. children are operated on without anesthesia. this is one of the greatest humanitarian crises of this century and it is israel's fault.

we need a ceasefire now; we needed a ceasefire yesterday; we needed a ceasefire months ago; we needed this never to begin. blowing up a child in gaza does not bring back vivian, it does not bring back chaim, it does not bring back my friend's cycling friends. it doesn't untraumatize the girl who waited hours to know if her brother was okay or the young family trapped for ten hours in their safe room. and i know for a fact that vivian and chaim would never have wanted this. not in their names, or at all.

so i am not posting this in an attempt to deny, minimize, excuse, or justify the genocide of the people of gaza, or to deny or excuse the nakba, the israeli raids in the west bank, settler violence, land theft both past and present, burning of olive trees, checkpoints and the restrictions on palestinian movement, the denial of right of return, and the fact that most palestinians do not have voting rights in the country that controls their lives.

i also understand that there are folks on here who have just as many personal connections to gaza -- or more -- than i do to israel. that it's deeply personal to them too, and they have watched as loved ones die, places they love and remember are bombed to dust, and people continue to minimize it, excuse it, or fight over semantics. i understand that this post will not land well for many of those folks, and that it will have activated people to hear me speak of nahal oz as a beautiful place i wanted to visit, because that land likely once belonged palestinian families, and was seized after its residents were herded into gaza during the nakba.

and.

people are human. humans deserve to live in safety. friends of humans who are harmed will feel pain, even if those friends lived on colonized land. i also live on colonized land, i am a settler. i live on the lands of indigenous peoples. when i looked up the nation whose land i live on, i can find information about their history but no information on where they went or whether they still exist. i don't know if they experienced a genocide and were all killed, or if they joined another people. i know i have never met any of them, and i live on their land.

and i'm not the only one. millions of people on this site are also colonizers of indigenous land. if you are not indigenous or Black, and you live in the US or Canada, you are every bit as complicit as my friends' dead friends in israel. your beautiful town is not morally better than nahal oz. you recognize yourself and your friends as people; you see their humanity.

i am beyond begging you to see the humanity of israelis, i think many of you can't. instead, this is my request:

remember, as you're doing your callouts, as you're describing me as evil and a person who needs to be blocked for the safety of your followers to i don't infect you or them with my evil:

i say and feel the things i do in large part from a traumatic event that occurred less than a year ago that i am personally connected to. please use what you know of trauma to understand that.

and then, if you can do that, maybe we can start to understand how trauma plays into why israel is the way it is; why trauma is actually the biggest player. so many of you have asked "how could a people who've been brutalized and oppressed brutalize and oppress another people?" my question: why would you expect that not to happen? trauma responses include fear, anger, aggression, compassion fatigue. when a population of descendants of refugees and genocide survivors, in a world that they believe to be out to get them, either supports or turns a blind eye to their government's atrocities, i am not surprised. saddened, but not surprised.

we then have to start asking: who enacted those traumas? when will we start to see the pain of both palestinians and israelis in light of the violence inflictated by far more powerful entities? by germany in the holocaust; russia and poland in the pogroms; swana arab countries in the persecution of jews post-WW2? who's at the top here? many of you are happy to believe it's jews pulling all the strings, but who set this in motion?

who denied jews safe haven before the holocaust, thus enabling this trauma to be inflicted in the first place? the US, and nearly all countries around the world. who restricted jewish immigration even post-holocaust, thus funneling huge numbers of jewish refugees into palestine, overwhelming the population even if israel had not been a colonial project? again, the US, and many other countries. who made double-promises and drew arbitrary lines in the region leading to decades of conflict? the UK.

who's funding this war? the US. Russia. Iran. don't be fooled that any of them care about israelis or palestinians. they have their own interests.

israelis and palestinians are the collateral damage in a horrible chess game that world powers have been playing for centuries. but they are not collateral damage, they are human beings, and their lives have value. collective liberation demands we look at the levels above the oppressor to see who is holding the strings, who put the puzzle pieces in place, who set off the levers and strings in a noxious rube goldberg machine that left nahal oz and be'eri in ruins and gaza destroyed almost beyond recognition.

my friends' little girls cowering in a safe room were never the enemy. chaim katzman hiding in a closet hoping the fighters would overlook it and leave him alive, or at very least capture him instead of kill him, was never the enemy. and they can't be; not if our goal is freedom and safety for everyone in israel/palestine. choosing who will dominate and who will be the oppressed minority in whatever comes next will not be the answer we need, and will not be liberation. just as zionism was not liberation. what can we build together, when this is all over?

what do we need to dismantle and destroy?

let's start with what we don't: homes. villages. cities. kibbutzim. orange trees. olive trees.

and who do we need to fight?

let's start with who we don't: the children.

[ellecdc]

elle… elle… imagine me crawling into ur inbox like i’m crawling through the desert like i haven’t had water in days… i have a request.

do you think maybe maybe we can get just some potter!reader and james sibling interactions… i’ve been thinking abt it so hard i love u ok bye

hahaha here, have a quick little baby blurb starring our favourite siblings

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who is spending the hols with the Potters, apparently [638 words]

CW: siblings, swearing, island of misfit toys, reference to The Shining

“What’s everyone doing for the hols?” Peter asked around a bite of his toast to the rather large group gathered at the Gryffindor table that morning. 

Marlene waxed poetic about how she was going to Tuscany with her folks and lamented that she wasn’t going to get to see Dorcas even once, whilst Dorcas simply rolled her eyes and stated she was going to be skiing with her parents in Switzerland and was really looking forward to it. 

Lily was going to be visiting some of her relatives but was happy to announce that she was going to be visiting Mary for a weekend at her home.

Remus admitted that it was going to be a quiet affair at the Lupin cottage in Wales but would be spending a weekend at the Potter manor to visit Sirius (and James! Don’t forget James!). 

“How about you, Junior?” Peter asked cautiously; always worried of eliciting any sort of response from the Slytherin boy, though not wanting to insult him by not asking him as well. 

Barty looked up from his book to see the table's eyes on him. “Uhm, I’m just staying here.” He responded simply, causing you to start shaking your head in disagreement as you worked to swallow the bite of food you’d just taken. 

“No.” You amended. “You’re staying with me.”

“I am?” He asked as James gasped “he is!?” 

You nodded simply as you took a sip of your tea. “I asked mum and dad last week, they said it was fine.” 

And if Barty had been mad that you’d asked your parents for such a thing, or upset that you didn’t deign to inform him of these plans, he didn’t show it as he offered you an agreeable shrug and moved back to his book. 

“Excuse me.” James deadpanned as he stared daggers at you. “No one asked me.”

“Why in the buggering fuck would I have asked you, Jamie?” You spat back at him.

“Uhm, because it’s my house too!?”

“No one asked me when you moved in the creepy twins from The Shining! No offence, boys.” You amended quickly as you offered an apologetic smile in Sirius and Regulus’ direction, which earned you a simultaneous “none taken” from Regulus and an offended “we duel at dawn, Trouble” from Sirius. 

“Well-...” James started, though he couldn’t seem to find an argument as you raised a brow at him. “Well I just…think someone ought to have informed me, is all.” He finished haughtily.

“Yeah, okay.” You offered sarcastically. “I’ll be sure to give you ample notice next time.”

“Next time!?” James beseeched. “You can’t keep bringing them home!”

“Why not!? You get to have two of them!?”

The two of you continued verbally sparring as Barty, Sirius, and Regulus all exchanged a look at being referred to as them. 

“You’re being ridiculous; it’s not a competition.” James spat pretentiously. 

“No?” You said, causing everyone else in the group to brace themselves at what was no doubt going to be a special brand of Potter nonsensory. “In that case, I’m going to go see if the Rosier’s want to join us.”

James stared at you with his mouth agape as you made to stand from the bench. “You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” You challenged before taking off towards the Ravenclaw table where you knew at least one Rosier would be sitting.

“Fuck.” James hissed, now standing as well as he began frantically searching the Great Hall. “Uhm… oh, Fenwick! Need somewhere to crash for the holidays!?”

"I'm sorry I asked." Peter let out with a heavy sigh as Regulus muttered something French and likely very unflattering regarding his boyfriend under his breath.

“Potter Manor; home of misfit wix.” Remus mumbled, earning him an indignant “oi!” from his boyfriend, “watch who you’re calling misfits, Lupin” from Regulus, and a snort of laughter from Barty.

[reidsfilm]

SPOILED ROTTEN — MIGUEL O'HARA

divider credit: cafekitsune. art of Miguel credit: _insomniac_red_

PARING: miguel o'hara x fem reader

WARNINGS: SMUT!! (18+) porn with a little plot, p in v (wrap it before you tap it folks) dirty talk, swearing, fingering, blowjob, pet names; mi corazon, bebita, mi amor, baby, etc. age gap (miguel is in his early thirties, while the reader is in her early twenties)

SUMMARY Miguel takes you out to celebrate your birthday. A catfight occurs between you and a woman, who thinks you are nothing more than Miguel's trophy wife. Miguel shows you you're much more than that.

WORD COUNT : 6,5k

Notes: English is not my first language, so bear with me. There might be spelling mistakes here and there. Still not over this man after watching ATSV last year. This is probably super messy because I honestly lost track of what I was writing.

Miguel and you were going out to a party to celebrate your birthday. You had dolled yourself up with a black bodycon dress that fit snugly to your slim yet toned body. You wore a pair of black stiletto heels. Miguel had surprised you with a beautiful silver necklace with an 'M' engraved in it, for the initial of his name.

Miguel was your sweet and caring mafia husband. You had known him for around a year now, and he was a couple of years older than you— well over a decade older. ''Do I look good?'' You questioned softly as you did a quick spin, letting out a soft giggle.

A low chuckle escaped Miguel as he pulled your face against his to kiss you softly. He ran a hand up your thigh teasingly before you both walked out the door.

“You look stunning mi corazon, now let’s get a move on before I decide to take you back inside and give you an early birthday present.” You felt your cheeks flush at his words.

Miguel opened the car door for you, smiling that charming smile that made you lose your thoughts. You got in and Miguel followed suit as he settled in next to you in the backseat. ''Thank you for this, by the way. I love it.'' You muttered as you touched the necklace, looking at him with a soft smile.

Miguel's hand placed itself on your thigh, giving a soft squeeze. ''Anything for my beautiful girl. Happy birthday.'' He muttered before pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

When the two of you arrived, there were already a few others there. The place was huge, a mansion that could probably fit in at least a couple of hundred people. Miguel always knew the right places to take you, which wasn't odd: considering he was a mafia boss who had quite the list of contacts, for various things. People flooded in through the large doors, music playing.

Your eyes scanned around the place as you stepped inside, seeing people dressed in fancy attires, which probably cost a fortune

Beautiful women in gorgeous dresses, and men in elegant suits.

''I think I picked a dress that was too short...'' You mumbled, making Miguel chuckle as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, ''Should've picked something even shorter. Give everyone a little show with that pretty little ass of yours.

Your eyes widened as you turned your head, meeting his dark eyes, ''Miguel!'' You exclaimed with a small huff. Miguel smirked as he watched you try and keep yourself presentable.

He took a hold of your hand and kissed your knuckles, grinning. “I have to go say hi to an old friend. Make yourself comfortable.” You hummed at his words, before watching Miguel start to head towards the back of the estate.

You're eyes landed on the small bar by the corner, and you headed over as you were in desperate need of a drink. Miguel's earlier words had made something stir in the pit of your stomach.

''One martini, please.'' You said to the bartender, who nodded while you patiently leaned against the bar counter. You tapped absentmindedly on the wooden surface.

“Hey, sweetie. Why are you standing here all by yourself?” A womanly voice made your head turn, a brunette wearing a gorgeous red maxi dress. Her lips were painted red, matching her dress.

She was beautiful.

She held her own martini in her hand, eying you.

''Just waiting for my drink and my husband,'' You replied back with an awkward smile as your gaze wandered around.

You were never good around huge crowds of people, especially so many gorgeous-looking people that were scattered around the place. Made you feel slightly out of place. You'd been with Miguel for a year, but you were still not used to all this prestige stuff: the riches and all its glory.

“Ohh a husband, huh?” Her eyes narrowed as she looked you up and down. You could tell what she was thinking. Typical gold digger.

“What’s his name?” She asked, the corners of her red lips curving into a smirk. You shifted a little, feeling slightly nervous as she stared at you, almost like she was trying to make you feel small.

''Miguel...'' You replied back nonchalantly as you shifted a bit on your feet, your heels making a clinking noise against the marble floors. You watched as a few men were standing around a couple of strippers who were dancing. Their moves were gracious and alluring: you wished you could dance like that.

“Miguel? Don’t tell me you married the Miguel?” She tilted her head, smirking. It almost sounded like she was shocked by your words. “You’re very lucky, you know that?” Her eyes seemed a tad resentful and jealous at the same time.

''Mhm..'' You simply hummed as you ignored her presence beside you, your eyes continuing to wander around the area as you rubbed your bare arm— a nervous habit you'd have, but you supposed a lot of people did certain things when they were nervous or anxious.

''Here's your drink, miss.'' The bartender's voice broke you out of your little daze as you turned back, ''Thank you.'' You muttered before taking the martini in your hand and taking a sip.

“That man is so fine, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on him and showing him a good time.” The woman scoffed, laughing to herself. As if she’d even have a chance.

“He must make quite a living, right?” She questioned though it sounded more like a statement than a question. Of course, he did, Miguel was the epitome of money and wealth. But he didn't let it get to his head, which you found endearing.

''And?'' You turned your head to face her, raising an eyebrow.

What was she trying to accomplish?

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a gold digger. We all know it.” She smirked at her own comment, crossing her arms under her breasts. “You’re obviously only with him because he’s rich.”

Who was we? She had never seen this woman nor any of the other people her in her entire life. So who was she to judge you?

You placed the drink by the counter

''Obviously.'' You mocked back as you rolled your eyes, mimicking her posture as you crossed your arms under your breasts, feeling them push up against the material of your dress.

You loved Miguel, with all your heart and soul. And you couldn't give a flying fuck if he was rich or not, it never mattered to you. All that mattered to you was him. You remember how frightened you were of him when you first met him, and weeks into your marriage you still were. It was an arranged marriage after all. And you hadn't actually wanted to be married, well you did, but on your own terms.

At first, you found him to be an arrogant prick who had a silver spoon shoved so far up his ass. But after a while, you saw a softer side of the man, behind that rough and stoic demeanor. You grew to care and love for the man.

“Hah, well at least you admit it finally.” She groaned, smirking. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” She laughed lightly, looking down at your dress.

“You got the dress to match his money too? Or were you going for a bit of slut in there somewhere?” The comment had caught you off guard, her laugh was a bit too loud for comfort.

This bitch.

You felt your jaw clench as you stared her down. ''Listen here, you perky little bitch. If your goal here is to try and have your pretty little lips wrapped around my husband's cock, you'll have to try better.''You snarled at her as you narrowed your eyes.

“Awe! Aren’t you a feisty one? Come on, you just can’t get enough of the rich and famous, yeah? Just looking for someone to fund your every need and want.”

“You want my advice?” She asked, her demeanor suddenly sweet and bubbly again as she took a step closer “It’s better if you start talking to the strippers here. You and they have more in common than you do me or any of the other women here.” She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes, waiting for a reaction from you.

Who the hell was she to talk to me like this?

You flinched at her words, taken aback by her blatant rude and berating words, ''Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like that.''

''Damn, don’t get your panties in a twist sweetheart'' She chuckled, taking another step toward you, your faces close. “I know someone as pretty and as young as you has to struggle. Do you not have food to eat at home? Does Daddy not care for you anymore and leave you alone? Is that it little girl?”

That was the tip of the iceberg.

You harshly slapped her across the cheek, sizing her up. ''Don't ever speak to me like that again.'' You spat as you stepped back from her. A few people in the room looked over at the scene, eyes glued as we stared each other down. The woman stood there for a moment, her hand slowly traveling to her cheek before her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

The woman’s face turned bright red, both from embarrassment and rage. She took a few steps towards you, the people surrounding you clearing out quickly, knowing exactly what a heated exchange between the two of you would turn into.

Miguel was nowhere to be seen and that only worried you a little. She pulled herself closer, her words sounding like fire on the tip of her tongue.

''That was a mistake. A huge one. You’re lucky my father taught me restraint'' She hissed, her face almost touching yours, making her teeth and breath seem closer.

''Yeah? Did he now? I don't think he taught his little girl any manners.'' You seethed as you pushed her back, making her stumble against the bar on the side.

The woman stumbled, her dress rising a little more to reveal more of her skin. Her face turned a deeper red due to both the embarrassment and the heat of the situation.

“I can buy you.” She threatened, reaching out a hand, and grabbing your wrist.

“And it wouldn’t take me even a quarter of the money my father has in his back pocket.” She snarled, her grip tightening on your wrist as she squeezed it tightly.

You groaned from the intense pain of having her hand around your wrist, squeezing it. Your mouth was set into a hard line as you stared at the woman before you. ''Let go!'' You snarled as you tried yanking your wrist free. You could stand your own ground, always had. But you knew well enough that Miguel would be furious by this, but it wouldn't be directed towards you.

“Nope.” She chuckled, tightening her grip on your wrist before leaning closer, her nose almost brushing against yours.

“Your just a little bitch.” She hissed, her hand moving to your other wrist as she held both tightly. You let out a soft cry, feeling her grip tighten around your wrist, and would most likely leave faint marks.

“You want to talk about your ‘husband’ Miguel? I’ll take him from you in a heartbeat.” You let out a scoff at her words, making her eyebrows furrow a little, ''You think he wants you? A dried up fucking wrinkly bitch like you?'' You seethed as a mocking smile formed on your face.

She let go of one of your wrists, raising her hand up, about to smack the shit out of you...That's when you heard the loud and firm sound of your husband's voice.

Miguel was now standing there, his broad shoulders towering above the two of you, his face cold with anger. His eyes narrowed at the woman, his mouth set into a hard frown.

“Don't.” He didn’t ask, his tone firm and cold with a slight growl in the back of his throat.

The woman huffed as she dropped her hand, finally letting go of your wrist, but not before turning to you and rolling her eyes. You looked down at your wrists, noticing how they had turned all red and irritated from the grip the woman had on them. You rubbed them, trying to ease the pain. ''Bitch...'' You muttered in a low tone.

''I can see you’re an uneducated little whore who can’t help herself,'' she sneered, her face turning a deeper red as she looked at Miguel. “Oh, did I hit a nerve? Sorry, handsome.''

Miguel rolled his eyes, his hand slowly traveling down to your back while he spoke. “Apologize to my wife.” His tone was still cold and sharp.

You gazed around the area, noticing how everyone was looking at you. This was supposed to be a fun and delightful birthday for you, and yet it had turned into full-on chaos the minute you arrived here.

Your gaze went back to the woman, narrowing your eyes at her. Just the mere thought of this whore trying to get her little mouth anywhere near Miguel's cock, was making you angry.

''I said apologize'' Miguel’s voice turned a lot grittier, the woman noticing how his eyes looked like they were filled with actual hatred towards her.

The woman scoffed, rolling her eyes. “She’s barely your wife!” She hissed, before looking at you.

“How could you even get married to the son of the big boss? You’re not good enough for him, are you?”

Your lips curled up into a smug smirk, ''Is that so? Are you sure you aren't jealous that Miguel's big cock is buried deep inside me every single night, and not inside you?'' You snickered at her, putting on a mocking pout as you stared at her.

''Bebita...'' Miguel warned lowly, despite it he found your words sexy as you put the woman in her place. It made pride stir within him.

You knew she was extremely jealous that you got to have sex with Miguel whenever you wanted and this cheap whore would never even get a glance of his body naked.

You also knew despite your slightly unruly long hair, that you looked so fucking sexy while you were putting this woman in her place.

''Go along. I'm sure your mouth has a better use elsewhere.'' You made a 'shoo' motion with your hand.

The woman’s eyes lit up with rage, and she took a step forward, her face only inches away from yours as Miguel kept his hand on your lower back.

You were both staring each other right in the eyes as her lips started to curl into a small grin and then they widened into a big smile as she laughed.

''I’d gladly take your place. In the bedroom. And I know he’d enjoy it.'' She turned her head to look at Miguel, who was watching the whole scene with a stoic expression.

''Yes, I'm sure he'd very much enjoy someone as loose as you,'' You replied back mockingly.

“At least I’d keep his cock satisfied for more than five seconds,” she chuckled.

''Enough,'' Miguel said, before he sighed, turning to you as he looked at you with concerned eyes. He was always so careful of you, always making sure that you were okay. But he couldn’t stand hearing someone talk to you in such a vile way.

''Come. Outside with me.'' He asked softly, gently taking your hand as he started to walk away. You stared back over your shoulder at the woman with a smirk as you walked away with Miguel. Your stiletto heels made click-clack noises against the floor.

Miguel held your hand as you walked outside with him, the two of you stopping a few meters away from the estate as he sighed and leaned against a tree. He looked at you with concern in his eyes, his lips parting to speak before he shook his head and looked down at the ground.

He chuckled awkwardly, running his free hand through his hair as he let out a sigh. “Let’s forget about that woman back inside, eh, mi amor?”

''Forget who?'' You replied back with a smile on your lips. You snaked your arms around his strong waist.

Miguel huffed, turning his head to look down at you as your lips brushed against his chin.

''That woman was a complete bitch to you.'' His voice sounded almost worried as he looked at you.

He smirked, his own arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against his hard body. “Don’t you feel like you need some sort of revenge?”

''I've got my revenge, right here.'' You let out a soft giggle as you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips. And it was true; as that woman wanted nothing more than to spend a night with Miguel, if not more. Your sweet revenge was the fact that he was all yours.

''Hm, true.'' He chuckled, his hand slipping down your back to your hips as the kiss lengthened and you two stayed there under the moonlight together.

His free hand held the hem of your dress, gently lifting it to reveal more and more leg as his eyes locked onto yours.

A soft kiss on your cheek as he looked back at you. “My naughty, naughty wife…”

''You're the one trying to take my dress off, right here in the open.'' You chuckled softly as you stared up at him. ''Plus, I'm not wearing any panties,'' You whispered, your tone sultry.

“How scandalous.”

Miguel continued to look at you as his hand continued to travel up your thigh, moving ever so gently. His voice was now a lot lower with lust in it yet it was full of playful sarcasm.

''Maybe I’ll just have to bend you over this tree and show you how naughty your husband thinks you are.''

''Yeah?'' You looked up at him as you slotted your bottom lip between your teeth.

God... you wanted nothing more than him to stuff his thick cock inside you, right here. You stared up at him with doe eyes, an almost pleading look in them. ''I want it. Please.'' One hand slipped from around his neck and down towards his crotch, palming his cock through his dress pants, making him let out a soft groan as you simply stared up at him with an innocent look.

He was already so hard, the little brawl inside and the way you had put that woman in her place had made him extremely horny, but there was nowhere that was far enough away from the estate to get some privacy. Not with guests still arriving.

His eyes locked onto you as he tried fighting back his urges, his breathing steady as he spoke. “Wait til we get home. Don’t torture me like this, mi corazon.”

''Then take me home, show me how good you can fuck me.'' You purred and that's all it took for him, ''Anything for the birthday girl.'' He said before quickly hauling you up into his arms, making you squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

''You were so sexy back there,'' Miguel muttered as he carried you through the large lawn. His words make a cheeky smile form on your lips, ''Yeah? Made you all *hard*, hm?''

''You have no idea.''

You sat in the car next to Miguel, staring out of the window as you passed by different cars and buildings and such. You fiddled with your hands as you thought back to what that woman had said about you.

Gold digger.

Sure, you stood your ground and wouldn't take any bullshit from anyone, yet the words she had said had stung. And it had made your head spiral. You turned to look at Miguel, ''Baby...'' His head turned and his dark brown eyes met your own eyes.

''Si? What is it, mi amor?'' He questioned as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. ''You don't think I'm a gold digger right?'' You mumbled as you looked at him, and his eyebrows furrowed, confused by your words.

''What? Why would you say something like that? No, no of course I don't think you're a gold digger, bebita.'' He reached up to place his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

''It's just... the woman—'' He cut you off, placing his finger over your lips to silence you. ''Don't listen to whatever that vile woman said. You're anything but.'' He reassured as his eyes softened, ''I know you love me, and I love you. No one's going to come in between that, okay?''

You nodded as he spoke, ''I know.'' Miguel didn't seem fully convinced that you believed his words, and he took your hand in his, placing it against his chest. You felt his heart going thump thump against the palm of your hand, as his own hand rested over yours.

''My heart beats for you, and you only.'' His words were reassuring and so gentle and sweet, and you knew that you had the best husband in the whole wide world.

''So does mine.''

The car stopped outside your shared mansion and Miguel gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before stepping out. He reached his hand out for you to take, and you gladly did before letting out a soft gasp as Miguel hauled you up into his arms.

''Miggy!'' You exclaimed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, looking at him with wide eyes. ''My beautiful bebita is not walking a single step.'' He smirked as he looked down at you, though his dark brown eyes softened the more he looked at your face.

''You're making me feel like a queen today.'' You muttered as Miguel carried you into the house, ''Just do today? I thought I always made you feel like a queen.'' His playful jab at you made you roll your eyes.

''You always make me feel like a queen.'' You corrected yourself and Miguel looked at you with a prideful smile. He carried you up the large stairwell before walking down the hallway to your shared bedroom.

''I have one more present for you.'' He said as he placed you down on the large king-sized bed, making your eyebrows furrow, ''Miggy, you already gave me this beautiful necklace. I don't need anything more from you, I just need you.'' Your words were soft and sincere as you looked at him.

Miguel let out a small chuckle as he bent down to give you're cheek a kiss, then the other, before his lips met yours, ''You deserve everything there is in the world. Mi precioso.'' You're stomach fluttered at his words as he pulled away from your lips.

''Stay right here, I'm gonna go and get it,'' Miguel said, his words sweet yet commanding at the same time. So you sat there and waited as he headed out of the bedroom. You took off your heels in the meantime, and oh did it feel good to get them off.

What had he gotten you?

Miguel came back after a few minutes, and your head perked up as he stepped back into the bedroom, with a glittery black box in his hands. You shifted a little on the bed, watching as Miguel crouched down in front of you, before extending his hands towards you, presenting it to you.

''Happy birthday, mi amor.'' Miguel said with a wide smile on his lips as you took the box from his hands, ''Thank you, baby.'' You muttered softly before you opened the lid of the box, settling it next to you on the bed. You removed the black tissue paper sheets, and your eyes widened at the sight.

You plucked out what was in the box, ''Miguel...'' You started at the pretty black lacy two-piece set of lingering, it was pretty yet so sexy as well. ''I love it!'' You exclaimed as you turned to look at him and he chuckled at how happy you seemed by it; just how he hoped you'd be.

Miguel leaned up to brush some hair away from your face, before leaning in to whisper in your ear, ''I want you to wear that when I fuck you.’’ His words sent chills down your spine, making you shudder.

''Put it on bebita.'' Miguel placed a soft kiss below your ear before pulling back and getting back up on his feet. ''Okay, I'll be right back.'' You mumbled before taking the two-piece set with you and heading into the bathroom.

The thought of Miguel having bought you a present, and fuck you senseless with it on made heat pool between your legs. You slipped the straps of the dress off of your shoulders, reaching to your back to drag the zipper down. You shimmied out of it, letting it pool to the floor.

You gazed at yourself in the mirror, taking in your flushed cheeks and pink lips; you look disheveled and you hadn't even been fucked yet.

''You almost done? I can barely wait.'' You heard Miguel's voice outside the bathroom door, ''Give me a minute.''

You slipped on the new set, taking yet another glance at yourself in the mirror. The lingering set fits snugly on your body, showing off your curves in just the right way.

Damn, I looked fucking hot.

You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door and stepping out. Miguel was seated on the bed, having slipped off his tie, and opened a few of the buttons on his tight-fitted black dress shirt. The man was the epitome of sexiness. His eyes landed on you as you stepped out, and you caught his dark brown eyes looking even darker as he stared at you.

''Fuck, look at you.'' He purred as his eyes raked over your body, his tongue coming out to lick over his bottom lip. It was like he was devouring you by just looking at you, and that alone made you sure that you looked amazing in the lingering.

''You like it?'' You questioned as you did a quick twirl, making Miguel let out a small growl. ''Do I like it?'' He said as he got up from the bed, walking over to you. His larger and taller frame loomed over you, almost enveloping you.

''I fucking love it. God, you look so good.'' He placed his hands on your hips, his hands squeezing at the flesh. ''Could practically eat you up.'' He said gruffly as he stared down at you.

You looked up at him, ''You've been so sweet to me. Let me repay you, baby.'' You didn't let him respond as you sunk down to your knees in front of him, with doe eyes as you grabbed onto his belt buckle. Your eyes were locked onto his as you unbuckled his belt, and undid the zipper of his pants.

You licked at your lips, ''Can I?'' You questioned in such a soft and innocent tone.

“You can have anything you want,” He muttered, trying to remain calm for your sake if you were even aware of what you were doing to him.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you dragged down his pants along with his boxer briefs, letting them pool at his ankles. Your mouth was salivating at the sight before you. His cook stood tall, practically begging to be worshipped. ''Have you been this hard since the party?'' You questioned softly, your eyes gleaming as they flitted up to meet his own dark brown ones.

''Ever since you put on that pretty little dress of yours'' Miguel placed his hand underneath her chin, pulling your chin up slightly.

''Gonna take me like a good girl, hm?'' His body began to quiver at the thought of you taking all of him down your throat. He felt almost powerless with the way you looked up at him.

'Yes.'' You purred as you looked up at him. He traced his long digit over your bottom lip, before tucking it slowly into your mouth. You stared up at him with blown-out eyes, your cheeks a rosy hue as you began to suck at his finger. The whole scene was sensual and so erotic.

The act itself made Miguel's cock twitch with anticipation and need. His tip leaking with pre-cum. “Just as eager as I thought you’d be.” He muttered as he watched you.

''Always eager to take anything you give me, papi,'' You muttered softly as he slid his finger out of your mouth with a pop. He traced his wet finger over your swollen lips, making you whine softly. ''Need you to fill my mouth up,'' You whined once more, eagerly shuffling closer to his cock.

You looked perfect, on your knees, your lips parted, and looking up at him.

''Need to make you feel good. Been taking care of me so well.'' You purred softly before you wrapped your delicate small hand around his shaft and inched it closer to your mouth. You stared up at him as you wrapped your lips around him, taking all of him in.

You let out a small gag sound as he hit the back of your throat, saliva trickling down the side of your mouth and down her chin. You pulled him out of your mouth, letting out a small cough. It certainly had been a while since you'd done this.

''Sorry.''' You mumbled sheepisly.

His hand caressed the back of your head, as his breathing grew heavier. “S’okay, you’re…you’re doing fine.” He panted out, fighting back the urge to not just take what he wanted, the urge to push you down further on his cock.

''Go slow, bebita. No need to strain yourself.''

You licked at your lips, taking a deep breath as you took him back into your mouth. The sound of gurgling and gagging bounced off the walls, as well as Miguel's groans and growls as you continued to suck him off.

He held the back of your head, gripping onto your hair as he guided your head up and down on him. ''So good for me. Taking my cock like the good girl you are.'' His words only spurred you on, making her moan as you sucked on him, tongue swirling against his cock.

Your eyes started to tear up as you steadied your hands on his thighs. Miguel's praises were going straight to your core; making you even more wet than you already was, if that was possible.

A few of his grunts and groans escaped his mouth, the sounds were loud and evident, and he couldn’t do anything but grip your hair harder. It felt good.

''Keep going... feels so good... yeah that's it,'' Miguel growled as he pushed your head further down on him, feeling him hitting the back of your throat continuously. ''Fuck... gonna cum.'' Miguel's head tilted back as his hips pushed against your mouth before he let out a guttural moan as he came. His body shuddering as his hand in your hair felt almost painful but pleasurable at the same time.

You swallowed the salty substance before taking his cock out of your mouth with a pop.

You stared up at him with glossy eyes, her cheeks a red hue and your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. Miguel was panting and coming down from his climax. ''Did I do good?'' You questioned softly, as you licked over your lips.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, his lips curling into a small smile. He brushed away a stray piece of hair from your face.

“Mi amor, you did more than good,” He muttered, before tucking his cock back into his pants.

Miguel helped you up from the floor, your legs a little wobbly and your knees feeling a little bruised due to having them pressed onto the hard floor. ''You always taste so good when you come in my mouth,'' You muttered softly. Miguel pulled her into a soft kiss, cradling the back of your head as you whined into his mouth.

Miguel pulled away from her swollen lips, before bending down a little to reach out to the back of your knees, hauling you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. A soft giggle escaped your lips as he carried you over to the bed.

You let out a small oof as you landed on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed. You shuffled closer to the pillows, letting out a soft sigh as you snuggled up to them.

Miguel lifted and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his tan and muscular upper body, before chucking it onto the floor. Miguel's eyes widened a little as you noticed a new scar on one of his shoulder blades. That wasn't there before.

You shuffled to the edge of the bed, settling yourself onto your knees. ''Did you get that one when you were away for the week?'' You questioned softly, your eyes locked on the scar on his shoulder blade. It was a nasty scar, and Miguel was a mafia boss. Of course, he indulged in dangerous things. It was a part of what he did.

A soft smile curled on his lips, but it grew tight with pain as he remembered where the scar came from. “Yeah…” He muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his sleek black shoes.

He let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing the scar as he listened to your soft voice. “Bullet wound. Took it on that last job.” He muttered, sounding distant, the scar was still fresh, and he was still learning to cope with the reminder of their failed operation.

You moved closer to him, settling yourself behind him, your arms wrapping around him. You leaned down to place a soft kiss on the scar, humming softly. ''Did you at least get the fucker who gave you that?'' You placed your chin on his shoulder, tilting your head a little to meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” Miguel mumbled, taking a deep breath before he spoke again. “Beat the information out of him.”

A hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading themselves through your hair.

''Damn... didn't know my husband could resort to such violence. It's sexy.'' You purred as you leaned into to kiss his cheek, before pulling away and falling back against the bed with a soft giggle.

Miguel chuckled at your words, before standing up and removing his pants, leaving him in his black boxer briefs, before stepping back over to the bed and sliding in beside you. His chest pressed up against your back, as he moved some hair away from your neck before leaning down to place wet kisses against your neck.

You hummed softly as he pressed himself more up against you, feeling his hardening cock press against the material of your underwear. ''Mhmm.... Miguel.'' You mumbled as you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your neck, and his cock pressing up against the globes of your ass.

His hand snaked around your waist, skimming down to the waistband of your underwear, before slipping inside. You instinctively spread your legs a little, giving him more room to explore. His fingers found your clit, dragging two of his digits through your soaked slit. ''So wet for me, hm?'' He crooned into your ear and you only whined in response, your back pressing up against his chest.

''You like that, mi corazon?'' He asked, mumbling against your neck. You nodded, as you spread your legs wider for him. Miguel stopped, as he grabbed your jaw with his free hand and made you look at him. ''Use your words.''

''Yes, I do...'' You said softly, almost like you were embarrassed. Miguel couldn't help but smile as he went back to circling his fingers over her clit. Your soft little whimpers drove him wild, and he wanted to hear more. He slid one finger inside you, pulling back to watch your face. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, and the sight drove him feral.

''Mierda, you're beautiful,'' Miguel said, pushing his finger a little deeper inside of you, curling it. After a while, your moans were growing louder as he added another finger. Your hand grabbed at his wrist, but he kept going, going faster. Your back arched against him,, and your moans reached a higher pitch.

''You're doing so well for me.'' He whispered, nipping at your neck. ''You're such a good slut for me, hm?''

''Yes... oh god.... please don't stop.'' You replied, your legs closing up around his hand as the pleasure built. Miguel nudged you to open with his free hand, holding onto your inner thigh as he watched your face contort in pleasure.

''Be a good girl and come all over my fingers. So I can lick it all up after.'' Miguel purred as he continued to thrust two of his fingers up into you, feeling his curl and twist his wrist, hitting that spongy spot.

''Miggy... gonna come.'' You whined as you arched into his chest once more. ''Not yet, need to fill this pussy up with my cock first.'' He muttered into your ear, voice sultry and sexy. Miguel removed his fingers from your aching pussy, making you whine at the loss of contact. Your head tilted a little to the side, seeing him slip his two fingers into his mouth, tasting your essence. The sight made you bite your lip.

Miguel took out his hardening cock from his boxers, before nudging the head between her folds, coating it in her slickness. ''You ready?'' He questioned and you hummed in response, ''Yes, please. I need it, need you.'' Miguel didn't need any more confirmation than that, as he slowly nudge the head of his cock into your tight and wet hole.

Your hand gripped around the bed sheets, head tilting back against his chest as he slid into you, slowly. ''Fuck you're tight, bebita.'' Miguel groaned as he pushed in further, feeling your walls clamping around him, squeezing him.

His hand snaked around your waist, holding onto you as he let you adjust to him before slowly rutting his hips against you. Your hand wrapped around his arm that laid around your waist, nails digging into his skin. ''So good... faster,'' Miguel growled at your words as he started quickening his pace, his balls slapping against your ass as he slid in and out of you.

''This pussy was made for me. Just me.'' Miguel said as his breathing quickened, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling up the room. ''Just you.'' You echoed back as you felt yourself reaching your climax. Miguel could feel it too as you squeezed around him.

''You close?'' He rasped into your ear, ''Yeah... close.''

Miguel almost slid out of you before slamming back in, making you jolt as a wanton moan slipped from your lips. ''Then cum, want you cumming all over my cock. Milk me dry, bebita.'' And that's all it took before the coil in your stomach snapped and your orgasm washed over you, nails digging harder into the flesh of Miguel's arm.

Your buddy shuddered and twitched as your vision went white for a second, feeling your body slowly come down from the high. ''That's it, good girl.'' Miguel cooed as he continued to thrust into you, reaching for his own release.

And he wasn't far behind before he emptied himself inside you with a growl, painting your walls white. Your chest heaved up and down as Miguel slipped his cock out of you, feeling his cum dripping out from you and down your inner thigh. Miguel reached his hand down between your thighs, collecting your cum and his before pushing two of his digits inside, making you whine at how sensitive you were.

He leaned over and grabbed your chin, turning your face to meet his as he pulled you into a searing kiss. Your hand came up to the side of his face, slipping up into his dark luscious locks as you hummed against his lips.

He pulled away, putting both hands on your cheeks as he cradled your face in his hands, ''Happy birthday, mi corazon.''

[revasserium]

death before decaf

opla!zoro; 10,414 words; coffee shop/college!au, vague enemies to lovers, fencer!zoro, sports medicine!major reader, slightly ooc zoro (he's a bit more talkative), fluff and flirting, bff!robin, zoro makes the first move, zoro calling reader "princess", mutual pining, both reader and zoro are dumbasses, making out in locker rooms

summary: sanji and nami bet on how long it'll take you and zoro to finally crack over your caffeine-related discourse; or -- that one coffee!shop zoro au that literally no one asked for.

a/n: i keep on saying "this is the longest fic i've written to date" but this really is the longest fic i've written to date. and no, this will not be the only time zoro calls reader "princess" in one of my fics. trust.

one.

“How long did you say?”

“Two weeks, max.”

“Nah… you think?”

“Probably closer to a week. Week and a half.”

Sanji stubs out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe before tossing the smoking nub into the bin, casting Nami a disbelieving look.

“They’ve been going on like this for like three months… and you think they’re gonna crack in the next week and a half? Nah, fam — I call bullshit.”

Nami shrugs, smirking, “Your funeral.”

Sanji scoffs as Nami pushes through the swinging double doors into the main body of the cafe, hitching a smile onto her face as she greets the customers already lined up in front of the counter.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters to himself, dusting his hands off on his apron before pushing in after her, putting on his best customer-service smile.

“Mornin’ folks! Welcome to the Straw Hats Cafe, where the coffee’s hot but the people are hotter — what can I get started for you, sweetheart?” he grins as he shoots you a wink and you flash him your best Colgate smile.

“Can I get a decaf latte with —”

“Oat milk, two pumps of caramel, and whipped cream on top? Oh — and a sprinkle of cinnamon cause you can’t have a fall latte without cinnamon, right?” Sanji finishes for you.

You nod, your cheeks flushed a bright, wind-kissed pink from the cold outside.

Behind you, a green-haired boy in a tight-fitting tee and no jacket scoffs under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yep! You know me so well,” you say, giggling and making a point to speak just a bit louder.

“Course I do, darlin’. It’s what I get paid for,” Sanji jots down your order and pushes it to the side where Nami’s already halfway done with making your drink.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite mosshead jock — lemme guess, double espresso, no sugar, no nothin’, right?” Sanji punches in the order just as Zoro makes his way up to the counter, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah.”

Sanji grins, hiking an eyebrow, “Talkative as always, I see. Alright — that’d be —”

Zoro wordlessly slides a full punch card onto the counter and Sanji pauses.

“Ah — pardon me, I do believe that’s your free drink! You sure you wanna use it on an espresso? Maybe… you wanna try one of our seasonal specials? The maple spice latte’s one of our best —”

Zoro scoffs again, “I’m good. I like my coffee real, thanks.”

Down passed the pastries, you roll your eyes, making an exaggerated face as Nami hands you your drink with a grin.

“Y’know, if you guys just made out I feel like it would fix a lot of this unresolved tension,” she says, even as you nearly choke on your drink.

You’re still coughing when Zoro joins you by the finished drinks counter.

“I’d rather lose an eye than make out with someone who drinks decaf.”

Nami sighs, shooting you a meaningful look as she slides the double espresso toward Zoro.

You wipe your lips with a napkin before leveling him with a glare.

“Well I’d rather gouge my own eyes out than make out with someone who never grew out of his middle school emo-phase.”

“At least I don’t try to use sugar to fill the gaping hole in your life where a real personality should be.”

“At least I don’t make that gaping hole my entire personality.”

“Princess.”

“Edgelord.”

You turn resolutely away from Zoro and smile back at Nami and Sanji, both stealing glances at the pair of you even as they continue to handle the Monday morning rush.

“Thank you guys — I’m gonna be late for class.

Zoro tsks, taking a sip of his espresso.

“I’m gonna be late for practice.”

You huff, pivoting away from him towards the door, purposefully letting it swing shut behind you; Zoro swears as it almost makes him spill his coffee.

Back in the coffee shop, Sanji finishes another order just as Nami washes off her hands to take over at the cashier.

“One and a half weeks?” Sanji asks as he rolls up his sleeves and grabs a few metal cups for steamed milk.

“Yep,” Nami replies, shooting another look out the glass door where they can both still see your’s and Zoro’s silhouettes as you head towards the university campus, “Just about.”

“Alright then, you’re on.”

Nami’s smirk only grows, “Like I said — your funeral.”

two.

You’re fuming all the way to your first morning class — Bio-Organic Chemistry — that you don’t notice your friend Robin until she’s standing right next to you.

“Are you mad at your fencer-boy again?”

You roll your eyes, huffing out a breath, “He’s not my fencer-boy, and no. I’m not mad.”

Robin grins, “Your tone says different.”

You cast her a reproachful look, “I just… bumped into him at the coffee shop again.”

“Ah,” Robin says, her voice saturated with understanding.

You groan, “He just… pisses me off so much! Like, why’s he care how much sugar I put in my drinks or if I drink decaf? He’s just a muscle-head loser who thinks drinking espresso shots makes him somehow more manly or something. Ugh.”

Robin’s grin is amused when you turn to chance her a glance.

“Then… why do you care how he takes his coffee?” Her question is light, but you’ve known her for long enough to know when she’s teasing.

“I didn’t! At least… not until he made fun of my drink first. I mean, who does that anymore? We’re in college! Like, grow up!”

“Mm,” Robin hums, schooling her expression into one of careful consideration and marked compassion, “and of course, you’re just engaging in his… childish antics because he started it first, right?”

You sigh, cupping your very sugary latte between your palms as you both duck into the main lecture building, teaming with students shedding scarves and jackets, shaking off the late autumn chill.

“I know, I know it’s stupid but… he just… pisses me off so much!”

Robin chuckles, her smile distinctly sphinx-like as you press your lips into a pout.

“Well, we can talk about it after morning lecture, hm?”

You sigh and nod, waving her off as she heads down the hallway towards her Ancient Worlds class and you head upstairs for the sciences.

You spend the whole lecture in a mood and by the time you’re excused, your temples have started to throb.

But true to her word, you find Robin waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, a thick leather-bound book clutched to her chest. You give her a questioning look.

“Just some light reading,” she says. You roll your eyes.

“Just say you’re a gigantic nerd and go.”

At this Robin laughs, falling into step next to you as you both start to make your way towards the dining commons.

“Have I ever denied that I was?”

You let out a noncommittal grunt.

Luckily, the commons isn‘t as crowded as it usually is and you both quickly find a seat.

“So,” Robin says as she slides into the seat next to you, propping up her chin on the heel of her hand. There’s a low, lilting tone to her voice that tells you there’s no getting out of it this time.

You sigh again, pursing your lips, staring down at your açaí bowl.

“So what?”

“Tell me about him.”

You scoff, “Not really much to tell — he’s… one of the fencers on the national team. So obviously, he’s got his own head shoved so far up his ass he can probably watch his own lunch dige—“

“So he’s quite good at fencing then.” Robin keeps her voice neutral, taking a contemplative bite of a banana.

“I guess — I mean we’re the top feeder school for the Olympic team, aren’t we?” You jab your spoon into the yogurt, nearly splattering Robin’s new book. She gently tucks it into her bag and motions for you to continue.

“I dunno, there’s not much to tell after that… he’s an arrogant jock who judges people by how they take their coffee,” and at this, you shove a large spoonful of yogurt and açaí into your mouth, glaring at nothing in particular.

“Doesn’t your practical applications class look after the fencing team?”

Again, you grunt, sinking a bit further into your seat at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ve been dreading that all morning, and the class isn’t till Wednesday.”

Robin’s smile is almost too academic as she carefully finishes her banana and gets started on an egg salad sandwich.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?”

You sniff, swallowing another huge mouthful of yogurt.

“It can,” you say, grimacing, “You should see the number of times I’ve had to hold back from dislocating his shoulder on purpose.”

Robin laughs her tinkling, all-knowing laugh, “Every day, I wake up glad to be on your whitelist.”

Your lips twitch into a reluctant grin.

“I’d be nicer too if I were as tall and pretty as you are. But since I’m not one of god’s strongest soldiers, I’ve gotta find other ways of defending myself, y’know?”

“I’m not sure what you do can be called ‘self-defense’ in a court of law but…” she smiles, “You shouldn’t sell yourself short either.”

You cast her a deadpan look, “But I am short. It’s like where 90% of my rage and spite come from.”

Robin grins, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You make a rather childish face, but a comfortable warmth spreads from the center of your chest out towards all your extremities at Robin’s words. She cocks her head and continues.

“Plus… I’ve a creeping suspicion that your fencer-boy would agree that you’re prettier than you think.”

You freeze mid-swallow on your last spoonful of yogurt, eyes wide.

“Wait — what?”

Robin sighs, looking at you as if studying a particularly interesting monolith carved with all her favorite dead languages. You sit back, crossing your arms, feeling raw beneath her inquisitive gaze.

“You can’t still think that this little… feud you two have is purely based on a difference in coffee preference, can you?”

You realize you’re chewing on your bottom lip and force yourself to stop.

“I — I don’t know how it can be anything else though…” but even to your own ears, you sound distinctly unconvinced. Robin cocks her head.

“Think about it — when we were all little kids and running around on playground, which girls would get their pigtails pulled the most?”

Your frown deepens, “But we’re not kids anymore and this isn’t a play —“

“Yes, I know. Just humor me for a moment.”

You squirm in your seat, your heart thudding erratically in your rib cage, making you feel strangely breathless.

“It was… always the girls that the boys had a crush on,” you answer, your voice growing smaller with each word as the realization seeps into your skin like sunlight. And suddenly, it's too hot. The thought that Zoro might be doing this because he likes you isn’t something that’s crossed your mind. Or rather, it isn’t a thought you’d allowed to cross your mind.

“You know, boys aren’t technically considered ‘men’ until they’re in their mid-thirties,” Robin says, conversational and satisfied to have driven the point home to you. She leans back even as you reach up to press your face into the palms of your hands.

“But…” you try to grasp for some thread of logic that might be able to refute Robin’s claim but come up empty. She’s always been too smart for her own good. And yours.

When you finally lift your head again, it’s to find Robin still watching you, an oddly indulgent smile on her lips.

“C’mon,” she says, gathering her things, “don’t want you to be late for your next lecture.”

She has the audacity to wink as you hurriedly grab your stuff as well.

“Shut up,” you say, bumping her lightly with your elbow as you walk passed her, cheeks darkening with every step. Your next lecture, you both know, is the Nutrition of Sports — which is one of the few actual classes that you and Zoro actually share.

“Have fun in class!” Robin calls as you split ways outside the dining commons. You consider flipping her off but decide against it and opt to stick out your tongue at her instead.

Robin shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself. Really, she thinks, this is just starting to get interesting.

three.

You walk into Nutrition of Sports fully prepared to see Zoro slouched in his usual seat at the back of the class — except, he’s not there. You blink; he’s always been there, always early despite what others might assume of his punctuality. And yet.

“Lookin’ for me, Princess?”

You jump as you hear Zoro’s voice behind you, dangerously close to your ear. Jerking around, you find him smirking, arms crossed as he stares at you.

“N-no.”

“Tch.” He saunters into the room, his arm barely grazing yours as he drops into his seat, leaning back with a sort of damnable, feline grace, doing nothing to hide a huge, lethargic yawn. When he makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, you pause as you notice the way he winces, favoring his left side over his right.

You narrow your eyes.

“You’d be a shit poker player,” he says, grinning as he turns his eyes back towards you, catching you staring before you flush a deep purple and stomp towards your own seat, just one row ahead of him.

You noisily start setting up your supplies — an endless parade of jelly pens and perfectly coordinated sticky notes in aesthetically pleasing colors — pretending like you hadn’t heard him.

Thankfully, the professor hurries in soon after as the rest of the students file in.

Halfway through the lecture, you’re stifling the third yawn of the hour as you feel a small, crumpled something hit the back of your neck. You jerk around to find Zoro ducking behind his arms even as you spot the small wad of paper that he’d obviously just tossed at you.

You bend down to pick it up, only to find a note scribbled in slanted, uneven handwriting —

Sugar crash? Ha. Serves you right.

You nearly whip around but the professor clicks another slide and drones on. You huff, flipping the paper over to scribble on the back —

What happened to your arm?

You surreptitiously toss the note back to him and grin to yourself as you hear him sputtering behind you. The professor glances towards you. You flash him a winning smile as you continue to jot down notes; behind you, you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro scrambling to appear as if he’s paying attention.

The rest of the lecture goes by uninterrupted, though by the end, you swear that your hackles are raised from the way Zoro’s been staring at the back of your neck the entire time.

“What?” you ask, whipping around to face him.

Zoro, for his part, has the decency to look sheepish as he clears his throat and sighs, leaning back.

“There’s nothing wrong with my arm,” he says as he looks away, a slight darkness dusting the high of his cheeks. It’s not the first time you notice the bone-chiseled features of his face — like some gorgeous, careless god, rendered by the loving hands of a besotted Renaissance artist and preserved for the world to see — the way a constellation of freckles scatter across the bridge of his nose, the way his jaw is sharp enough to sting the imagination.

“Right. Fine. Sorry I asked.” You shove your notes and pens back into your bag, rolling your eyes as you shoulder your tote, “And… you’d be a shit poker player too.”

And with that, you turn and leave the room without a single backward glance.

You’re gone so quick that you don’t see the way Zoro stares after you, his own eyes narrowed into slits. You don’t see the way he frowns as one of his teammates nudges him with an elbow, reminding him that afternoon practice starts in 15 minutes.

four.

Tuesday night finds you slumped over a stack of books on the 3rd floor of the library, your entire body feeling odd and boneless. Hundreds of tiny flashcards are scattered across the top of the desk, each filled with a system you have to memorize before your test on Friday for your O-Chem course, when suddenly, a white paper cup appears in your field of vision, plopping onto the tiny slip of table still available between all your study materials.

“Hm?” you jerk up, blinking blearily up at a vaguely familiar green-haired figure even as he crosses his arms and sighs.

“There. Some real coffee. Looked like you need it,” Zoro says, glancing away the moment your eyes come into focus.

You stare at him for a solid ten seconds before looking back down at the cheap, watered-down cup of unsweetened coffee on the table before you.

Ew, you want to say, but somehow, “Thanks,” is what comes out of your mouth.

You reach for the cup, wincing slightly as you jerk your fingers back from the scalding exterior of the thin paper cup.

Zoro immediately leans down, snatching the cup from the table to blow on the surface. You watch him with wide, wondering eyes. It takes him a second to catch himself before he blushes a deep shade of maroon and clears his throat, quickly setting the cup back down on your desk, tucking both his hands into his pockets, looking anywhere but directly at you.

“It’s — careful — I mean — it’s from the vending machine downstairs so it’s not as fancy as the stuff we get from the coffee shop —”

Maybe it’s because you’re truly too tired, or maybe because Robin’s been right since day one but — you reach for the cup, carefully cradling it between your palms as you take a tentative sip and grimace at the watery, bitter aftertaste.

“Gross,” you say, though without any malice, glancing up at him. Zoro scoffs, dragging out an empty seat across from you, turning it around to straddle the chair, propping both his arms on the back as he looks at you. Your eyes once more catch on the way he’s gentler with his right side.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” you ask again, taking another tentative sip of the truly awful coffee.

Zoro grimaces, “None of your business.”

You sigh, the will to snark back rather feeble as you consider the mountain of vocab you have to memorize before your Friday test.

“Right, sure — keep your secrets,” you drone as you set the paper cup down and nudge it further away from you, “be mysterious for the next —” you check your watch, “eighteen hours before Practical Applications when you’ll have to explain to Coach Mihawk why you've been lying about an obvious injury three weeks before your next —”

“Fuck — okay.”

You pause, looking up from collecting your flash cards.

Zoro digs his fingers into his right shoulder.

“I — I think I pulled it at the tournament last week.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Your tournament was on Thursday.”

Zoro shifts uncomfortably, “And?”

“And it’s now Tuesday.”

Zoro doesn’t answer this time, but you have to actively fight down the urge to throw the no-longer-scalding-but-still-very-hot-coffee at his face. You tell yourself that the only thing stopping you is professionalism and sportsmanship instead of an unwillingness to damage his Michaelangelo-sculpted features.

“It’s been five days!”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Contrary to popular belief, I do know how to count.”

You bite back a frustrated scream as you push away from your chair and round the table to stand behind him, not giving him enough time to be bewildered before you press a palm to his right shoulder, already focused on finding the tender spots.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You run an expert palm over the width of his shoulders, focusing on his right, fingers digging into various muscle groups until he winces.

“Ow.”

You grin as you find a tender patch to the right of his spine, almost beneath his shoulder blade.

“You strained your Rhomboid.”

“Gesundheit.”

You roll your eyes and reach over his back for the cup of coffee. You feel his breath hitch as your front presses full against his back.

“Hold still,” you say, pressing the side of the warm cup to the sore muscle.

Zoro makes a choked moaning noise that he tries to bite off, but not soon enough. It sizzles down your spine to curl at the base of your belly, spreading heat through your body in a way you have no urge to examine at this current point in time.

You hold it there for a minute, and then two, till the coffee’s gone lukewarm.

“Here,” you say, tugging the cup away to offer it to him.

He stares at the cup before glancing up at you.

“Caffeine helps with muscle soreness and pain — it’s probably why you’re so addicted to espresso all the time,” you offer by way of an explanation, even as he opens his mouth to ask. He closes his mouth and takes the coffee, downing half of it in a single gulp.

Then, he sets it down on the table before digging a crumpled packet of sugar out of his pants pocket.

“It’s… probably not as sweet as you usually like it but…” he presses it into the palm of your hand, looking anywhere but at your face, “should help the bitterness.”

And then he’s gone, slouching off towards the elevator bank, leaving you gaping after him with the packet of sugar in your hand, your rapidly cooling coffee, and a mountain of revisions you’ve got no hope of finishing tonight.

five.

Wednesday finds you practically sprinting as you reach your Practical Applications course, clutching at your chest as you burst through the gym doors, gasping for breath. Professor Kureha quirks an inquiring eyebrow at you while Mihawk, the fencing instructor, slates you a sharp, rueful glare.

“— as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” his bright hawk-yellow eyes flash back over the fencing team, “regionals are quickly approaching and we need you in top form. So — warm-ups stretches, everyone. Pair up and get to it. Zoro, up here with me.”

You duck your head and hurry towards your normal spot along the bleachers, slowing as you notice what looks like a cup of coffee from the Straw Hats Cafe occupying the place where you normally sit. You pick up the cup — it’s still hot to the touch.

On the coffee slip is a single word — Princess.

And though it’s in Sanji’s familiar coffee shop scrawl, only one person has ever called you that.

Heat crests up your chest, prickling at your cheeks. You don’t have to taste it to know that it’s your order — your favorite order. Briefly, you wonder if Sanji made Zoro recite the entire thing before agreeing to put it down, or if he’d spared Zoro the pain of having to say the word ‘decaf’ unironically.

And then you wonder if Nami teased him at all, waiting for his own drink on top of yours.

“Chop chop,” Professor Kureha says, grinning too wide as she wanders over, peering at you over her John Lennon shades, “you heard old Hawk-eyes — time to pair up.”

You hurriedly drop your bag and take a quick sip of our drink, letting out a soft groan of appreciation as the caramel-cinnamon goodness seeps into your blood vessels. Some nameless freshman hopeful from the fencing team is your partner for stretches and you patiently walk him through all the major motions, pushing on his back and laughing kindly when he can’t quite reach his toes.

You feel the faint tingle on the back of your neck that tells you someone’s staring, and you privately think that you don’t need three guesses to figure out who it is. But you don’t give Zoro the satisfaction of looking over till you help the blushing freshman finish all his stretches, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, reaching up on tip-toe to ruffle his hair even though he’s got a solid four inches over you.

When finally, you glance over towards where Mihawk is putting Zoro through his paces, it’s to find him flickering through the motions — flashes of silver, lithe, fluid — and you find your breath held captive in your chest by the sight.

You’ve always known Zoro to be a graceful fencer, but grace has nothing on the way he flows from one move to the next, each muscle drawn like a bow-string, each intake of breath timed and perfect. His arms and legs move in tandem and there’s a bewitching rhythm to the way his body breaks and bends. It is beauty and strength, dance and magic — power and promise and the sword-tip’s whish of premonition.

When he finishes, you suck in a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding.

You watch as Mihawk murmurs something to Zoro, who winces, looking chastened before Mihawk waves him away and Zoro sets down his epee, making his way over to you.

You open your mouth, about to make some snarky remark but Zoro reaches over his back with one hand and tugs his shirt off in a single, unbroken motion. You gulp, your voice failing you as your eyes settle on the strong ripple of his muscles as he tosses his shirt aside.

Zoro smirks, “Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

You rip your eyes away, fire licking up the length of your torso as you reach into your bag for a roll of sports tape.

Zoro slumps down in the seat in front of you as you take stock of his sweat-slicked torso, your eyes still catching on the patch of swollen muscle beneath his shoulder blade. You reach forward and run a thumb along it, careful of the way he hisses.

“A hot-patch is only going to do so much,” you say, frowning as you drop the sports tape to focus on massaging the tender bit of skin.

Zoro groans, his eyes falling half shut as you slowly work at the various knots in his shoulders. Your fingers are slow and deliberate, applying just the right amount of pressure. And more than once, Zoro has to bite back what he’s sure would’ve been an indecent moan before it rolls out of his mouth at the way your soft palms press into the planes of his back, the tenseness of his shoulders.

“Keep moaning like that, I’m gonna have to start charging,” you say, much too close to his ear.

Zoro jerks, even as you pull back, laughing. The sound makes his skin prickle up with goosebumps and he doesn’t want to think about the myriad reasons why.

“I bought you coffee, twice,” he grumbles, cheeks pink, his mind still buzzing from the warmth of your palms.

You hum, your fingers flickering over his skin, pulling away for a second before he feels something wonderful and cool pressing against his sore, aching muscles.

“You’re right… you did buy me coffee twice. Even though the first time was horrible vending machine coffee and I used most of it as a heating pad for your injury.”

Zoro grunts, letting you manhandle him as you gently twist his right arm into an array of different stretches to test his range of mobility.

“Still counts.”

You put down his right arm to test his left. Zoro chooses not to think about the way his body tingles where your hands touch him, and especially not where you’re standing too close, your chest occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He chooses actively not to think about the way he can smell the soft, coconut milk fragrance of your lotion as you lean over him, rambling about doing the proper warm-up and cool-down exercises.

He grins as you reach over mid-sentence to finish your drink and you pause, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

He shrugs, “Nothin’… just that… seems like you liked your drink.”

Your eyes slingshot from his face to the nearly empty cup in your hands.

“I always like my —”

They widen when you realize that Zoro had in fact ordered a double shot of espresso in your usual drink instead of your normal decaf. And, that you’d been too distracted by him to notice.

“I — it — wh —”

Zoro languidly rises from his seat, grinning, “Thanks for the treatment, Princess. I owe you one — lemme buy you a coffee sometime, yeah?”

You stare after him as he makes his way across the room, back to the rest of the team for proper bouts. You force down another blush as you shove the now-empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can, your heart skidding to the rhythmic squeak of feet shuffling against the floors, the bell-like ting of epee blades, the murmur of the watching crowd.

six.

Thursday morning finds you ill-rested and grumpy as you join Robin in the quad, heading for the Straw Hats Cafe during free period.

“Trouble sleeping?” Robin asks, looking you over with mild concern.

You grunt, adjusting your bag, “Had coffee too late in the day.”

At this, Robin frowns, “But you only drink decaf.”

You grunt again, not looking at her, “Yeah, well.”

Robin blinks for a second before a knowing smile splits her lips, “Ah… so. Fencer-boy’s made his move.”

You round on her, fists clenched, “He has not! He just — he just bought me coffee!”

Robin remains infuriatingly unfazed as she stares at you, “Yes. And to most, that would constitute as ‘making a move’. And here I thought you were a fan of romance novels.”

You turn away from her, huffing even as your cheeks fill with color, “I — I am.”

“So?” she asks.

“So?” you echo, cursing yourself for sounding like a petulant child.

“So…” she continues, patient as always, “he bought you coffee.”

You crinkle your nose, your stomach a roiling mess as the pair of you make your way across the quad and duck into the cafe to Sanji’s bright, welcoming voice, your eyes scanning the queue even though you know that Zoro’s got morning practice. This does not go unnoticed by Robin, though she mercifully elects to not question you about it.

“Yes, he bought me coffee. But instead of decaf, he made it a double-shot.” You try very hard to make this sound like a personal affront, but Robin only dips her head.

“Ah,” she says again, and you feel the urge to run out of the building even as the pair of you shuffle towards the front of the line.

“Hi there, oh! I’ve got a special message for you,” Nami says as you get to the registers, her voice silken with glee as she reaches behind the counter to tug out what looks like a receipt. You glance down at the paper, confused, but she only winks as she moves to ask what Robin would like.

You inch to the side, distracted by this strange turn, your eyes dropping to the slip of paper, upon which is scribbled — Good luck on test tomorrow. Evening bout. Gym.

You stare at the cryptic message for a full minute before Robin ushers you toward the counter where Sanji is pumping out drinks, making girls blush as he winks at them each in turn.

“Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Decaf Princess — though… seems like your tastes are a-changin’ these days,” Sanji says, grinning wide as you get to the counter, pushing a steaming cup towards you. You frown at the drink — cinnamon sprinkled atop a perfectly placed dollop of whipped cream, underneath which you’re sure is your favorite drink order. You look back up at Sanji.

“A certain mosshead jock put in an advanced order for you — said to give you an extra shot of espresso for the test you’ve got tomorrow.”

You sputter as Robin laughs beside you, thanking Sanji for her own Long Black.

“You know, you could just be normal and call it an Americano,” you say as the pair of you make your way out of the cafe. Robin grins, sipping at her drink.

“I could… but where’s the fun in that?” she slates you a glance, “More importantly, are you going?”

“To what?” you ask, not meaning to sound so defensive, but you can’t help it, and even as Robin sighs, you know that it’s useless.

“To the bout,” she says, unruffled.

You hunch into your upturned collar and your thick, layered scarf, cradling your drink, the sweet scent of syrup and cinnamon wafting up to tickle your nose. You blush at the thought of Zoro’s voice, full of morning gravel, shy as he lists out all the extremities you like in your coffee order.

“Maybe. I mean… why not, right?”

Robin nods, humming as she takes another long drink, “Mhm — why not indeed.”

You nudge her; she nudges you back. You both laugh as a church bell rings out from across the quad, sending a flock of birds scattering through the misty, morning air.

seven.

Friday evening finds you pushing through the wide gym doors, pressing your hands over the skirt you’d painstakingly picked out, chewing on your bottom lip.

You silently curse at Robin for pulling out last minute, begging off to some Ancient Languages focus group.

“I bet it’s not even real…” you mutter to yourself as you slip into the front row of the bleachers, looking for an empty seat. You somehow manage to look up just as Zoro is about to go on, his mask under one arm, his blade in the other.

You raise your hand in a half wave before catching yourself and shoving it back down, scowling as Zoro’s lips pull into a lopsided grin. You drop into a seat just as Zoro tugs his helmet on and stretches his arms. You tense as you see the slight wince he twitches away as he tests the weight of his blade.

But you needn’t have worried — the bout is quick and decisive, Zoro scoring one point after another, his blade flashing through the air, bright as fish scales. And before you know it, the buzzer sounds, marking his victory. You leap to your feet, cheering with the rest of the crowd as Zoro tugs off his mask and pumps his fists.

You catch his eye and for a moment, the wild rumble of the screaming crowd fades to a dull, thumping baseline. He jerks his head towards the lockers and you nod, swallowing hard as you duck through the still-cheering crowd towards the back of the gym.

When you get there, it’s to find him methodically polishing his blade, his mask set to the side, his thick jacket pulled down to pool around his waist, the rest of his protective wear scattered in heaps on the ground around him. You have half a mind to scold him for being so careless with what you know is expensive gear but you can’t keep yourself from staring at the wide planes of back, curving up to his shoulders, the thick cords of muscle that flex up either side of his neck.

He looks up as you shuffle in, your skirt suddenly feeling a bit too short, too risque for the near-winter weather outside.

You clear your throat and cast your eyes about the empty lockers. You don’t miss the way his gaze skates up your bare legs, pausing at the place where your skirt brushes the top of your thighs.

“Uhm — how’s your shoulder?” your voice sounds too high, echoing strangely along the white-tiled walls.

Zoro licks his lips and puts down his blade, rolling his right shoulder.

“Better but… still not great. Mihawk’s making me to do PT.”

You nod, letting out a soft laugh, “I’m glad. You’d never do it otherwise.”

He scoffs, “You know what that means though, right?” There’s a raw, rolling tension beneath his words, a sort of thickened expectation as he stares at you with dark, meaningful eyes.

You purse your lips, your stomach tightening.

“I —”

Zoro gets to his feet, and you barely register the soft clatter of his blade as it rolls to the side on the bench. He closes the space between you in three quick steps and you find yourself marveling at his speed — wondering vaguely if this is how all his opponents feel when he slips forward, the tip of his blade digging into their shoulder or stomach or the bend of their hip.

“Means we’re stuck with each other. At least till you fix me for regionals in two weeks.”

Your back meets the icy chill of the locker doors and the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them —

“Bold of you to assume that you’re fixable in two weeks.”

Zoro quirks an eyebrow, even as you resist the urge to clap your hands to your mouth, cursing inwardly at whatever the hell made you say that out loud. Your heart thuds an insistent drumbeat inside your chest as Zoro leans casually against the lockers next to you. Like this, you can feel the heat of his skin, the rhythm of his long breaths as he looks you over with sharp, curious eyes.

You think you can taste the sweet, tepid weight of his breath. It smells faintly of coffee and mint and synthetically flavored protein bars.

“Then…” he drawls, propping an arm against the locker door right next to your face, his eyes flickering from your lips up to your eyes and back down again. Your gaze is unabashedly caught on the shape of his mouth, but when you finally force yourself to look up at his eyes, it’s to find them warm and amused.

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

You gulp, “To fix your shoulder?”

Zoro shrugs, “That and… whatever else you think needs to be fixed.”

You purse your lips, an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

“Who knows? Might take three weeks… might take — forever —” your words cut off as he leans in to graze his lips against yours. And you’re momentarily caught between delight and bewilderment that you’re right — they do taste of coffee and mint and salt — but that they also taste of a dull, throbbing hunger as he leans in to kiss you proper. And then, the blooming realization that you’re just as desperate as he is, pushing in, fingers scrabbling against the skin of his chest as his skim along the sides of your ribs, the dip of your waist.

He kisses you so deep and so long that you’re actually gasping when he finally pulls away to suck a stinging hickey into the smooth of your collarbone, his fingers digging grooves into your thighs as he hoists you up to press you against the cold, hard metal of the lockers.

You let out a clipped moan at the same time he does, and his right arm twitches, though he makes no move to let you go.

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he’s still technically injured, but the part of you that’s hungry and clawing at the base of your stomach with a fierce, immutable need refuses to listen to reason. It takes more effort than it logically should’ve done to extricate yourself from his grasp, to push him away despite his disgruntled sigh as he stumbles back and stares at you with dark, dangerous eyes.

“What —”

“Fuck —” you hiss, even as you let your head fall back against the lockers, the dull thunk pulling a wolfish grin to his lips.

“Yeah, well —”

“Wait — no —”

Zoro cocks his head, “No?”

You reach forward to tug him back, to kiss him as deeply and desperately as you dare, but you pull away before he can properly sink into the kiss and you pin him with a look.

“We — your shoulder —”

“Fuck my shoulder —”

You shake your head, almost delusional with the heat and want and the insanity of it all, “No! We can’t! We — we’ve gotta take care of it first!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, “It’ll get better if we just leave it alone —”

You shake your head again, laughing as he presses back in, slower this time, grazing his knuckles along the skin of your jaw, tilting you back towards him.

“It won’t,” you say, softly, letting him run a thumb along your lips, “but… if you let me take care of it. It will heal faster…” you trail off, letting the implications simmer beneath the surface of all your unsaid words, and it only takes a second for Zoro to consider before he lowers you to the floor and starts haphazardly gathering up his things.

You drag a hand across your lips, watching him.

“So…” you feel yourself blush as you muster up the words but Zoro scoffs, already impatient as he shoves his stuff into one of the larger lockers and slams the door.

“Mine. It’s closer.”

eight.

His, is — in fact — much closer than you’d thought. Only two blocks from the campus, and in one of the most expensive dorm buildings. You wonder how much he must be paying for it before you realize that he's on a sports scholarship, but you can’t even bring yourself to be bitter as he lets you into his spacious dorm, the giant living room scattered with game consoles and opened cereal boxes, leading to a short hallway that opens into his bedroom.

It’s cleaner than you’d imagined, with a set of light green linens drawn neatly over a full-sized bed, and two sets of pillows.

“Sorry for the mess,” he says, sweeping some energy bar wrappers into the trash from his desk as he tosses down his duffle bag.

You shake your head, looking around, your eyes catching on the thick volumes of fencing books, the endless stacks of sports magazines, the huge set of free weights on a rack in the corner by the closet.

“Uh… do you want a drink?” he asks, suddenly awkward as he scratches at the back of his head.

You turn towards him with a grin, “No. But I do want you to take off your shirt.”

Zoro blinks before he smiles and moves towards the bed, tugging off his shirt and tossing it to the side. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he leans back on the bed, his perfectly tanned stomach flexing beneath the slanted desk-light as he watches you through lazily hooded eyes.

“On your stomach,” you say, your voice light and surgical as you open your own bag and tug out a tub of medicated massage cream.

Zoro stares for a second before the smile slips off his face to be replaced by a dull, knowing scowl. Still, he doesn’t argue as he flips onto his stomach and sighs, pillowing his cheek on his arms as he pouts at the wall.

“Like I told you — we need to take care of your shoulder first. Regionals are in two weeks. We can’t have you performing like you did tonight.”

Zoro attempts a glare over his shoulder as you carefully maneuver over his back and straddle his hips, warming your palms with the massage cream before setting to work.

“I still won.”

His voice is tight and petulant. You nod, sighing as you work your thumbs into the dip beneath his shoulder blade where you know he’s still sore. He hisses, jerking away from you. You pin him in place with your free arm and continue to roll your thumb across the bundle of muscle.

Two minutes in, you press a bit harder and he lets out a pitched whine that makes you pause in your ministrations.

“F-fuck —” he buries his face in his pillow, thumping a fist against his bed as you laugh and continue the massage, though taking care to be a bit more careful around his injury.

Nearly twenty minutes later, you climb off the bed and wipe your hands. Zoro groans, shifting to watch you with half-lidded eyes and color-stained cheeks.

“I know,” you say, holding up your hands, “that really hurt but you feel much better now, right?”

Zoro grins, sleepy as he blinks slowly up at you, “Yeah. Whatever.”

And then, a long moment later —

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft, flipping onto his side and shifting on the bed as if to make room for you, “stay.”

You freeze, almost unwilling to believe your own ears as you finish putting away your supplies. You glance at him with tight lips and hopeful eyes.

There’s a tiny grin threatening the corners of his lips as he sighs, making a show of yawning and stretching.

“It’s late… and I don’t really feel like walking you back.”

You fold your arms, “I could just call campus security to escort me.”

Zoro stills for a second but a moment later, he casts his eyes up at the ceiling, “Yeah… you could…”

You make no move to leave.

“But you still owe me coffee in the morning,” he says.

You frown, “Wait, what? How’s that?”

He glances at you, “I’ve bought you coffee twice.”

“Yeah, but I just gave you a free 30-minute medical massage treatment for your shoulder.”

“You would’ve had to do it anyway on Wednesday in Practical Applications.”

You narrow your eyes, “Professor Kureha might not have assigned me to you.”

At this, Zoro scoffs, “Yeah right. You’re the best, and so am I.”

“S-she might not have!” you say, though there’s no real conviction in your voice. You both know that he’s right.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He turns away from you, making as if to go to sleep.

You glare at his back, dropping your bag with a loud thump.

“If anything, you owe me coffee now. That massage was worth at least two coffees, if not more.” You plop down on the edge of his bed, scowling at the opposite wall.

Zoro is quiet for a beat too long and you chance a glance at him, only to find him peering you with a strangely indulgent look in his eyes. You blush, tearing your eyes away.

“How’s breakfast?” he asks, his voice once again going soft. Your skin prickles with heat.

“What about breakfast?”

“Coffee and breakfast. That enough to pay for the massage?”

You can’t help the smile that threatens to break across your lips as you glance back at him and catch his eyes.

“I…. guess.”

Zoro chuckles, the sound so low in his throat that it makes you shiver. Quick as anything, he reaches over to pull you down towards him, easily looping an arm around your middle and flipping you both so that you’re pinned beneath him. You barely have time to gasp before you find his lips on yours once more, slow and sweet and shockingly steady.

You kiss him back, letting him push you gently into the crumpled linens of his bed. His fingers are light as he slowly works your skirt down your legs, reaching behind your torso to loosen your bra and tug your shirt from you in a single, smooth motion.

You shiver beneath him and he pulls back to stare. You search his eyes, feeling suddenly uncertain.

“God, you’re gorgeous…”

Heat crests into your cheeks as you try to look away. But he tugs you back with his thumb and steals another kiss.

“It’s late…” he says, pulling away to press your foreheads.

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, I know…”

“Let’s sleep in tomorrow.”

You laugh, shifting as he curls his body around you, tugging you easily against his chest and pulling the covers over you both. A moment later, the lights click off and you’re both thrown into darkness. You let yourself relax into his arms, wondering just how you’re going to explain this to Robin tomorrow.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Zoro’s voice murmurs into the nape of your neck.

You grin, nodding as you press further back into him and he grazes a soft kiss along your skin.

“That kinda thinking needs breakfast and coffee first,” you say, to which Zoro chuckles, nodding as he lets you hook your ankles between his, your bodies settling against each other, warm and perfect, the curves and bends meeting like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally, finally finding each other at last.

You don’t have long enough to ponder on the light, musk-salt-sweet of his skin or the way you can feel his heartbeat as it threads along your spine or the way that somehow, the shape of him doesn’t feel foreign against the shape of you, before you’re already falling asleep. And to him, he doesn’t have time to ponder the lovely silk of your hair, just as soft as he’d always imagined, or the way your waist feels perfect beneath his hands, or how he’s somehow he’s always known the rhythm of your breaths before he too is falling into the warm embrace of a dark, sweet, restful sleep as well.

nine.

Saturday morning finds you both tangled in each other, the winter sun bright and cold as it slates through the slits of Zoro’s bedroom window. He wakes up first, shifting to stretch until he feels the weight of you beside him. And then suddenly, he's somehow achingly awake and aware of his body against yours, of your paced breaths and his own rapidly increasing heartbeat. For one bewildering moment, he can’t quite remember what brought him here, and then the scenes from the night before — the bout, the lockers, the kiss — the way you’d tasted, how utterly irresistible you’d been, blushing in the dim light of his room, your skillful fingers digging into his tender, swollen flesh — his own rash promise of breakfast and coffee — it all comes rushing back. Zoro lets out a long breath and leans in to brush his lips along your forehead.

You let out a light groan as you shift in his arms, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you.

“Oh… hey.”

Your voice is quiet, almost shy as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds himself more endeared than he has words to say.

He clears his throat.

“Morning. Uh… sleep well?”

You laugh, the warmth of your expelled breath ghosting across his clavicle in a way that makes him shiver.

“Mhm… pretty well… and you?”

Zoro clears his throat, “Yeah. Guess it wasn’t… bad.”

He resists the urge to roll away, if only because your cheek is still pillowed on his arm, and he can’t bring himself to pull away from you just yet. So instead, he drops his nose into your hair and takes in the milky scent of your coconut lotion. Tiny, pin-pricks of desire shoot through him, teasing goosebumps into the skin of his back and arms, but he forces himself to lie still as you snuggle against his chest with a contented sigh.

“So… breakfast and coffee?”

Zoro grunts, “Hn. I did promise.”

You smile, letting yourself sink into the thick and syrup of his sleep-deepened voice, his moss-green hair even more tousled than it normally is as he adjusts his head on his pillow.

“Hey,” you say, breathless as you look up at him beneath the sweep of your lashes, your eyes so big and dark and wide Zoro wonders if they might swallow him whole.

“Hey,” he answers, just as breathless, uncertainty creeping up the center of his chest as he stares down at you, lying in the glistening, mercurial light, the bend of your shoulder kissed by the morning sun, the shape of you limned in silver and gold.

You lean up to kiss him before he has the chance to second-guess himself, and though he was the more bold, self-assured one last night, you press in against him this morning, the languid sweep of your tongue along his lips making him groan, helpless, against you. He tastes the satisfied grin at the corner of your mouth as he opens his own, his mind frizzing into gorgeous, white static as you spend what feels like hours exploring the sweet depths of each other's mouths — all tongue and teeth and kiss-swollen lips.

When finally you pull apart, he is more breathless than he’d planned for, his body too warm for his liking, an urgent, pulsing something burning at the base of his stomach as he fights the urge to shove you back and sink his teeth into your skin, to hear you hiss, to make you gasp, to leave the indent of his fingers along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, to mark you as his in every way he knows how.

But instead, he places a lingering kiss on your cheek and sits up, slowly stretching his arms.

“Careful…” you warn, pushing yourself up as well, watching him, “how’s it feel?”

Zoro tests his right side, drawing his arm up and then to the side, and then pulling it across his torso.

“Whoa… so much better.”

You smile, satisfied.

Zoro chuckles, “Guess I really do owe you breakfast. C’mon.”

He slips out of bed, tugging open a drawer to toss you a thick sweater and a pair of sweatpants. For himself, he only tugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, even as you frown, squinting at him from where you’re nearly swimming in his clothes.

“You’ll freeze.”

Zoro smirks as he looks you over, reaching over to pull the hood over your mussed tangle of hair, “Nah, I’m fine.”

You pout, jerking open the drawer to pull out a sweater and tossing it at him.

“You have to keep your right side warm so your muscles don’t just seize up again.”

Zoro stares at the sweater in his hand, looking reluctant before you press your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“C’mon… I worked so hard on getting it better last night… please?”

Zoro groans, rolling his eyes as he tugs on the sweater.

“Yeah, yeah — fine. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, nor does he extend his hand. But the pair of you walk elbow to elbow, hip against hip down the bright dorm room hallway, into the chilly Saturday morning air.

“Geez, if you’re gonna yell at me to keep warm —” Zoro reaches over to tug on the drawstrings of your sweater, frowning as he notices how much skin he can still see beneath the opening of the hoodie.

You blush, tugging at it as the pair of you make your way across the empty campus quad.

Halfway across the frost-kissed lawn, he wordlessly reaches out to catch your hand in his, tucking your entwined fingers into the depths of his pocket. You bite back a stupid, dopey grin as you duck your head, quickening your pace to keep up, your footsteps crunching in the dew-bitten grass, the freshly raked gravel.

ten.

There’s already a decent line at the Straw Hats Cafe, but when the pair of you walk in hand in hand, both Sanji and Nami pause for a second longer than usual. Sanji’s eyebrows jerk up his forehead while Nami’s lips curl into a much too satisfied grin as she turns back to the humming espresso machines.

You savor in the smell of freshly ground coffee, absently tracing your thumb over the back of Zoro’s hand.

When you both reach the front, Sanji looks between you expectantly.

“Well, well, well — I’d like to say I’m surprised but —” he shrugs, grinning cheekily, “Well then I’d be lying, wouldn’t I?”

Zoro clicks his tongue but you shoot him a sheepish smile, pursing your lips.

“So… the usual then?” Sanji asks, his fingers poised over the register.

“Yep,” Zoro says, curt as ever, though there’s a distinct blush on his cheeks that not even he can write off as anything else.

You nod as well, “Oh, but… I think I’ll try a non-decaf latte this time. Just one shot of espresso though, please and thank you.”

Sanji blinks at you for a second before letting out a startled laugh and nodding, punching in your order.

“Coming right up, sweet cheeks. Right then, that’d be 8.75 for the latte and 5.50 for the double espresso.”

Zoro reaches into his wallet and pulls out a 20, slipping it across the counter. Down the bar, Nami is humming, looking cheerier than you’ve ever seen her this early in the morning as she goes about making your drinks.

Sanji sighs as he shakes his head, handing Zoro his change.

Zoro narrows his eyes but Sanji cuts him off.

“Take it from me, fam. You don’t wanna know.”

You and Zoro share a puzzled look as you both shuffle down to the pick-up counter, where Nami is sliding your finished drinks toward you with a bright, knowing glint to her eyes. Zoro clears his throat and reaches over for a packet of sugar, nonchalantly tipping it into his drink before picking it up to take a sip.

You try not to gape as you grab your own drink, flashing Nami a quick smile before turning to follow Zoro.

He picks a table as far away from the counter as possible, tucked into a corner, nearly invisible to the rest of the shop. When you sit down, he frowns at your chair for a second before reaching out to tug you across the floor till your chair is next to his. He goes back to his drink without a single word.

It’s all you can do to blush and stare at your steaming cup.

“I thought we were getting coffee and breakfast,” you say after a brief moment of silence.

Zoro grunts, “We are. Coffee first.”

You nod, somewhat mollified as you take another sip of your drink. The warmth trickles down your chest to rest somewhere in the center of your stomach, spreading heat throughout your body in waves.

“We could just get a chocolate croissant,” you say, giving Zoro a sidelong look.

Zoro frowns, tapping his finger against the side of his cup, “Dessert isn’t breakfast.”

You scoff, “Says who?”

Zoro’s expression flatlines, “Says me. And I’m payin’ for it.”

You purse your lips, wondering if you should argue more before deciding against it. A few seconds later, Zoro sighs, casting his eyes about the cafe interior.

“We can have a croissant after real breakfast.”

You giggle into your drink, swallowing down the glee fluttering in your stomach, threatening to spill out of your still kiss-chapped lips.

“Kay, whatever you say.”

Zoro rolls his eyes and folds his arms, but his elbow presses against yours and he doesn’t make to move away.

Across the cafe, Nami leans to watch the pair of you, Sanji at her side, looking both stunned and somewhat pained.

“C’mon man, it’s not even been a week!”

Nami grins, rinsing out a few cups and placing them mouth down to dry before pivoting on her heels and holding out an expectant palm. Sanji sighs as Nami’s eyes glitter with mirth and a hard-won glee.

“Right. I think you owe me fifty bucks.”

Sanji narrows his eyes, glancing back at where you and Zoro are tucked into the corner of the cafe.

“Double or nothing on when they’ll have their first fight. I say… not till next week.”

Nami’s eyebrows twitch up. She looks back at where the pair of you are now bickering over where to have breakfast. A smirk teases at her lips.

She puts down her hand, “Alright then… but like I said — it’s your funeral, Sanji.”

Over in the corner, there’s the dull scrape of chair legs as you push yourself away from the table to fold your arms.

“— Belgian waffles are absolutely an acceptable meal for breakfast!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, though there’s still an amused spark behind his eyes.

“Breakfast without eggs ain’t real breakfast. And doesn’t count if it’s smothered in syrup either.”

You make an indignant noise, frowning even as Zoro tugs you back to press a napkin to your upper lip, where there’s a faint line of whipped cream residue.

Sanji backpedals immediately, “Uh — right so, I feel like we need to define what really constitutes a ‘fight’, yeah?”

Nami tuts, shaking her head, “Nope! A bet’s a bet. Now pay up.”

feedback always welcome :) reqs are closed.

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Two

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him—perhaps it has something to do with you. previous masterlist ao3 next

Kyle Garrick—who instructs you to call him Gaz, explaining it as a nickname—drives you out of town in a two-horse wagon. The countryside is dyed in pastels by the softening light of a just-setting sun, every bit as beautiful as Hans had written when he told you about it.

Like a painting, he said. Everywhere you look could be framed in gold. I wake up every day in this land and thank God I have the fortune to live in it.

Here now, as the wagon rattles down the wheel-carved trail, you understand his words. You feel that if you brushed your fingers against the sky overhead, towering with lavender-bottomed clouds as thick and soft as cotton on the stem, that they might come away smeared in blue and pink and violet. The surrounding landscape is a cornucopia of vibrant greens, rich browns of trees and soil, and clusters of orange, yellow, and white wildflowers.

You keep looking all around you to take it in, jostling your driver beside you, but Gaz seems not to mind. At least, he doesn’t say anything.

You’ve been trying not to feel so aware of his presence, but the endeavor is impossible. He is a solid weight beside you on the driver’s seat, exuding warmth where your shoulders brush against each other, and the earthy, masculine scent of him is inescapable. Every time his elbow or knee or thigh nudges yours during the natural sway and jostle of the wagon ride, you have to keep yourself from leaping out of your skin. Ever since you stepped foot off the train, you’ve felt like a lightning rod set out in anticipation of a storm.

You ascribe it to displaced longing for your husband-to-be. You’d spent the whole journey west imagining how you’d meet, longing for the moment he took you into his arms for the first time. Gaz is a handsome man—it’s only natural that your unfulfilled anticipation would transfer onto him. Especially considering he said you were perfect.

But then said very little after that. He’d seemed—well, not friendly, but at least amicable on the train platform, so you wonder if your manners have offended somehow. He’s spent most of the drive now with his eyes ahead, partly obscured by the brim of his hat. Occasionally he glances at the letters in your hand, but otherwise does not acknowledge you.

After one such glance, your discomfort with the silence becomes too much to bear.

“I read my favorites every night,” you tell him.

If Gaz is surprised when you break the silence, he doesn’t show it. “That so,” he murmurs.

All you have is his profile, very handsome in the light. The line of his mouth is taut.

“I know it’s silly,” you continue nervously—you have a bad habit of rambling when you’re uncomfortable. Adjusting your carpetbag in your lap, you go on, “but you must understand, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected to marry, you see.”

He grunts.

“Much less to be a mail order bride,” you say. “I always thought I would be an old maid, for lack of available suitors if nothing else. Mama and Daddy thought I ought to learn to read and write, to improve my prospects, but most folks where I’m from don’t care much about all that.”

“I see,” replies Gaz. He still does not look at you.

“Sometimes I think it even made them like me less, like I was putting on airs, being smarter than them.” You realize immediately how arrogant you must sound. “Oh, but I don’t mean any offense! I don’t mean to suggest I have ideas above my station. It’s only just that, I wondered for years and years why no one offered for me, and it was the only thing I could think of. Why would a farmer’s daughter need to read and write? And why would a wife need to, if her duty is to tend to her children and her home? So that must be why no man has ever been very interested in me.”

You realize with horror that words are pouring out of you faster than you can keep up with them. And your driver’s attention has not shifted; his eyes remain on the road.

You look at your lap, face burning. “I’m sorry, I’m just annoying you, Mr. Gaz. I’m sorry.”

Shame grips you, tight and awkward. If you’d wanted to endear yourself to this cowboy at all, you’ve already failed.

But Gaz finally says, “Most men are idiots.” You look at him; he does not look at you. “I’ve only just met you, and I like you fine.”

He says it matter-of-factly, as if no more need saying on the subject. Simple and to the point; an economy of feeling you imagine must be characteristic of men in this part of the country.

Hans was like that too, in his letters. Communicating feeling without dancing around it, with a bluntness that ends up soft in its honesty.

It eases the tension frothing poisonous in your belly. “Thank you,” you say.

You ride in silence for a stretch. A cool breeze catches the free-floating ends of your hair, rustles along in the tall grass by the wayside. The steady thump thump thump of the horse’s hooves, and the creak of tackle and leather, are the only sounds populating the air.

Home was quiet like this, too; the fields stretching endless and green beneath the sky, the silence there so blank and open that birdcall traveled for miles, and the lowing of the family milk cow sounded sometimes like the trumpet of God.

You peek again at Kyle Garrick. There’s a furrow to his brow, the kind a man gets when he’s in a mood and won’t admit it if asked.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, quietly, because he made you feel better about things, and you’ve done little more than whine.

He finally looks at you, the edges of his face lined and glowing in the evening light. Studies you, for a moment. The furrow eases.

“No,” he says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t mean to be short with you. I’m afraid manners are secondary on a ranch, without a good woman nearby to remind about ‘em.”

You give him a small smile. “Have you worked for Hans very long?”

He turns his gaze back to the road. “Six or seven years, now.”

You toy with the clasp of your bag; you’re brimming with questions. “Is he really all that tall?”

“Oh, yes,” Gaz says. “Like a giant.”

“What’s he like?”

Gaz gives a great breath through pursed, full lips. “Fair, I guess. Asks a lot of us—but then most bosses out here will. Worked for his father for a few years before him, too.”

“You must be a good hand then,” you say.

“I work hard,” says Gaz. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m sure Hans is grateful,” you reply. “He must trust you very much, to send you for me.”

The furrow returns. “He must.”

It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him, and it’s nothing you will resolve between now and when you make it to the ranch. Perhaps it has something to do with you—a new face, an unknown quantity that threatens to knock the balance of his livelihood askew.

You sigh a little. Of course, you should have expected to have to win Hans’ people over. Their loyalty to the late Mrs. König will inevitably be challenged by your arrival.

Neither of you speak again—you decide not to push what little grace Kyle Garrick has given you, and he does not volunteer any more conversation. The rest of the ride is unremarkable, leaving room for anticipation to grow in your stomach; soon the wagon crests the slope of a hill, and your destination comes into view.

Long Mask Ranch sits at the base of a range of mountain foothills, fed and watered emerald green by spring runoff. You’ve been on Hans’ land for a while now; opening up before you is the ranch proper. A collection of buildings form a semicircle around a large corral in the valley: stables, a barn, some cabins, and a large two-story gabled manor, painted white.

The sun sinks further toward the horizon as you approach, painting the world in liquid orange. Figures resolve themselves, people moving tables and chairs around, and on the manor’s front porch, observing the proceedings, stands a tall man in a rancher’s coat and hat.

Lightning suddenly bolts through you. You sit very, very still as Gaz pulls the wagon through a cast iron archway adorned with LMR at the apogee. Your heart thrums in your throat like a picked guitar string. When you finally come to a stop, the man’s head turns to toward you.

At the worst possible moment, shyness grips you. You look around, at anywhere but him, at the house, the corral, the cowboy beside you.

You startle to meet Gaz’s eyes. The expression he wears is a mask of seriousness.

“This is it,” he says.

Your voice leaves your chest trembling. “Thank you, Mr. Gaz.”

“Just Gaz is fine, Miss.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” you reply. Propriety feels like the only solid thing to cling to just now.

He looks away. The line of his mouth tightens. “Of course,” he says.

He dismounts the wagon in one smooth motion, boots hitting the packed earth hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the tall man start his way over to you. Gaz rounds the back of the wagon, and you give your bag to him once he’s at your side. He offers his hand to help you down.

You’re dazed as you take it, lightheaded as suddenly the present moment becomes very, very real. It’s warm, his hand; rough in all the places you expect a cowboy’s hand to be. Yet there’s something soft in the way your palms meet, how the dips and contours align with each other and fit together. You’re shaking very hard as you ease your way from the seat, gripping him tightly until your feet meet the ground, and his grip circles yours with a solidness to it in a way unlike any man has ever held you.

You meet his eyes again when he hands you your bag. Gaz gives your hand a squeeze, averts his gaze, and lets you go.

“There she is!” an accented voice announces.

You pull your gaze from Kyle Garrick and the mystery of his tension with you, and turn to face your intended husband.

Hans König has loomed large in your imagination for half a year. He’d described to you what he looked like, of course, as best he could, but you find as you look upon his face that no written word can convey what it means to meet for the first time the man you will marry. You’d fallen in love with someone formless, absent, but inscribed in other ways with enough distinction to nurture your tender feelings.

Looking upon him now, though…his appearance offers nothing to that distinction. He’s neither ugly nor handsome. As he comes to stand before you, you think he rather looks like every other middle-aged man you’ve met in your short life, although certainly much taller. You meet his eyes—pale blue, as he’d related—and the rush of love you’d expected to feel, once you knew who he was, simply does not come.

This man is a stranger to you.

You reprimand yourself immediately. He isn’t a stranger. You’ve known him for six months. His face is simply not one you have attached any love to yet; the measure of his character is contained in the stack of paper in your hands. In the promises he made to you to make your quietest dreams come true.

So you smile the way you’d dreamed you would—like watching the sun crest the horizon after a long night of darkness, seeing the bounty of the near future coming toward you. Summoning joy by making room for it to exist.

“Hello, Hans,” you say, “it’s me.”

Hans König steps forward. He looms over you truly, now, eclipsing your vision. “It is you, indeed.”

Without another word, right there in front of Gaz, Hans grips your shoulders, bends down, and kisses you on the mouth.

Your brows shoot upward. It’s the first time anyone has ever kissed you. His lips are…hard, and motionless against yours. Almost perfunctory. You are so shocked he’s done it that you don’t think to respond, and then as suddenly as it happened, it’s over. He pulls away, pats your shoulders with a little smile, and then looks at Gaz.

“Get that wagon put away and then go help the others,” says Hans to the cowboy, slinging one arm around your shoulder.

Your brows lift further. Is that all he has to say to him, for delivering you safe and sound?

Gaz doesn’t seem to share your feelings. “Yes, sir,” is all he says, even and toneless.

But he looks between you and his employer for more than just the span of a heartbeat. Eyes going from him, to you, to the arm around your shoulders. Then he meets your gaze, expression stony.

If Gaz is wary of your presence here—if you’re going to win him over—the best time to start is now. “Thank you very much for seeing me here safely,” you say. “I was so glad of your company, Mr. Gaz.”

To your dismay, his expression only tightens. Gaz looks at Hans again, then back at you.

“You’re welcome, Miss,” he says.

Then he climbs back into the wagon, gives the reins a snap, and drives away.

-

a/n: fun fact, the ranch and neighboring town are based off Valentine and Emerald Ranch from rdr2 :) the ranch layout is more like Pronghorn Ranch however.

[steddieas-shegoes]

fooling ourselves

for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'fool' (don't you worry folks, i plan on being a fool and doing the silly prompt too)

454 words | rated t | no cw | tags: mutual pining, idiots to lovers, first kiss

🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve was fooling everyone.

At least, he hoped he was.

He might be failing.

Steve practically begged for time alone with Eddie. It was embarrassing.

It's just that in the group, Eddie was loud, put on the same show he always did at school, in the hospital when he was recovering and trying to keep smiles on everyone's faces. He fooled everyone except Steve.

When they were alone, Eddie was more reserved, thoughtful, touched him more.

Steve was touch starved, okay? Every time Eddie placed his hand on his knee or ran a hand through his hair, it was like an electric shock jolted his body to attention.

He wasn't looking further into it.

Except for when he did, which was nearly every night over the last two weeks, right after Eddie had told him that he started seeing someone in Indy.

In the moment, he congratulated him, asked a few polite questions that any friend would, and found a reason to go home.

He'd avoided being alone with Eddie ever since.

Actually, he'd avoided Eddie entirely until today.

The kids were having a movie night and attendance was mandatory.

The movie was scary, something he knew he couldn't watch, but showed up for anyway. Robin made an excuse for him to sit outside, said he'd been dealing with a migraine all day and the flashing on the screen wasn't helping.

He owed her.

The Henderson home had a small back porch, but it was the perfect place for him to sit and get some fresh air, clear his mind from the thought of Eddie sitting inside. He'd been with Frankie all day.

That got shut down, but probably wouldn't be for much longer, not if they got serious.

"You okay out here? Need a drink?" Eddie's voice shocked him from his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh. I'm fine."

"Robin wanted me to come check on you. Said you wanted to talk to me?" Eddie sat down next to him on the back step.

"She did?" He apparently had not fooled Robin.

Eddie nodded.

"Oh. I'm good."

"Really? So you wouldn't care if I said I'm not seeing Frankie anymore?"

Steve turned to see a shit-eating grin on Eddie's face.

"You aren't?"

"Nah. I think I liked the idea of having a boyfriend more than I liked him."

"Oh."

"I think I was really just trying to move on from someone else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, kinda failed at fooling myself, though."

Eddie's hand settled on Steve's thigh.

"How's that?" Steve asked.

"This guy I like, he's kinda new to this. I finally realized I'd have to be the one to make a move."

"Yeah?"

Eddie's answer was a soft kiss to his lips and a whispered, "yeah."

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

[queers-gambit]

Blue Bunny

prompt: you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: Tan's real name being Aaron, Lemon's real name being Brian, Mafia antics, depiction of murder, blood, guns, brief physical violence, given nickname [ Bunny ], Daddy's Girl trope? dialogue heavy fic.

"I like the lilac, what do you think? Maybe the yellow?"

"The pink's rather nice."

"How's about green? For St. Patrick's Day? Celebration of spring?"

Your lover chuckled over the receiver, phone set on speaker to the desk in front of you. "Think I prefer the blue," he replied, the smirk evident.

"You always prefer blue," you teased, handing the bottle of pale blue nail polish to your nail tech. "So, tell me, where are you now? Haven't seen yah all week," You pouted, placing your AirPods in to keep the conversation private. Not like it mattered, your nail tech, Collette, only spoke French, and she was the only other person in the room.

"'Fraid I can't divulge that information, sweetheart," Aaron sighed, "on a bit of business right now."

"Now? Like, in the present?" You chuckled, nodding at Collette when she pointed at the length of the acrylic.

"Yeah," Tan mused back, "say hello, sweetheart!"

"Hello, luv!" Brian, or otherwise known as Lemon, was heard calling. His twin, your lover, used the codename Tangerine for the contract agency they worked for - keeping their identities safe. Something you didn't necessarily have to worry about, being as your name held power. It was something like a shield in the criminal world, everyone knowing your surname dictated fear.

"Oh, hello, my sweetness," you cooed, grinning slyly. "What's it you two are up to? What sort of business are you on?"

"Ah, hang on a tick, love," Aaron mused, setting his phone down. You waited patiently, hearing a series of gunshots ringing out as you watched Collette paint the pale blue in sleek, professional strokes. Screams echoed over the line, tires screeches, several grunts of exertion, but you didn't so much as flinch, just admiring the work your nail tech did.

You blew on your nails, admiring the color.

Collette asked if you wanted to keep the paint shiny or add a matte overcoat, you humming, replying in French that you preferred the shiny coat. She held up a bottle of silver glitter, perking her brows, watching you nod - trusting her artistic eye.

"Hello? Still there, Bunny?" Aaron got back on the line, using your pet name he bestowed on you after your first date. You had a cold coming on, and after he kissed you, you instantly sneezed - nose screwing up like a fluffy bunny.

"I'm here," you smiled.

"Right, what color did you go with?"

You grinned, "Take a guess."

"Blue's your color."

"More like yours. I much prefer pastels, but I think this color's the best of both our preferences."

He chuckled, "Listen, yeah? You free Thursday? I'l be in your neck of the woods."

"Ah, I'm traveling this week," you answered with a pout, "what about next week?"

"I might be able t'swing that, yeah," Aaron agreed easily. "You hear from that Edward bloke recently?"

"No, no, I've told you, I'm done with him. You're quite the jealous type, you know, scared him off real good."

"Ah, well, don't like folks touchin' what's mine, now, do I?"

"Apparently not," you smiled, phone line beeping with an incoming call. "Oh, shit, I gotta go, Aaron, Daddy's calling."

"Mhm, and we all know you betta answer, huh?"

"It's how we all stay alive," you laughed. "Bye."

"See yah real soon, Bunny. Make sure your toes match!"

You hung up with a laugh, then accepted your father's incoming call, "Hi, Daddy."

"Hello, sweet one," he answered. "What are you up to?"

"Collette's doing my nails."

"Ah, very good. What color?"

"A pretty pale blue."

"Wonderful. Tell Collette I say hello. We'll have t'get her a sensational Christmas bonus with the way you work her."

You chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Listen, poppet, I need you to do something for me."

"Mhm, anything you need, Daddy."

"One of our associates is late on payment."

"How late?"

"A week."

"Oh, you're taking time in collecting," you mused, appreciating the full set Collette was detailing. "What's the hold up? Why wait?"

"I'm stuck in Prague."

"Daddy."

"I know," he rushed, "but I need you on this one, princess."

"Who's the associate?"

"Fella name Wilmer DeLano."

"I know of him, doesn't he own the chain of pharmacies? His son and I went to university together, right?"

"The exact same," your father confirmed. "I need you to go collect, princess, please."

"How much is the debt?"

"With the added week, chalks it up to $3 million."

"US dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Since when do we deal in US dollars?" You asked with a curled lip.

"Not the question I think you want to be asking."

"Uh, no, you're right, okay, sure, I can collect. Tonight?"

"He's not expecting it, knows I'm still in Prague. Take Rufus and Gunther with you for protection detail."

"I'd rather take Samuel."

"No, he's doing a different favor for me."

"Daddy."

"He's making a delivery, all right?"

"What about Gunther and Casey? Rufus creeps me out."

"That's fine," your father agreed with a sigh. "Listen, princess, tonight might get a little hairy, so I want you prepared."

"Daddy, I'm literally getting my nails done, I'm not handling a gun. That's what Gunther's for."

"I taught you better than that. You protect yourself, you can't depend on anyone else."

You nodded, "Yes, sir. Do you wanna call the boys or...?"

"I'll call them, don't worry. Just be ready to go by 8. Remember, princess, $3 million - and make sure you count it, too."

You agreed, promising you loved him, then wishing him luck in Prague on whatever his business was. After hanging up, Collette smiled, asking in French, "When are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"That you have a boyfriend," she laughed. "He's your father, he'll be happy for you."

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, swiping the glitter on your nails. "That boy that you're always on the phone with? You're not hiding it, not from me."

You felt warmth flush your chest, heating your core. "He's still not my boyfriend," you mumbled stubbornly.

"He picks your nail colors," she grinned, "that's a boyfriend!"

You double checked the address your father sent, nodding at Gunther in the driver's seat. "All right, lads, I want this a clean collection. Just got my nails done," you smirked, the lights of the three-story home still on and indicating DeLano must've been home.

"Yes, ma'am," Casey agreed, getting out of the backseat and opening your passenger door; helping you out, letting you readjust your clingy black dress. Gunther moved around the back of the car, grabbing the usual go-bag brought to every collection.

Slowly, carefully, you stalked up the long driveway, heels clacking with every pace. You let Gunther peer through the windows, him nodding before leading the way to the backdoor. It was simple enough to jimmy the lock open, silently swinging the door wide open and stepping over the threshold.

Casey went around the side to enter through the living room as you walked through the kitchen, surrounding your target. Wilmer DeLano was sat at his dining room table with his wife, looking up when you cleared your throat. He jolted in shock, but Casey blocked the only other doorway; his gun in hand, both clasped in front of him.

Gunther checked the rest of the house.

"Hello, Mr. DeLano," you greeted casually. "Oh, something smells wonderful in here, you cook this?" You asked his wife, casually strolling up to the table, Red Bottoms sounding over the polish hardwood floors. You plucked up a slice of roast, tearing a bite off and humming, "Oh, very good that. You're a lucky man, Mr. DeLano to have such a talented wife."

"Who are you?" The portly woman begged, flinching when you hummed and brandished your gun.

"Right, guessing you don't know," you nodded. "Your husband's in a bit of a lucrative business, Missus. Nice house, though," you gazed around, "lot of fine art you've got hung up, saw all name-brand appliances in your kitchen."

"H-He owns a chain of drug stores - "

"Yes, yes, yes, I know. Very true," you agreed, "but that's only a front, it's not the full picture. I'm here to help illustrate, if you will. C'mon, why don't we all go into the living room? Hear that's where the safe is kept."

"What is happening!?" Mrs. DeLano demanded, gun pointed at her temple.

"Up, up," you demanded.

Slowly, Wilmer lifted from his seat with his hands held in peace, "Okay, okay, we can - let's go talk in the living room. Just don't threaten my wife, she's got nothing t'do with this."

"For now," you agreed, gathering the couple to the living room couch.

"Boss," Gunther alerted, dragging your old university classmate and a previous lover, Edward DeLano, up from the basement, "found this one down there, smoking a joint. Rest of the house is clear."

"Wonderful," you nodded, gesturing for Eddie to sit. "You bring enough to share with the class?" But your old peer just looked around the room of criminals. "Guessin' he didn't wanna share," you pouted, then rolling your eyes. "Well, now that we've all gathered - "

Suddenly, there was a noisy crack and bang as the front door was kicked in, making all three of you gangsters turn with weapons drawn and aimed. However, you chuckled and dropped your arm when you realized it was the Twins, Aaron and Brian, or Tangerine and Lemon, standing in the splintered doorway.

"At ease, lads," you chuckled, holstering your gun to your thigh. "These are friends of mine."

"You outsourced the job? Out your fuckin' mind, princess? Huh?" Casey growled, not lowering his gun as Tan and Lem strolled in.

"Don't fuckin' talk to her like that," Aaron snapped instantly.

"Fuck off, Casey, I would never outsource, I know the fucking rules," you sound more amused than anything.

"Well, ain't this fun?" Aaron mused with a grin, strolling in casually before pausing in the open foyer as Brian tried shutting the door again - but it the very doorframe was shattered, making it impossible. "Sorry 'bout the front door, ol' chap, but you understand, yeah? 'S just business," He nodded at DeLano. "Bunny," he smirked at you, hands in his tailored suit pants pockets; polished Italian leather shoes gently scoffing across the floor.

Aaron magnetized to your side, coiling his arm around your waist to lean in and peck your cheek.

"Hi, handsome. Thought you weren't in town until later?"

"We wrapped a different job early," he answered. "Question is: what're you doin' here, love?"

"Collecting debt payment."

"No shit," he grinned, "so are we."

Your head cocked; leaning into his side with your own arm wrapping around his chiseled waist. You asked, "He owes my father money. You?"

"Owes an associate, too." He smirked at the DeLano's you two stood in front of, "Ain't that right, geezer? Got yourself into a bit of a pickle, didn't yah? Got a bit of a problem with the nose candy, don't'cha, naughty boy?"

"You told me you quit!" Mrs. DeLano hissed, "now you're in debt!?"

"I have it under control," Wilmer deflected stiffly.

His wife sobbed and begged, "W-Would someone please just explain what's going on!? Who are you people!?" Tears fell fast. "What do you want from us!?"

"This ain't rocket science, love, fuck you mean what do we want?" Lemon snickered. "You not listenin' or something?"

"Ah, right, well, I was in the middle of explainin' the situation," you told the Twins, waving a manicured hand in the air as if swatting away a pesky fly. "'Ello, lovie," you grinned at Lemon when he stationed himself on your other side, "good t'see you."

"Sweetheart," he nodded, offering a side hug when you released his brother, "been too long, hasn't it?"

"Since Cancún," you agreed. "Right, then! Onward, ho! Casey, darlin', would you be a doll and open the bag? Get us set up t'count up?"

"'Course, boss," he agreed, kneeling at the mahogany coffee table and unzipping the duffel you brought.

"Right," your hands clapped, the family jumping at the sudden sound, "back to what I was sayin'. See, your husband owns the drug stores, that's true," you allotted, "but he also launders money for the Mafia. For my father, my family. Maybe you've heard of him?"

You relaid your father's first and last name, seeing the Fear of God paint over the DeLano's. "What?" Eddie snapped at his father sat beside him. See, despite dating briefly, you kept your identity a secret from Ed. "What have you done!? Do you know who her father is? Know what he's done!? He fuckin' gutted his own brother - "

"Allegedly," you interjected sharply.

" - all in the name of business! You don't know what this family is capable of!"

"Yes, boy, I'm well aware, the man is my bloody business partner," Wilmer snapped right back.

"Well, not so much of a partner now, are yah? Just more of a fuckin' nuisance," You smirked, earning the attention again. "So, you see, your husband washes our money, earns a significant cut for shouldering the risk. Payment's collected every two weeks and as of today, your husband's a week late on delivering our cash load."

"I-I can explain, please - "

"No need," you cut Wilmer off, "because I didn't get t'where I am now by listening to pathetic explanations. I don't listen to excuses. Fact is, you own my father money, and because you're late, the total is now $3 million - and he wants it in US dollars."

"Well, ain't that somethin'?" Tan smirked at Lem. "Turns out, he owes our client some million, too."

You hummed, nodding, "Right, right, but see, thing is, if my Daddy ain't paid, he goes postal. Nasty business, truly messy, just a chaotic clusterfuck, bodies left everywhere, cities in shambles." Turning back to the family, you offered, "So, we're just gonna make this easy. You cough up what you owe, we won't blow your brains out all over this nice Persian rug. Mmmh! See that, love?" You pointed to the fabric you stood on, looking at Aaron. "That's real authentic, you can tell by the threading. Be a shame to ruin it, yeah? Exquisite work."

"Sure is," he agreed, "but did you see up there, Bunny? 'Bove the mantel?"

"Oh, yes," you breathed in impression, "an ancient Aztec tribal mask. An artifact, very hard to get your hands on. Heard the British Museum was actually lookin' for that particular mask."

"Seems like Mr. DeLano is quite the collector of finer things," Lemon admired, pointing at a portrait on the wall. "Oi! Is that what I think? Is that a fucking Monet?"

"Priceless," you nodded.

"Listen, right, we've got strict orders, yeah?" Your lover sighed, shifting his weight. "We're t'collect payment by any means, a message is t'be sent. Right?"

"That's right, yeah," Lemon agreed, crossing his arms. "Make sure this kinda misunderstanding don't happen again."

Gunther asked, "You need tarps for this?"

You refused, "No, we're not here to kill anyone. We're here to let a loyal man the opportunity to pay us what's owed."

"Listen t-t-to me," Wilmer begged, stuttering in fear, "I don't have the money. Okay? The government came sniffin', I had tax liens to pay off to avoid prison time - "

"More fuckin' excuses! Jesus, fuck, man!" You groaned. "Who do you think can do more damage - the bloody government or my family? Huh? Look, lad, I know you've got what we're owed, so, be a good li'l boy and open the safe. Huh?"

"Fucking do it, Dad!"

"What're you doing, Wilmer? What are you waiting for!? You can't play this game! You'll get us all killed!"

"I don't have the money! How can I pay with what I don't have!?"

"Why do I not believe that?" You mused to Tan.

"'Cause you've been in this business a helluva lot longer than he has," Tangerine / Aaron answered. "You know a rat when you smell one, I reckon."

You nodded, then pulled your gun out again, aiming, and firing at Eddie's knee to shatter his kneecap. Blood splattered onto the couch. He screamed in agony, you raging above the panicked cries and shocked shouts, "Do I have your fucking attention now, Mr. DeLano?"

Edward sobbed in pain, trying to staunch the bleeding, Mrs. Delano gasping and shrieking. "Do whatever they want, Wilmer! For fuck's sake! Just do it!"

"Listen to your wife, mate," Lemon advised. "Unhappy wife, unhappy life, innit?"

You aimed at Eddie's other knee, firing, causing another flurry of screaming, crying, and begging. "If you want your son t'only have two bullets in 'im, I suggest you get moving!" You barked, aiming at Wilmer. "Now!"

"Well, wait a tick," Tangerine halted, "if we're both on the job, how's it gonna look if the geezer's telling us the truth, hey? Who gets the money?"

"Let's find it first, darlin', distribute later," you breathed as Casey finished setting up the automatic money counter. "Mr. DeLano? I advise you to do what we're asking. See, I use to duck hunt - I'm an excellent shot. The next bullet's goin' in your son's head and I never miss. Now, where's the fucking money!?"

"I don't have it! Please!"

"The money, DeLano, where's the fucking money!?"

"Please - "

"You want a dead son!?"

"All right!" He sobbed, "All right, fine! Yes, you win! Just please, please! Don't hurt my family anymore! Please, just leave them alone! I'll do what you want, just - leave them out of this!"

You nodded, "Well, you fucked with my Daddy's money. Only right I cripple you in a sense. Hey? Now, chop chop," you checked your watch for the time, "I'm a very busy bee and don't have all night."

"You're a smart lad, DeLano, we know you would've wanted to prep for a comfy fall if it came to it," Lemon laughed easily from beside you. "Ain't no way you're bone dry, know you have money stashed for security. Just c'mon, mate, these two sickos consider this a sort of foreplay, they'll go all fuckin' night with yah if you continue to refuse," he gestured at you and Tan.

You tacked on, "Lotta places to shoot someone without killin' 'em. Just saying..."

Wilmer stood from the couch, his wife shooting across the newly vacated space to embrace her whimpering son. The money launderer approached the Monet painting and lifted it from the wall; revealing an iron safe. You shared a look with Tangerine, smirking as the combination was entered and the door opening.

"That's what we fuckin' thought," Tangerine sneered, seeing the stacks and stacks and stacks of money. " Fuckin' hell. Right, so, look, count up the lady first. We'll settle after," he sniffed, fluffing his suit's lapel, picking off a piece of lint.

Wilmer began handing stacks to Casey to count, one of your arms crossing over your stomach to prop up your other arm; hand limp in the air. "Faster," you demanded, the man sweating bullets.

"Oh, now, look at that," Tan mused, taking your hand to admire your fresh manicure, "you went with blue."

"Like it?"

"Looks real pretty, Bunny, but I know something these would look better wrapped around," he grinned, making you smack his stomach playfully. "You wanna go get drinks afta this? My treat."

"Sounds like a date," you accepted, Gunther storing the counted cash into the dark duffel. "How's it lookin', Casey?"

"Looks 'bout right, boss," he reported, handing over another stack of banded money. "You want me t'count the Twins up?"

"Oh, if you would please, darlin', it would be very helpful," you nodded. "But I'm having a thought, right? Stay with me, would yah?"

"Oh, go on, toots, you've got great ideas," Lemon encouraged with a chuckle.

"Not always," Casey snickered, "remember what happened in Texas? At that Western bar?"

"Oi, the electronic bull was not my fault!"

"But the incident with the tequila and donkey was!"

"Hush!" You scolded. "Listen, all right, you see, this fucker tried to stiff us all... Let's clear the safe out. Take away any safety net? Truly cripple him, set him back to nothing?"

"Sound like your father," Gunther chuckled.

"That's a compliment," you shot back. "Go on, I want the lot."

Gunther agreed, standing, and approaching the safe. He shoved Wilmer out of the way, sweeping his arm into the safe and starting to load up the duffel. "You can't do this! If you take it all, what are we supposed to do!? How is my family supposed to survive when leeches like you suck us dry!?" Wilmer barked, making the amusement drop from your face.

"Watch your tone."

"No! No, I will not! You think you're high and mighty because of your father, but you're just a spoilt little girl! You all break into my house, extort me - "

"Can you truly extort a criminal? For the money they owe other criminals?" Brian / Lemon wondered out loud as he meandered the living room, making you shrug.

"He likes playing victim," you mused, but in the time you looked over your shoulder, Wilmer charged. You gasped when his shoulder bullied into your gut, tackling you past Tangerine and into the coffee table, shattering it.

"GO! RUN!" He shouted at his family, Tangerine lunging instantly to wrangle him off of you; the breath knocked from your lungs.

"Got some fuckin' nerve, don't yah!? Touchin' my girl!?" He raged, throwing the man to the floor again. "Nobody fuckin' moves!" Aaron growled, gun pointed at Wilmer.

"Not like they can, two blown out knees," Brian grunted as he helped pick you up from the wreck.

"Yeh all right, Bunny?"

"All right, love, yeah," you answered and adjusted your dress, picking up your weapon as Tan began wailing his balled-up fist into Wilmer's face at a jackhammering pace. It was wildly attractive, watching the man you were in-love with beat the shit out of someone who offered you threat and harm. Then something caught your eye, gasping, "Oh, you rat bastard! You broke my fucking nail!"

You yanked Tan back; aiming at Wilmer, pulling the trigger to let a close-range bullet explode the man's head; leaking brain matter on the Persian carpet. You turned to Mrs. DeLano and Eddie, cocking your head as they begged and pleaded for their lives, but you weren't listening anymore. "Got it all, boss," Gunther informed, dropping the stuffed duffel. "What we doin' with them?"

"Exactly what my father would do," you decided. "No witnesses."

"PLEASE! NO, GOD! NO, DON'T, PLEASE! WE WON'T SAY ANYTHING, I SWEAR! I SWEAR! PLEASE! MERCY! MERCY MERCY!"

Three more gunshots sounded, Tangerine's gun smoking before being tucked back into his shoulder holster under his jacket. "Well," he fluffed his lapels again, sniffling harshly, "shall we be on our way, Bunny? We good here?"

"Oh, might as well - got what we needed," you agreed, grimacing when blood bloomed towards your expensive shoes. "Ugh, what a mess. I'll make a call, have this cleaned up, pose it as a murder-suicide," you side-stepped the puddle. "Gunther, Casey, take what you want from this place, get the cash back to the stash house. I'm gonna grab a drink with the lads," you smirked, looping your arm with Aaron's.

Lemon / Brian packed up their share of the money, following behind as Tangerine / Aaron lead you from the house; placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting the end, inhaling, tossing his free arm around your neck. The night was dark and brisk, refreshing on your clammy skin as you stabilized your breathing; always a little shaken after taking life.

Call it morality.

Once in their tinted Mercedes, Brian got in the backseat, Tan rolled his window down to smoke, and you pulled out your ringing cell phone to answer, "Hi, Daddy."

He breathed in relief, "Good, you answered. Means nothing bad happened."

"That's not entirely true," you admitted. "We're leaving now."

"What happened?"

You winced, brushes already forming, "DeLano got bold, he attacked. So we left no witnesses."

"Good girl," he praised. "You feel all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm actually going to drinks with some, uh, friends," you glanced at Tangerine - seeing his lips pulled in a smirk as he started the car and pulled off down the street. "Turns out, DeLano didn't just owe us, but some coke dealer, too. Right, love?" You checked.

"Right," Aaron confirmed, reaching over to plant his hand on your thigh and give a soft squeeze.

"Right, yeah, so, he tried lying 'bout money, I shot his son's kneecaps - "

"That's my girl!"

" - and cleared the safe out. That's when DeLano attacked me - "

"WHAT!?"

"Daddy," you reprimanded softly. "I'm okay. Actually, the hired contractors on the job saved my arse - they showed up after we did with the same agenda. Gunther and Casey are gonna take the cash to a stash house, I gotta call Mr. Brooks about cleaning up."

"Did you say contractors?"

"Yeah, uh, you know, from The Agency?"

"You mean hitmen?"

"Yeah, guess you could say that. Think they're more like contract killers? Verbiage is so fickle."

"Who? Who exactly was there?"

"The Twins, Daddy. Don't worry, they're absolutely charming, only took their payment. We're gonna go for drinks, yeah?"

"Huh," he grunted, "must've been some bigwig t'send them two. Or a considerable debt." You were about to reply when he gasped in realization, "Wait, no. No, no, hang on a tick, don't bloody tell me."

"What?"

"This the lad you've got a thing for, innit? The one that sends yah flowers every other week?"

"Daddy."

"Don't tell me it's that Tangerine fucker, princess, please!"

"Oh, no, look at that, we're heading into a tunnel! I'm gonna lose the call; talk tomorrow, be safe, good luck in Prague, okay, muah! Muah! Muah! Love you! Bye, bye, bye!" You rambled quickly, blowing air kisses, then hanging up swiftly.

"The hell was that about?" Aaron chuckled. "He mad we were there?"

"Not entirely."

"Was he mad you're gettin' drinks with us?" Brian laughed from the back.

"That's a little more accurate. Well," you winced, "he was a bit testy that I'm goin' with Aaron..."

"I haven't done a damn thing to him," he grumbled.

"You do have a bit of a reputation, bruv."

You smiled sweetly, gripping Aaron's hand on your thigh, "He's my father, 'course he's gonna worry."

"'Bout time he found out, keeping you two a secret was mad frustrating, yeah? You two are disgustingly in-love."

Tangerine squeezed your thigh again, sending you a bright grin, "That we are."

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[i-like-what-this-says-about-you]

every episode of house md part 3

high school teacher: alright class settle down, it is time for chemistry!

the students moan

random student #1: please mr roberts can we just use this period to do homework

mr roberts: no, chemistry is important, you see-

mr roberts starts choking

random student #2: oh my god! someone get him some water!

mr roberts stops choking

mr roberts: sorry about that folks, moving on-

mr roberts falls to the ground, unconscious

*** house and wilson are walking together

house: wilson, my guy, you are wearing a nice tie. you must be cheating on your wife

wilson: you’re just trying to find a way to compliment my tie without seeming nice. so, thank you. anyway, i have this case. high school chemistry teacher keeps randomly choking on nothing.

house: so? he has anderson’s choking disease

wilson: no, it doesn’t only occur when he’s sleeping. not anderson’s.

there is a brief moment of homoerotically staring and grinning at each other

house: ok, i’ll take it.

he grabs the file

***

house: ok people, new case. man can’t stop choking!

cameron: hmmm… can’t be andersons…

foreman: could it be cancer in his throat?

house: that only shows up for a minute or two every few days?

chase: longmedicalnameadocis!

house: good thinking, test for that, in the mean time start him on fancydrugname.

*** in the clinic

house sighs, pops a few vicodin, and enters a clinic room

clinic patient: my knees hurt.

house takes a good hard look at the patient. he’s ancient. every inch of him is wrinkled. his head has only a few surviving white hairs. next to him is who house assumes is his daughter.

house (sarcastically): hhhmmm… now this is a hard one.

daughter: please take him seriously! just a week ago it seemed like he was way younger! he had barely any wrinkles, he was running 4 miles a day- he was healthy and fit! something’s up!

the patient coughs and begins to struggle to breathe. he takes out an inhaler.

daughter: a week ago he didn’t need an inhaler. now he’s using it multiple times a day!

house (not sarcastically this time): interesting… i want to run a few tests.

*** in the office

foreman: fancydrugname made him worse.

house: chase you idiot you were way wrong.

chase: 😣😣🥺🥺

house writes the new symptoms on the board

foreman: i think it’s neurological.

house: okay, what neurological disorder could cause this?

foreman thinks in contemplation

cameron: insertanotherlongmedicalnamehere?

chase: there’s no treatment for that.

house: wrong. we can do surgery

foreman: surgery?

house: take out part of his brain

*** cuddy’s office

cuddy (angry): NO! you cannot cut into this man’s brain with no proof! it’s a rare condition, most people with it die and this treatment has never been used for the condition before!

house: i have proof.

cuddy: oh really?

house: yes. i think it will work and i’m always right.

cuddy shakes her head

cuddy: no.

*** in the clinic, same patient as before

daughter: please tell me you know what’s wrong with him.

the patient has a bag of almonds in his hand. he is shoveling handfuls of them into his mouth

house: jeez, that’s a lot of almonds- **epiphany moment** house: i have to go!!

daughter: what? what about my dad!!!

house (from out the clinic room): get him to stop eating all those damn almonds!!

*** mr roberts’ room

house: have you been exposed to large amounts of almonds recently?

mr roberts: yes, my son just started working at an almond factory.

house: aha! my proof!

house leaves, leaving mr roberts confused and in distress

*** mr roberts gets the surgery and is cured

once again, wilson and house are walking together. wilson is eating almonds

wilson: want one?

[opal-owl-flight]

Decimation.

Youve been stealing back millions of eggs from Grizzco for years. And in a single night, they took it all back.

How does it feel to face a possible extinction?

Uhh lore abt Grizzco and the salmonids below!

So in my interp, Grizzco started somewhat small, bc back then Grizz and...an associate... were doing everything by themselves. When his associate went nuts, and almost ended the world by driving the nearby salmonid nations nuts as well, Inkadia launched Project Piranesi. (More on that another time.) Grizz had to think of another way to get those eggs..

…how perfect was it then, that Inkopolis, a fairly new city, was having a bit of a salmonid problem?

Grizz inserted his corporation as part of the damage control along the run routes. it only grew from there.

he expanded to the Splatlands later, though admittedly the folks there were more adapted to the salmonids compared to Inkadia. Its not as strong a hold but Splatsville and its surrounding establishments appreciated the extra precautions Grizzco provided.

Neos born fighting for her life and for her clans. Its why shes so aggressive and finds it difficult to be anything but. If shes not angry, fighting for her clans to have a life of peace…for a present and future where she can live -- what is she?

she and 3 arent so different, in that regard.

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

Grizzco says that the last 7 big run locales had "unusual magnetic readings" and in my world that just means THEY DAMN PUT IT THERE!!!!

They intentionally put something there to confuse the migrators and to steal the next generation -- and the Inkfish? Ofc theyd fight for their homes.

The Splatlandians TRIED to avoid the routes when they built the city after thousands of years of observation. Sorta like the dykes and canals some cities build next to swelling rivers.

Another comparison is that the big runs are just like other natural calamities in the eyes of the nations. Its like a flood, an earthquake, a typhoon. Hell its somewhat announced that way too. The infrastructure is built with the runs in mind. The powers that be have built countermeasures.

*I say try bc some sleazy/unaware corporations still built along those routes bc of the cheaper land/other "economical reasons."

And then Inkadia just wasnt aware at all, being a newer city compared to the ancient splatlands.

Grizzco intentionally causes property damage for bigger gains. Theyve been suffering a "shortage" thanks to Neo3 and the platoon's banditry. In a bid to take everything back and more, they decided to make the biggest event in the Splatlands the salmonid's next target.

They know that EVERYONE will show up to it.

---------

I think seeing that counter keep ticking up gives Neo3 a sense of creeping dread. Thats the number of eggs she put back in the sea. And more. All done in a single night. All her work, down the drain.

The platoon does manage to get a LOT of it back but god. What about the fallen runners, who were supposed to get to the actual spawning grounds?

Those lives disrespected and their bodies unable to feed the spawn. (Theres only so much the survivors can drag back.)

I wonder too, how many of those runners arent there for the runs at this point. They are there to kill.

Ticked off by the persistent attacks and the misdirection. As Polyphemus says in Epic, "Take from you what you take from me."

----------

After multi-magnetic field disruptors in the biggest run, these salmonid have had enough and want to hit back. I wouldnt blame them...god, I wouldnt blame them

The salmonids have never resorted to kidnapping any inkfish. Theyve killed. Yeah. Part of the whole running ceremony. But it was always just a part of that.

To actually go out of their way to fight instead of spawn? Thats different. In the grand run, inkfish may notice that some bosses arent dropping golden eggs. Bc they were never here to spawn. Theyre here to drag every inkfish they find into hell.

Subsequent big runs may end up with more and more of those eggless bosses.

----------

Happy 700 mil!! I HAD MANY NEO3 AND SALMONID THOUGHTS. THINGS ARE GETTING SO FUCKED UP IN SPLOONWORLD. The platoon as a whole is trying to restore peace between the Splatlands, Inkadia, Octaria AND the Salmonid nations, but unless Inkadia and the Splatlands change (COUGHS mostly Inkadia), nothing can really be done.

This is the shit 3 fights for. That harmony is what they dream of. The whole world rests on their shoulders and they press on, ever forward.

[mononijikayu]

chasing heaven — geto suguru.

“You shouldn’t love me.” he finally said, his voice low, almost pained. “It’s unequal. I would taint your name, your reputation. You’re much younger than me, and you deserve someone who can offer you the future you deserve. I can’t… I’m not looking to marry, not now. I have my duties, my career—” “I don’t care about any of that.” you interrupted, your voice firmer now, driven by the strength of your feelings. “I don’t care about reputation or duty. I only care about you, about what we could have together. I want you to be with me, Suguru. Not as my brother’s general, but as the man I love.”

GENRE: alternate universe - sengoku jidai au!;

WARNING/S: angst, fluff, romance, love, age-gap (reader is in her early 20s, suguru is early 30s), hurt/comfort, nsfw, mild smut, falling in love, friendship, comfort, hurt, pregnancy, sexual intercourse, protectiveness, subsequent marriage, happy ending, depictions of misogyny, depiction of pregnancy, mention of parting, mention of war, mention of misogny, mention of children, mention of seppaku, satoru is an overprotective, loving brother, general-warrior! suguru!, lady gojo! reader;

WORD COUNT: 9k words

NOTE: some of this is a bit inspired by abelard and heloise, who are like one of the most interesting love depictions and intellectuals in history. and bit of the ending came from the outlaw king??? the meeting at the beach??? yeah, we got that in the temple. i wanted to keep this short, but it ended up getting longer and longer and i feel like you're sick of reading long fics. i'll try to do better next time~ anyway, i still hope you enjoy this. i love you!!! <3

masterlist

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•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD NEVER COME. But somehow, it has. In the quiet stillness of the temple, you had grown accustomed to the gentle rhythms of monastic life. The mornings began with the melodic chime of bells, the scent of incense filling the air as you joined the nuns in their prayers. Your world was small, contained within the temple walls, but it was peaceful—a safe haven amidst the chaos of a warring Japan.

But that peace you knew of, in this aloof mountain temple, was shattered the day your brother came.

You had always known of him, the brother who was more myth than man, a legend whispered among the nuns, among servants, among town’s folk who visited the temple. Gojo Satoru, the warrior fighting to bring the country out of disaster, was a name that carried weight even within these sacred walls.

He was the eldest, the one your mother had borne long before the war consumed the land. But you had never met him, had only the faintest memories of a mother who held you close before the temple became your home.

When the day arrived, you were summoned to the temple gate. The nuns had prepared you, dressing you in the finest robes the temple could offer, your hair carefully arranged as befitting the sister of a warrior. They had spoken in hushed tones, reminding you of your duty, of the homage you owed to the man who was your blood, your kin. But you felt a tremor of unease, an uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of your calm.

And then he appeared.

Tall, imposing, with a presence that seemed to command the very air around him, your brother was unlike anyone you had ever seen. His hair, stark white like the snow that capped the mountains, caught the light of the setting sun.

But it was his eyes that struck you most—eyes as clear and bright as the sky itself, filled with a depth that seemed to see through you, to the very core of your being. Just like your own. You had never found anyone that looked like you before. Somehow, you were not alone anymore.

For a moment, you stood frozen, uncertain how to greet him, this man who was both a stranger and your closest kin. But then he smiled, a smile that was warm and reassuring, and something in you eased.

"You’ve grown, little sister." Satoru said, his voice gentle, as though he feared to startle you. "I was worried I wouldn't recognize you. But I suppose….I suppose it would be normal, wouldn’t it? You and I have been apart long before you were born, little one.”

You found your voice, though it came out softer than you intended. "Brother…"

The word felt foreign on your tongue, a title you had never before spoken, but it also felt right, like a missing piece sliding into place. Satoru stepped closer, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. His touch was firm, but not unkind. 

"You will come and live with me now, hm?" he told you, his tone leaving no room for argument, but there was no harshness in it. Only certainty. “You will not be apart from me again.”

You nodded, the weight of your new reality settling over you. The life you had known, the only life you remembered, was ending. But this was your brother—your family—and though you did not know him, you knew that you owed him your loyalty, your respect.

"Yes, brother." you replied, lowering your gaze in deference.

Satoru squeezed your shoulder, his smile widening just a fraction. "Good. There’s much for us to do, but we’ll manage together, little sister.”

He turned, signaling to the men who had accompanied him, and they began to prepare for the journey. You looked back at the temple, at the nuns who had raised you, their faces serene yet tinged with sadness. They had known this day would come, had prepared you for it, but it was still a farewell, a parting of ways.

As you followed your brother, leaving the temple behind, you felt the weight of the future pressing upon you. You were no longer just the orphaned daughter raised by nuns. You were the sister of Gojo Satoru,  a daughter of the Gojo clan and that meant something in this world torn apart by war. 

And as you walked beside him, his presence a shield against the unknown, you felt a glimmer of hope that perhaps, in time, you would come to know this brother who had claimed you from the shadows of the temple.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

IT WAS A WHOLE NEW WORLD FOR YOU. But perhaps it was because you had not grown into the life that your brother had been consumed by for years. Yet you were not going to be left behind, that was a promise you made to yourself. You were going to catch up and serve your brother, as destiny had intended for you. 

It hadn’t taken long for you to prove your worth in the world your brother had thrust you into. From the moment you had joined Satoru's side, your intelligence shone like a beacon, drawing the attention of those who served him.

You were quick to grasp the intricacies of strategy, the delicate balance of politics, and the subtle art of diplomacy. Satoru, ever perceptive, saw in you the sharp mind that had been honed within the quiet confines of the temple, and he wasted no time in bringing you into his fold.

He did so without hesitation, without shame, despite the murmurs of discontent that rippled through his ranks. You were a woman in a man’s world, but Gojo Satoru was unbothered by such conventions. What mattered was that you were like him, a Gojo. And as such, you had the same power too. Perhaps it was why he trusted you more than anyone, and he made that trust clear by placing you at his side, seeking your counsel in matters great and small.

And so you sat with him, advising him openly in front of his men, your voice carrying the weight of his trust. You spoke with confidence, your mind as sharp as any blade, and Satoru listened, often nodding in agreement before issuing commands that bore your influence. It was a sight that unsettled some of his warriors—men hardened by battle, who found it difficult to reconcile the image of their fierce leader relying on the wisdom of a woman. 

But Satoru was adamant. “She is my sister, and I trust her above all.” he would say, and that was that. His word was law, and most of the men knew better than to question him. “Do not make light of my sister. A Gojo is a Gojo, regardless of sex. Do not dishonor me with your pitiful pride.”

However, the day came when your brother had to leave, called away by urgent matters elsewhere in the battlefield. He left you to lead his council in his absence, placing upon your shoulders a great responsibility. “They will listen to you, sister.” he assured you before he departed. “And if they don’t, remind them who you are.”

For a time, it seemed Satoru’s confidence in you was well-placed. You led the council with the same decisiveness and intelligence that had earned you your brother’s trust. Yet, despite your best efforts, there were those who could not look past your gender, who saw your presence at the head of the council as an affront to their honor.

The murmurs of discontent grew louder, the defiance more overt. They spoke over you, dismissed your ideas, and questioned your authority at every turn. It was subtle at first, but it quickly escalated into open disrespect. The council chamber, once a place where your voice had carried weight, became a battleground for your credibility.

You stood your ground, unyielding, but it became clear that your authority was being eroded with every passing day. The men who defied you believed that without your brother’s immediate presence, you could be undermined, your power stripped away.

It was during one of these tense council meetings, as the murmurs of dissent reached a fever pitch, that Geto Suguru intervened. Suguru, your brother’s general and most trusted right hand, had watched the unfolding situation with a quiet intensity.

He had always been a man of few words, but when he spoke, his voice commanded attention. That day, as you stood before a council of men who dared to challenge your authority, Suguru rose from his place, his expression one of stern resolve.

“Enough.”

The single word silenced the room, the weight of his presence alone enough to command respect. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the gathered men, who now shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“This woman,” Suguru began, his voice calm but edged with steel, “is not just anyone. She is Gojo Satoru’s only sister, and she speaks with his voice. Any defiance of her is a defiance of Satoru himself. And if there is a man among you who believes he can dishonor her without consequence, then he dishonors Gojo Satoru. Such a man should commit seppuku to preserve Satoru’s goodwill with him.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the implications of Suguru’s words settling over the men like a shroud. You could see the way their expressions shifted, the bravado draining from their faces as the gravity of the situation became clear. To defy you now was not just to defy a woman—it was to defy the very man they served, the man who had led them through countless battles and brought them victories beyond measure.

Suguru’s eyes bore into each of them, leaving no room for doubt. “If there are any among you who wish to test this, step forward now.”

No one moved. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken tension. Finally, one by one, the men lowered their heads, offering the respect they had withheld before. Suguru’s gaze softened as he turned to you, a subtle nod of reassurance in his eyes. You returned the nod, grateful for his intervention, knowing that his words had restored your authority where it had been threatened.

From that day forward, the council meetings proceeded with the respect you had earned, the respect that Suguru had demanded on your behalf. The men no longer questioned your place at the head of the table, for they knew that to do so was to challenge not just you, but Satoru himself.

And in those moments, as you continued to lead in your brother’s stead, you felt the strength of your bond with him, a bond forged not just by blood, but by the unwavering trust that had brought you to this place of power.

As the council meeting came to an end, the tension that had filled the chamber slowly dissipated. The men dispersed, their heads bowed in respect, a far cry from the defiance they had shown earlier. You remained seated, your hands resting on the table, the weight of the day’s events heavy on your shoulders.

Geto Suguru lingered behind, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the sea of uncertainty. He approached you quietly, his movements deliberate and calm, and as he drew closer, you found yourself exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Thank you, my lord.” you said softly, turning to face him. The gratitude in your voice was unmistakable. “Your words... they meant a great deal to me, my lord. I don’t know what I would have done without your support.”

Suguru met your gaze, his expression warm yet composed. “There’s no need to thank me, my lady.” he replied, his tone sincere. “What I did was nothing more than what was necessary. You are Satoru’s sister, and he is like a brother to me. By extension, you are family to me as well. I would do anything for the both of you.”

His words, so simply spoken yet filled with such conviction, touched something deep within you. The bond between Suguru and your brother was well known, but hearing him extend that sense of loyalty and kinship to you was both comforting and humbling. You had not had a true family before. The nuns were kind to you and treated you well. But they were not family. They never will be. BUt maybe, just maybe — Satoru and Suguru could be what family means to you. 

“Family…” you echoed, a small smile forming on your lips. “It’s strange to think how quickly that word has come to mean something so new and important in my life.”

Suguru nodded, his eyes holding a gentle understanding. “It’s a powerful thing, family. It binds us in ways that go beyond blood. And now, you’re part of that bond, just as much as anyone else.”

You looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between you, the kind that only existed when words had already said enough.

A thought crossed your mind, and you spoke before you could second-guess yourself. “Suguru… would you like to share dinner with me before you leave?”

The invitation was simple, but it carried a significance that you hoped he would understand. In this world of shifting alliances and uncertain loyalties, there was something to be said for breaking bread together, for sharing a moment of peace in the midst of so much chaos.

Suguru’s smile widened just a fraction, a rare softness in his usually stoic demeanor. “I would like that very much, my lady.”

The two of you made your way to the dining hall, where a modest meal had been prepared. The setting was humble, far removed from the grand feasts that often accompanied council gatherings, but it was welcoming in its simplicity. The table was set with warm rice, grilled fish, and a selection of seasonal vegetables, along with a pot of fragrant tea.

You took your seats across from each other, and as the first course was served, the tension of the day seemed to melt away. The conversation flowed easily, a mix of light banter and deeper reflection. Suguru spoke of the campaigns he and Satoru had led, the victories and the losses, and you shared your experiences of life in the temple, the wisdom imparted to you by the nuns who had raised you.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing at a story Suguru told about Satoru—how your brother, for all his prowess on the battlefield, had an unfortunate habit of getting lost in the most mundane of places. The image of the great warrior wandering aimlessly in a village square, confused and exasperated, was enough to bring tears of mirth to your eyes.

Suguru chuckled, his own laughter low and warm. “He’d kill me if he knew I told you that, my lady.” he said, shaking his head. “But it’s true. Satoru may be brilliant, but even he has his moments.”

“I’ll keep your secret, my lord.” you promised, still smiling. “It’s good to know he’s human, after all.”

Suguru’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he simply looked at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’re a lot like him, you know?” he said quietly. “Not just in the way you think, but in the way you carry yourself. Satoru may not say it often, but I know he’s proud of you. You’ve come into this world with such strength and grace. It’s no wonder he trusts you so completely.”

His words struck a chord within you, and you felt a swell of emotion that you hadn’t expected. To be compared to your brother, to hear that he was proud of you… it meant more than you could put into words.

“Thank you, my lord Suguru.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “That means a great deal to me.”

He nodded, and the two of you fell into a companionable silence, content to simply enjoy each other’s presence. The meal continued, and as the last of the dishes were cleared away, you felt a sense of calm settle over you—a feeling that, despite the challenges you faced, you were not alone.

When the evening finally drew to a close, Suguru stood, bowing his head slightly in a gesture of respect. “I should be on my way, my lady.” he said, though there was no rush in his voice. “But I want you to know, if you ever need anything, you can always call on me.”

“I will.” you replied, rising to see him off. “And thank you again, my lord Suguru. For everything.”

He smiled, a small, genuine smile that seemed to light up his features. “Take care, my lady. And remember—family sticks together.”

With that, he turned and made his way out into the night, leaving you with a sense of warmth and a newfound understanding of the ties that bound you to those around you. And you think to yourself that you wanted it to last for the rest of your lives.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU THINK SATORU HAD LEFT SUGURU FOR YOU TO HAVE A FRIEND. Many days and weeks pushed on, but Geto Suguru made it a point to stay by your side.You think that Satoru was smart with such a thing, keeping his trusted sister and friend together. So far, it had worked like a wonder, keeping all the men in line. 

And Suguru had been gallant, in trying to appear for each and every session of the council. He knew all too well that in a world dominated by men, your authority could easily be questioned in Satoru’s absence, and he wasn’t about to let that happen.

With Suguru’s steady presence, the council meetings continued to run smoothly, the men now fully aware that any disrespect towards you would not be tolerated. His mere presence was enough to quell any lingering doubts or challenges, and in time, the council began to accept your leadership with the same respect they afforded Satoru. 

But it wasn’t just in the council chambers where Suguru’s support made a difference. Beyond the formalities of the politicking in the clan hierarchy, Geto Suguru became your intellectual companion, someone with whom you could share ideas freely. He did not once mock you for your interest in many things, in fact — he encouraged it, with every meeting, with every conversation, he indulged your wants.

The two of you spent countless hours long after council was over, engrossed in discussions that ranged from the teachings of the Buddha to the intricacies of clan politics.

Suguru had a way of making even the most complex topics seem approachable, and you relished every moment spent with him, whether it was delving into the nuances of the emperor’s court, debating the merits of various poems, or considering new ideas for education reform. His intellect challenged you, and you found yourself growing in ways you hadn’t expected.

One evening, as the council hall emptied and the candles flickered in the growing darkness, you lingered in your seat, knowing that Suguru would join you soon. When he did, he settled beside you with a thoughtful expression, his eyes filled with the calm intensity that had become so familiar to you.

"You’ve been quiet today." he remarked, his voice low and steady. "Is something on your mind?"

You glanced at him, feeling the weight of your thoughts but unsure how to express them. "I’ve been thinking about the future," you admitted. "About what happens after the war… after everything settles."

Suguru nodded, understanding your unspoken concerns. "It’s natural to wonder. But the future is not something we can control, only prepare for. And you’ve done more than anyone to prepare our clan for what’s to come."

His words were reassuring, but they didn’t dispel the unease that had settled in your heart. "I just… sometimes I wonder if all these preparations, all these plans, will truly lead to peace. Or if we’re simply paving the way for another conflict."

Suguru considered your words for a moment before replying. "Peace is always fragile. It requires constant vigilance and wisdom. But I believe that with the right leadership—your brother, and perhaps even you—peace can be more than just a fleeting moment. It can be a legacy."

His faith in you was unwavering, and it touched you deeply. "I hope you’re right," you said softly, your gaze dropping to the parchment on the table before you. "But sometimes, I feel like I’m just grasping at straws, trying to make sense of a world that’s constantly changing."

Suguru reached out, gently lifting your chin so that your eyes met his. "You’re doing more than that. You’re shaping that world, guiding it towards something better. And you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’ll continue to be here, to support you in any way I can."

His words sent a warmth through you, one that made your heart ache in the most bittersweet way. "Thank you, Suguru," you whispered. "For everything."

A small smile curved his lips, and he withdrew his hand, though his presence remained as steady as ever. "There’s nothing to thank me for. This is what I want to do, for you and for Satoru."

As the night deepened, your conversations continued, flowing from one topic to another with ease. And when Suguru was away, he would always write to you, his letters filled with the same thoughtful insights and challenges. Each letter pushed your boundaries, urging you to think more deeply, to see the world through different lenses.

One day, as you read through one of his letters, you found a passage that made you pause:

"The world is vast, and our understanding of it is limited by the walls we build around ourselves. But if we can break down those walls, if we can push beyond what we think we know, then perhaps we can find something truly extraordinary. It is you whose intelligence I hold dearest and in truth, the person who can do things that would change the world.”

You traced the words with your fingers, feeling the weight of them settle in your chest. Suguru’s challenges were never just intellectual exercises; they were a call to action, a reminder that the world was still full of possibilities, and that you had the power to shape it.

And so, you wrote back, your reply filled with your own questions, your own thoughts, eager to see how he would respond. The correspondence between you became a lifeline, a connection that sustained you both through the trials and tribulations of the war.

Suguru had always been a thoughtful man, deeply reflective and wise beyond his years. His understanding of the world was shaped by both his experiences on the battlefield and his deep respect for philosophical teachings. You found his insights fascinating, often finding yourself lost in the depth of your conversations, which ranged from the practical to the profound.

During those moments, Suguru couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of something you were passionate about, the gentle curve of your smile when you made a point that resonated with him. He had always thought you were beautiful—anyone could see that—but it was your tenacity, your intelligence, and your gentleness that truly captivated him. 

You were unlike anyone he had ever met. In you, he saw a rare combination of strength and compassion, a mind that was as sharp as any blade and a heart that was kind and forgiving.

The way you navigated the complexities of your new life, balancing the demands of leadership with the grace and wisdom you had learned at the temple, left him in awe.

Yet, despite the growing admiration he felt for you, Suguru kept those feelings buried deep within. To him, you were someone beyond reach, not because of any external barriers but because of his own sense of unworthiness.

He was a warrior, a man forged in battle and bloodshed, while you were a beacon of light, someone who had been touched by the serenity of the Buddha’s teachings. In his mind, the distance between who you were and who he was could never be bridged.

There were moments when he caught himself lost in thought, watching you as you spoke with that quiet authority, your words shaping the course of decisions that would impact the lives of many.

In those moments, a part of him longed to reach out, to tell you how much he admired you, how much he cared. But he never did. He couldn’t. To him, you deserved someone who was your equal, someone who could match your intellect and your spirit in ways he believed he could never hope to.

So, he stayed by your side, offering his loyalty and his companionship, content to be whatever you needed him to be. He ensured that no one dared to disrespect you, not just because of his loyalty to your brother, but because of the deep respect he had for you as an individual. He became a constant presence in your life, a steady rock in a world that often seemed to shift beneath your feet.

And while you might have seen him as a trusted ally and friend, for Suguru, every moment spent in your company was a reminder of what he could never allow himself to hope for.

You were, in his eyes, someone too precious, too good for a man like him. And so he kept his feelings hidden, choosing instead to honor you in the only way he knew how—by standing by your side, protecting you, and cherishing every conversation, every shared idea, every moment of quiet companionship.

In this way, Suguru made himself an indispensable part of your life, not realizing that his quiet devotion, his unwavering support, and the way he truly saw you for who you were had already made him far more worthy than he could ever imagine.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU WERE GLAD TO KNOW THAT SATORU WAS COMING HOME. The day your brother, Satoru, returned from the front was filled with anticipation. The courtyard was alive with the excited murmurs of those gathered to welcome him home, the air thick with the scent of incense and the rustle of fine silks as the crowd shifted in expectation. Your heartbeat a little faster, not just from the prospect of seeing your brother again, but from the knowledge that he would be pleased with the work you had done in his absence.

As Satoru arrived, tall and imposing in his armor, the crowd parted to allow him passage. His white hair gleamed in the sunlight, and despite the long months of battle, his step was as sure and confident as ever. His gaze swept over the gathered people, but it was your face he sought first. When his eyes found yours, a smile broke across his face, and he quickened his pace to reach you.

Without hesitation, he pulled you into a warm embrace, his laughter rich with relief and pride. "Dearest sister!" he greeted, his voice filled with affection, "I’m home."

You returned his embrace, feeling a wave of emotion at having him back safely. “Welcome home, brother!” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart swelled with joy. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

He pulled back to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, “for all your hard work on my behalf. I knew I could trust you to lead in my stead, and you’ve done more than I could have ever asked.”

The warmth in his words settled deep within you, a validation of all that you had done in his absence. “I did only what was necessary.” you replied, though the gratitude in your voice was clear.

Satoru turned then, his gaze shifting to Suguru, who stood a respectful distance away. The moment their eyes met, Satoru’s expression softened further, a familiar tenderness evident between the two men.

“Suguru!” Satoru called out, beckoning him forward.

Suguru approached, bowing his head in respect before speaking. “Welcome home, Satoru. I’m glad to see you returned safely.”

Satoru’s smile broadened, and he clasped Suguru’s shoulder in a gesture of deep friendship. “Thank you, Suguru, for being a confidant to my sister during this time. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know she wasn’t alone.”

Suguru shook his head, his expression as composed as ever. “It is nothing but a great duty to fulfill for my vassal lord and friend,” he said, his tone formal and deferential.

But Satoru frowned at that, his grip on Suguru’s shoulder tightening slightly. “Don’t be so formal with me, Suguru,” he chided, though his tone was light. “You know better than that. You’re more than just a vassal. You’re my brother in arms, my friend. And you’ve done more for me and my sister than I could ever repay.”

Suguru’s gaze flickered with something unreadable, but he quickly schooled his expression. “I appreciate your words, Satoru.” he replied quietly. “But my duty calls me back to the front. I must return soon.”

Satoru’s frown deepened, and he shook his head, refusing to let go of Suguru’s shoulder. “No, I won’t hear of it!” he insisted. “You’ve been at the front longer than anyone. You need rest, and I won’t have you running off the moment you’ve set foot here. Stay as long as you can. That’s an order.”

Suguru hesitated, clearly torn between his sense of duty and his loyalty to Satoru. But seeing the determination in your brother’s eyes, he finally nodded. “If that is your order, Satoru, then I will stay.”

“Good.” Satoru said, his tone firm but kind. “That’s settled then. You’ll stay here with us, and you’ll take the time you need to rest and recover. The front will still be there when you’re ready to return.”

As Suguru accepted the command, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Having Suguru stay, even for a little longer, was something you hadn’t realized you’d wanted until now. He had become an important part of your life in your brother’s absence, and the thought of him leaving so soon after Satoru’s return had left you with an unexpected emptiness.

Satoru, ever perceptive, caught the fleeting look on your face and smiled knowingly. “You see, sister?” he said, turning to you. “I’ve managed to keep our dear Suguru here for a little longer. We all need him here, not just on the battlefield.”

You smiled, grateful for Satoru’s understanding, and nodded. “Yes, we do. Thank you, brother.”

With the matter settled, the three of you made your way into the inner chambers, where preparations had been made for a private celebration of Satoru’s return. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and the shared relief of being together once more. As you sat together, the bonds of family and friendship felt stronger than ever, and for that moment, the weight of the world outside seemed to fade away.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself spending more and more time with Suguru. The bond between you deepened, the trust and respect that had grown in your brother's absence now blossoming into something more complex, something that you couldn’t quite name but felt deeply. Suguru was older, wiser, and had seen so much more of the world than you had, but there was a connection between you that transcended those differences. Slowly but surely, you realized that you were becoming enthralled by your feelings for him.

Despite the age difference, despite his steadfast focus on his career and his role as your brother’s most trusted general, you couldn’t help the way your heart quickened when you were near him. Suguru, ever the composed and duty-bound man, never gave any indication that he was aware of your feelings. He was kind, respectful, and treated you as an equal in your discussions, but there was always a certain distance, a formality that he maintained, even in the quiet moments you shared.

One evening, after the council had ended and the palace had settled into the calm of the night, you found yourself wandering through the lily gardens with Suguru. The moon was full, casting a soft, silvery light over the still waters of the pond and the delicate white lilies that floated on its surface.

The air was cool, a gentle breeze stirring the leaves of the nearby trees. It was a serene, almost otherworldly setting, perfect for the conversations you often found yourselves having under the cover of darkness.

As you walked side by side, your footsteps soft on the stone path, you spoke of the future. Of what might come after the war, when the battles were over, and the land was finally at peace. You talked of the things you wanted to do—small, simple things like traveling to the nearby villages, visiting the temples you had only heard of in stories, and seeing the world beyond the palace walls.

Suguru listened, his expression thoughtful as always, but there was a trace of something in his eyes that made your heart ache—a longing that mirrored your own, though he would never voice it.

But tonight, there was something more pressing on your mind, something that had been weighing on you ever since your brother had returned from the front. After a pause in your conversation, you gathered your courage and spoke, your voice soft yet firm. “Suguru… Satoru has begun to find a husband for me.”

Suguru stopped walking, turning to face you. His expression didn’t change, but you saw the subtle tension in his posture, the way his hands clenched slightly at his sides. “It’s what’s best, my lady.” he replied after a moment, his tone carefully neutral. “A marriage to form alliances would strengthen your brother’s position and secure your future.”

You shook your head, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t see it that way,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the emotions you could no longer contain. “Because… I’ve fallen in love with you, Suguru.”

For a moment, there was silence. The world around you seemed to still, the only sound the gentle rustling of the lilies in the breeze. Suguru’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he had kept hidden for a long time.

“You shouldn’t love me.” he finally said, his voice low, almost pained. “It’s unequal. I would taint your name, your reputation. You’re much younger than me, and you deserve someone who can offer you the future you deserve. I can’t… I’m not looking to marry, not now. I have my duties, my career—”

“I don’t care about any of that.” you interrupted, your voice firmer now, driven by the strength of your feelings. “I don’t care about reputation or duty. I only care about you, about what we could have together. I want you to be with me, Suguru. Not as my brother’s general, but as the man I love.”

Suguru looked at you then, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. There was a deep conflict in his eyes, a battle between his sense of duty and the emotions he had tried so hard to suppress. He took a step closer, and for a moment, you thought he might reach out to you, might take your hand or pull you into his arms. But he stopped himself, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“I’m not worthy of you, my lady.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just a soldier, a man who has done terrible things in the name of duty. You deserve someone who can give you the life you’ve dreamed of, someone who can stand beside you in the light, not someone who is forever tainted by the darkness of war.”

Your heart ached at his words, at the pain you could hear beneath them. But you refused to accept them. “I don’t want someone else.” you said, taking a step closer to him, closing the distance between you. “I want you, Suguru. I don’t care about the past or what you think you deserve. I know who you are, and I love you for it. Please… don’t push me away.”

Suguru’s resolve seemed to falter then, his purple eyes closing as if trying to block out the reality of your words. He was silent for a long moment, the only sound the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of the wind in the trees. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you, my lady.” he said, opening his eyes to meet yours. “But I’m afraid I already have.”

You shook your head, tears gathering in your eyes. “You haven’t, my lord.” you insisted. “But you will if you walk away from me now.”

Suguru looked at you, his expression filled with a sorrow that you hadn’t seen before. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, resigned. “If I stay, if I allow myself to feel this way about you, it won’t be easy. There will be challenges, people who will try to tear us apart. Your brother might not even approve…”

“I don’t care, my lord….Suguru.” you said, stepping even closer, so that you were only a breath away from him. “I’ll face whatever comes if it means being with you.”

Suguru looked at you for a long moment, his purple eyes searching for yours, as if trying to find the strength to say what he needed to say. Finally, he reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was hesitant, as if he was afraid to break you, but you leaned into it, closing your eyes as you felt the warmth of his skin against yours.

“I wish I could be the man you deserve.” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet despair. “But if you’re willing to take this risk, then I won’t let you face it alone.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a mix of relief and determination. “I am willing, Suguru.” you said softly, your heart full of the love you had for him. “As long as you’re by my side.”

Suguru nodded, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Then I’ll stay, for you.” he said, his voice firm with resolve. “And I’ll do everything I can to protect you, to make this work… even if it means defying everything I thought I knew.”

With those words, you knew that the bond between you had changed, deepened in ways that neither of you could have anticipated. The future was uncertain, the challenges ahead daunting, but for now, in the quiet of the lily garden under the moonlit sky, you had each other. And that, you knew, was more than enough.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

THE MORE YOU WERE TOGETHER, THE MORE YOU FELL FOR HIM. And along with the flow of time, the boundaries between you blurred until they disappeared entirely. What began as stolen moments in the lily gardens turned into lingering touches, soft words whispered in the dark, and eventually, the first tentative kiss. That kiss led to another, and then another, until you both could no longer deny the passion that had ignited between you.

Geto Suguru, ever the restrained and disciplined man, tried to keep his distance, to maintain the boundaries that he believed were necessary. But you could see the way he struggled, the way his resolve weakened whenever you were near. And you, in turn, found yourself growing more insatiable for him, drawn to his quiet strength, his intellect, and the gentleness that he showed only to you.

It wasn’t long before your relationship became intimate. The nights you spent together were filled with whispered confessions, tender caresses, and the kind of closeness that left you breathless, yearning for more. Each touch, each shared moment, only deepened the bond between you, until it became something undeniable, something that you couldn’t hide, even if you tried.

Suguru’s movements were rhythmic and deliberate, each thrust a testament to the intensity of his feelings. Your body responded instinctively, shivering under the persistent wave of pleasure that seemed to emanate from every part of him. The connection between you both was palpable, a perfect union of touch and desire that left you breathless and yearning.

As he pressed closer, the heat between you became almost unbearable. You could feel every inch of him, his length moving with a purposeful glide that seemed to match the cadence of your own heartbeats. His focus was unwavering, his gaze locked onto your expressions of bliss, as if he were memorizing each fleeting moment of your shared ecstasy.

Suguru’s lips were gentle yet insistent, trailing a path of fiery kisses along your skin. He started at your jawline, moving down to your neck, where his kisses became more fervent, brushing against the sensitive spots that made you moan uncontrollably. His touch was a mix of tenderness and passion, each kiss a silent declaration of his love.

The way his lips traveled over your shoulder blades and collarbone, down to your breasts, was both reverent and adoring. He seemed to savor every inch of you, each kiss a testament to his longing and his desire to make you feel cherished and adored. His breathing grew ragged, his desire for you as evident as the ardent affection in his kisses.

Suguru’s love was consuming, a powerful force that seemed to envelope you both in a cocoon of heat and intimacy. His movements were a dance of devotion, each motion and kiss an expression of his deep-seated love. He wanted to give you everything, to love you with a passion that knew no bounds, until either of you could bear the intensity any longer.

Suguru’s senses were overwhelmed by the intense heat enveloping him. Each time he pulled back, he felt the burning warmth of your inner flesh clinging to him, a tantalizing reminder of the connection you shared. The contrast between the cool air and the searing heat of your body created a heightened sense of urgency, making every moment even more electric.

He withdrew momentarily, the emptiness only intensifying his need to be reunited with you. His breath came in ragged bursts, a mixture of frustration and desire fueling his movements. When he finally pressed back into you, it was with a force that spoke of his longing and the sheer intensity of his passion.

Suguru’s hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding and angling them to better meet his thrusts. His movements were decisive and powerful, each push and pull a testament to his deep-seated desire. The rhythm he established was relentless, his member driving into you with a raw, unrestrained energy. Every thrust was accompanied by a shudder of pleasure, both from him and you, as the heat between you built to a fervent crescendo.

His focus was entirely on you, the way your body responded to him, the way you felt around him. The sound of your moans and the look of sheer pleasure on your face drove him to new heights, his need to be with you, to feel this connection, only growing stronger with each passing second.

But as much as you tried to keep your relationship a secret from your brother, it wasn’t long before the truth could no longer be hidden. The realization came with a sudden, undeniable clarity: you were pregnant. 

The days following that intense night were filled with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As you navigated through your routine, you began to notice subtle changes in your body. What started as a vague sense of nausea and fatigue soon became more pronounced, prompting you to a conclusion.

The morning understood what was going on, a whirlwind of emotions took over you. You stared at yourself and then your belly, your heart pounding in your chest. Fear and excitement warred within you as you grappled with the reality of your situation.

You were carrying Suguru’s child, a life born from the love that you shared, but also a secret that could change everything. You knew that your brother, Satoru, would not take the news lightly. He had always been protective of you, and this… this would be seen as a betrayal.

The day your brother discovered the truth was etched into your memory with vivid, painful clarity. You had dreaded this moment, knowing that the inevitable confrontation would come, but nothing could have fully prepared you for the storm that followed.

The atmosphere was thick with tension as you stood in the living room, your heart racing. Satoru stormed in, his eyes blazing with a mix of fury and hurt that made your stomach churn. His usually calm demeanor was shattered, replaced by an intensity that you had never seen before. He had sensed something was wrong for weeks, and the truth had hit him like a sledgehammer.

“Who is he?” Satoru’s voice was a harsh whisper, laced with a barely contained rage. His eyes locked onto you, his gaze piercing through you as if trying to unravel the truth hidden within your silence.

"Brother, please...."

“Who’s the father?” His demand echoed through the room, each word sharp and accusatory, slicing through the fragile veneer of your composure.

The weight of his anger was suffocating. You stood there, feeling small and vulnerable, your hands trembling at your sides. The emotional turmoil inside you was overwhelming, a tangled mess of guilt, fear, and sorrow. You wanted to explain, to find the right words to make him understand, but the sheer intensity of the moment left you paralyzed.

Suguru, who had been silently supporting you, stepped forward, his own face a mask of regret and determination. He had been waiting for this confrontation, knowing that it was his responsibility to face the consequences of their actions. With a deep breath, he took the weight of the situation onto his shoulders. 

“Satoru,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with a sorrowful undertone, “I’m the father.”

The revelation hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. Satoru’s expression shifted from anger to disbelief, and then to a deeper pain that seemed to cut through his very core. The anger that had once burned so fiercely now gave way to a profound sense of betrayal and heartbreak. His eyes, usually so full of warmth and understanding, were now clouded with tears that he fought to hold back.

Suguru’s admission was met with a silence that was almost unbearable. The tension in the room was palpable, each of you waiting for the other to break the silence. You could see the struggle in Satoru’s face as he tried to process the reality of the situation, the hurt and confusion evident in every line of his expression.

“I never thought...” Satoru’s voice faltered, his anger giving way to a raw, aching sadness. He looked between you and Suguru, his emotions a turbulent sea of conflicting feelings. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why keep this from me?”

Suguru’s gaze was steady, but his heart was breaking as he met Satoru’s eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Satoru.” he said softly. “But I know that’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

“You do not have to worry.” Suguru said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. He met Satoru’s gaze head-on, not flinching even as the anger in your brother’s eyes intensified. “It was not planned….But I take full responsibility, Satoru. Please.”

Satoru’s reaction was immediate and explosive. “You’re supposed to be my most trusted general, my friend, and you… you’ve done this? With my sister? And you didn’t marry her?”

Suguru’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I never intended to disrespect you or your family. I care for her deeply, and I will do what is right.”

The words only seemed to fuel Satoru’s rage. “You should have done what was right from the start! How could you let this happen, Suguru? How could you—”

“I didn’t need to marry him.” you interrupted, your voice shaking as you tried to step between them, to defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control. “I love him, Satoru. We love each other, and I don’t need a marriage to prove that.”

But your words only seemed to make things worse. Satoru turned to you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You don’t understand what this means, how it looks. If you’re with child and not married, it could ruin everything. Our alliances, our reputation—everything we’ve fought for…..”

Suguru placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you even as the storm of emotions swirled around you. “I will marry her, Satoru.” he said firmly, his voice calm but resolute. “You don’t have to worry about shame. We will marry and no one will know.”

Satoru stared at Suguru for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with the force of his emotions. It was clear that he was torn, caught between his duty to his family and his loyalty to Suguru. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“I have no other choice about this.” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “If you’re going to marry her, then you need to do it soon. We’ll make the arrangements, and you’ll stand before everyone and make this right.”

Suguru nodded, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as if to reassure you. “I will. You have my word.”

You looked up at Suguru, your heart full of a mixture of love, relief, and anxiety for what lay ahead. This wasn’t how you had imagined things would unfold, but you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face whatever challenges came your way. And so, with a heavy but hopeful heart, you took a deep breath and prepared to face the future together.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

YOU NEVER EXPECTED ALL OF THIS, BUT LIFE IS STRANGE. And perhaps you were now more resigned to it than ever before. The day of your wedding to Suguru was both solemn and beautiful, a ceremony that cemented not only your love but also your shared commitment to the future.

Despite the circumstances that led to it, the vows you exchanged were heartfelt, and as you stood beside him, you felt a deep sense of belonging, knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

Suguru remained by your side through the remainder of your pregnancy, refusing to leave even as the war called to him. He was there for every moment, every kick, and every anxious night as you awaited the arrival of your children. When the day finally came, and you bore twin daughters, his joy was immeasurable. He held you close, kissed your forehead, and whispered his gratitude for the family you had given him.

The day Suguru had to return to the battlefield was a poignant reminder of the harsh realities that overshadowed your time together. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room, the reality of his departure loomed heavily over both of you. The weight of impending separation was unbearable, each moment stretching painfully as the hour of his departure drew nearer.

You found yourself clinging to him, your grip firm yet trembling, as tears streamed down your cheeks. Every part of you ached with the fear and sadness of watching him leave for another dangerous mission. His presence had become your sanctuary, and the thought of him stepping back into the chaos of war was almost too much to bear. Your sobs were muffled against his chest, the fabric of his uniform a stark reminder of the danger he faced.

Suguru’s hands were gentle as he reached up to wipe away your tears. His touch was tender, yet firm, as if he were trying to transfer some of his strength to you. His own eyes were filled with a sorrowful resolve, the weight of the duty he was about to undertake clear in every line of his face. Despite his bravery and determination, it was evident that leaving you behind was a painful sacrifice.

As he held you, his gaze shifted to the cot where your daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, slept peacefully. Their innocent faces were serene, their small bodies rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Suguru’s heart ached at the sight of them, his love for them and the desire to protect them a palpable force. His eyes lingered on them, a silent vow passing between him and their slumbering forms—a promise to return safely, to be there for them and you.

"I don’t want to leave you." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held you close, feeling the warmth of your daughters swaddled in his arms. “All three of you.”

"I know that." you whispered back, your voice breaking. "But you must. For Satoru, for our peace… But promise me, Suguru, that you'll take care of my brother. Bring him back to us. And…And come back to us too. Please."

"I promise, my love." he vowed, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. "I will protect him with my life, just as I will protect our family. I will come back to you, I swear."

The parting was an agonizing ordeal, each moment stretching into an eternity as you watched Suguru ride away. With your daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, nestled in your arms, you felt the weight of the world press heavily upon your heart. The sight of him disappearing into the distance, framed by the setting sun, was a poignant reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. As the last glimpse of him vanished, you could only hold your children tighter, whispering prayers for his safety and for a swift end to the unrelenting war.

Days turned into months, and months into years, each passing moment a relentless reminder of the ongoing conflict. The once-familiar rhythm of life had been disrupted, replaced by an enduring wait for peace. The world outside was fraught with turmoil, but within the sanctuary of the temple where your journey with Suguru had begun, you found a semblance of tranquility.

Returning to the temple was a return to roots, a place of peace amidst the chaos of the world. It was where you had first found solace and a sense of purpose alongside Suguru, and now it became a refuge for you and your daughters. The temple's serene environment provided a safe haven where you could nurture them, shielding them from the harsh realities of the outside world. 

Every corner of the temple held echoes of the past—memories of quiet moments shared with Suguru, of dreams and plans woven together in the tranquil surroundings. It was a place that had once symbolized new beginnings, and now it served as a testament to endurance and hope.

As you raised your daughters in this sanctuary, you immersed yourself in the rhythms of temple life, finding comfort in its routines and in the community that embraced you. You taught them the values and lessons that had been so important to you and Suguru, hoping to instill in them the same strength and resilience that had guided you through these challenging years.

The temple, with its tranquil gardens and reverent halls, became a living monument to your waiting, a symbol of the enduring love that bound you to Suguru. Every day was a step closer to the dream of seeing the land united and your husband safely returned to you. Until that day came, you held onto the hope that peace would prevail and that your family would be whole once more.

In the stillness of the temple, surrounded by the quiet hum of prayer and the gentle presence of your daughters, you found a sense of purpose and patience. Your love for Suguru remained a guiding light, illuminating the path through the darkness of uncertainty and keeping the promise of reunion alive in your heart.

Years passed, and news of the Gojo clan's victory spread across the land and peace was finally achieved. The land was finally unified, and the long years of war had come to an end. You clung to the hope that with this victory, Your Suguru would return to you, that the promise he made would finally be fulfilled.

And then, one day, as you stood at the steps of the temple, you saw him. Geto Suguru, looking weary yet strong, with the weight of years and battle etched into his features. He stood there, gazing at you with eyes full of longing and love, and you felt your heart leap in your chest.

Without hesitation, you ran to him, your daughters' voices calling after you, but you couldn’t stop. The world seemed to blur around you as you crossed the distance between you and the man you had been waiting for all these years. When you finally reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, holding him as tightly as you could, as if to make up for all the time you had spent apart.

"Welcome home, my love." you whispered, your voice thick with tears, your face buried in his chest. The scent of him, the feel of his arms around you, it was all so familiar, so comforting, that it felt like a dream.

Suguru held you close, his embrace fierce and full of the love he had carried with him through every battle, every hardship. "I’m home, my dear." he murmured into your hair, his voice choking with emotion. "I’m finally home."

Your daughters, now old enough to understand the significance of the moment, stood a little ways off, watching with wide eyes as their father returned to them. You turned to them, beckoning them forward, and they ran to join the embrace, their laughter and tears mingling with your own.

[inevesgf]

LOVER BOY ⠀,⠀ george clarke.

synopsis ✩ what it’s like dating george clarke!

warnings: mentions of sexual behavior.

authors note: i have had so much muse and inspiration to write for george recently. love our silly guy so bad! i also have tried to write more sexual content for my thirsty folks out there so i hope it lives up to expectations. arthur next ;)

• love language is either gift giving or psychical touch!

• is the type of boyfriend that will randomly pick up things from the shop for you without you even asking.

• “want anything?” “no, i’m alright.” and then he comes back with your favorite snacks and a stupid little trinket.

• a big lover of hugs from behind + adds little kisses on your neck and shoulders when he does.

• will not let you be the big spoon ever, im sorry mates.

• he always has to be the big spoon. i have a feeling he definitely likes feeling like the more masculine person in the relationship.

• but LOVES to lay his head in your lap and let you play with his hair.

• kisses your thighs sometimes when he does because he knows it gives you butterflies.

• leaves hickeys there where only he can see them.

• doesn’t mind pda, but doesn’t overdo it. when youre out he will hold your hand and put his arm around your waist, but isn’t one to kiss you in public unless it’s an appropriate moment.

• his go to nicknames for you are probably “darling” and “love”, he’s pretty simple.

• likes to be dominant in bed, but also doesn’t mind when you ride him and pull on his hair slightly.

• always sends you the stupid black cat and white cat memes, but they are so accurate.

• loves when you tag around with his friends. bonus points if you do content creation, he likes when you all film together.

• he jokes about loving arthur(tv) more than he loves you, so you joke about also loving arthur more than you love him! have to keep that shit even

• but at the end of all the jokes he knows he loves you more than anything and you appreciate him the same.

• probably a jealous boyfriend though, wont lie.

• not in like a “don’t ever look at her!” way, but in a “im gonna give you hickeys all over your neck to show you’re mine” kind of way 🤭.

• secretly a massive sweetheart though.

• if you ever come home wasted from a night out with friends, he will clean you up and help you get changed.

• “you take such good care of me😌” and he just starts laughing about how absolutely GONE you are.

• and in the morning when you’re suffering from a horrible hangover he will bring you water and little snacks while you rest!

• might not be the best cook, but will attempt to cook your favorite foods on little date nights.

• even if it goes terribly wrong, you still appreciate it nonetheless.

• falls under golden retriever category alongside chris and ginge of course!

• super super giddy when you get home from wherever and he just gets to spend the rest of the night with you.

• dare i say baby i’m yours - arctic monkeys cover is the song you listen to and think of him.

• the type of boyfriend to wake you up at 4am to go watch the sunrise from a hilltop or the beach.

• love’s spontaneous little adventures like that!

• definitely books little trips on short notice just to surprise you.

• always always up for an adventure. you two have definitely faced your fears together with activities like rock climbing, bungee jumping, etc.

• prefers to go out for dates rather than stay in, but loves to have a lazy night with you where you two watch films and have snacks.

• would be hesitant to raise a dog or cat with you due to the responsibility, so he’d settle for a lil fish.