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trendywaifus · 10 hours ago

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↳ you’re my violet in the sun! (part one!)

a/n: ngl if i were to truly make this a friends with benefits fic, it would of been a bit toxic and sad. two parts btw. ly all.

cw: gn! reader with a dick, virgin! reader, reader down bad asf, no established relationship, reader is a pubsec! officer, reader described to be taller and have pretty lips at some point but gn ofc, you’re such a honest loser and jane’s a sucker for it, confessions during sex, creampie, praise, worship, oral fixation, cum-eating, tail-job (lol), cursing, mind dumbfication, size kink, vaginal penetration, pussydrunk, blowjob

you walk through the bustling streets of lumina square, fresh off your shift with an aching body. fortunately, you shed your heavy equipment from your person after clocking out so you’re able to tread around easier. who would of thought that solving mundane cases like chasing after lost cats and calming down rowdy teenagers would make you drained today? since you had worked with your rookie squad partner, seth, it made things a little easier. since he was a cat thiren, he has a natural affinity with cats and is certainly proving himself to be a good addition to the criminal investigation response team. but, his character is a little too. .earnest for your liking. seth is a textbook good guy but you don’t like how he endangers himself sometimes. however, it was either him, qingyi, or the captain. zhu yuan doesn’t like messing with furry animals and isn’t exactly good at talking to teenagers. qingyi. .isn’t really good with teenagers or cats either for obvious reasons so there’s not much to say there.

with a heavy sigh, you walked through the crosswalk as the pedestrian signal light turns green. a nice cup of coffee should do it and then when you return home, you’ll make some dinner. you should have enough ingredients for alfredo after doing a grocery run recently. you’re deep in your thoughts as you walk with a small crowd of civilians who’s busy with their own plans. suddenly, a finger lightly taps you on your left shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. you crane your neck to glance over at that shoulder and left puzzled when you couldn’t find the person who did it.

“ haha, on your right~ “ the familiar saccharine voice snickers.

your stomach flutters as you turn your head to the source of the voice. you lock eyes with your colleague, jane. she gives you a playful smile, siren eyes crinkling. “ y-you play too much. .a normal hi would of sufficed. “ you groan, crossing your arms as she softly laughs besides you. she always sounds so pretty when she laughs. her voice pleasantly rings in your ears and you try your best to not let it linger on your mind. subconsciously hooking her left finger back with her coat strap, she steadily matches your walking speed.

“ sorry, sorry. i saw you walking down here after a important phone call. you seemed a little exhausted so i wanted to make you smile. i guess i should try a different method, huh sweetheart? “

sweetheart? your cheeks burn.

“ th-there’s no need, “ you start, fiddling with your belt to distract yourself from the butterflies jittering around in your tummy. “ i was going to get some coffee at coff’s cafe to help my exhaustion. um, thank you though, miss jane. “

you’re so polite and awkward, it’s adorable.

“ oh? “ you feel her interested gaze on you. “ you don’t mind me coming along, do you? i could use some caffeine right now because i’ve been pushing myself a little too hard lately. i feel like eating a energy bar right now wouldn’t give me the extra kick that i need. ”

you thought about it for a moment. although you’re quite shy around jane, you enjoy her company. you just need to swallow back your social anxiety and hold a decently long conversation with her. it’s quite hard though when she’s gorgeous. “ i don’t mind, miss jane. i. .would appreciate your company. “ you’d admit, sending the shorter woman a warm smile that came out too awkward for your liking. there’s a certain glimmer in her siren eyes as they slightly widen. her rodent ears lightly jitter before she reciprocates your smile back with a soft one.

“ . .alright, good. “

after a minute of walking, you stroll into coff’s caffe with jane at your side. you greet tin master with a small wave and ordered what you want. “ mochaccino, please. what about you, miss jane?”the rat thiren hums thoughtfully.

“ hm, a latte is fine. “

tin master enthusiastically collects your orders and fixes up your coffees.

“ so, “ the tin master begins as he swirls the cream on your mochaccino. “ are you two perhaps a couple now? it’s my first time seeing you two together. if so, you made the right choice, miss jane. they maybe a little shy and stiff but hopefully you can help get them out of their com—“

bashful, you abruptly cut him off, sputtering, “ n-no, tin, w-we’re just grabbing coffee today—not dating, just c-colleagues! “

“ . .oop! i’m sorry! l-let me just finish with your orders! forget what i said! “

jane blinks several times, glancing between you hiding your flustered face with your head tilted away from her and the tin master nervously humming away as he does the last finishing touches with her latte. such a comedic sight to see—it feels like she’s in a comedy romance movie. jane bursts into a fit of giggles, bringing a palm to her mouth as she does. “. . .hahaha! i will, i will. but, i do like to admit that they’re quite the cutie~”

“ j-janne. . “ you grumble, carefully taking your cup of coffee after the tin master slides yours and hers on the counter.

“ i’m just teasing you, (name). you don’t have to take everything i say to heart sometimes~ “ though, what she said was the truth. you’re very easy on the eyes.

jane gets her own cup and follows you over to the small tables. you sat down at a seat with a soft sigh. she sits down alongside you, and plucks a spoon from the small bin containing the silverware. jane curls her tail around her leg to keep it contained. a small moment of silence sinks in between you two and you anxiously think about what to say. maybe ask about the important phone call she mentioned about earlier? no, she’s a consultant, most of the information she receives is classified, even for you. perhaps her day? that’s a good general question to ask. you wonder why she’s been pushing herself lately.

“ so. .miss jane? “

“ hm? “ the light sound of metal hits your ears as she aimlessly stirs her coffee, dissipating tin master’s latte art. poor guy.

“ . .how was your day? you mentioned to me earlier about how you’ve been pushing yourself lately. by any chance, are you prepping for a big case? “

jane nods with a “mhm” before explaining, “ yeah, but i can’t really say anything given the severity of the case and i’m sure you’ll be brought to light about it soon enough. “

she sips on her latte. the relaxing, rich contents seeps down her throat, filling her body with a satisfying warmth.

you give her a puzzled expression. ‘brought to light about it?’ since jane works under pubsec and the criminal investigation response team as the specialist—perhaps captain zhu yuan assigned her to the case first before informing the rest of the team. you might be expecting another raid operation in the following days or so.

“ so, when are you leaving for it? are you going under a different alias this time? “

she shakes her head, chuckling, “ i’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. for this case, jane doe will do just fine. “

oh? so her actual fake name. you lift the cup to your lips, the creamy fluid explodes on your tongue. you’re unaware of jane’s keen gaze watching you. with a satisfied sigh, you place the cup back down. feeling the soft cream on your top lip, you stick out your tongue to lick away the residue. jane’s ears flutter with unknown intent, cyan eyes slightly narrowing. “ so, how was your day? anything interesting happened? “ she inquires, lazily propping a leg over the other, and rested her chin on her gloved palm.

you perk up nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “ well, not exactly. chasing pets and squashing teenager squabbles was really all i did. “ jane drums her finger against the wooden surface, silently identifying your awkward tendencies that makes her smile a little. rubbing your neck, fiddling around with your fingers, while having that small, sheepish smile on those pretty lips of yours, and you’re glancing around—you can barely look her in the eye. despite your size, you’re quite the adorable little officer.

“ oh, really? squashing teenage squabbles? i’m wondering how you’re able to do that when you can barely look at me while we talk. you don’t have to be nervous around me, i’m just here to give you company. i don’t bite. “ she teases light-heartedly, her carmine lips curling upwards more as you laugh awkwardly.

“ w-well, it’s just you’re. .”

“ i’m what? “ jane eggs on with an amused expression on her features. her tail unwraps from her leg and lowly sways.

“ you’re very. .beautiful so it’s hard for me to talk to you sometimes—“

“ pfft, hahaha! “ jane lets out an endearing laugh, nearly hunching over with a hand on her stomach.

“ d-don’t laugh, miss jane! i didn’t know what else to say—i was only being honest! “ you stammer, lips pursing into a thin line.

“ no, no, you’re fine, sweetheart. that’s what i like about you. i-i was just taken back by how cute you really are. i haven’t laugh like that in a while. “ jane wipes the tears from the corner of her eyes with a thumb. you decide to take a few more sips of your coffee, fighting back the dopey smile threatening to spread across your lips.

after an hour of talking, you long since finished your coffees. she’s so lovely. you only worked with her a few times in operations and had some occasional small talk during your patrols. this was the first time you sat down and had a long conversation with her. you learned about her taste in action movies, taste in music, and what she usually does on her days off. despite how quick she is on her feet, jane’s more of a laid-back person. you almost can’t believe that she likes to have lazy days where she snacks on energy bars? that’s unexpected but somehow fitting for her. it’s starting to get late but admittedly, you want to spend more time with her before she leaves for her case the next morning.

you stand outside of the cafe with jane, swallowing thickly as she wraps up her conversation with you so she can head back home and prepare for her next case. before she can bid you goodbye, you blurt out, “ actually. .i’m making alfredo tonight. do. . you want to come over and have some dinner with me, miss jane? i-itt’ll also be beneficial for you so you wake up with extra energy in the morning. . “ you offer awkwardly, shifting your weight on the opposite foot.

the fairly, sable haired woman merely stares at you with a quizzical look on her face for a short moment. you shift your weight on the other foot awkwardly. jane breaks out into a fond smile, her tail swishing slowly, mirroring her delight. “ i guess it wouldn’t hurt to join you, sweetheart. how far are you from here? “

you exhaled a quick puff of air in relief. “ at least twenty minutes away from here. i take the metro. “

“ interesting. .we could be in the same neighborhood because i take the metro and that’s the estimated time that it usually takes for me to come home from here. “

that really is interesting. how come you never see her if you and her are from the same neighborhood?

“ i’m usually out and about during evenings and throughout the nights so that might be why we don’t really see each other. “

ah.

you unlock the front door of your home and opened it for her. “ you first, miss jane. “ you smile politely at her and she smiles back. she brushes past you, the pointed end of her tail gingerly grazes under your chin as a silent, playful thank you. “ o-oh. . “ you murmur, easily flustered by her mischievous gesture and followed her inside, closing the door behind you then locking it. jane slips off her boots and steps inside your living room. she scopes out the decently large space with visible interest. it’s tidy and feels homey, not to mention, it smells just like you.

“ so, um, yeah this is my home. “ you force out a little shy laugh that she finds endearing. “ i’m going to go freshen up and change first before i cook anything. you can rest on the couch and listen to the radio, o-or watch tv while you wait. do you want me to give you some water before i go? “

jane slips off her bomber coat and sets it on the elbow of the couch she have decided to rest on. a black, sleeveless mock neck crop top that fits her and her style perfectly. that’s what she usually wears underneath? she’s looks so good in that. you hold yourself back from staring longer than you should. “ no, i’m okay. thanks. i’ll be right here when you come back~” she sing songs, plopping down on the sofa and stretches out her limbs. jane waves at you playfully and giggles when you scurry off to your bedroom.

“ sweet thing. .today may not be so tiresome after all.” she trails off, skimming a quick thumb over her polished red nails.

jane decides to turn on the portable radio that’s settled on the coffee table in front of her. carefully, she adjusts the notch, glossing over channels until the one that suits her taste pops up. a slow r&b song that she often hears from time to time fills the quiet atmosphere of the living room. exhaling, she leans back against the head of the couch and checks her phone for any new dms and calls. she sighs with relief when she discovers none and rests her device on the rounded table. it took a little over thirty minutes before you come back out—in a tank top and sweatpants. jane always wondered what you’d look like outside of your uniform and she is not disappointed by the sight in front of her. how could you look so good while being such a socially awkward sweetheart? there are many interesting characters within pubsec but it’s still surprising that you’re one of them and a good one at that. her primal thiren instincts softly kicks in the longer her stare lingers on your form.

“ sorry that i kept you waiting, let me go make the food. “

“ or better yet, “ jane purrs, admiring you from head to toe with an inviting gaze that makes you shiver. “ come here. let’s talk some more. ” she pats a spot next to her. you gulp and made your way over to the long sofa where she resides at. the fresh scent of you pass through her nostrils as you sat down next to her stirs something from within her. yet, jane tries to ignore the growing sense of yearn that’s slowly chipping away at her self control. there’s that nervous glint in your (e/c) eyes that almost makes you look innocent.

“ miss jane— “

“ just jane, sweetheart. you’re making me feel old when you say it so sweetly like that. we’re just about the same age. “ the rat thiren corrects through a soft, half whisper and chuckle, running a steady hand down your arm and squeezed your biceps. you slowly bob your head, subconsciously running your tongue across your lips. jane’s gaze follows the movement of your kissable lips before flickering back up at your eyes. “ jane, um, so what is there you wanted to talk about? “ you inquired gently, cheeks hot and so is the blood coursing through your veins. she doesn’t think she can hold herself back—not when her thiren senses is beginning to act up like this.

her rat ears flutter, not once, but twice.

“ have you. .ever been with anyone like this before, sweetheart? “

your gaze shifts off to the side.

“ no, eyes back over here. look at me. “ she holds your jaw with her gloved palm and maneuver your head back to her. a helpless noise vibrates in your chest as her siren eyes bleeds into yours.

“ i. . no. “ you muttered, ashamed.

jane releases your jaw to caress your cheek, “ that’s okay. there’s no need to be ashamed about it. do you trust me? “ she asks in a hushed tone, closing the proximity between you and her until the intoxicating scent of her perfume wafts strongly against your nose and you can feel her calm breath against your lips. her thumb massages your cheekbone in a tender manner while she waits for an answer. you swallow, gathering the courage to say one word that’s threatening to spill from your tongue.

“ y-yeah—“

soft lips press against yours in a quick kiss, gladly consuming the surprised sound rumbling in your throat. jane shifts forward, her free hand plants itself on your shoulder and gently push your upper body downward until your back hits the cushions. she hovers on top of you, situating herself between your legs. one of your legs is hanging off the long sofa while the other is bent on it. her fingers skim down to your jaw and slowly traced the outline of it. your heart is beating fast against your rib cage, pumping blood lower and lower to the specific part of your body that exposes your excitement.

“ ah? “ jane momentarily pulls back to eye the tight outline of the growing bulge hardening in your sweat pants. she’s only seeing the preview and she can already tell that you’re big. you’re full of surprises aren’t you? excitement flows her veins like an injection of anti-corruption serum. she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth with profound anticipation. “ . . .j-jane, you’re staring. .”you pointed out shyly, tentatively placing your hands on her waist. a nonchalant hum simmers in her chest.

“ am i baby? sorry, it’s hard not to when you’re under me like this. “ jane simpers, dipping down to lay sweet kisses on your cheek before targeting your lips again. unlike last time, it’s a firm press which is nearly not enough to signify her want for you. but because you’re obviously inexperienced, she want to take it slow with you. you nervously apply pressure to her sweet lips, faintly tasting the cherry balm and latte she consumed earlier with you. your hands lack confidence as they run down her sides.

“ don’t be nervous. touch me more, i’m all yours for tonight. “ and maybe for many nights more. she takes one of your hands and guides it to her right breast. with the help of her delicate guidance, you gently squeezed her through her black, mock neck crop top. the plump flesh feels tender and pliable even through the silk fabric. a pleased hum leaves her. jane’s pillowy lips smoothly slot between yours by the slight tilt of her head. your head becomes light-headed as the slow, dizzying kiss lasts longer and longer. the hand that was once over yours drops and slips under your tank top. your body slightly arches into her warm palm as it explores the plane of your belly.

your mouth parts and so does hers, following after your lead. “ j-jane, “ you murmur in between quivering breathes and soft open-mouthed kisses to your lips. a mhmm?, rasps in her throat. the aforementioned woman’s hand edges near the waistband of your sweats.

“ th-this is my first time. . “ you mutter breathily as if to remind her.

jane slowly pulls away, half-lidded teal eyes softening once they pool into yours. “ . .i. .know, “ then she reels herself back from her carnal desires for a moment to rationalize. was she really intending on taking your first time when she’s not even in a romantic relationship with you? you don’t even know much about her or her true name. did she seriously allow herself to give in at the heat of the moment? didn’t you originally invite her over to eat dinner with you? your first time should be with someone you wholeheartedly know and love. you deserve a genuine experience with someone who’s just as genuine as you are. it shouldn’t be her. she belongs in the shadows, not in the soft light of your eyes. she shoves back her growing feelings for you before things get more complicated than they are now.

jane sighs almost dejectedly, straightening up her back. you hold onto her waist. she’s vague as she apologizes. “. . let’s stop. i’m sorry, i should of known better than to do this when you’ve only invited me over as your guest to eat. . let go, i’ll take my leave. “

your eyes widen with confusion and hurt.

“ j-jane, no. please don’t apologize and go, i want this too. “

her turquoise hues study the expression on your face; you look like a sad, kicked puppy. damn, it’s making her not want to go. she doesn’t want to leave you alone like this and prefers it when you’re happy with that crooked smile on your face. things really are starting to get more complicated now.

“ you should want this, “ she chuckles bitterly, ears subtly flattened, “ but not with me, sweetheart. come on, let me go—hm! “

you take jane by surprise by firmly pulling her down by the forearm and she lands on-top of you. you place your hand on the back of her head and pulled her into a clumsy, open-mouthed kiss. teeth clash as you kissed her. your other hand clamps down on the small of her back. you arch your body into her, grinding the ache that’s straining your sweats up against her.

her breath audibly hitches. “ i want you, i never wanted anyone more in my life, “ you confessed, splaying hasty, wet kisses against the corner of her lips, down to her chin and sharp jaw. “ please don’t leave me. “ you beg, voice thin yet filled with honest passion.

jane’s tail replies before she herself does; the thick appendage softly thumping against the firm cushion. her chest bloom with profound infatuation as her heart starts to bleed with warmth. it wouldn’t hurt to escape the underlying loneliness of her disingenuous lifestyle for just one night with you—it wouldn’t hurt to bask in the pleasure of feeling genuinely loved and sought after.

“ i. .won’t. are you sure about this though, baby?” she checks, her nose brushing against the plush flesh of your cheek.

“ y-yes, yes—so please, “ you grasp one of her hands and moved it downward until she’s touching your throbbing cock. you babble, “ touch me, fuck me, i’ll do whatever you want just—“

“ alright, alright. slow down, “ jane chuckles at the needy tone clinging to your strained voice. she applies weight to her palm, rubbing you in broad strokes. you slip out a drawn-out soft moan that cements the infatuated woman’s desire to stay. “ i’ll stay. “ she finishes in a tender whisper. thrilled by her change of decision, you press your lips against hers, again and again and again until her rosy lipstick has faded.

finally, she returns upright again—her hungry gaze striking down on you. “ you really are something else.” jane notes playfully, pulling off her fitted, sleeveless top from over her head. your eyes grow cutely wide as her generous, supple mounds spill and sit prettily on her chest. bright pink, perky nipples gleaming like gems under the soft lights of the living room. her milky skin looks so soft and pristine. your fingers twitch, itching to touch her. she tilts her head, fang-like strands hovering her eyes as she sends you a roguish smile. “ go on. “ she encourages, once again having to take your eager hand and place it on her bare right breast. just as you expected, soft and pliable like clay. when you squeeze, it slightly spills between your fingers like a stress ball. jane draws out a breathy groan and bites at her lip.

sticky pre-cum stains through the cotton fabric of your boxers and sweats. you feel so swollen, it’s starting to hurt.

whining, you retract your hand away, taking quick puffs of air as your frantic fingers pull at the waistband of your bottoms and hurriedly tugged them down to your thighs. your leaking length springs out, nice and tall, surprising jane. you sigh of relief from freedom. the baffled expression on the rat thiren’s face makes you regret giving into your impulse.

“ m’sorry jane, i-it was starting to get uncomfortable. .” you whimpered out, fighting the urge to stroke yourself right in front of her to relieve the ache. she recovers, teal eyes softening apologetically with a twinge of amusement.

“ my poor baby, “ she coos in a smooth drawl, slipping off her gloves and tosses them onto the table. “ ‘should’ve told me so, i would’ve helped you relieved it sooner. now, relax for me. “

jane transitions downward until she’s face to face with your needy cock. she encircles her hand around you, starting the momentum off slow and aimed. “ . .you’re bigger than i thought. “ she mutters under her breath, noting how she can barely fit one hand around you. her hand size is above average than a typical rat thiren.

you try to suppress the small groans as jane pumps you—all the way to the base and back up to your leaking tip. her thumb swipes over the rivulet of pre-cum and skillfully uses it as lube. “ hang in there, sweet thing~ “ she purrs, her sultry voice sweet like candy and smooth like butter, “ i’ll take care of you.”she plants a saccharine kiss against your cockhead. her tongue slips through parted lips and leaves a longg wet stripe up your shaft. your toes curl with trickling pleasure while she butters you up with her elongated tongue. once your cock meets the inside of her hot, humid mouth, you become a whimpering mess.

“ ‘so warm, so good. . “ you moaned, smoothening your face with a shaky hand. her gaze is focused on you, filled with amusement and lust as she sucks at your cockhead and twirls against it with her skillful tongue. she slowly sinks down, taking in heavy inches of your shaft. even when she’s relaxing her jaw, you’re heavy just enough that it’s tensing. a guttural noise bubbles in her chest when the thick head of your cock stretches down the opening of her throat. she deems it enough and moves back up to the top, leaving behind a sheet of her slick saliva. “ f-fuckk. .i. . “ you cursed, propping a forearm over your eyes.

her brows raises with mirth. she managed to get you to curse like that already, huh?

jane does it all over and over again—until you’re completely drunk off her mouth. the slick noises escaping her stuffed mouth while she pleases you sounds so vulgarly satisfying, it’s teetering you closer to sweet release. when she sucks hard at a particular sensitive vein, your hips judder and you utter out a loud, strained whine. “ imightcumimightcum, “ you repeated like a desperate prayer, sucking in quick breaths of air to battle the rapid rise and fall of your chest. the hand that’s not busy stroking what she can’t reach, massages your trembling thigh.

jane ascends to the tip and spoils it with attention with her slick tongue. she flicks at it and drags the thick ball of her tongue along the puffy slit in tight, circular rotations. your cock twitches erratically as you cried, “ c-cumming! “ billowy spurts of cum shoots into her mouth without warning. a stunned noise vibrates in her chest as she struggles to swallow rope after rope of velvety cum. you let out a cacophony of broken cries, rickety hips leaning up into her mouth.

“ pl-please tell me i’m not dreaminggg, “ you slurred, staring up at the ceiling with blurry vision while trying to catch your breath. jane swallows the rest of your load, the slightly salty and bitter taste of your cum marinating in her mouth. she laps up the remainder of your cum with her tongue. by now, her neglected heat is dripping and her panties soaked.

pop!

the rat thiren titters as she pulls away temporarily to undress herself, “ maybe you are, maybe you’re not~ i’ll leave it up to you to figure that out, baby. “

it takes her a minute to undo her black, fitted shorts and the straps to her ripped stockings. you hear her sigh and mutter under her breath, mostly complaining about how inconvenient it is to take off her stockings without ripping them more. your droopy gaze shift away from the ceiling and onto jane who’s now completely naked. your mouth goes dry as you admire her breathtaking figure. she herself looks like a dream you’re lucky to witness—to touch with your own hands. then, your eyes fall to her pussy that’s practically dripping. her transluscent essence trickles down her inner thighs and your mouth almost instantly salivates.

“ j-jane, you’re. .”

and she gives you a knowing smirk, knowing exactly what you’re referring to by the direction of your entranced gaze. her hand travels down to her soaked pussy and with two fingers, she skims them across her folds, smearing her juices. “ all of this is because of you, sweetheart. here, “ she brings the two slick-coated digits to your lips and they part open immediately. “ have a taste. “

your eyes flutter at the addicting taste, a slutty moan releases from the base of your throat. your slimy tongue hungrily licks at jane’s fingers, lapping up the left-over juices. jane finds herself enjoying how needy you are for her—just like a desperate puppy. drool rolls down the right crevice of your lips once the saliva overflows. “ w-wan. .more. .” you groaned after jane removes her digits from your mouth. the thread of spit thins out and dissipates.

“ oh, you do? “ she queries, the modulation of her voice is meant to almost be mocking, feigning ignorance. you bob your head frantically.

“ f-fuck yes. pl–please baby, sit on my face. i-i promise i’ll make you feel good! “ you’d beg hoarsely, your mind is practically hanging onto a thread.

licking her faded peach lips, jane’s cobalt eyes crinkles. “ you already are, no need to promise. but since you’re giving me those puppy eyes, i can’t say no, huh? “

it only took a moment for jane to adjust her whole body and hover her sopping pussy over your face. her thick thighs sunk into the cushion on both sides of your head. you feel yourself growing hard again as you hungrily eye her pink, dewy folds and engorged clit. “ tap me when you need to, got it? i can’t guarantee that i’ll get up though. .just kidding~ “ your colleague teases and you wish that she wasn’t.

after nodding your head, she carefully sits down on your face. the strong, heady scent of her has your mind gladly slipping off the singular thread. you get straight to eating without prior experience, your hands envelop around the plush fat of her thighs. you run your greedy tongue up and down her messy pussy, coating her essence all over your tastebuds. she tastes so heavenly. jane rasps out a moan before biting her lip. “ mm, move your tongue a little lower—yeahh, focus right there, baby. “

you focus your attention on her sopping hole, lapping and slurping up her syrupy juices. smushing your face further into her cunt, your nose graze her pulsating clit. her blessed hips rock back and forth on your tongue, chasing the ever-growing pleasure that’s clouding her rational thought. you drag a sloppy strip back up her folds to suck on her neglected clit. “ haha, you’re a natural. .” jane lets out a strained laugh, kneading her left breast. she rolls her hardened bud between her index and middle finger.

sluurrp! sluuuurp!

you’re soo pussydrunk, nestling your face into her delicious heat, making a mess of yourself. through heavy breathing, you whimpered out, “ i-i’m so in lovee. .” while digging your nails into tender skin.

“ oh y-yeah? “ she smiles roguishly, teeth baring as a sense of pride flows into her. the pointed end of her tail trails down your abdomen and to your groin. it meets with your fresh boner and you melt. she wraps the thin ends of her tail around your cock and slowly strokes you. a sharp gasp retracts from your swollen lips. “ j-janeeee. . “ you utter out, buckling your hips to her strokes. her fingers thread into your hair, curling around (h/c) strands.

she tugs, urging you to continue. “ aht, no. keep using that gifted mouth of yours. “

through quick, quivering breaths, you gloss your tongue all over her cunt, swerving your head side to side. your nose brush against slick, black hairs as you suck on her clit once more. her thighs tremor from each hard suck of her nub. her back arches, head thrown backwards as you stimulate her to the edge. “ d-damn, i-i needed this, baby. . “ jane moans out, pressing her thighs harder against your head. you’re starting to feel light-headed from the limited room of oxygen and the heat of her skin. yet, you still devour her pussy without a care in the world.

“ just like thatt, mmmh, hah. .haha, “ she exerts out a raspy laugh at the obnoxiously loud slurping noises you’re producing from between her legs. “ just like a thirsty puppy th-that’s having its fill. .”

jane rides your face while also fastening the pace of her tail around your cock. beads of sweat roll down her furrowed brow, beautiful features crunching together as the urge to climax accumulates in her body. without a second thought or a thought lack there of, you push your tongue into her sensitive, sopping hole and she squeaks. jane grabs the elbow of the couch for support as she hunches forward, digging her teeth into the tender flesh of her bottom, plump lip.

your tongue swirls inside before thrusting along her gummy walls. she’s close. she’s so so close. despite her hips stuttering, she rolls her hips sloppily. “ ugh, g-gonna cum, take it all for me, yeah? i-it’s only fair after all. “

you grip her thighs tighter, holding her down as a response. with one last prolonged moan and the tight press of her thighs, she cums. globs of thick, syrupy essence pour down on your eager tongue. a throaty whine crawls out of your throat, sending sweet vibration through jane. “ i-i think i might be dreaming too. .” slightly light-headed, she jokes breathily, taking in soft gulps of air. by now, her tail is already unwrapped around you and swaying slowly in the air. you’re still slurping away, cleaning up the candied mess between her thighs.

after jane catches her breath, she slowly removes herself from your face to witness the mess she’s made. the lower half of your face is covered in her cum. there’s something that ignites a candle within her as she eyes that drunken expression you currently have. “ what a mess eater. .my messy eater.” she mutters possessively, positioning herself on top of your body. her fingers softly curl around the left side of your neck while she leans in and laps up her own fluids from your face withy filthy intent. her long, warm tongue wetly swipes up your chin and stops right below your hot cheek.

chuuu.

she plants a damp kiss on your cheek. “ kiss mee. .” you’d slur, slightly turning your head to her, chasing for her sultry lips. jane chuckles, giving you what you want without teasing. your head angles to deepen the kiss and moaned from the bittersweet taste of her cum and your own on her tongue. your hand finds a spot on her bare back and slowly skims down the gentle slope of it. “. . i want you to stay here tonight. “ you mutter against her lips and kissed her again.

“. . .you know i can’t. don’t tell me you’ve forgotten and we haven’t even finished yet. “ she mutters back, stifling back a frown at the thought of having to leave you in an hour or two to prepare herself for the undercover mountain lion gang infiltration in several hours.

“ i-i haven’t. .i just. .— “

“ don’t worry, “ jane interjects, “ i’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough. but. . “ just not like this goes unspoken.

“ b-but what? “

“ let’s make the most of the time we have now, sweetheart. come on, both legs on the couch. “ she instructs gently, and you do so, propping the leg that was once hanging off the bed on the couch. her hand skins down your collarbone before she moves away to align herself with your thick length. she throws you a easy smirk, “ watch closely now. “

squeeelch.

jane slowly sinks down on your cock, her face twisted into a concentrated expression. you watch with lovesick eyes as her pussy greedily swallows all hefty inches of you, bottoming you out. “ oh my god. .” you’d whimper, feeling everything raw —from the heat of her insides, the fluttering of her slick walls, your cockhead brushing against a tender spot. “ i can’t believe th-this is happening. . “

you’re so big. even as a rat thiren who has an impressive ability to adapt to nearly anything, she’s struggling to adjust to your sheer girth and size. you’re stretching her out in every which way. but, she can’t help the thrill rushing into her veins like a dopamine rush. “ i’ll h-have to admit, i can’t believe this is happening either, “ she dips her chest against yours. her weight on top of your body makes you trip over your desperation all over again. her long tail slithers out to the radio and carefully turns it up a few notches. the music plays noticeably louder in the background.

“ but l-like i said, we’ll make the most out of it—of my stay that is. . “ jane finished, gyrating her hips on your eager length. she has stuck you in place with tight circles, leaving you utterly breathless. you throw an arm around her midsection, pressing her more against you to leave no space behind. all you want to feel is her bare skin sliding over yours like the perfect puzzle piece. her sweet, breathy moans fan against your left perky ear. your unsteady hips pump up into her and she’s nearly gasping for air. “ i-i wanna know more about you. .” you begin, kissing at her pierced, rodent ear.

‘can’t quit you, you’re like drugs.

“ i w-want to hold you close just like this whenever i get the chance too. “ you continue, and moaned in sync with the woman of your dreams as you clumsily thrust into her ruined pussy. her hands grip your shoulders, velvet nails digging into your skin to withstand the immense pleasure. your tongue trace the cool metal of one of jane’s ear piercings, her ear twitches. “ i often wonder about your name. i-is it just as memorizing as you are? hngh. . “ you almost choke on your own spit over the firm squeezing of her gummy walls.

‘swear I tried to clean up.

“ wh-where. .hah. .is all of this coming from? “ jane finally asks amongst her trust issues, confusion, and well-hidden doubt. frothy cream pools from her sloshing pussy, causing a ring to form around your member.

‘too much shared between us.

“ . . i-i don’t know but i just don’t w-want to leave you alone. “ you confessed honestly, the three words not developed on your tongue just yet. your other arm wraps around her body, hugging her fully as your rutting hips piston into the fat of her ass. her heart skips one of many beats. the filthy sounds of plap! plap! plap! resonates loudly in your ears. you turn your head, the tip of your nose grazes her flush, milky cheek as you find her lips. jane also turns her head to meet you in a passionate kiss full of tongue and teeth. hot breaths mingle as the desperation between you twists and turns into a endless spiral.

she holds your jaw in place, firmly pressing the pads of her fingers into your jawline. you twitch erratically inside of her, yet you still continue to fuck into her. even when you shoot globs of cum inside of her, you still keep going; not wanting to stop.

‘saved my soul like jesus!

you desperately suck on her tongue, ignoring the exhaustion of your burning thighs one last time and snapped your stuttering hips up off the cushion. jane produces a strangled moan as your fat cockhead smack against her g-spot, emptying yourself into her more. suddenly, jane pull away from the kiss to bury her face into the crook of your neck. thick fluids seep out of the cracks of her stretched hole while her tail is stiffened, signaling her quiet release. she breathes heavily into your neck and you hold her tight in your arms, coming off from your high. the long, faded red piece of her hair runs past your fingers as you comb through them shakily.

you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking, “ i. .i know we’ve done these operations multiple times now but. .please be safe since you’ve mentioned about this case being severe. hopefully captain calls the squad up for a special meeting about this case soon. “

it takes a prolonged moment for her to respond. she drags a finger along your collarbone. jane feels vulnerable, stripped away from her armor and the only thing she has now is her true feelings—its raw and indescribable. oddly enough, the way you’re holding her close feels like a blanket around her; she feels warmth. “ . . if i knew you were this much of a sweet talker, i wouldn’t have come here for ‘dinner.’ ”jane finally whispers against your skin playfully.

“ what d-does that suppose to be mean? “

she giggles at your flustered voice. “ think about it. but i was only kidding though, sweetheart. “

jane removes her face from your neck to gaze at you with her lidded eyes. her thumb gently brush across your bottom lip as she stares into your eyes, as if to decipher anything that’s hidden behind the colored shades of them. the sharp edges of her gaze softens when she finds nothing but raw devotion. “ you’ll stay for a little longer right? “ you ask hopefully in a weak voice and she sighs before resting her forehead against yours.

“ mhm. it’s not like i can move anyways when you’re holding me tight like this and while you’re. .”

she alludes to you still being inside of her, cockwarming her. your face visibly grows shy and jane laughs. she leans in to kiss you, slow and brief. “ aht aht, don’t be shy, take responsibility~ “ jane purrs, tapping your cheek affectionately.

“ u-umm, i will! i-i promise that i’ll take care of you and our baby and—“

flabbergasted by your misunderstanding, jane was quick to correct you, “ woah, woah. that’s not what i meant. what’s going on in that mind of yours, baby? did i get you dumb just like that? “

it’s cute that you’re willing to take responsibility of that role though.

“ o-oh! sorry, sorry. m-my brain is still in a daze right now. .“

“ figured~ “

you pout and she kisses it right off. after a few long moments of music and silence, the question that’s been floating around in your head now sits on the tip of your tongue.

“ jane? “

she hums, caressing your warm cheek with her thumb as a slow jazz song plays in both of your ears.

“ what are we now? “

her thumb stops, ears subtly flattening, and her gaze shifts somewhere else.

recognizing that look, your heart plummets.

#jane doe x reader #jane doe smut #jane doe x reader zzz #zzz smut #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader

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jun1perf1nch17 · 2 days ago

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Shadows and Silk

Chapter one: First Impressions

Sevika x (F) Reader

Summary: You a new prostitute at Babette's brothel meets the regular Sevika a harden criminal with a dark history. Despite her past and her reputation of being cold and closed off, behind closed doors she shows you a different kind of woman. Throughout your time together your purely transactional relationship grows into one of love and affection. How will the both of you handle a relationship and the uprising of a revolution against Piltover, will she drag you down with the revolution or will you both flourish in the chaos.

Warnings: 18+ Sex work, Mentions of Sex

Word Count: 2377

A/N: This is my first time writing fan fiction like ever! So let me know what y'all think of it. Hopefully y'all are in love with Sevika as much as I am. Also I'm gonna try and update every week if not every other week.

MEN and MINORS DNI

I stand before Babette's brothel, the neon lights adorning the front of it paint my face in a kaleidoscope of vivid colors.

Just days ago, I was living in a small town seven hours outside of Zaun, working in a brothel not much different than Babette's. Life was manageable, steady, even. I had earned enough to scrape by, and I even had regulars I’d grown comfortable with. But everything changed when the town's governing council launched an effort to crack down on prostitution. It turns out a lot of the men on the board had gotten caught with prostitutes in other brothels across town, and it seems like their wives did not like that too much. One by one, brothels across town were raided and shut down. The Red Garter, my little corner of solitude, was no exception. And so, here I am, standing in front of Babette's.

Even after over three years in this industry, the anxiety of a new job still clings to me like a second skin. I inhale deeply, willing my nerves to settle and step toward the door. As I push it open, a small bell chimes overhead, announcing my arrival. It was earlier in the afternoon so the place was almost barren of any clients. The clients that were there were sitting with some of the girls in their rooms, and looked like they were chatting away about whatever was on their minds at the time.

Walking down the dimly lit hallway past the rooms where I could assume the workers were housed, I made my way toward the back of the establishment. If I had to guess, the office was back there. Sure enough, I soon came across a curved door with a sign hanging on it that read Employees Only. I knocked lightly, and a muffled “Come in” echoed from within.

Pushing the door open, I stepped into a small, cluttered office. Behind the desk sat a short yordle woman, her large ears twitching slightly as she scribbled something onto a piece of paper. The desk was a chaotic mess, papers were scattered everywhere, as though she’d been juggling a dozen tasks at once.

“Are you (Y/N)?” she asked, her soft eyes meeting mine.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

She let out a soft hmmph at my reply, leaning back in her chair.

“I was reviewing the application you sent in. Quite the resume you’ve got there. Most people who apply here are on their last legs, desperate and out of options.”

I offered a small shrug. “Well, being a prostitute wasn’t exactly my dream job either, but I’ve come to enjoy the work.”

Her lips curled into a knowing smile, her expression one of quiet approval. “Good attitude,” she said, her tone firm yet warm. “You’ve been around the block, and it seems like you’ll fit in just fine here. I trust you already know the ins and outs of this line of work, so let’s cut to the chase. Do you want the job?”

Relief flooded through me, a weight lifted off my shoulders at the stress of not finding a job. My face lit up, unable to hide the joy surging through me. “Yes ma’am I would love to take the job”

“Perfect! Let me give you the rundown on how things work around here and a few warnings about Zaun, especially since you’re new to the area,” she began, her tone brisk but not unkind. “First things first, most of the clients you’ll see are thugs, criminals, drunks, you name it. Be smart about who you let into your room. You’re your own company here, so you have full control. You can accept or deny whoever you want.”

I nodded along attentively, letting her know I was listening. Encouraged, she continued, “Now, you’ll be staying here at the brothel unless you’ve got another place to live, which I’m guessing you don’t?” She paused, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to respond.

“No, ma’am, I don’t,” I confirmed.

“Perfect!” she said with a cheerful clap of her hands. “In that case, let me show you to your new room.”

Sliding off her chair, she stood, and I couldn’t help but blink in surprise as she stepped down, revealing her full height or lack thereof. She barely came up to my knees. How does someone so tiny manage to run a place like this, let alone in a city as dangerous as Zaun? I wondered. Before I could linger on the thought, she gave a gentle push to the small of my back, nudging me toward the door.

We walked back down the hallway, her pace brisk despite her stature. As we passed one of the rooms, I noticed its curtains were drawn tightly shut, but faint, Wanton moans escaped through the velvet fabric. My cheeks warmed as my mind wandered, imagining the scene unfolding behind the heavy drapes.

Just a few feet beyond the occupied room, she stopped in front of another doorway, drawing aside the curtains with a dramatic flourish. “Here it is, your new home!”

I stepped inside and took in the space. The centerpiece of the room was a circular bed set against the back wall, dressed in blush pink sheets and bedding. To the right, was a matching pink velvet couch to add a touch of comfort, and on the left, an antique wooden dresser stood ready to hold my belongings. The room exuded a strange mix of elegance and whimsy, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Zaun.

As I walked further in, something on the bed caught my eye, a mask. Curious, I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. The mask was intricately crafted to resemble an albino deer. The ears had a soft blush of pink on the inside, with tufts of delicate fur peeking out. The snout extended downward, the pale pink nose blending harmoniously into the design. It was hauntingly realistic, each detail painstakingly precise.

Whoever made this must be an amazing artist, I thought, running my fingers over the smooth surface. It’s almost unsettling how lifelike it looks. Awe washed over me as I continued to inspect the mask.

Babette must have noticed me inspecting the mask because she spoke up. “Everyone must wear a mask at all times when they’re with a client. It’s purely for your safety, nothing more. We wouldn’t want anyone recognizing you in public and causing you trouble, now would we?”

“No, ma’am,” I agreed, carefully placing the mask back on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Now,” she continued, “why don’t I show you the bathing quarters?”

I followed her out of the room and down the hallway to the far end, where she stopped at a stairway concealed by heavy curtains. With a dramatic sweep, she pulled the curtains aside and gestured for me to go first. I climbed the stairs and found myself in a stunning bathroom. At the back of the room, a wall of frosted windows let in soft, diffused light, illuminating a massive circular bathtub. The windowsills near the tub were lined with a wide variety of soaps and lotions, presumably for the employees’ use. To the left of the tub, several vanities were arranged along the wall, some cluttered with makeup and perfumes, others nearly bare. On the right, a row of doors likely concealed toilets.

“This is where you’ll bathe while you stay here,” Babette explained. “The soaps are yours to use, but feel free to bring your own if you prefer.” I hummed softly in acknowledgment. “And one rule about the bathrooms: no clients are allowed up here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied with a nod.

She led me to the left side of the room, where she pointed out my designated vanity and sink. Each vanity was marked with a colored ribbon to identify its owner, mine had a pink ribbon tied neatly around the top, matching the soft blush tones of my room.

We lingered in the bathroom for a while as she explained more about the expectations during my stay. I was required to pay Babette 400 Notes at the end of each week. She advised me to keep my prices high enough to maintain value but not so high that it discouraged clients. Most of the girls charged 100 Notes per hour, she added.

After discussing the job and getting to know each other better, Babette finally led me back downstairs.

As we descended the stairs, Babette led me back toward my room. Before I could reach the door, I collided with something solid, something that felt like a brick wall. I stumbled backward, only for Babette to catch me by the waist, stopping me from falling onto her.

“Watch it!” the brick wall barked.

I looked up, startled, and found myself face-to-face with a woman towering at least 6’5”. She was massive. Her shoulders were broad like a linebacker’s, and her muscular arms looked strong enough to crush a skull. As I gave her a quick once-over, I realized she was shamelessly doing the same to me. Her intense gaze sent a shiver down my spine. Without a word, she huffed, brushed past me, and strode toward the front door.

I turned to watch her leave, but my eyes flicked toward the room she had just exited, the previously closed-off one. Inside, I saw a woman sprawled on the bed, fully nude and visibly panting. “Looks like she had a good time,” I whispered to Babette, half-teasing.

But when I glanced at Babette, her expression wasn’t amused. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes clouded with concern. She grabbed my hand and gently pulled me closer, speaking in a low, urgent tone.

“Listen, you need to be careful with that one. Her name’s Sevika, Silco’s right-hand man. She’s known for pushing the girls to their limits. Some can’t handle it and end up out of work for days. A lot of them refuse to work with her anymore.” Babette paused, watching my reaction before continuing. “If you decide to take her on, that’s your choice. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I nodded, trying to sound nonchalant. “Well, we’ll see if she even wants me first,” I said with a teasing smirk.

Babette narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and continued down the hall toward my room. Pulling back the curtain, she gestured for me to enter.

Breaking the silence, she said, “Now that you’re caught up on everything, here are your keys, one for your bedroom and one for the bathroom. I figure you’ll want to head out for clothes and essentials. Just make sure you’re safe if you leave.”

With that, she turned to go.

“Bye,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Once Babette leaves, I turn to face my room. I walk over to the bed and let myself fall face-first into the pillows, savoring the softness after the long, exhausting day of moving in. For a moment, I just lie there, letting the quiet envelop me. But reality soon hits, I don’t have anything to wear, for work or otherwise. With a groan, I push myself up and off the bed, reluctantly grabbing my purse before heading toward the front door.

Since I’m still unfamiliar with the area, I decided to stick close to the brothel. Luckily, I found a thrift shop and a small lingerie store nearby. At the thrift shop, I pick out some basics: a couple of pairs of jeans, denim shorts, tank tops, and crop tops. I also grab a few trendier, club-worthy outfits for nights out. The lingerie shop offers more elegant options, and I settle on a simple pink set to match my room and a sultry black one-piece that oozes confidence.

By the time I finish shopping, the night is alive. The city streets are filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of people enjoying themselves. As I make my way back to the brothel, something catches my eye, a bar called The Last Drop. Through the windows, I spot her, the towering woman I ran into earlier. She’s seated at a round table near the back of the bar, surrounded by men who seem engrossed in a card game. Judging by their scowling faces, they’re not winning.

She’s got a cigar hanging loosely from her mouth, its ember glowing faintly as she exhales smoke without even bothering to remove it. There’s an air of effortless dominance about her that’s hard to ignore. My eyes linger on her, tracing the sharp lines of her jaw and the way she seems to command the room without saying a word. Suddenly, as if sensing my gaze, she turns and locks eyes with me.

My heart skips a beat, and heat rushes to my cheeks as I quickly look away, embarrassed at being caught staring. I hurry past the bar, my steps quickening until I’m out of sight.

When I finally reach the brothel, the exterior is abuzz with activity. Men linger by the walls, cigarettes glowing between their fingers as they laugh and chat. A few toss lewd comments my way as I walk past, but I keep my head down and ignore them, focusing on getting inside.

Back in my room, I pull the curtains closed behind me, tying them off to block out the outside world, then lock the door. I begin unpacking my purchases, folding each piece carefully and tucking it away into the dresser. As I work, I can’t shake the thought of Sevika. Despite our only interaction being that brief, accidental collision, she lingers in my mind. There’s something magnetic about her, a mix of strength, mystery, and danger that both intrigues and unsettles me. Babette’s warning echoes in my head, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering what it would be like to have a moment alone with her.

The rest of the night passes quietly. I finish unpacking and change into my PJs. I curl into my pink sheets, letting the softness lull me into relaxation. Yet, as I drift off to sleep, my mind inevitably wanders back to the tall, imposing woman.

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yall-batman-fanfic · 3 days ago

Text

Damian’s Pets | Damian Wayne/Robin & Reader!Magician [Fluff]

Synopsis: every time Damian comes home with a pet he must face a panel that proves how he’ll take care of the animal without making Alfred or anyone else do it. Everything seems to go well until he comes home with a demon.

There was a cow in the Batcave.

Normally Vivian would be used to the many things that Bruce would bring home to the cave from his previous cases, such as the giant penny or the dinosaur. An orphan he picked up in the alley.

A cow was the last thing on her list.

“This is probably some sort of hallucination caused by my three-day-straight all-nighters,” Vivian massaged the bridge of her nose.

“It's not,” said Batman.

“Can I ask how did you even get the cow in the Batmobile — I don't recall the tank having that much space capacity.”

“Don't,” Batman told her. “You know the drill.”

Vivian sighed and walked up to Damian with her husband at her side. When Damian saw the shadow of his parents, he stood his ground with his chest out and a determined look on his face. It made Tim and Dick snicker to see little Damian standing up to Vivian and Bruce as if he were to face a criminal.

“I named her Bat-Cow,” stated Damian.

“Oh, did you know?” Vivian crossed her arms over her chest. Turning to the cow she saw the black patch on the cow's eyes that resembled the domino masks of the Robins and the Bat symbol. “I gotta admit that's witty.”

Bruce cleared his throat to get her back on track.

“And where are you planning on keeping Bat-Cow?” Vivian asked Damian.

The boy smirked. “I thought you would ask that. If you recall in our many walks around the estate, there is a plot of land that has a barn.”

“Had a barn,” Bruce corrected him.

“I'll rebuild it. Fix it for Bat-Cow, besides Alfred the cat likes exploring that barn as well. They will be comfortable there. I think Titus will also like the barn,” said Damian. “You both have been mentioning how the manor has been getting more fur around — mind you, you too have a pet dog and cat. Ace and Echo can stay there as well if they wish.”

Before Bruce could have a say on that, Vivian said, “Echo and Ace are staying in our room. But a cow is not like a dog or a cat, Damian. It — you need to milk it.”

Tim and Dick burst out laughing. Both were already tearing up now and were holding onto each other for support. Damian only looked at them with confusion. Why are they laughing when a cow really needs to be milked or else its utters will swell?

“Grow up!” Vivian told them. “But looking past the innuendo that those two picked up… and I'm glad that you didn't. Who's going to milk — ” Tim and Dick laughed loudly. “ — you two, stop it or get out. Harvest, does that make sense?” She asked Bruce.

“For now,” said Bruce.

“Fine, who's going to do all of that, the harvesting, the cleaning up, the feed — and don't you dare say Alfred.”

“I will,” said Damian.

“Do you even know how?”

Dick, still laughing, said, “I'm sure he's got some practice, Viv.”

“He's ten!”

Dick shrugged.

“I'll ask Jon for help!”

Dick and Tim burst out laughing again and were forced to march up stairs by Bruce as he saw Damian turning red from embarrassment, his rising anger, and confusion. Why were they laughing so much?!

“Man, Jason is missing out!” Tim said as he and Dick went up stairs.

“We'll tell him when he gets home with Roy,” said Dick.

Silence came to the cave with the two gone, it gave Damian the courage on his defense and continued, “As I said. I'll ask Jon to teach me how to take care of Bat-Cow. For feeding, I'll work more chores to earn more money for Bat-Cow's necessities. I'll work harder. Just… please, let me keep her.”

How can she say no to that? Damian actually said please, and he was adamant in keeping the cow as his pet. Sighing, Vivian said, “Fine. We'll start working on the barn tomorrow.”

“What?” Bruce said.

“Yes! Thank you, Mom!” Damian wrapped his arms around Vivian.

“I thought we were on the same page,” Bruce whispered to her.

“Give him a break. Dick and Tim were pissing him off. Besides, I think it would be nice to get milk from the source directly. Don't you think?”

“You're not making any sense, right now.”

“I'll take Bat-Cow to my room for now,” Damian led the cow to the elevator.

Before the elevator could open, Vivian and Batman called out: “ABSOLUTELY NOT!”

~*~

“This is your fault,” Bruce told Tim and Dick who were muttering under their breath as they cleaned up the mess that Bat-Cow made in the Batcave. When they got up that morning, Alfred immediately gave them a brush and told them to head to the cave. There they were met by the stench of the cow's stool and a couple of large lumps for them to clean up.

“How is this our fault?” Dick asked Bruce.

“If you weren't laughing at Damian then you wouldn't be cleaning up cow shit in the cave before breakfast,” Bruce stated.

“He should be the one cleaning it,” Tim muttered.

“Vivian's orders. You were teasing your brother.”

Tim and Dick groaned and went back to work.

~*~

The next pet Damian brought home was a turkey. Actually, it wasn't even at home that he presented the turkey to her, it was at her place of work. Damian was coming home from school then, and he somehow found a turkey in need of a home. He, Bruce, and Alfred walked up to Gotham University with the turkey in a cage, and surprised Vivian at the courtyard of the campus with it.

“Here, seriously?” Vivian said to them.

“He was insistent,” said Bruce.

“Well?” Vivian asked Damian.

Beside her, Justin and Catherin looked at the odd scene of the family and watched, curious to what this was about.

“He was going to the slaughter house!” said Damian.

“You can't just take a turkey who is on its way to the slaughterhouse, Damian,” Vivian turned to Bruce. “Seriously, you can't deal with this on your own?”

“He said that you were the one he needed to convince,” Bruce shrugged.

“Oh, so Via's the strict parent, huh?” Justin teased her.

“Okay, let's hear it,” said Vivian. “Make it quick, I got a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Barn. I'll work more hours for chores and pay for the feed if I have to.”

“You won't be sleeping then.”

“I don't care. I've done all-nighters.”

“That's not okay, Damian,” Vivian sighed. “Why can't you just bring home a fish or something… Fine, but you have to promise that this is the last.”

Damian smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. Besides, fatten it up and we'll have the turkey for Thanksgiving covered.”

“Jerry is not going to be a Thanksgiving turkey!” Damian cried out.

“You already named him Jerry…” Vivian looked at her watch. “I need to go or I'll be late. You both,” she pointed at Bruce and Alfred. “Grow a pair.” She messed with Damian's hair as a goodbye and walked straight to her meeting.

~*~

“What the fuck — why is there a turkey in that place?” Jason slammed the door of the kitchen entrance.

“Master Jason, language!” Alfred chastised him.

Vivian, who was having her evening tea with Alfred, answered, “Damian's new pet.”

“It chased me across the estate! I was going to shoot it if I hadn't run out of bullets,” Jason slumped on the seat beside Vivian and stole her grilled cheese sandwich. “We going to cook that for Thanksgiving?”

“Jerry’s not food,” Vivian told him.

“What sick fuck names a turkey Jerry?”

“That sick fuck,” Vivian nodded at Damian's direction who entered the kitchen with Alfred the cat and Echo on his head. “Jerry chased Jason across the estate.”

Damian smirked. “I guess his training is working then.”

“You little shit!” Jason pointed at him.

~*~

There was a dragon-bat in the Batcave. But compared to the cow and the turkey, this one was a small one, so small that Damian held it in his hands. Still, it was a dragon-bat. Who knows how big it could get.

“You know what,” Vivian turned to Bruce. “You deal with this. I’ve had a long day, I’ve been feeling a little sick since this morning and I don’t want to deal with this dragon-bat. You two figure it out!”

Batman hummed and watched as his wife returned to the manor with the elevator, leaving him with Damian and the dragon-bat.

“No,” said Batman.

“That’s now how it works,” said Damian.

“No.”

“He’s all alone!”

“No.”

“Mom has a realm that we can put him in if ever Goliath gets big!”

“That’s not her realm. That’s her uncle’s!”

“Destruction wouldn’t mind!”

“I think he would, especially when there’s dragon-bat droppings there.”

Damian stood his ground and glared at his father.

~*~

Vivian was having a nice and peaceful morning when Destruction appeared before her in his flannel and jeans, and sword. The sudden appearance of the Endless surprised everyone at the table, especially the Robins who were just seeing him for the first time. But when Vivian didn’t seem fazed they didn’t engage at the intruder.

“Vivian, there’s a dragon-bat in my realm,” said Destruction.

“I know,” Vivian continued with her breakfast.

“That doesn’t explain why.”

“Ask them,” Vivian nodded at Bruce and Damian’s direction. “We can’t have airplanes and helicopters finding a dragon-bat in the estate. And he’ll outgrow his pen in the barn, and he might eat Bat-Cow and Jerry.”

“Vivian.”

“Goliath is trained, don’t worry about it.”

Destruction sighed and left, knowing it was a losing battle.

Damian smiled and said, “Thanks, Mom!”

“Goliath is the last.”

Damian huffed and returned to his meal.

Vivian turned to Bruce and said, “You can’t just say no, huh?”

“You never did,” Bruce muttered.

“I said no to the pig, the panther, and the lion, Bruce.”

Bruce sighed and went back to his meal. “I’ll work on it.”

#batman #batman x reader #dc fanfic #fanfic #batman fanfiction #batfam #damian wayne #batmom #batfam x reader

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greenarrow-core · 1 day ago

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HE'S BACK BABY

Green Arrow #17(b) and Green Arrow #18

So, in williamson's story in #17, we get Ollie letting go of money. FINALLY. He's not supposed to be rich.

Now I classify Ollie giving away money in two levels, the gold standard, which is when he donates it(Green Lantern(1960) #87, barely has anything, donates what he can; Green Arrow(1988) #6, donates a money he got that if he spends, it compromises him, he donated it anyway; Legends of the DC Universe #9, sold the company and donated all his money).

The silver standard is when he does get rid of the money, but it ends up being just switching one rich person for other. That's Green Arrow(1983) #4 and now, Green Arrow(2023) #17, since he gave his money to Connor.

In this backup story from #17 we get Ollie going to his new apartment. And as of issue #18, no mention of any job. Is he really jobless? I would like him to get some job. Back to columnist would be great.

In #17 we get our first connection to the 1983 series. Horton Chemicals is mentioned, it's the company he gave to Maxwell Stein. The former CFO of Horton Chemical, Donald Sherman(new character), is killed by this guy who's killing people related to shit the company is involved with, dump sites and poisoning people, y'now.

Back to #17, Batman breaks into Ollie's apartment. Not the first time he has done that at night. Look back into Legends of the Dark Knight #127.

They have an interesting argument, Ollie stands his ground very well and doesn't let Bruce have anything.

Also, Ollie calls Batman this:

He did that in Detective Comics #559. And Chris Condon already confirmed that's the issue he toke it from.

I love this scene. There's this vibe, he recognizes how he doesn't get respect, and then makes a baddas pose. He's standing up. He's not letting it put him down.

Oh, yeah, we get more clear shots of the costume in #18.

I like it. Certainly better than the previous one. I like the opera gloves without any hole. The little cape isn't great. The rest is okay to me.

We get this crazy shot:

Now, notice in the last panel, there's a weird circle line there. I think it's part from the balloon that they forgot to remove in the editing. Wonder if they will pick up on that and fix for the TPB.

Now, for something that really got me.

Ollie and his not giving a shit about the law, baby, yeah.

Of course, I'm not gonna go over the million times he expressed his disdain and not giving a shit about the law. But he did use the word "damn" with "law" before.

Legends of the DC Universe #9

DID YOU READ THIS CONDON? I fucking hope so.

And yeah, I cut off Hal's nonsense from this panel.

Back to the scene, Ollie is on fire. He calls a senator a war criminal to his face and refuses to shake his hand.

Beautiful Ollie.

In the end of the issue we get the cop who's gonna be working with him in this story. Let's hope for heavy conflict, like between him and Cameron.

She throws a flashlight at him.

Anyway, that's it. Great issue, the epilogue was great too.

Ollie's back in high force,(yeah not full force)

And PUT HIM TO WORK, CONDON.

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slycooperconfessions · 2 days ago

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"I always found it weird how little Sly ever thinks of his mom. Like, I don't think Sly has ever mentioned her directly. The only time is when he speaks of losing BOTH of his parents. It's just… weird? Maybe she worked since Conner was a criminal and thus he was a stay at home dad?"

Confessed by: Anonymous

#Sly Cooper #Connor Cooper #Conner Cooper #Gaming #Confessions

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littleslaywrites · 2 days ago

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pas de deux- variations | spencer reid x bau!reader

pt 3 of pas de deux - based on request by @kakamixoxo

summary: while teaching the ballet class your substituting for, spencer comes in to “help”

word count: 1.5k

cw: f!reader, fluff

Having finally put together your lesson plans, you were on your way to teach the ballet class you’d agreed to substitute for. You had left work an hour early for the fifth day, Hotch not minding giving you the time off since you were consistent otherwise.

Driving to the studio for the past few days, you felt oddly nervous. You faced criminals every day but were anxious over some baby ballerinas. You remember being in your first years of ballet, how you looked up to your teachers and the older girls in the studio. The girls were energetic, but eager to learn. You felt yourself saddened by the fact that today would be your last day filling in. It sounded cliche, but you were going to miss the feeling of teaching the next generation of dancers.

After changing and setting up in the studio, you open the door to let the kids pile in. Whispered conversations between each other and shouts of “good afternoon, Miss y/n” fill the room.

A few minutes into class, you hear the door opening, Spencer’s tall frame juxtaposed against the girls at the barre.

“It seems like we have a special guest joining us today in class,” you say. Spencer walks over to an empty space behind you.

“I came to help,” he says. You raise an eyebrow, recalling your attempt to teach him. Nevertheless, you decide to go along with it, introducing him as “Mr. Spencer” and allowing him to stand behind you at the barre in the middle of the floor.

“Now we’ll move on to rond de jambe,” you say. The girls have learned the combination by now, so you review it very briefly before reaching for the remote to turn the music on. Spencer watches the moves, remembering the steps but having no idea how to execute them correctly.

Seeing everyone else grab the barre and straighten their posture, Spencer follows suit. He suddenly realizes he’s the tallest in the class, feeling a little awkward. When the music begins, he follows along to what you’re doing, until he has to turn to the other side. When he’s no longer facing you, he begins to hear giggles from the students at his creative interpretation of technique. He can tell they’re trying to be polite, not wanting to make fun of a guest.

The music ends, and you try to move on without giving in to the laughter, knowing once you do, you won’t be able to stop. “Okay, frappé is next.” You model the steps, taking extra care to show how you go from flex to point with the ball of your foot hitting the floor, thinking of Spencer watching behind you. You can imagine the way he was staring, absorbing the information.

Unfortunately for him, even the best memory could not make up for his lack of knowledge. Even before you turned, you could tell he was taking creative liberties from the sound of his stomps. When you face him, you see the way he’s executing the step, almost tap-dancing. You can’t hold yourself from laughing at the picture, and the girls join in. At one point, he even managed to literally trip over his own feet. Giggling through the rest of the combination, you watch as he turns to look back at you, smiling when he meets your eyes.

“If you couldn’t tell, I haven’t ever taken a ballet class before,” Spencer shrugs after the music stops. This makes the class laugh even harder. “Miss y/n gave me a quick lesson last week,” he defends himself. “Watch—“ he says, trying to do a pirouette. His foot only makes it up to his ankle and the turn goes about 90° before he falters.

“I don’t think Mr. Spencer is dressed right for class,” one of your students says. You study his outfit: sweater, dress pants, mismatched socks (he took his shoes off at the door), and a tie.

“I regret to inform you that she may be correct,” you say after looking him up and down. “You know, most people wouldn’t be allowed to attend class with that kind of dress code violation.”

The girls all shake their heads and shout out their opposition to that idea. “I guess we’ll let him stay,” you sigh. “You should be grateful for your backup, Mr. Spencer. Let’s hope you're better at battements.”

It goes without saying that Spencer was not better at battements. He watched your kicks reach the tip of your nose, thinking it couldn’t be that difficult from how easy you made it look. Intently, he prepared to kick, but his foot only made it about a foot and a half off the floor. This causes the room to break back into laughter, especially considering the focus that was visible on his face.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer, but I’m beginning to think a career in ballet may not be for you,” you say.

“The reason we can kick higher is because we’re shorter,” a student pipes up, making you raise your eyebrows.

“I’m sure that’s it,” you reply sarcastically, sending the giggling girls outside to their five minute water break before center.

“It’s really a good thing you’re smart, because your talent does not lie within anything physical,” you tease him.

“Nothing physical?” he teases back.

“Oh my god, Spencer,” you snort at his innuendo. “But really, if you weren’t so cute doing ballet, it would be painful to watch.”

“You make it look easy.” You blush at his compliment, going to get your own water. He smiles at you, restraining himself from pulling you into a kiss, not wanting to embarrass you in front of your students.

“I guess I better get back to work,” he says.

“You’re going back?”

“I took a half hour break from my paperwork,” he admits. “I couldn’t resist seeing you dance.”

You thought your smiler couldn't get any wider, but his comment somehow does. He smiles back, savoring the joy he brings you. He loved seeing you in the studio because of how happy you were when you were dancing, even if it was a simple warm up at the barre. Similarly, his goal was always to bring the same smile to your face with his words. Every time he made you blush or giggle, he’d swear it was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever beheld, more than any painting in a museum or poem he could read.

Spencer always made you feel spoiled. His pilgrimage to the studio was just one example of the lengths he’d go for you. You’d scold him, but you knew it was just as much for himself as it was for you. Besides, whenever he’d sense you were going to tell him not to go out of his way to please you, he’d look at you with those eyes that he knew would make you weak in the knees (and the heart).

Ever the gentleman, he checks to make sure the girls are distracted before giving you a quick kiss goodbye. “You're a fantastic teacher,” he says before slipping out the door. “Even for a difficult student like me.”

“Is Mr. Spencer leaving?” one of the girls asks as they all come in from their break.

Returning your water to its place by the stereo, you say “Mr. Spencer needs to get back to work.”

“But he’s so funny!” one girl protests.

“Maybe I can come visit another time,” he says, “once I get some more practice in. Then maybe I can be as good as you all are.”

They wave goodbye as he slips out the door, quickly distracted by the new combination you teach them.

Coming home that night, you find Spencer is already on the couch.

“How were the rest of your classes?” he asks, looking up from his book.

Setting your bag down, you meet him at the couch and sit down. “Pretty good, less entertaining without you as a student.”

He smiles, placing his hand on your thigh. “I went to the bookstore after work.”

“Shocker.”

“I found a history of ballet. Did you know that ballet was originally a display of athleticism?”

“No wonder you’re so bad at it,” you say, causing you both to chuckle at your mean comment. Despite your teasing, his interest in what you love will always warm your heart.

He closes the book, pulling you closer into a hug. “It’s too bad your time subbing is over.” He traces his thumb along your thigh. “I’ll miss seeing you practice your lessons.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, and he kisses your forehead. Eyes closing, you feel comfort in his presence. Your mind begins to wander, comparing the comfort of his arms to the feeling you get when you’re dancing.

“What are you smiling about?” he questions.

“You.”

He pulls you up into a kiss. He’s glad you share your life and your art with him. Letting you rest your head on his chest, he feels you fall asleep. He knows you’ll be annoyed that you fell asleep on the couch, but he can’t bring himself to wake you. He picks the book back up, only pausing his reading to look down at the way you smile in your sleep.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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usmsgutterson · 2 days ago

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We Could Leave The Christmas Lights Up Til January - S.R x reader

I am typing this authors note and feeling like the friend who's like "ITS CHRISTMAS" from the like. middle of the month forward when I'm actually the friend who reminds you how close it is to christmas or the new year bc I don't want to face that knowledge by myself and suffer well with others.

This was written as a through-the-years style fic. It'll have fifteen chapters which will correspond with the og fifteen seasons of criminal minds (I have not watched seasons sixteen or seventeen, please do not judge me lol) and three scenes per chapter, one set in November, one set on or around Christmas, and the last set at some point after it. The reader is also a fiber artist but if stuff relating to that comes up, I will make a note of whichever terms I need to.

Fic type - this is largely fluff!

Warnings - the reader in this has a slightly similar, but also somewhat dramatized version of my family dynamics bc I wrote this whenever the knit projects I was working on frustrated me and when writing the dynamics it just HAPPENED, but then I edited it so that the dynamics wouldn't hit SUPER HARD if I ever reread it. Otherwise, booze is mentioned a bit, and there is swearing present bc I apparently am incapable of writing a fic without dropping an f'bomb.

When you leave the office that night, it's half-past seven on a Friday in November. You and the rest of the team have the weekend off, and while Penelope and the others had gone out for drinks, you'd gotten back from a case in Miami that morning and had said no to the offer when she'd made it.

You had really just wanted to get home, if you were being honest. You told her you couldn't swing it because of plans already made with someone else, but Garcia didn't need to know that those plans were a glass of wine, Loops 'N Threads Classic Cotton and a crochet hook to work up some dishcloths in lieu of anything too expensive for your aunts christmas gift, or that the someone else you had plans with was your DVR so that you could catch up on the five episodes of Prison Break you'd missed because of the way that cases and work had been piling up.

She also didn't need to know that the wine your mother had given you would have a spot, or that after you were caught up with Prison Break you'd probably order and eat your way through an entire pizza from Antonios while watching a documentary about lemon sharks. Your Friday nights were your own, and even though you adored everyone on the team, you would seldom give up your Friday night ritual of doing a craft while watching whichever cable TV you needed to catch up on or whichever one the network of your choice had been running a marathon of, even if giving it up meant giving up dinner, drinks, and laughter amongst yourself and the rest of the team.

So, as you and Spencer are heading out—Spencer had declined Penelopes offer but hadn't specified his reasons as to why—he looks at you with a knowing sort of smile.

"Crocheting and Antonios?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

You nod once, lips pursing just a little while you mentally ready yourself for any oncoming judgement. "Mhm," you nod. "I have a bottle of red I wanna drink, so it'll be a tipsy crocheting night, I think."

"That sounds fun," he says. "Enjoy it."

"What're your plans for the night?" You ask. You've been with the team since six months after Spencer had joined up. You'd joined, under Hotch's wing, at the age of nineteen where Spencer had joined up under Gideons when he was twenty.

He shrugs. "I was thinking about calling my mom, seeing how she's doing," he says. "I try to call her at least once every so often and I do my best to write, but—it's just—"

"Maintaining those kinds of relationships isn't that easy," you nod. "I mean—my parents just live in my hometown so the circumstances are different, but I get it, even if it's to a lesser degree."

You don't really talk to your parents, and they don't really talk to you, and it's been that way since you went to the FBI Academy when you were eighteen. You came to DC after being hired by the BAU and they stayed in Maine, and things have been like that in the five years since you left the state.

"Your mom came around recently, right?"

You nod. "She was in town for a bit, but she came down while we were working on a case so I only got to see her a few times before she was heading back to Maine." She'd come up at the start of October, while you were working a case out of state, and she'd left six days after you'd returned from the case. In that time, you'd seen her at breakfast, lunch and dinner on three separate days. She'd left you the wine as a gift because she hated red and needed to pass it off, but you loved red wine so it was fine.

"Was it a good visit?"

"It was—well—it was fine," you laugh.

"That's the nicest way to put it?"

"Calling it fine is me being stellar," you laugh again. "Being kind, being gratiuitous, even. It was less than fine, but it could've been worse, and other visits of hers have been by miles."

Your relationship with your mother has been somewhat contentious since you were a teen, but she comes down once every few months and unless a case or something better comes up, you usually try to book Christmas off to spend it with your parents and sisters in Maine. This year, a bigger part of you than not is hoping that Christmas is disrupted by a case somewhere completely out of Maines reach, like Nevada or California or even the likes of Alaska, which has got to be some snowy hellstorm in the wintertime, though you can't say.

"You gonna go down for Christmas?" Spencer asks, laughing a little. He knows some of what your relationships with your family are like—knows that you and your mother have a difficult time finding common ground, knows that you and your father don't get along but have found some weird little middleground where you can exist without screaming at each other. He knows that you and your older sister are sort of friendly but only really mildly close, and that you and your other older sister don't talk often and see each other even less than the sparing conversations you have throughout the year—and he always looks at you kind of pitifully when your mother gets brought into the conversation, but there's been less and less pity as the years have passed, more sympathy.

"I don't want to," you laugh. "I really, really hope we get a case in Nevada or somewhere that even my mother wouldn't be able to justify asking me to drive down to Maine from. Like—I'd love it if we got a case in Alaska the day before Christmas Eve, honestly. I know it's not gonna happen, but—Christmas with them, my aunt, and my uncle? No. I can't subject myself to that without a whole lot of booze."

Spencer laughs, shakes his head a little bit. "You'll be fine," he says. "I won't hope that a case comes up at Christmas, but if one does, I'll buy you a victory tea."

"Why?"

"Because I know you love your family—you're hardwired to love them—but you hate Christmas with them, and I don't really like the thought of you being where you don't want to be because of family ties and guilt."

You laugh. "If it gets too dreary, promise you'll answer my call?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "Of course, but what if I call you first?"

"I will answer so quick," you laugh again, shrugging. "Seriously. Whether it's you or Hotch, I will take literally any excuse I can get to slip out from whichever room I'm in to the back porch just so I can talk to someone who isn't my aunt for a few minutes."

"Looking forward to that," Spencer says.

You smile, turning away as you do to hide it. It feels like an awesome ending to a mediocre day and you're grateful for that.

When your phone rings at five o'clock something along the lines of five weeks later, it's Christmas Eve. You've spent the last couple of hours alternating between cheap screw top rose and a jack and coke, occasionally swapping both options out for a hot chocolate that you spike with kahlua and a splash of baileys, and when your phone rings, the sound of it is a welcome reprieve.

You tuck a mug of boozed up hot cocoa into your right hand, answering the phone with your left as you dismiss yourself out to the back porch, standing amidst snow that's, by that point, a couple days old. A fresh coat is due to fall any day now, but by the time it does you'll probably already be back in DC.

"Hey," you greet. "How's Christmas on your end?"

"It's good," Spencer answers. "How is it on yours?"

"It's amazing."

"You've been drinking?"

"Jack Daniels, cheap rose, and the occasional spiked hot chocolate," you laugh a little. "It's making everyone more tolerable."

"Thats good," Spencer says. "Don't forget to drink water, though. It'll make you less hungover tomorrow morning."

"Yeah," you nod. "I've drank plenty of water—hangover headaches are fuckin' awful, and I don't feel like dealing with that tomorrow morning. A headache on top of dealing with my aunt? I couldn't put myself through that kind of torture."

"How've things been with you and your mom?"

"So far I haven't done anything to piss her off yet, which is surprising," you laugh. "Normally she's leaping down my throat the second I do something like use a tone that she thinks is amiss or defend my dad where she doesn't agree with him. I'll say something stupid and she'll yell at me before midnight though, I'm sure."

"Try to be a little optimistic," Spencer says. "I mean—just—take it easy. Don't do anything too nuts, okay? I know you well enough to know you have Prison Break on one of the DVRs in that house, and I also know that you know your own limits. Don't push yourself past them."

"I won't," you say. You know yourself well enough to know that you're probably lying, but you brought your needles and a skein of yarn so worst case you can just knit and keep your mouth shut, hopefully not miscounting any of your stitches in your drunken state. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I get in around ten on boxing day too, so—coffee?"

"Coffee," Spencer says. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Spencer," you respond, hanging up the phone thereafter. You stay outside for another few minutes, drinking your hot chocolate, watching the sky and prolonging the time between then and your next interactions with your relatives.

Eventually, when you go back in, you're met with a sly look from your aunt and a suspicious look in your mothers eyes, while your father and uncle chat about current events and your sisters are busy in a game of Uno.

"You got a boyfriend?" Your aunt asks, her smile cheeky.

You grimace. "No!" You say, beelining for the kitchen and the bottle of Barefoot brand zinfandel. "No—it's—it isn't like that. A friend had planned to call and I didn't say no."

"Oooh, a friend," your mother teases. "That's quite vague, Y/N."

You nod, finishing the last sip of hot chocolate in your mug and rinsing it out, setting it in your favored corner of the kitchen counter and reaching for the wine glass you'd left in that same area.

"Intentionally so," you laugh. "You two are so nosy. I love you both to bits and pieces, but—it's not anything like what you're thinking. The friend is a coworker."

You reach for the bottle of zinfandel and pour an amount that just barely skirts the edge of avoiding being obscene, putting the cap back on and leaving it on the counter along with the rest of the alcoholic companions that will reside on the countertop until at some point tomorrow, when the drinks are switched out from booze and beer to soda and water.

"You two will be an item in five years, I guarantee it," your aunt says. "Seriously. You don't be vague about someone with your family unless there are feelings there, Y/N."

You laugh a little more, taking a sip of your wine and debating rummaging through the fridge to find the brownies that you'd hidden in the back of the fridge for when the drunken cravings kicked in.

"I've been vague with you people about women coworkers," you retort. "I've been vague about mentors who are older than Dad. I'm vague about lots of things."

"You should open up," your uncle says. "Nobody likes a closed off little snowflake who wants to appear mysterious."

"Trust is earned," the older of your two sisters retorts. "You have to trust people to want to open up to them."

"Do you not trust us?" Your mother asks, looking at you with pain in her eyes.

Not like I did when I was a kid, you think. "I do! I just—work life and family life are two separate things to me. If I were as open as you guys want me to be, telling you work stories and funny office anecdotes, you'd all want to hear less about my job."

"Being an FBI agent can't be that hard," your uncle retorts.

"You say that as a man who's never watched someone you love like a sibling get shot at," you retort. "You've never seen someones body missing parts, or seen someone who narrowly evaded a serial killer shaking with grief and with survivors guilt already starting to manifest. I love you all, but not one of you understands what it's like, and I wouldn't wish you did across a thousand lifetimes."

Nobody knows what to say, but the look in your eldest sisters eyes is clear—she's proud.

"Well maybe you should work in a different area," your aunt says.

"I wouldn't trade my job or my coworkers for anything," you respond. "The plus sides make up for the drawbacks tenfold."

Things go a little quiet after that, and you eventually grab the bottle of Zinfandel and retreat back out to the back porch, not caring how cold it is.

You stare at the sky for ages, drinking your way through the entire bottle of zinfandel as you do. You're half asleep when your phone rings again, and you pick it up as you make back inside, figuring the rest of your family had gone to bed as well.

"Hey," Spencer greets. "Just calling to check in again."

"Hi," you respond. "Everyone else has gone to sleep, I think—nobody is in the kitchen or the living room, and if I don't hit the hay I'll be dead on my feet tomorrow morning."

"Do you have any sports drinks around?" Spencer asks. "The elctrolytes in them will help replenish the potassium and the salt that you lose after a lot of drinking. Bouillion soup also serves the same purpose, and water is basically universally known as the one thing you should consistently drink between alcoholic beverages."

"My mother gets a twelve pack of the fruit punch Gatorade, puts it in the fridge and normally will make the drunkest of us chug a bottle before we conk out, so I'm gonna grab one and then chug it and head to bed. Thank you for calling to check in, Spencer. It means a lot."

You head for the fridge and keep to your word, opening it and grabbing one of the gatorades.

"It's no problem," Spencer says. "I've know you—how long now?"

"Four entire years," you laugh, closing the fridge and pressing your forehead against the metal door of the freezer on top of it. "Oh, God. Four years of working at the BAU. That is a surefire way to make me feel old."

"How old do you think you'll feel when you've been working there for a decade?"

"Absolutely, positively, ancient," you say. "Oh my God—thirty three? That is not an age I can picture. Asking me to picture that while I'm drunk feels like such a low blow, Reid."

"How about twenty-eight?"

"I'm starting to think you just like the sound of my voice," you retort, laughing a little as you compose yourself just enough to turn your phone onto speaker and set it on the counter. You lean against the counter and take the screw top off of your gatorade, sighing a little. "Are you asking me if I have a five year plan, Dr. Reid?"

"Yeah," he says. "Yes is the answer to both your statement and your question."

"Well, in five years, I'll be twenty-eight," you start. "I'd like it very much if I were still on the team, and if I am, that means nine years at the BAU. I'm going to get better at knitting and finally stop knitting things for people who don't offer to buy the yarn or otherwise compensate, I think. I make things free for ungrateful people too often. Maybe even adopt a kitten or take in a shelter dog. Fuck—Reid, I can't really even decide what I'm going to do in the next five minutes, let alone the next five years."

You chug the gatorade as you think about it—a bigger apartment would be nice, one that's closer to work would be nicer still. One with a good view of the city, maybe a library or a liquor store within walking distance, if not a Michaels or a Joanns.

You've always been more of a cat person but you have a ridiculously insurmountable softspot for greyhounds and pitbulls, so if you thought you could take in an animal in the coming years, you would have the knowledge and the background to give them a good home.

You'd maybe want to change up your hair color, if the drunken opportunity presented itself. A change in appearance feels like the sort of thing a person finds necessary at the age of twenty four, in the last year before the brain fully develops and stuff starts changing bit by bit.

"I think I'll still be on the team," Spencer says. "I know it. I love what we get to do everyday, Y/N. Helping people? Saving lives? We do good. We're good people."

"What else do you think about the next five years?" You ask, your voice quiet.

"I think I'll still be living in my same apartment, and that I'll still bicker and get into prank wars with Morgan," Spencer says. "I think I'll still play chess against Gideon on the jet home, and I'll still love to learn anything I can. I know for sure I'm still going to be trying to get you to watch Dr. Who with me, though I hope you agree to watch it after five years of attempts at cajoling you to."

You laugh, and the air takes on a somber kind of tone. "Maybe," you say. "Not likely, but maybe, Reid. Look—I'm going to go to bed so that I can just deal with tomorrows probable hangover head on, but thank you for calling me not once, but twice tonight. I really needed some company that wasn't a little bit of an asshole."

"Yeah, of course," Spencer says. "I—well—merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Spencer," is how you bid him adieu, hanging up the phone thereafter. You throw the gatorade bottle into the recycling and head off to the room you'd claimed, turning the tv onto a low volume and falling asleep with The Muppet Christmas Carol beginning to play in the background.

"How was everyones Christmas?" Garcia asks, practically buzzing with excitement as she comes out into the bullpen. Spencer is leaning against your desk, the two of you talking about nothing in particular when she comes around, and Garcia looks at you with a happy grin. "How was Maine?"

"It was Maine," you shrug. "Snowed. A lot. In turn, everyone in my family drank. A lot."

"Oh," Garcia shakes her head. "Too many people and too much booze is God awful."

You shrug. "My parents, my sisters, and my aunt and my uncle hardly felt like too many," you say. "And the amount of booze in which I indulged hardly felt like too much."

"You had a lot," Spencer retorts, looking at you skeptically. "I got a text Christmas morning, if memory serves—"

"A text to thank you for being so nice," You fire back, cutting him off. "Totally not asking you for hangover cures. I would never."

Spencer shakes his head, laughing slightly. You grin, taking a sip of the tea he'd brought you that morning.

"Yeah," he says. "I didn't get a text asking for the ultimate hangover cure-all. I guess I must've remembered it wrong."

Your grin widens, and you nod. "Guess so. How were things with your Mom?"

"They were great," Spencer says. "I had a good time."

"I'm glad," you respond. "Your mother sounds pleasant."

"She is," Spencer nods. "I'd hate to spend more than an hour with yours though."

"She's comin' here in June," you fire back, leaning back in your chair as your grin morphs from grin to smirk. "Be careful for the next six months, Reid, or I'll invite you to dinner with her, myself, and my father."

"That sounds like some form of mideval torture," Derek fires, laughing. Spencer shakes his head.

"Not if Y/Ns there," he murmurs. You take another sip of your tea to avoid seeming flustered to the rest of the team, and Spencer sighs when JJ comes around. You sit up in your chair, already anticipating her next words.

"We have a case," she says. "A series of deaths in Witchita. Briefing room in ten!"

You and Spencer exchange a look. There are only a few days left of it, but it looks like the last of 2005 is due to be a whirlwind.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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shalomniscient · 22 hours ago

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kujou sara brainrotting and i saw the post about wanting kujou sara to have good parents just so she can learn how it feels to be loved. what if kjsr finds herself getting a family through r? r's mom fussing over her and she's so whiplashed cause usually when someone's mad at her (cough tayakyuki) it's for not being the perfect weapon, not for not eating enough. if r had younger siblings, they'd use her as a ladder to climb things. i see her easily get close to kids not because she'd be good with them cause she has wings, like what isn't cool to a 5 year old than a general with wings?

imagine the first ever meeting with r's parents and family, and she's so stressed out and worried. but they are so soft and she finds the family she never got to have. ☹️☹️ she's such an acts of service girlie so she'd prob try washing the dishes and get shouted at by r's mom.. ughh ok sorry for rant, the idea of her meeting her in laws has been a parasite in my head.

SOBBING i love this so much....... sara finding a real family what if i cried 😭😭😭 PLEASE she'd be so confused when your mom fusses over her criminally small portion like. this older woman clicking her tongue and frowning as she scoops more food to dump on sara's plate while saying "all skin and bones, you. here, eat more, darling," HSLJSDD and sara kind of sitting there so dumbfounded not knowing if she should apologise or thank your mom. if the food somehow tastes better, she doesn't say anything, but the tiniest smile tugs at her lips. AND KJSR LADDER SLDJHSDLJHSDL ik she's tall as fuck i feel it in my bones........... poor thing she'd be so awkward and a little stiff but your siblings treating her like a cool aunt would give her the little push she needs to be more comfortable. she makes sure to be very careful w your younger siblings ofc, always supporting them properly as they demand to be carried or clamber all over her. AND HER WINGS they'd be so so enamored by them like she wouldn't have to keep them hidden in your household EVER !!! and so many new people willing to help preen her wings ouhdflsjdfhls sobbing crying throwing up......... crows are social animals !!! social !!! sara would probably cry a little later in your room when it's just the two of you, sinking into your arms and just melting at the unfamiliar feeling of being so-- so loved.

first time meeting the in laws would be soooooo stressful for her like she's fixing her clothes every few seconds and fiddling with the box of persimmons she bought as a meeting gift. she can't help the smile that forms on her lips when you open the door, but it turns a little strained when she sees your mother behind you. she's ready to sink into a bow but your mother coaxes her into the house by her shoulder, already fussing about how it's cold outside, come in, come in, and once she's inside your mother's eyes gleam before she chuckles a little fondly, saying oh my, you're quite easy on the eyes. my child knows to go for the handsome ones, i suppose. and sara flushes bright red, while you groan and tell her to stop tormenting sara when she just got here. then she meets your dad, who takes her hand in a firm, but not unkind handshake. when she returns it something like pride takes over his features and sara almost flinches away, utterly unused to this kind of response. you keep her grounded with a hand on her back, though, and guide her to the dinner table. over dinner your parents and siblings bombard her with all sorts of questions, which she does her best to answer honestly. and sara deciding to help out and do the dishes........ god that's so her. you'd have to do some college level debating to get her to walk away from the sink; thankfully, your siblings are there to distract her. your parents probably insist she stays the night, since it's already late and they're sure you won't mind sara crashing in your room (you don't). sara isn't used to staying up late, so she heads off to bed early. but for the first time in her life she falls asleep not to the sound of a cold, silent, house but a warm, loving home. she sleeps better than she has in years.

#sev.responses #kujou sara x reader #kujou sara #CRYINGGGG I LOVE HER AND MISS HER SO BAD

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rebelliousstories · 8 hours ago

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Rain Check

Relationship: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of a Case involving a Child (No Mentions of Death)

Word Count: 1,672

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: When the team gets called out of town the day before Thanksgiving, Aaron has to beg for forgiveness from his wife. But the next week they’re home, he learns that he shouldn’t have felt guilty.

Consider Donating: Here

“We should certainly count our blessings, but we should also make out blessings count.” Neil A. Maxwell

Oh, his wife was going to kill him. This is how he went out. Aaron Hotchner, the formidable Unit Chief of the BAU, was slightly panicking as he was packing up his briefcase to take with him on the plane. His phone was out to call his wife, who was preparing for Thanksgiving dinner the next day, to tell her that they had been called out of town.

He sighed as he ran a hand across his forehead, already feeling the stress headache coming on from having to call her. This was going to be their first Thanksgiving as a married couple, and he had just hoped that they were able to have it. But, of course, that was not what the psycho and sociopaths of the world have in store for him.

There was one, two, three rings before her sweet honeyed voice answered with a cheerful, “Mr. Hotchner, to what do I owe this midday personal call? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Hey, honey. I’m uh- notgonnabehometomrrow,” he mumbled as fast as he could, causing her to have him repeat it.

“I won’t be home tomorrow for Thanksgiving. The team got called out to Nebraska on a child kidnapping case.” Aaron heard her take in a deep breath, and release it in a long sigh on the other end of the line.

“I am so sorry, honey. I know we had all those plans made, and you can still go have dinner with your family. I just… the team.” The longer he tried to justify his actions, the worse he felt about himself.

“Do you know when you’ll be home,” came her soft ask.

“No. These things, especially kidnapping cases, we never can predict how they’ll turn out. I’m hoping we’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. I’ll take Jack with me to dinner tomorrow. We’ll be fine, Aaron. Just focus on catching the bad guy.”

How he wished he could have. It had been five days since they touched down in Kearney, Nebraska. Five days, and they were right back to square one. Firstly, this unsub was crafty. He managed to throw suspension off of whomever it was and get another guy arrested. Every lead was turning out to be a dead end. And Aaron was pissed.

He had talked with his wife a little bit every morning and every night that he had been gone, but it did not hold a candle to the need he felt to be home. As he sat around the conference table they had been granted, Aaron pulled a bit on his tie to get it to loosen. A cup of mediocre cop shop coffee was placed in front of him, and an Italian sat next to him.

“I’m not gong to ask if you’re alright, because I know the answer to that. But I will say, it’s going to be fine.” The wisdom in his voice caused the younger man to stare him from where his chair was leaned back.

“I just want to go home, Dave. I want this case over with, and to go home. We never take this long on kidnappings. There has to be something that we’re missing.” The unit chief lamented, turning his face to the ceiling and shielding his eyes with his hands.

“We’ll catch him, Aaron. We always do. Don’t worry. Whether it’s a blessing or a curse, we haven’t found a body which means the kid is probably still alive.” Dave reassured, watching his friend closely.

“I know you were looking forward to spend the holiday with your lovely wife, but this is the job. Besides, she is more than likely not as upset as you think. Just put your head in the game, so we can get home sooner.” Rossi patted his knee, and left, shutting the door behind him. All that was left in the room was Hotch, the evidence board, and his own racing thoughts.

As much as he tried to remain focused, he could not help but think of his wife. And in doing so, he thought back to Hailey. She had only been able to take so much of him as unit chief before she threw in the towel. Would his current wife do the same if he kept having to cancel major and minor holidays for the sake of the team?

That was something that he never cared to think about, but it was a very real possibility. Hotch grabbed the cup of coffee and turned to the board behind him. The girl that had disappeared was the same age as Jack. She needed him now. Aaron really needed his head in the game. But the longer he stared at the evidence board, the more questions he got.

Had this girl been a newborn, he would have thought that this was a female abduction. Like a lightbulb flicking on, he sprang from his seat, and called the rest of the team in. From that point on, it was only a matter of time.

Coming home after six days away was like a breath of fresh air. It was late, almost midnight, when Hotch dragged his tired bones to the front door of his apartment. When he got inside, the sight made him chuckle as he disarmed his security system.

His wife was asleep on the couch with a bunch of laundry spread out around her. It honestly looked like a little nest that she had made for herself. Setting down his briefcase, and carefully stepping over the piles, his hand made contact with her arm and gently shook her awake.

“Aar, you’re home,” she mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah, I am. Let’s get you to bed, Mrs. Hotchner.” Aaron picked his wife up with little difficulty, before turning and making their way to bed. He placed her underneath their sheets, kissed her head, and went to take a shower.

His memory never recorded himself falling asleep, but he knew he did. Purely, for the simple fact that he awoke the next morning in his bed, with his wife already out of it. However, after checking the time on the clock, Aaron rushed to get ready to go into work. He took the fastest shower, put his suit on in record time, and was rushing to lace up his shoes.

“Good morning, dear. Why are you in such a hurry?”

Aaron paused in between doing the laces from tying his left shoe to look up to where his wife was standing in the kitchen. His mug was sitting on the table with some steaming coffee in it. A plate was in front of it filled with eggs, sausage, and toast.

“Um…” he trailed off, “going to work? It’s Tuesday.”

“Dave got you and the team the day off. Go change into something more comfortable, sweetie.” She giggled as she waved him off, back to the bedroom. As he did, he saw the counters filled with different preparations of side dishes. It confused him, but he was just thankful for the day off.

Coming back, Hotch was grateful that he could enjoy his day with his wife. He took his plate and pressed a kiss to her cheek while she went to sit with her own plate beside him. While they ate, she asked about the case they had just wrapped. Normally, this was not something that he liked bringing up, however, it felt nice to get it off of his chest.

Occasionally, when cases are this rough and long, it takes longer for him to decompress after the fact. Figuring out that someone was kidnapping a young girl to protect his wife that could not grapple with the fact that their daughter was dead; it was not something that you could easily comprehend. But, being able to talk to his wife and not a bureau mandated therapist was defiantly preferable.

Being able to go pick his son up from school was a welcomed change. However, his wife made sure to tell the Hotchner boys the second they got home to go get changed. He did not know why. All he knew was that the two adults, and Jack, were grabbing warmed dishes and heading out.

“Where are we going,” came his ask.

“You’ll see,” she replied.

The further they derived, the more he began to recognize the route they were on. Rossi’s mansion was quickly coming into view as they made the final turn into the driveway. Grabbing the dishes, the Hotchner’s went to the front door, and were greeted by their favorite Italian.

“Señora Hotchner, how I have missed you beautiful.” Dave pulled her in and took the dish from her hands with a kiss to each cheek.

“And I have missed you, Mr. Rossi.” Jack and Aaron followed after them. They were also greeted by Dave, and they placed their other dishes on the table outside, where a bunch of other food was already.

However, there was a sight that he never expected. The entire team was outside in the backyard. It was a massive party that he had no idea was going on. Garcia was with Derek and Emily already drinking wine. Will sat with Spencer who was shouting Henry magic tricks in the mean time.

Turning back to look at his wife who smirking an impish smile, he was confused, and knew it showed through on his face.

“I know you were upset about missing Thanksgiving last week. So I talked with Dave about maybe doing a redo.” Before he could stop himself, Aaron swooped down and kissed his wife passionately.

“Well, that is definitely one way to say thank you.” She said with a dazed smile.

“Come on, love birds. Let’s get this started.” Dave guided them to their seats, while Aaron was just thinking how thankful he was to have a wife like he did.

Catherine Pulsifier said, “Give thanks not just on Thanksgiving Day, but every day of your life.”

#rebelliousstories #writing #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #david rossi #spencer reid #emily prentiss #derek morgan #penelope garcia #jack hotchner

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zorosangell · 2 days ago

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⛥ﾟ・。 lucky punch: chapter one

chapter synopsis: after getting drunk at a Bonney rager with Nami, you're nearly busted by the cops... good thing a sexy, green-haired stranger was there to save you.

cw: high school/college au, violence, underage drinking, parties, mature themes, profanity, sports, reader is on the volleyball team, zoro is in kendo, you and zoro are both seniors and eighteen, etc.

"Damn it! These boots are impossible!" you drunkenly whined, stumbling slightly as your foot caught a raised chunk of sidewalk.

You knew you should've done the run test before leaving Nami's.

Now you were paying the price.

Behind you, the signature er-whoop of a cop car echoed, the sound sending a pang of fear through your heart as the world seemed to feel like it was closing in, the swirling red and blue lights bounding off the buildings and surrounding you on all sides.

'Someone just had to snitch!'

A few moments earlier, you were having the time of your life—dancing, drinking, and partying to your heart's content with your best friend in the whole wide world.

The problem was that you weren't exactly the legal age to be drinking, and it was just your luck that Eustass Kid—absolutely sloshed out of his mind—managed to tee-pee the house next to Bonney's and forced them to call the police.

So a riot began when the cops pulled up on the lawn, everyone scattering like roaches in fear of being caught.

Which was what you were supposed to be doing with your ginger gal pal.

But when the two of you nearly got cornered, you both split up, and, unluckily, you were the one the squad car chose to follow.

Now, to be fair, Bonney was known for throwing outrageous ragers at her house with little to no consequences, so all of this was bound to happen someday.

'But why'd they have to do this todayyyy?'

"Shit!"

Your shoes were holding you back from your full speed, forcing you to run awkwardly, while the alcohol pumping through your system made everything seem as if it was moving in slow motion, most of your attention focused on keeping on your feet.

Haphazardly, you attempted to cut a nearby corner, teetering to the side a little bit before you stabilized and continued to flounder down the sidewalk.

Despite the sharp pain in your heels, you pressed on strongly, knowing full well just what would happen if you were caught.

Out of all the people at the party, you were probably the one that could afford getting busted the least.

It was your dream to be the best volleyball player in the world, after all.

Because of your stellar performance as an outside hitter during your freshman year, you were whisked away to a special training camp across the country, where for two years you built up your body and honed your skills in hopes of returning senior year to be recognized by an international club.

Once that happens, it will be a straight shot to the top, ending with you going down in history as the greatest outside hitter volleyball has ever seen.

But, of course, all of that would fly right out the window if you gained a criminal record.

Your brows furrowed, feet picking up speed at the thought, even in your drunken state.

All that time...

All that work...

It would all be for nothing.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed your shoulders, yanking you into a nearby alleyway covering your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, eyes widening and blood running cold.

No!

You could've sworn the cop was still in the car...

How the hell did he get out so fast?

Yet as the squad car passed, the man holding you ducked into the shadows of the alley, watching closely as the police officer cruised past—the cop having stuck his head out the window to get a better look.

"Coulda swore she was right here..." he grumbled under his breath, brows furrowed.

He had a large scar stretching from his hairline to just above his cheekbone, two cigars hanging out the corner of his mouth as his eyes scanned over the area.

The mystery man's brows furrowed at the sight, body turning rigid.

Smoker.

'Shoulda known...'

He and Luffy had run into him a few times before.

The white-haired cop paused, giving the space one more once over before settling back in his seat, picking up his radio with an annoyed sigh.

"Tashigi, I lost her. Gonna circle back to your position and look for the redhead."

Your eyes widened, knowing exactly who he was talking about.

"Nami!" you whimpered, forcing the the man's calloused hand to press harder into your face to muffle the noise.

"Quiet," a deep, rough voice ordered, tone leaving no room for argument.

He held you with an iron grip, not budging even an inch as you began to squirm in his grasp.

He wasn't gonna spend another night in the precinct because of some girl who couldn't hold her liquor.

Suspicious, Smoker glanced in your direction, narrowing his eyes at the darkness as he looked directly at you—though he didn't know it.

Your heart stopped, your entire body freezing up as both you and the man behind you stayed still as statues, pressing firmer against the wall of the alley to avoid being revealed by the lights of the siren as the officer pulled off.

And once he was completely gone, you both let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders dropping as the tension finally oozed out your back.

"Are you stupid or something?" the man spat, curtly, the two of you stepping into the moonlight now that the cop was gone. "You could've gotten us both caught."

You turned around, raising a brow as he stepped closer, his chest about an inch away from yours.

Yum.

As your eyes adjusted to the better lighting, you couldn't help the warm buzz growing in your stomach at the sight of the absolutely gorgeous man in front of you.

He had a strong jaw, which looked like it could cut through stone, with sharp features and dark eyes that could bring any woman to her knees.

Eyes raking over his body, you might as well have been drooling, your expression not hiding your thoughts at all as you admired the prime slab of grade A male beef standing before you.

You were surprised you didn't notice just how large he was until then, six feet of chorded, hard-earned muscle, with a certain air that just made you want him to put you in a headlock.

'And then some...'

Not to mention his cute, soft-looking green hair.

"Are you that stripper Bonney tried to call?" you giggled, twirling a lock of your hair between your fingers as a lousy attempt to flirt.

Surprised, Zoro's breath hitched, a faint tinge of pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

What you said had caught him completely off guard, and confirmed his suspicions that you were completely hammered.

Now, he wasn't a good Samaritan by any means, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to ditch the dead weight and go back to finding Luffy—they had gotten split up, too.

But as he watched you look up at him, eyes glazed and lidded, feet having a slight wobble even as you stood still, he knew he couldn't leave.

You were a young, defenseless woman who was in the middle of an empty street alone at night, drunk as a skunk.

If he left you alone, it'd bother him for the rest of the day.

"Do you know where you are?" he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Uh... no?" you pouted, taking a moment to slowly look around, indeed realizing that you had no idea where you were.

"Great," he huffed, grabbing your arm. "Do you know where you live?"

"Whyyyy...?"

"'Cause I'm gonna take your ass home."

"Woah, sir... how about you get to know me first?" you giggled, body swaying back and forth.

Eyes wide, he froze, turning red as a beet.

"It's not like that! I'm just giving you a ride—!"

"Listen, Mister Hot Guy," you interrupted, index finger digging into his hard chest. "You might've saved us from the police but that doesn't mean you can just have your way with me. We have to go to dinner first."

Taking a moment to pause, the man looked at you in disbelief.

Never in his life had he ever encountered such an idiotically stubborn person.

And not only were you stubborn, but you were also fucking beautiful.

While he was a man who prided himself on self-restraint and respect, he couldn't help but let his eyes rake over you as your arms came up to cross over your chest.

Sexy, tanned skin accentuated under the complementary blue of your jean tube-top, your jean mini-skirt just long enough to tease, while making your ass look fantastic.

Your lipgloss made your plump lips so soft and inviting, and your eyes were so warm he felt like they heated him from the inside out.

A date didn't sound too damn bad—

"That's enough," he shut down, talking to both you and himself as he began to tug you down the street, leading you to his car.

"Woah-hey! Let me go! This is—!"

Your small fight to wriggle out of his grasp was interrupted as you lost your balance, feet slipping and body flying backward toward the ground.

Luckily, that same pair of strong hands grabbed your waist with a death grip, forcing a gasp out your lips as your hands shot up to cling to his broad shoulders.

Zoro sighed in exasperation, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a sack of potatoes.

"Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, continuing his trek down the street until he turned the corner and reached the safety of his pickup.

He'd be damned if he had to deal with a drunk you and a drunk Luffy at the same time.

So, he settled on setting aside an hour of the night trying to find your house, or a friend to drop you off with, then he'd hit up Luffy and grab him at whatever restaurant he managed to clear out.

Foolproof.

"Hey! This is kidnapping!" you squealed as he tossed you in the backseat, shutting the door behind. "I'll call that cop back to get you!"

"And get arrested yourself," he said with a slight chuckle, plopping himself down in the driver's seat and starting the engine.

Glancing at the rear-view mirror, his eyes took another moment to look you over.

You really were beautiful, and seemed close to, if not the same age, as him.

And your little outfit wasn't too bad either.

"Like what you see?" you teased with a smirk, slightly leaning back to give him a better view.

He scoffed as he rolled his eyes, not willing to give you the satisfaction.

"Put your seatbelt on," he ordered.

And although his tone was serious, you didn't miss the tinge of pink on his face.

"Can't," you shrugged, simply. "You're gonna have to help me..."

You giggled, wiggling your eyebrows and puffing your chest so that the man could get a nice look at your cleavage.

Unluckily for you, he knew better that to trust it, letting a tired hand rake through his hair as he realized how much of a pain in the ass this ride was going to be.

"Before, you said you knew a Nami," he grunted, resting his hands on the steering wheel. "That wouldn't happen to be Nami Nami, would it? Y'know, long orange hair, money-hungry, debt collecting?"

You gasped, eyes turning starry, "You know Nami?!"

The man let out a groan, dropping his head onto the horn, the car letting out a long beep as he just sat there, honestly amused by the circumstances.

Why was he not surprised?

Of course you and Nami were friends.

Annoyed, he shifted the truck into drive, pressing his foot on the gas and pulling off in the direction of Nami's house.

Now, not only did he have to drop your ass off, but he also had to pay back Nami the fifty dollars he owed, and then still go back out and grab Luffy.

And it was all thanks to you.

He grumbled to himself, resting his cheek in his palm as his other hand rested on the wheel.

'If I ever meet this woman again, it'll be too soon...'

#one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #zorosangell #op #zorosangell--lucky punch

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