#but I do think we're getting some stretches of time here

[belethlegwen]

If a giant was in need of reassurance and comfort, what do you think a regular person could do to make them feel better?

Love this.

Things I believe would be very helpful, comforting and reassuring:

Trying to get as close to eye or ear level with the giant as possible to make conversation easier. Try to do it in a way/place that lets the giant be as comfortable as they're going to be able to get. Looking down all the time has to be extremely hard on the neck/back depending on how close they have to get to be able to hear/see people.

Showing that they aren't too afraid of the giant. Getting close (while still being careful to not get in their way or be at risk if the giant moved) and maybe touching them.

Clearing/making space for them, as much as possible. Give them an area where they can move, sit, stretch, lie, or so on without them having to worry too much about damage or anything.

It would be difficult, obviously, depending on what levels we're talking about here, but just trying to find whatever ways possible to let the giant be themselves. Let them speak at their normal volume if it isn't going to cause a problem. Let them stretch out and move like mentioned above. Even just for a few short moments of a day, just something to be some kind of relief.

Listening. Let them talk through their problems, or if they aren't comfortable with talking (either about their problems or just in general due to volume etc), then talk to them. Make conversation as if they were any other person; tell them about your day, tell them a funny story. Tell them about things you've seen or what you're interested in.

Conversation is a big one for me, in my mind. Being able to relate to another person, no matter how different they are, can make every situation significantly less scary. Feeling like you can fit, even if just into someone's life as a companion and confidant, would do wonders.

Personally I imagine that were I in the nightmare situation of being a giant, the idea that someone would be willing to talk with me, be close to me, try to accommodate me in simple ways (like doing what they could to make sure I wasn't breaking my neck/spine all the time) and maybe even getting to the point of being comfortable with being held/making physical contact in some way while speaking together would be a massive boon. Someone comfortable enough with riding in a pocket or sitting on a shoulder for a conversation would lift spirits a lot, and take a massive ton of worry away if only for a few moments.

Thank you so much for the ask!!

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Another Clone Danny au, but the twist is he's basically reincarnated. CW shoved his core into a soulless LoA Damian clone to keep the halfa from completely dying after his original human body was destroyed in his og dimension. Danny is currently mute, too. Be warned, this is long. [Pt 2 here]

Danny had become completely aware in his new body after about a month of barely processing what is happening. The trauma of everything that's gone wrong in his life putting him in a disassociative state while his body's creators train and test him for something. It takes a while for him to realize he's not their first clone, but is the first to not be a soulless husk. These people talk too freely around him, but rarely each other, confident in his inability to understand anything outside of orders. So he decides to play along, learning about this hell hole and what little of the outside world he can. He takes the latter with a grain of salt, he can smell how delusional his creators are.

"Hmm, something is defective with this clone." A tall, beautiful woman says while glaring at Danny's eyes, "Damian's eyes are Juniper. This thing's eyes have been fading to a bluer colour every time I see it. Someone has made a mistake.... no matter. Beloved and my son shouldn't notice it's eyes are pine if we send it now. It is ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Give it its instructions and get it out of my sight."

And this is how Danny learns he's been made to attempt to kill his template or die trying. He gets the full feeling that they expect him to die, like the, apparently, dozen before him. (He hides his amusement when realizing he can truly relate to Dani now.) Too bad for his creators, he's not like the rest and fully intends to not do any murder once he's out of this godforsaken lab.

Keeping himself from reacting gets a whole lot harder when he realizes they intend to put him in a crate to ship him to some place called Gotham, but he stays as blank and relaxed as possible. It's only once they unload him, inform him of his Template's whereabouts, and ditch him in the middle of what he assumes is Gotham, does he finally grimace and shake off the shitty shell persona he had going on. As he stretches out his limbs and thinks on how he wants to play this, he takes in how absolutely drenched in the smell of death the city is. It reminds him enough of Amity that he knows his ghost half would never go hungry here, but what to do with his human half? He wonders if his Template and his father would care for another sibling. He caught the tall lady and her father saying insulting things about how many strays, he assumes kids, his Template's father adopts, it's usually over how pissed they are that his Template isn't treated like God's gift for simply being blood related.

So with a bit of hesitant hope, Danny heads towards where he was told his Template was. He's hit with a wave of weariness when he finds a kid of the same colouring as him decked out in a hero costume and arguing with a giant man dressed as a.. bat? Danny has no idea what he's looking at and is a little scared of how aggressive his Template is. Aggression means he's probably going to have to at least dodge a lot.

Danny's awful luck strikes again when before he can even decide on how exactly he's going to approach this, he hears a light crunch that has him bolting several feet in the opposite direction before he whips around and into a defensive fighting stance.

"Shit, sorry, BB." A blonde woman dressed in a purple hero costume says to a small figure that looks like a creepier verson of the bat dude. Purple is standing where the crunching sound came from, and scarily, "BB" is almost exactly where Danny had been. "Shit. He looks like Demon Brat.."

"Calm.." "BB"'s voice is soft and feminine, and she(?) seems to be trying to project "we're not going to hurt you" and "let me near" with body language alone. Which Danny finds impressive but doesn't trust, Purple is too tense and is too ready to attack. So when his Template and his father climb onto the roof, apparently seeing a commotion, and they too look ready to fight, Danny just bolts. He's not dumb enough to test if he can fight 4 unknown trained fighters. He can see why all his predecessors instantly died if they just automatically started fighting and trying to kill people.

The fact he ran seems to surprise them and gives him a few seconds headstart. He ducks and weaves, avoiding everything they throw at him to the best of his ability without tapping into his ghost half. He REALLY doesn't want to out himself as a freak just yet.

"Kid! Get back here! I'm sorry for scaring you!" Purple yells, slightly out of breath and somewhere behind him to the left.

"I demand you stop running!" His Template sounds pissed and directly behind him, so Danny quickly rolls to his right, dodging a tackle. Which apparently BB was ready for, because she's right there and grabs ahold of him, taking them both to the ground. He's scared, trying not to hurt her, and absolutely stuck in her hold without his powers. He lets out an inhuman whine as he struggles. He hasn't spoken a single word in this body yet, he doesn't know if it has the ability yet, and something he hadn't realized would complicate this situation in the way it has.

"Safe" BB tries to soothe, but Danny can't be soothed, not when he can see and sense the rest of his pursuers closing in on them. BB seems to realize this and snaps at her people in annoyance. "Back!"

Danny flinches and trembles in her hold, not knowing if they'll ignore her and ... he's not sure what, but do something to him. But to his endless surprise, they listen and back up several feet. Close enough to help her if she needs it, but far enough Danny relaxes a fraction. It's not a lot, but it's enough to get his anxiety down to a more manageable level. And even though he thought she'd start questioning him now, she simply waits. He's still confused and scared, but slowly relaxes in her hold, an odd sort of trust forming against his will at her calm and "Please trust I won't hurt you" vibe she's yeeting at him.

"Safe." She says and releases her hold just enough to free one of her arms. She gently runs the hand through his hair and rubs his forehead and cheeks, just softly petting him. It's a gentle affection that reminds him of Jazz. He can't remember the last time he was touched kindly, and it's enough to make him tear up. She wipes away any tears that escape. "Safe."

Once he finally stops trembling and he's emotionally spent, she finally fully releases her hold and moves to sit by him so he can sit up. He feels so awkward when he realizes his Template's father and Purple are staring him down while his Template looks like he's trying to pretend to not be interested, but is glancing over too frequently to be believable.

Danny takes a shakey breath and gives a little wave, unconsciously trying to lean towards BB when he sees their body language all sharpen and focus harder on him.

"Who are you?" Bat dude demands, and Danny can see the resemblance between him and his Template, even while he's panicking to figure out how to communicate without his voice. He ends up pointing at his Template with a nervous energy. "Are you a clone?"

Danny is so relieved at the yes or no question, he almost forgets to be nervous about frantically nodding yes. Almost.

"Can you talk?" Purple asks next and he's trembling again as he gives a hesitant no. "Yes or no questions it is!"

He nearly jumps out of his skin when BB starts rubbing his shoulder in a soothing manage. He tries to subtly self-sooth by rubbing his thumb along the middle phalanx of the pointer finger on the hand hidden between him and BB. It's the first time he's done it while not completely alone. He's not sure what the LoA would have done if they'd seen, but he can't imagine it going well for him. He stops self-soothing at the thought. BB's vibes turn very sad next.

"Based on your outfit, the League of Assassins sent you, yes?" His Template growls menacingly at him and Danny winces for the guy's poor teeth the way he grides them at Danny's nod. "To kill me?"

Danny wants to bolt again, but BB is already pulling him into a hug, trapping him. The spike in anger at his nod sends him into a panic, but BB's hold is inescapable, so he ends up "hiding" in her arms. He curls up as small as he can while pressing his face into the front of her shoulder. He feels like a scared little kid.

"Geeze, kid..." Purple sounds sad.

"All of the LoA clones have been nothing but mindless shells. Why are you so different?" His Template doesn't actually sound like he's talking to Danny, but even if he was, Danny literally can't answer that with some sort of aid. Though, Danny doesn't trust these people enough to explain even if he could. "Father. I believe we should take him to the batcave."

Danny tucks himself deeper into BB. She's petting his hair and back the way you would a cat. "Safe."

"One more question." Bat dude says. "Are you planning on going through with your orders?"

Danny can feel BB get defensive on his behalf, even as Danny pulls away to look Bat dude in the face as he frantically shakes his head no.

"Honest. New brother?" Something seems to change in them when BB says this. Amusement and resignation are as easy to read as their weariness. He can't blame them. He's far from their first LoA clone, just the first to not be a mindless murder machine.

"Hn."

"Tt. Really, father?"

"Hn."

"Tt!" Danny blinks in fascination at the weird monosyllable conversation between his Template and his father. BB gets up before pulling Danny to his feet. She keeps a loose hand on his wrist, probably in case he tries to bolt again, but it's still nice. It does get awkward when she keeps her hold as they climb off the roof, and Danny needs a little help getting down with only one hand.

He tucks himself half behind BB when Purple decides to ask him a random assortment of questions while they wait for something called "the batmoble". He's a bit intimidated by her energy, it's so much like his parents'.

'Do you have a favourite food?' No. He hasn't actually eaten food yet in this body, just iv-ed nutrients. 'Favourite animal?' No. He doesn't know this dimension's animals. 'Flowers? Or plant?"No. Same problem. 'Are you hurt in any way?' Shrug. He's a little scratched and bruised, but it's not even in the top hundred of hurt he's been through. He's actually pretty happy this body doesn't have all his scars, his ghost half will have them, but his new human half is basically a blank canvas, and it's a glorious reprieve. 'Have you been anywhere besides the LoA and Gotham?" No. 'Did you at least stay somewhere nice in the LoA?' No? Does the lab count? It was a pretty nice lab all things considered.

Danny nearly jumps out of his skin when a black, sleek car shows up without a driver. He clings to BB when they climb in. He's nearly in her lap.

He can't help but wonder about how out of character he feels. He wonders if it's because this body is, at most, 2 months old, or if his time as only a ghost core kick started childish instincts, his ghost half IS only about a year old, or if the trauma of everything that happened caused a mental regression. He vaguely remembers Jazz talking about age regression as a coping mechanism, not enough to understand if that's what's happening right now, but it sort of feels like it. At least BB doesn't seem to mind having an overgrown toddler using her like a security blanket.

The drive is pretty smooth considering the speed bat dude is driving. Danny looks around "the batcave" in wonder when they pile out.

"Who's that?" A cheerful man in black and blue bounces over. Danny hides behind BB again and wishes he knew literally anybody's name. Currently, he just knows his Template's non-hero identity as Damian Al Gul. BB's hero identity of BB definitely means something, but all he has is what Purple called her.

"New brother!" BB chirps. Blue guy thankfully stops a few feet away while a tired guy about Purple's age wonders up.

"Why does he look like Demon Brat?" Tired guy sounds grumpy and on edge.

"The LoA apparently made a new clone of me. This one seems defective. Simply trying to run away and escape when Black Bat and Spoiler spotted him watching father and I." The new people tense, and Danny fully ducks behind BB, while Damian continues, "He did not throw a single punch and showed true panic at being caught. As you can see, he's been glued to Cassandra's side since she calmed him down."

"Likelihood of this one trying to kill me?" Tired guy asks. "I'm tired of new siblings trying to kill me."

"Unlikely. Kid ran like a scared deer the whole time we were chasing him." Purple, no, Spoiler? reasures tired guy.

"Well, if you weren't so stabbable." There's a teasing tilt to his Template's voice. Danny kind of wants to know what THAT means, so he peeks curiously at them. Tired guy just looks more tired when their eyes meet.

"Damian and Jason both tried to kill me, multiple times." Tired guy explains with a tone that'd be more fitting for a conversation about a sibling stealing a favoured toy in the past, not admitted homicide attempts on one's life. Danny's eyes dart at blue guy and Damian, wondering if they'll try to kill him too. Tired guy frowns before asking, "Do you actually know who any of us are?"

There's a whole lot of squawking when Danny shakes his head no and just points to Damian. Damian is complaining about how little sense it makes to only tell Danny a kill order. Spoiler is embarrassed and complaining about not realizing. Bat dude is giving off embarrassed vibes, even if literally nothing changed in his stance or face. Blue guy, tired guy, and Cassandra all seem very amused, but blue guy is also stressed and tired guy is just resigned.

"Okay, so introductions. I'm Timothy Drake-Wayne, just call me Tim or Drake. My vigilante name is Red Robin." Tired guy says before pointing to each of the other people. "Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, call her Steph. Dick Grayson is Nightwing. Cassandra Caine is Black Bat, call her Cass. Bruce Wayne is Batman. Dam-"

"I am Damian Al Gul Wayne. I am the current Robin and the only blood son of Batman." Danny's Template cuts off Tim.

"Can't say you're the only blood son if we keep the clone," Tim teases and gets a knife thrown at him for it. He easily dodges it and continues talking to Danny. "There's also Jason Todd, who's not here right now. He's Red Hood. Barbara Gordon is our eye in the sky, better known as Oracle. Duke Thomas is Signal, he's our Day shift so he's asleep upstairs currently. And Alfred Pennyworth is the real head of the house and pseudo grandfather, even if he says he's just the family butler. There's more, but they're who you'll most like to interact with anytime soon."

Danny must look as overwhelmed as he feels because Dick(? Why is he named that?) steps closer, hands where Danny can see them. "You okay, little buddy? Do you have a name or something you want us to call you?"

Danny gives Damian, Steph, and Mr. Wayne a panicked look. Steph comes to his rescue.

"He can't speak. We're unsure why he can't, but he hasn't even tried to say anything. Only made a whining noise when Cass pinned him. We'd think it was another Cass situation, but he can understand everything we say."

"Oh.. Maybe he just never learned?" Dick wonders aloud before asking Danny, "About how old are you?"

Danny points to Damian. He's pretty sure his body is the same age as his Template's, who is about as old as Danny's whole existence. Unlike Dani, who was made slightly younger than Danny in body, but is currently only a year old in spirit.

"No, I mean, how long have you been alive?" Dick corrects gently. Danny blinks and figures the correct answer is how long his clone body has been alive. He can explain later when he can communicate better, if he feels safe enough to do so. He holds up 2 fingers. "2 years?"

There's grimaces when he shakes his head.

"2 months?" Danny cautious nods and startles when Steph gasps loudly.

"A Baby!" Danny pouts at that, but can't exactly refute it. He does move so Cass is more between them.

Cass unexpectedly decides to remove her creepy mask, making Danny stare in wide-eyed surprise at her short dark hair.

"Oh! The baby hasn't seen our faces yet!" Steph is delighted and pulls her own mask down. The rest of the group unmask, minus Tim, who's already in civilian clothes. Danny looks at them before circling Cass so he can see her. She's very pretty, some sort of Asian, and giving off happy and calm vibes. It reminds him a little of Jazz when they could just exist, no parents, school, or ghosts to worry about. It's nice. He likes that his new big sister has that peacefulness.

"You see?" Cass smiles and clarifies, "Language of body?"

Danny brightly nods. He had to learn to read body language or die the rest of the way. It wasn't a failure to read it that nearly got him killed.

"I'll teach you to read it even better and to hide your own." Danny is startled by Cass speaking a full sentence before he excitedly indicates he wants to show her something. He can see how absolutely horrified they all get when he slams his body language into the soulless husk both labs of horror he got stuck in wanted. He turns lifelessly to each person, taking in their reacts to it, only breaking character only when he turns back to Cass. He beams excitedly at her, wanting her opinion. "That was very good. Almost no one would be able to tell."

"I can see how the LoA wouldn't know you weren't like the others if you just behaved like that the whole time." Tim hums, seemingly more fascinated than horrified, unlike the rest. They look ready to jump him, so he goes back to hiding behind Cass, deciding right now that he's staying with Tim and/or Cass, until he either runs away or they're all more comfortable with each other.

"Be nice." He can hear the scowl she's giving everyone, but Tim. Tim edges closer with a fancy piece of technically that Danny's never seen before. It almost looks like a clipboard at first glance, but is clearly a sci-fi computer thingy. Danny noticed technology is far more advanced in this dimension, but hasn't had a chance to figure it out.

"Do you know how to work an ipad?" Tim doesn't give him a judgmental look when he shakes his head, just steps closer with clear intent to teach. "Okay, I'll show you. You can read, correct?"

Danny nods and cautiously steps towards Tim so he can see the device better. The others start to wonder off and change into civilian clothes while Tim gives him a crash course on everything Danny can do on this iPad. He does explain there's basically a child lock on it to keep Danny from accidentally going on an unsafe website. It's more for his safety as he learns. Danny accepts that reason, despite knowing that's definitely not the only one, because the other reasons don't matter. He's probably only going to be using it to look up everything he doesn't understand in this dimension and communicating with whoever is in front of him, at least for now. He feels a lot like a toddler with how out of his depth he is, which is honestly a good thing right now. Really sells the "I'm a harmless baby, protect me!" thing he has going on.

"Now that you can answer." Tim smiles a little, "Is there any you want to be called? It's okay if there isn't just yet. Finding your name can be difficult."

[Danny] Danny excitedly shows Tim.

"Danny? Not what I was expecting, but it suits you." Tim's easy acceptance is wonderful, too bad his Template ruins the moment.

"Absolutely not. You need a proper name. How about Daniel? Or maybe the arabic version? Danyal?" Danny throws his most disgusted face he can pull.

"That's a no." Tim sounds like he's barely concealing laughter.

"He needs a proper name. How about Dante?"

[It's better than Daniel, but I still don't like it.]

"How about we come back to this later? We can look up names that Danny can be a nickname for and he can pick from those once he's settled in." Tim basically orders when Damian opens his mouth. "Danny should shower. I'll grab him som-"

Danny grabs his sleeve. Cass isn't here, so Tim is his current security person. He doesn't feel safe with his Template yet.

"Nevermind, I'll get him showered. Could you grab him some clothes?" Tim adjusts to the quiet demand easily, glancing to Danny to ask. "Any idea of preference?"

Danny glances at the stiff outfit he's currently in before writing [Comfy?]

Tim nods and tells Damian, "You should snag one of Dick's hoodies and one of my fluffy pj pants. Alfred probably has some unused underwear somewhere with how many times a guest needed some."

Damian doesn't look pleased, but seems to follow Tim's lead. He does quizzically eye Danny one last time before he leaves. Tim gently leads Danny to what looks like a locker room. No one else is currently in there.

"I know he seems abrasive, but that was his version of trying to bond." Tim explains, "He's trying his best. Just say something if it's too much."

Danny nods and strips. Uncaring of Tim looking at him as he hops in the shower, he only seems to be checking for injuries, then he only glances over every once in a while to make sure "the baby" is cleaning himself properly and doesn't need help. He doesn't get any creepy vibes from the man. He's awfully familiar with the vibes to look out for since some of the scientists would bad touch him, claiming it's for science. It wasn't. Needless to say, being a labrat kind of murders shyness over being naked in cold blood.

Damian shows up with the clothes Tim requested when Danny is drying off. Danny makes sure to scribble a [Thank you!] and show it to him before taking the clothes.

"You are welcome."

"Alfred will be happy his newest grandchild comes with manners pre-installed." Tim jokes, and adds at Danny's curious glance. "The rest of us were feral. You'd think that I'd be an exception since I'm from high society, but I literally blackmailed my way into being Robin and then made a fake uncle to keep myself from being adopted."

Danny gives Tim an alarmed look, and Damian looks curious.

"Okay, so I used to stalk Batman and Robin every night because I lacked adult supervision. I was just taking pictures because I was a huge fan and had figured out who they were when I was 9. Then when I was 12, Jason died for a little bit." This makes Danny more alarmed, so Tim quickly adds. "He's alive and as well as he can be now, but he was Robin at the time, and Bruce, Bruce was devastated. He was taking it out on everyone. Purse snatchers were ending up in the ICU. So I first tried to get Dick to come back to Gotham, when they didn't work, I showed up on the doorstep with photographic evidence I knew everything and demanded I be Robin to keep him safe. I.. It was a rough time. He hated me with every fiber of his being for a while, but I couldn't let Batman die. We were partners, but not family by any stretch of the word. Then.. my parents died and I couldn't let him adopt me. I wasn't his son. I hadn't had an adult keeping track of me in years, hell, B barely tracked me as Robin, thinking it would make me stop. Jokes on him, I'm too stubborn."

"That's unfortunately true." Damian sounds exasperated.

"I hired an actor to pretend to be my fake uncle to keep Bruce from questioning my living situation. Clearly, that didn't last." Tim chuckles, "Steph compared me to a feral cat a lot during that time."

Danny has to pull up his (Dick's?) sleeves to use the iPad. [Are all of your lives so weird?]

"Unfortunately." Damian sighs, "Every single one of us has a different tale of how we came to be with Father."

"Kid, you're a defective clone that just escaped from a cult of assassins and are actively being adopted by the family of your target." Tim teases. "You fit in perfectly."

Danny flusters at that, but has nothing to say against it.

"I apologize if this is a sensitive issue, but I have to ask." Damian does look sorry. "Why don't you talk? I know a few of the Clones were instructed in the past to say things, so I was wondering why you can't."

[Never talked before. Don't know how to. Wasn't taught before mission. Tall lady didn't like my eyes and wanted me gone.]

"Tall lady? Probably Talia. But she didn't like your eyes? Why?" Tim tilts his head.

[Wrong color. Fading slowly to bluer color. Wasn't perfect copy anymore and getting less perfect by the day. Needed to die faster.]

"She wanted you to die because your eye colour?" Tim and Damian look shocked as Danny nods.

[Imperfections die. Barely good enough to be sent out instead of killed in lab.] Danny lays it on thick, but it wasn't untrue. He ended up seeing other "Imperfect" clones be terminated near the end of his stay.

"Well... actually, what colour do you think they'll end up? Now that I'm paying attention, I can see the difference. You think it's a result of whatever made you different?" Tim seems excited by the idea. Damian just looks thoughtful.

[Unsure. Changed from Damian's color to current in a month. Tall lady was very unhappy by it. Don't know why change happened.]

Danny suddenly yawns. He didn't get much sleep in the crate. Too scared to.

"Alright. We can talk more after you get some sleep."

"Alfred told me to tell you you're cut off from caffeine until you sleep a minimum of 6 hours, Drake." Damian looks a little too amused by Tim's despair over that news, before turning to Danny. "Your new room is next to Cassandra's. She apparently requested it while we were otherwise engaged."

Danny is delighted by the news, hugging his iPad to his chest. Tim and Damian lead him to his new room, pointing out things and whose room is who's while they walk. Danny's dazed look and slowly making a list of things to look up really sells his new role. He's also scared to even breathe on anything. Everything is so fancy.

"Getting you your own clothes and room decor will have to wait until tomorrow." Damian informs him apologetically before the brothers bid him goodnight. And Danny doesn't know what to do with that. He doesn't feel safe in this too nice room. So he grabs one of the pillows and the thin extra blanket at the foot of the bed before cramming himself under the bed. He curls up in a ball under the head, the end tables blocking the sides, making him feel safer.

He wakes the first day to Cass laying on the floor nearby, but not under the bed. It's a very weird day for him, but Tim, Cass, and his Template are very helpful and mostly non judgemental to the mess he is. He does find a moment to naturally "discover" his obsession with space. Thankfully, it turns out this dimensions space is so different that he doesn't have to pretend to be clueless. Everything is so different and Danny kind of loves it. He's gifted so much space themed shit and books on space and alien culture throughout the week, he has to fight to keep from glowing in his excitement. He knows they noticed, but let him pretend to be normal for a bit. It's harder to hide his inhumanity in this body, but he does his best.

[xxchumanixx]

Beach Adventures

Pedro Pascal x fem!reader

Summary: Pedro takes the opportunity to fuck you at the beach.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni!, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, multiple orgasms (two), filthy talk, implied age gap (because, let's face it, we're all much younger than him), established relationship, porn without a plot

Word Count: 5.289

Authors Note: What. Did. I. Do. I don't know. But this video of Pedro? It sent me down a spiral I wasn't ready to be pushed down. This was living in my head rent-free since then, and i think it's time it does something for its stay! I hope you'll enjoy this. Never did anything for Pedro before, so this is kinda new. Also, it's been a while since I did smut, so, please, cut me some slack.

Enjoy!

You should have known he'd take that challenge - and succeed it.

Making you horny at the beach on your vacation? Yes.

Making you come on his fingers at the beach? Yes.

Fucking you at the public beach? Triple that yes.

Pedro sat in the reclined chair under the parasol at the beach, busy reading the book he had brought along for the Christmas holidays. You were sitting in a chair right beside his, bathing in the sun. He'd be lying if he said you weren't distracting him in your tiny swim suit.

You stretched a bit, the sun making you sleepy. "How's your book?" you asked, eyes still closed.

He chuckled softly at your comment, seeing as your eyes were still closed. Clearly you hadn't been paying attention to the world around you for a short moment. "It's alright. Very well written, but a little boring for my taste." he admitted, closing it for a brief moment just to admire the view of you in your swim suit. "How's... sun bathing going?"

You hummed. "Good." you said. "Though I'm sorry for the book. I know how excited you were about it."

He shook his head, waving it off almost immediately. He set the book to the side, turning his chair just a tiny bit to see you even better. "It's alright, babe. Can't like everything right?"  

You hummed once more. "That's true."

His hand moved up onto your leg, running up and down your thigh absentmindedly. It was a very subtle move, but clearly, he was in need of some entertainment.

"Are you getting sun burnt yet? You've been laying there for a while - I'd hate for you to turn red later.” he mused.

You snorted under your breath. "I have some very good sunscreen." you told him. "Don't worry. I can still turn onto my front if you're scared, though."

He chuckled. Despite the fact he was enjoying the view of you lying there, he'd much rather see you on your stomach anyway. Less... distracting. "Oh yes, that would be much better. Don't wanna miss any spot while applying more sunscreen you know, gotta make sure everything is covered in SPF."

You hummed, turning onto your stomach. "You're absolutely right." you mumbled.

The sun felt so nice. It was a nice distraction from everything. Holidays meant no work, no events or galas to attend to. No dressing up, no socializing. Just Pedro, a couple friends, and you.

His eyes scanned you up and down, admiring your naked back and how the thin straps of your swim suit kept you from being completely exposed. Pedro didn't mind, he could easily pull those tiny strings...

He leaned forward, a small smirk forming on his face. His hand moved up and down your naked back, touching the smooth skin.  

You sighed, relaxing into the chair.  

He chuckled softly at your reaction, enjoying the fact he could get a reaction out of you just by touching your skin. He moved his fingers to the straps of your swim suit, pulling it a little.  

"Would you mind if I took the straps off? So I could apply the sunscreen everywhere?" he wanted to know. 

You repressed a snort. Right, for the sunscreen. "No, go ahead."  

He smirked as you agreed. He was going to have a lot of fun here. His fingers moved around your body, pulling the straps off of it, exposing you almost completely. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking in every inch of it in the process. 

He grabbed the lotion, squirting a bunch of it into his hand, before slowly spreading it across your soft skin, covering you in sunscreen from the top of your neck all the way down your back.  

"Pedro?" you mumbled his name. "Are we gonna go to that little bar we saw yesterday, later? It looked really nice."  

He raised an eyebrow absentmindedly, his hands continuing to move across your body. He was just getting to your lower back now, massaging the sunscreen into your skin, not realizing you were talking at first until he heard you say his name once more.  

"Hm?" He hummed, snapping out of the trance he had been in for the past few minutes. "Bar? Yeah, we can do that. I could use a few drinks and some music."  

"Everything okay?" you asked, though you already knew what was going through his head. Being an actor meant for him being very busy and on the run most of the time, which left little time for... other activities.  

Chuckling, Pedro leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lower back, not caring about the sunscreen he’d just applied there. He couldn't help it, you just looked so good, completely exposed for him to see and touch...  

"I'm perfect, baby. Just got a little... distracted. That's all." He moved up onto his knees a bit, his hands slipping a bit further down your body. "We should go somewhere a little more... private, though."

You snorted softly. "Why?" you asked. "The sun's feeling so nice."  

He chuckled, continuing to spread the sunscreen across your body, until he was on your legs. Once on the tops of your legs, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to one thigh and then the other.  

"You know exactly why, baby.” he mumbled into your skin. “You don't need your thighs exposed to the world, not when I can take my time with you in private..."  

"Didn't you do that this morning already?" you mused. The morning had indeed been... busy, causing you and Pedro to miss breakfast. 

He hummed. Yes, they did do some... things earlier that day, but that felt like ages ago, and not nearly enough to satisfy him completely.  

"I don't need a reason to enjoy your body again.” he gave back. “Or an excuse, for that matter. You should know that by now, mi amor."  

"Oh, I do." you sighed. "Why do you think I brought this swimsuit?"

Snickering, he ran his hands up and down every soft curve of your body. “You mean this little thing?" He tugged on the fabric of your top, enjoying how little it covered. "I do love it. Almost too much, darling...”

You chuckled quietly at his words. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his eyes traveling the length of your body once more. "It looks so... good.” he mumbled dreamily. “Really reveals your curves. I love it." His hands ran up and down your legs now, taking his time to caress your smooth skin. His touch on your thighs almost lingered just a bit longer than necessary.

"I'm glad." you mumbled. "Picked it just for you, mi amor."

He hummed happily as you called him that, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs and then up to the tiny fabric strip of your swimsuit in the middle. He tugged on it a little as if testing your limits.

"You're trying to kill me here, aren't you?" he asked.

You grinned softly. "Only a bit."

He chuckled, continuing to tease you with his touch. His hand reached over, picking up the lotion again, before squeezing some onto your thighs, spreading it across your soft skin.

"You're gonna end up going to that bar with a little... problem, if you keep this up.“ Pedro murmured.

You huffed. "What problem?"

Chuckling again, he continued to spread the lotion, moving further and further up your legs, until his knuckles were brushing against your bikini bottoms.

"Oh, I think you're smart enough to figure that one out, mi vida. Unless, of course, you want me to explain myself?"

"Please do." you breathed out, though knowing exactly what he meant. "Wouldn't wanna risk a misunderstanding."

He smirked, his hand moving just a little higher up and around your body. Then, very subtly, he moved his finger against the front of your bikini bottoms, pressing it right against the sensitive area there, not doing much, just touching.

"I think you know exactly what's about to happen if you push me a little further, darling."

You swallowed, heat rising up your spine. "You sure?" you asked, keeping your voice steady. "‘Cause I'm not."

He chuckled. You were testing him, challenging him. It excited him, though, knowing you wanted to see how far he'd go. He didn't mind showing you one bit.

"You're a naughty little tease." he breathed out, slowly applying pressure to your sweet clit with his finger, rubbing it gently and teasingly through the fabric, just to see your reaction.

You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your hips from moving. "Am I?" you asked. "And here I thought that part was yours, old man."

He smirked at you calling him old, knowing fully well by now that was only for the purpose of riling him up. He loved it.

"Old man? That ain't very nice, darling." He mused, rubbing over your clit a little rougher. He was trying to find your limits, testing your patience.

"Ain't it?" you breathed out, the slightest bit of strain to your voice. "Just stating facts. You're older than me, I was told to show respect to my elders."

He snickered. "Elders aren't the same as old men, mi amor.“ he said. „I don't think you're showing much respect here. Not with the way you're teasing me, at least.“

"Not doing it on purpose." you tried to defend yourself, though it was a clear lie. "Maybe a little."

He smirked, continuing to rub your clit. Slowly, but surely, rubbing a little faster every time he moved his finger. He loved teasing you too, just to see when you'd give in.

"A little? You're doing it on purpose entirely, mi vida. You love to tease me, and you enjoy every second doing it." he gave back, brows furrowing slightly.

You bit your cheek, a strangled breath leaving your lips. "Just tryna test your durability." you said. "Fifteen years aren't nothing, baby."

Pedro chuckled, continuing is ministrations on your clit before moving his fingers across the edge of your bikini bottoms, teasing you with the idea of slipping them underneath them. He knew you couldn't last much longer, but you knew he was just as weak as you were.

"Hmm, you mean you doubt my durability, darling? Is that what you're trying to say here?" His voice was low, his words barely above a whisper.

You bit your lip. "I'm just tryna look out for you, Josè." you said. "Can't have you getting bored with me."

He chuckled and bit his lip, leaning down and whispering in your ear. "Oh, I could never get bored with you. Not after seeing you like this, mi amor. So beautiful, so... desirable." Moving his fingers back to your clit, he added a little more pressure, just enough to send a jolt through your body. "And that's why you won't ever have me get bored in the first place.“ he added.

"Hngh- that's good to know." you pressed out, inhaling shakily. "You're being mean, Pedro."

He chuckled, his touch getting more intense the longer he continued. He loved to tease you like this, loved the way you reacted to his touch. He knew he was close to breaking you. All he had to do was push you just a little bit further.

"Oh, I'm being mean, am I?“ he mused. „Well, maybe you should've thought about that before you decided to tease an old man like me, darling."

You scoffed. "That's not fair."

He smiled, leaning closer to your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. "Not fair?“ he echoed, his hot breath fanning against your skin. „It's not fair that you tease me, knowing what it does to me. And it's not fair that you keep testing me, just to see where I break, when we both know damn well that you aren't lasting much longer either.“

You bit your cheek. "We're at the beach." you breathed out.

He smiled, whispering against your skin, his hand running the risk of pushing your bikini bottoms to the side once more, but not quite getting there yet. He loved the reactions he was getting out of you so far, he loved the way you breathed faster, the way you squirmed. He loved it.

"No one's nearby.“ he mumbled. „They're all more towards the entrance of the beach, mi vida. We've got the corner all to ourselves..."

You huffed quietly. "Still wanna go to that private place?"

Pedro pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hand moving across the crotch of your bikini bottoms. He was testing your limits.

"A private place would be nice, yes." he whispered to you. "Or we could stay right here, see how far you'll let me go...“

You swallowed, heat rising farther up your body. "That was the purpose of the question, Pedro.“ you gave back, doing your best not to squeeze your thighs together.

Pedro’s fingers found your clit again, slowly beginning to move them in circles once more. He whispered into your ear, his voice low, rough.

„I just want you to admit it, mi vida... Are you desperate for me, darling? Do you need me as much as I need you right now?"

"Always, Pedro." you breathed out. "You know that."

He chuckled, gently kissing your neck again. That admission from you was more than enough for him. He knew you needed him just as bad as he needed you. Without warning, his fingers moved the fabric of your bottoms to the side, his fingertips brushing against your bare, sensitive folds.

"How much do you want me, mi vida?” he whispered. “You need my touch? Need it so bad you're letting me do this right here in public?"

You swallowed thickly, the wetness pooling between your legs intensifying. "Yes, Pedro." you breathed out. "So much."

He hummed happily at your words, pleased with your response. He pushed a single finger inside of you, though not moving it yet.

"You'll need to stay quiet for me, mi amor.“ he murmured. „We wouldn't want anyone to see us, after all. Could you do that, darling?"

You bit your lip, leaning your forehead against the backrest as you let out a strangled breath. "Sure."

Pedro chuckled, moving his finger slowly in and out of you, eliciting a broken moan to spill from your lips. His movement was steady, but he didn't want to rush things just yet. You had time.

"Are you sure you can stay quiet?“ he wondered out loud. „Because you're not being all too quiet right now, mi amor. Just imagine what the others would think if they saw you right now... You're not as good at holding in your sweet little noises as you think you are."

You breathed shakily. "Yes, Pedro." you mumbled as your spine seemed to liquefy to lava. "I can.”

He smiled, chuckling softly in your ear. He knew you couldn't, he knew you would break eventually. But damn if it wasn't fun to tease you like this. He pressed a kiss to your neck.

"We shall see, mi amor. We shall see..."

His finger kept moving, steadily getting faster and rougher as he went along. Continuing to listen to you for now, he paid attention to any noise, any whimpers, or even the smallest of moans you let out.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on your breathing. White hot pleasure nipped at your nerve endings, want and desire swirling through you.

Pedro knew what he had to do. He moved his finger faster, pressing his lips to your neck, moving up and down the sensitive skin there.

„That’s it, mi vida. Just focus on your breathing.“ he whispered to you, his movements not stopping anytime soon. „Good, good. Just breathe…“ 

You squirmed, feeling lightheaded already. „Pedro.“ you breathed out. „You’re not helping.“ 

„I know.“ he whispered, his lips pressed against the sensitive spot behind your ear. He was enjoying getting this reaction out of you, enjoying this game of his. 

„But I want to see how bad you need Me. How bad you’re craving my touch.” He pressed a kiss to your neck again. „You’re holding out longer than I expected you to, mi amor. Maybe you deserve a little more?“ 

„Please, Pedro.“ you breathed out. For someone so innocent looking he clearly wasn’t. 

He chuckled softly to your begging, amused by your submission to him. He hadn’t expected you to break that quickly. But now that he had you so desperate, begging him… Who was he to deny you, mi amor? 

„You’re doing so good, mi vida. So good for me.“ he whispered to you, moving his finger inside of you faster for a second, before pulling it out and moving it up. He found your sweet nub again, rubbing against it before he started moving his fingertips in figure eights, adding pressure as he went. 

You drew in a sharp breath, hips bucking almost automatically into his hand as more heat crept up your spine. You whimpered, desperately trying to keep quiet. Maybe it hadn’t been your best idea to do this out here. 

He grinned against your neck, enjoying the reaction he got out of you. You were so perfect, so responsive to his touch. To him. He loved it, loved the way you bucked your hips into his hand, trying to get more, the way you whimpered so quietly, trying to keep it in. 

„Shhh, mi amor. Remember you need to stay quiet. You don’t want the people nearby knowing what we’re doing.” he reminded you. As if he had to. “Do you?“ 

You huffed. Or the press. That’d be a headliner, though. Pedro Pascal fucking his younger girlfriend at the public beach. „I know...“ you groaned. Your hips already ached, the coil inside of you winding tighter and tighter. 

„Don’t let out too much more noise, mi amor.” Pedro said, his tone almost a whine as his strong facade crumbled. “I don’t think I can hold out much longer if you keep whining and whimpering like that." 

You whined on purpose, biting your lip, hard. Fuck! you thought. He was driving you right towards the edge of sweet bliss. 

Pedro heard the whine, knowing that meant he was pushing you closer to the edge. He couldn’t hold back anymore, he was too excited and needed you just as bad as you needed him. He gently bit down on your exposed neck, hard enough to leave a mark, causing you to hiss. 

„Hush, mi amor.” he whispered, tongue brushing over the mark. “We’re still in public. Hold back the cute little noises you’re making and I promise, I give you whatever you want later.” 

„Please, Pedro.“ you whimpered, squirming underneath him. „Need you now.“ 

He chuckled in your ear, enjoying your begging. He was getting close to losing control, losing any sense of decency. But he wanted to get you off before he took care of himself, wanting to see you finish first. Hearing you whimper had him losing his composure, so desperate to do it right then and there. 

You whimpered as he picked up the pace, leaving you trembling as you teetered on the edge, gasping for air. „Pedro,“ you breathed out. „I- I’m-” 

He smiled as he heard the desperate way you were begging for him, knowing you were close, and he didn’t dare stop now. 

„Shhh, mi vida. I know… I know you’re close, mi amor.“ he whispered soothingly, wanting to send you over the edge. „Don’t hold it back, mi amor. I‘ve got you. Let go.“ 

You squirmed, drawing in a shaky breath before you squeezed your eyes shut, covering your mouth with your hand as you came, violently clenching around nothing. Your body trembled, hips bucking wildly. 

He could still hear the sweet little whimpers leaving your throat as you came for him. Just hearing you like that almost sent him over the edge on its own, his own breathing heavy in your ear as he helped bring you back down from the high. 

„That’s it, mi amor. Good, good. You did so good for me, mi amor.” 

You gasped for air, trying to steady yourself. Fuck. 

He pulled his hand away, letting you catch your breath for a bit., moving his hands back up to your thighs. He wasn’t done with you yet. „You did such a good job holding back your sweet litle moans, mi amor.“ he whispered to you, leaning down and pressing small kisses to your neck. „Now I think you deserve a little more.” 

You swallowed, wanting nothing more than for him to just fuck you into oblivion already. „Please...“ 

He pressed more kisses to your neck, his hands moving back to the edge of your bikini bottoms, tugging at them. „Please what, mi amor?“ he teased. “You need to tell me, darling. Use your words.” 

„Please fuck me, Pedro.“ you breathed out, not caring how desperate you sounded. You’d go crazy if he wouldn’t be inside of you soon. 

„There you go, mi amor.“ he mumbled, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin, fingers slowly pulling your bikini bottoms to the side once more, exposing you further to him. He loved the sight. He’d never get tired of it.  

„That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.“ he mumbled, leaning down a bit, pressing a kiss to the top of your spine before moving his hands and cupping your ass, squeezing slightly. 

Another sight he’d never grow tired of. He groaned quietly as you wiggled underneath him impatiently, your ass swaying with every movement. Yet he was just as impatient. Pulling his swimming trunks down enough to free his throbbing cock, he gave it a few pumps. He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t already been leaking into his trunks as he’d taken care of you. “You gotta be quiet, baby.” he mumbled, using his precum to lubricate himself. 

„I’ll be quiet.“ you gave back. „I promise.” 

„Good girl.“ he mumbled, positioning himself, before slowly and gently beginning to rub his aching length against your glistening folds, letting the friction build up for a few moments. 

You suppressed a moan, inhaling shakily. He was riling you up and you loved and hated it. 

He smiled, moving his hips just a bit faster. 

„You’re being very quiet, mi amor.” he mused. “Are you actually serious about keeping your promise?“ 

„Yes.“ you breathed out, eyes fluttering. „Yes, mi amor.“ 

Humming happily, he moved his hips again, a subtle hint that he was going to push in, if you were ready. You pushed your ass further up, as good as it was possible in your position. 

„I’m going to hold you to that promise, darling.“ he whispered, his hand gripping onto your hip a bit tighter. 

With one final movement, he finally pushed inside, stretching you oh so deliciously. He moved his fingers back onto your hip to steady you, whilst he sank further and further into your warmth, hissing as your velvety walls clenched and fluttered around him in response. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with a gasp as he split you open. Fuck, so big. You would never get used to his girth, no matter how often he’d fuck you. 

He listened to your reaction, enjoying the way you gasped with a small grin. He always loved to hear you like this, cherishing the moment he’d sink into you. He rarely did it fast, too greedy for the way you reacted, nearly sucking him in. 

„Pussy’s so good to me.” he mumbled, his breath hot against your neck.  He wanted this to last for a while, but he didn’t know how long he could hold out.  

You shivered at his words, clenching around him. He hissed in return, huffing a breathy chuckle. He knew you did it on purpose, and damn if he didn’t love it. 

Slowly, he started moving his hips, trying to be gentle and not rock the chair – or worse, topple it over. It wouldn’t have been the first time, yet he didn’t need it to happen right here where everyone could see. 

He moved slow, wanting to enjoy this, every gasp, every whimper that left your lips. „You're so good for me, mi vida.” he breathed out, hips rutting into you a bit faster. “Pussy’s been made for my cock, huh?”

You clenched around him, sighing his name. “Only for you, baby.”  

A soft moan left his mouth as he felt you clench around him once more. „So sweet and eager for me.” 

He thrust a little harder, faster, effectively fucking the thoughts of other people possibly seeing you out of your head. Leaning closer, his chest brushed your back as he angled his hips to push deeper. 

You moaned quietly, his name leaving your parted lips. „More, please, Pedro.” you whimpered. 

He pressed a kiss to your neck, grinning against your skin as he heard you moan his name again. As you asked for more, he moved a little faster, his hand slipping farther down your body. 

„That’s it, mi amor… Moan my name for me.“ he whispered, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. He could tell he was getting close already, but he wanted to be absolutely certain you were getting what you needed first. Not that he had any doubts that you were enjoying every second of this, considering your whimpers and sounds, but he wanted to make sure. 

„Let me know when you’re close, mi amor. Want you to finish before me.“ he breathed into your ear, teeth tugging on it lightly. 

You clenched around him once more at his words. Always so considerate. „I will“ you breathed out in a whimper. „Want you to come inside of me. Want your cum dripping outta me, Pedro.” 

He moaned hearing your words. Hearing you telling him exactly what you wanted was just so damn exciting, so hot… it pushed him right towards the edge. 

„Anything you want, mi amor.” he promised. “Will give you anything you want, mi vida. Anything you need.“ 

His movements were getting rougher now, not bothering to hold back from you anymore. He didn’t need to. He could trust you, he knew you wouldn’t give them away to anyone. He just knew. And that allowed him to forget about everything else, just focus on you and this moment right there. 

„Do you need more, mi amor? Are you getting close, mi vida?“ he wanted to know. 

You whimpered in return. „More, please?“ you asked. „Your fingers, please, Pedro. Can feel you twitching already.” 

He growled against your skin, wrapping his arm around your chest, holding you firmly, so he could use his other hand for you. „That’s it. That’s my good, sweet girl. Asking for what you want, being so desperate for me. I like that, mi amor. I’Il give you what you need.“ he mumbled directly Into your ear, the words sending chills through your body as you listened to them. 

„Move your lower half up for me a little, so I can take care of you, mi amor.“ 

You did as you were told, lifting your hips a little. 

Pedro hummed happily feeling you move, giving him a better angle. He was pretty certain that nobody from the beach would be able to see anything from here, and he didn’t care either. All he cared about right now was you and that you needed him. His hand slid down your body, feeling down your stomach for a moment, until it was able to move the fabric of your bottoms aside once more. His fingertips found your sweet clit, rubbing over it in small, quick movements, wanting to please you. Sure, he could have taken his time, could have made you come on his cock alone, but he didn’t know how much time you had until someone would question what was going on under your parasol. He wanted to make sure you felt good, and make sure you’d reach your peek. 

You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you gasped, hoping no one would hear you. 

„Shhh, mi amor, you’re being so good.” he praised you. “Being so quiet. Such a good girl for me. But I know you’re close.“ He moved his hips a little rougher, moving them in a steady, quick pace now, matching his fingers. He was getting close, and he was starting to get desperate, but he never forgot about your needs. 

Moving his fingertips in quick, small circles, he knew it would almost certainly send you over the edge. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to last, but he didn’t care. It was all about you, about making you feel good.  

The pleasure was mind numbing, the way he fucked you always so good. It didn't take long for you to teeter on the edge.

You stiffened slightly in his hold, hiding your face in the backrest of the chair as the coil tightened, and you fell apart, desperately trying to muffle any sounds.  

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he heard you finally let go, falling apart for him. It was an amazing sight when he was able to make you finish, and he loved it. Just then though, he was unable to hold back. You clenching around him, your noises you tried to keep quiet… He finally gave in, coming inside of you, gasping into your ear as he breathed your name over and over again.   

You whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Perfect, just perfect. 

He pressed kisses to your neck, trying to catch his breath, still holding you against his chest. He needed you close, he just needed to feel you against him, needed to be close to you right in that moment. You grounded him like no one else did.

„I love the way you sound when you come for me, darling.” he mumbled, nuzzling his nose into your neck. “It’s so sweet and perfect. The sounds you make... I love them. I love every part of you…” 

You smiled, still trying to calm your breathing „I love you, Pedro.“ you breathed out, exhausted.  

He chuckled softly into your neck, holding you close against his chest and kissing your neck a couple times. „I love you too, mi vida. So much. You’re perfect.“ 

He slowly pulled out, pulling your bottoms back into place. As much as he would have loved to just stay there with you, he knew they eventually had to move. He had no intention of leaving you anytime soon though. He was happy here on the beach. 

You whimpered involuntarily when he pulled out, sighing deeply as you sank further into the chair. „You’re too good to me, Pedro.“ you mumbled. „Leaving me full of your cum.“ 

He chuckled into your neck, loving how you spoke to him. He was already addicted enough to you, but hearing you using such filthy words... He pressed another kiss to your neck, his own breathing still a little heavy. „I’II always take care of you, mi amor. And I love taking care of you, especially in this way… I can’t deny you what you need, especially when I’m getting something out of it too.“ 

You huffed a chuckle. „Sounds just fair.“ 

He smiled, holding you in his arms, just enjoying the moment before anything else. „It does sound fair, doesn’t it?“ he mumbled. „There is one disadvantage to this, though.“  

You frowned, turning your head so your cheek rested against the backrest. „What is it?“  

He moved his head a little bit, leaning it against yours, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. „I'm not going to be able to let you wander around this beach again wearing just this without thinking of what I’m going to do to you in this seat again.“ 

[cactusdodes]

.

[baronessvonglitter]

paying off the debt

joel x fem!plus size!reader x clint | wc: 1.6k

summary: when your husband doesn't pay his debt, the two men coming to collect decide on a different form of payment

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. DDDNE. TW: non-con. Dub-con. Infidelity. Unprotected p in v. Oral (m & f receiving). Degradation. Slut shaming. Titty slapping. Nipple play. Dacryphilia. Anal fingering. Spanking. Creampie. Reader is plus sized and wears a silk nightgown, has female genitalia and breasts but is otherwise not described. A few mentions of another Pedro-char not shown. Never beta'd because this all happened so quickly, dear god. If I've missed anything please let me know!

a/n: this is my submission for the Magic Number Writing Challenge hosted by @mothandpidgeon , @schnarfer , and @whocaresstillthelouvre ❤️ I have wanted to write something for these Clint and Joel for the longest! And I hope I've done Clint justice, as it's my first time writing him. (He owns me, heart and soul.)

Shoutout to @milla-frenchy who is the Queen of Hot Threeways and who was my cheerleader for this little daydream-turned-writing project. You're the best, Milla!

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You'd only ever caught glimpses of Clint between a crack in the door or through the blinds when he'd come by to speak to your husband. A big, scary, intimidating man like him, rough-looking, though handsome, face decorated with scars.

And now he's between your legs, slurping away at your pussy while his buddy, another big, strong man referred to as Joel pins your arms over your head on the other side.

It was just after seven a.m. when they knocked and you, still in your white silk nightie from last night, answered it, still half-asleep, not thinking.

"We're here for payback, little lady," Clint had growled, hands on your hips as he pushed his way into your home, Joel at his heels. "Tried to talk some sense into your husband but it ain't takin'. Now we gotta show him we mean business."

Now you're sprawled on your bed, still unmade at the early hour, Clint's tongue plundering your cunt while Joel's big hands hold you down, thumb lightly stroking over your wrists, as if to soothe you, as if it's a romantic tryst you're engaging in.

Shocked into submission, you let it happen, too overwhelmed by his ravenous appetite to think about anything else. Clint swirls his tongue around your bud before teasing your folds, licking at the jucture between your thigh and torso, eyes lifting to watch your expression, to see you slightly struggling against being pinned down. He knows he's got you, and with his lips sealed around your needy clit, it's game over. He holds you down as your hips lift off the bed, still in control, keeping at it while you drench him.

"There now, see, that wasn't so bad," he murmurs, getting to his feet as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Damn, you're so pretty when you come.."

"She is," Joel agrees in his gruff voice.

"I was just getting you ready for me. Trust me, little darlin', you can't handle me without getting ready first."

The moan that escapes your lips is absolutely sinful. His cock is a stretch to fit, even as wet as you are, your cunt takes time to elongate, housing him deep within your center. And though he doesn't give you time to adapt to his size, he does go slow and steady, your thighs bracketing his as he thrusts lazily, looking down at the way your silk nightie is pushed up over your generous hips. He tells Joel to push the top half down, and when he does they both paw greedily at your tits.

"Dave likes 'em thick, huh?" Clint growls with a punctuated thrust. "Round ass, big tits.. and tight pussy."

At the mention of your husband's name you whimper, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in shame. You shouldn't be enjoying what's being done to you. They're doing it for themselves, to send a message. But you're getting off on being their plaything.

"She's lovin' it." Joel's fondling you, pinching your nipples and giving them a few light slaps. That and Clint fucking you is starting to send you over the edge.

"Yeah she does," Clint says proudly. "She probably can't even come unless someone's holdin' her down." He nods at Joel to let go of your arms. You keep them there, flexing your hands as the circulation finds its way back to your wrists.

"She likes it!"

"Little slut."

Clint picks up the pace, spurred on by your neediness. Your hips find his rhythm and match it, drawing him in deeper. "That's right," he rasps. "Touch yourself. Lemme see you work that pretty little clit."

Your fingers desperately circle your nub, working yourself into a frenzy as he fucks into you, spreading you open on his fat cock. Above you, Joel leans down to suck your nipples. You lick your tongue along his cheek until he stops to kiss you, plundering your mouth with his tongue.

"She's fuckin' feral," Clint growls, shoving himself into you ruthlessly. "Keep that mouth of hers busy, Joel. She's about to explode soon."

Joel unzips his jeans, pulling out his thick length. Head to the side, your mouth waters at the sight of it, long, cut, girthier than Clint, with precum already beading the top. You don't have to be told twice to suck it. Your lips wrap around it as he holds the base, feeding it to you. Clint slows down marginally, watching you start to suck off his friend.

Joel thrusts shallowly, going deeper when you start moaning. "Gonna bruise the back of your throat, honey."

"That's right, gag her," Clint adds. "She wants it. She's fuckin' dyin' for it."

You're drooling around Joel's cock, his balls hitting your chin as you're moaning around him, incoherent, gluttonous, insensate.

"Fucked her stupid," Clint sneers. "Time to give her what she wants.." He's panting as he takes hold of your thighs, hoisting them around his hips and slamming into you, the lewd sounds of your colliding flesh the most obscene and perfect thing you've ever heard.

"Your husband know he married such a slut?" Clint continues to taunt, breath growing heavy as he nears the edge. "Gonna show him when he gets home.." His hips stutter before he spills deep inside you, and as you moan your throat constricts around Joel, who pulls out before he can blow his load into your mouth.

You're vaguely aware of them switching places, and then you're put on your hands and knees. You don't care; you're not in control. Your body is simply a funfair, a ride to go on, and it's a kind of freedom in just letting them do what they want. They're still taking care of you, Joel rubbing his length against your still-sensitive clit, sliding in between your folds and between your ass cheeks before he notches at your entrance. You're soaking wet with your fluids and Clint's jizz, making the way easier for Joel to slide in, an appreciative sigh leaving his lips. Your moan is muffled by Clint's semi-hard dick probing your lips, your tongue coming out to swirl around the crown.

"She's so good," he moans, running his fingers through your hair. "She's makin' it all up to us for her sorry-ass husband's debt."

"Gotta come around more often, pay her a little visit when Dave's out," Joel says with a sneer, his large hands digging into your hips as he thrusts home, bottoming out as your cunt squelches wantonly.

"Suckin' me so good," Clint moans again. "Get a taste of yourself on my dick, darlin'. I bet your husband doesn't give you his dick often enough, that's why you're beggin' for it from us, huh?"

You moan as his tip touches the back of your throat and you gag. "Eyes on me," he tells you. "Lemme see those pretty eyes waterin' while it's chokin' my dick."

He's bruising your throat, your mouth stuffed with him as you practice breathing through your nose. Meanwhile Joel's balls deep in your cunt, watching himself slide in and out with ease. His thumb traces the puckered outline of your asshole. "Your man ever take you here? He ever claim this tight little hole?" He spits on your hole and eases his thumb in just enough to make you squeeze around him. "I bet Dave's never even touched it. Probably never even asked, has he?"

"He asked you a question," Clint says sharply, squeezing your jaw in his hand. "You better answer him."

"No," you answer them, swallowing more air after Clint removes his cock from your mouth. He slaps your cheeks with it before feeding it to you again. "Good girl," he praises softly, something like kindness in his eyes as he palms your tits, kneading them softly.

"Poor thing's been so unfulfilled. Her pussy's only gotten wetter the more we talk about her like the piece of meat she is." Joel's hand lands with a hard smack on your ass and you yelp.

"It's the only thing she's good for," Clint agrees, holding your head still while he fucks your mouth. Your moans turn to an endless, tuneless hum as Joel speeds up, sensing you're close to coming for him. "Fuck, she's tight. She's damn near gonna drain me."

"Fill 'er up, Joel. Get it in there nice and deep so she'll be leaking both of us for days."

Joel's face contorts, brow furrowed, teeth bared as he gets close, and right as you come he pulses within you, shooting his cream into you.

"Turn her over," Clint barks, and Joel takes just a moment more to keep the feeling of your sweet snatch around him before pulling out. A little semen dribbles from you and he stuffs it back in as he moves you onto your back.

"Pretty little white nightie," he sneers. "Gonna give you somethin' else white to wear."

Your nightdress still hiked up over your thighs and pulled down showing off your breasts, Clint stands between your legs and strokes himself. With a few pleasured grunts he comes, painting your mound and belly. You're panting, trying to come down from the summit of the strongest orgasm of your life as they spread your legs, lift your knees up to view the damage.

"Jesus, this pussy's ruined."

"She's gaping."

"Keep our cum inside you, baby, as long as you can. Let your man watch it drip out when he comes home."

You're too fucked out to say anything as the men take their leave, staring up at the ceiling fan, slowly circling in the early summer heat.

"Dave's not gonna like that," you hear one of them mutter.

"Fuck Dave. He should've paid up."

taglist: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @tateypots @thedilfdiaries @sunshinehaze1

and anyone else who reads this, I love you so much ❤️

[harrysfolklore]

yn piastri fretting over oscar’s broken rib and oscar’s like, “gee you’re worst than mum” & nicole’s just like, “yeah i don’t need to worry about oscar when yn’s around”

the rumors are true: i'm obsessed with writing this little scenarios

read little bitch here

"Are you absolutely sure you're comfortable? Maybe we should prop you up a bit more," you hover anxiously over Oscar, adjusting his pillow for the third time in as many minutes." Oh, and do you need more ice? I can run and get some. Actually, should we call the doctor again? Just to double-check everything's okay?"

"YN, I'm fine," Oscar groans, "It's just a broken rib, not the end of the world. I'll be racing in Hungary next weekend anyway."

"What? No, absolutely not!" your eyes widen in alarm. "You can't race with a broken rib, Oscar. That's insane!"

Oscar rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's cracked, not broken. And I've been cleared by the medical team," he stresses, "You're worse that mum sometimes."

From her seat in the corner, Nicole chuckles. "Oh yeah, I don't even have to worry about you when your sister is around. She's got the overprotective mother role covered."

"Thanks, Mum," you say, turning to her. "My therapist has great opinions about it. She says my anxiety comes from a place of love."

"Yeah, well, your love is suffocating me right now," Oscar snorts.

"Osc, I'm just worried about you," you stressed again, "It's too dangerous. What if you crash? What if your rib punctures a lung? What if-"

"What if aliens invade during the race?" Oscar interrupts, mimicking your concerned tone. "What if a meteor hits the track? What if I suddenly forget how to drive?"

"This isn't funny, Oscar! I'm serious!"

"So am I! Carlos nearly drove with a burst appendix, and he was fine!"

Carlos, who's been quietly watching the siblings' back-and-forth like a tennis match, pipes up. "Well, 'fine' might be stretching it. I was in quite a bit of pain, actually."

You whirled on Carlos, who suddenly looked very interested in the ceiling. "Oh, don't even get me started on that piece of stupidity!"

"In my defense," Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't actually race…"

"Only because the team had more sense than you did!" you exclaimed.

"Back when you pretended to hate Carlos but you were at the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was at the hospital," Oscar teased, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not the point right now," you crosses your arms over your chest, glaring at Oscar. "We're talking about your safety, not my past… concerns."

"Oh, but I think it is relevant," Oscar grins mischievously, sensing an opportunity. "Remember how you kept texting the group chat every five minutes when Carlos was in the hospital? 'Just being a decent human being,' you said. As if we couldn't see right through you."

You feel your cheeks heat up, aware of Carlos' gaze on you. "That's... that's completely irrelevant," you stammer.

"Is that so, hermosa?" Carlos chuckles softly, moving to stand beside you. "I didn't know you cared so much back then."

You shoot Carlos a look that's half embarrassment, half exasperation. "Don't you start. And you," you turn back to Oscar, pointing an accusing finger, "stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your cracked rib and your ridiculous idea to race with it."

Nicole, who's been watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement, decides to intervene. "Alright, kids, let's all take a breath. YN, honey, I understand you're worried. But Oscar's right - he's been cleared by the medical team. They wouldn't let him race if it wasn't safe."

"But-" you start to protest, only to be cut off by Oscar.

"No buts," he says firmly. "I appreciate the concern, sis, I really do. But this is my job, and sometimes it comes with risks. I promise I'll be careful, okay?"

You sigh, feeling your resolve weaken. "Fine. But I swear, Oscar, if you so much as wince during that race, I'm storming the track myself."

"Now that I'd pay to see. YN vs. Formula 1 security," Carlos jokes, "My money's on you, mi amor."

As you and Oscar continue to bicker, your mom and Carlos exchange amused glances. Carlos leans towards her, speaking in a low voice.

"Has YN always been like this?" he asks, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you fuss over Oscar.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nicole chuckles softly. "This is actually quite mild compared to when they were kids. There was this one time when Oscar was about seven, and he fell off his bike. Scraped his knee pretty badly. YN, who was ten at the time, went into full nurse mode."

"What did she do?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well," she continues, "She insisted on 'quarantining' Oscar in his room for a week, claiming he needed complete bed rest. She even made a 'Do Not Disturb: Patient Recovering' sign for his door. Poor Oscar was going stir-crazy by day two, but YN wouldn't let him leave. She brought him all his meals, read him stories, everything."

Carlos can't help but laugh at the image. "That sounds exactly like something she would do."

"Oh, it gets better," Nicole grins. "When I finally convinced her that Oscar was fine to go outside, she insisted on wrapping him in bubble wrap before he could ride his bike again. Said it was 'necessary protective gear'. Oscar looked like a little astronaut waddling down the street."

Their laughter catches your attention, and you pause in your debate with Oscar about the dangers of racing with a cracked rib. "What's so funny?" you ask suspiciously.

Before Nicole can respond, Oscar, catching on to the conversation, groans dramatically. "Oh god, Mum, please tell me you're not telling the bubble wrap story."

Your eyes widen in realization, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Mum! You promised never to mention that again!"

Carlos, still chuckling, wraps an arm around your waist. "I think it's adorable, hermosa. You've always been a protector."

"Well control your girlfriend! She's trying to bubble wrap me again, I swear!"

"I am not! Although..." you trail off, a mischievous glint in your eye, "it's not a bad idea for the race. Extra padding couldn't hurt, right?"

"YN, no!"

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 3)

Over the next few days, you and Penguin get really close. Penguin teaches you the ins and outs of business: branding, advertising, pricing. You encourage Penguin to invest in something that people could go to during the day. "Maybe an ice cream place or coffee," you mused. "You can name it whatever you want."

Penguin looked at you with glee. "I like the way you think. Helps me be less shadowy."

Word spread about the kidnapping scarily fast. "Oswald, are the rumours true? Do you really have one of the Wayne kids here?" the Riddler asked, dropping by.

"Yes, Y/N Wayne. I've been trying to get their idiot father to believe that they're in my custody, but no dice." Penguin dropped his voice to a terrified whisper. "Half of my collection has been organised in five hours! Do you have any idea how large my collection is?"

"Yeesh. Do they know that Bruce Wayne is being about as useful as a map drawn in invisible ink?"

"They must have some clue. They were supposed to have been gone by now, but they're still here. They even made a joke about their family wouldn't notice that they were gone."

Penguin spluttered as he gestured at you. You were asleep in a pile of blankets in lieu of a bed. "How would they not know that this little angel was gone?"

"Maybe they really don't care. Not sure how they could come to that conclusion." Riddler looked at you with a small smile. "You know, I have a bet that you can keep Y/N here for two weeks straight without acting suspiciously or trying to hide them and even continuing to ask for ransom money, and they won't do a thing."

"Does the two weeks start now or from the day of the kidnapping? Because they've already been here for four days."

"From the day of the kidnapping. I'm not a monster. Also, what do you want if you win?"

"I'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Until then, I'm ordering more Indian food. I don't know how to cook."

(PAUSE)

Time went on, and more of Batman's rogues gallery paid a visit to the captive Wayne child as if it were a baby shower.

Two-Face was the first to arrive. "You can't be serious. Brucie Wayne didn't want to collect his child? Didn't you tell him?"

"We sent messengers, we called him, we sent stuff in the mail, he just thinks it's a prank." Penguin threw his hands up with exasperation. "Nothing against the little dove, but this is a little longer than I thought."

"I'll tell him," Dent volunteered. "Me and him go way back. Once he knows that it's serious, he'll arrive with something. Either the bat or the ransom, but something."

"Go ahead, but you're gonna lose me a bet," Riddler said nonchalantly.

"What's happening?" you asked.

"We're . . . having some difficulties contacting your family, dollface," Two-Face said. "They're not taking this very seriously."

"They don't take me very seriously," you snarked. "It's not you, it's me. I'm not exactly on the list of people they're concerned about. Titus ranks higher than me."

"Is Titus another kid?" Riddler asked. "No offence, but he has so many."

"None taken, Riddler. Titus is Damian Wayne's dog." You stretched and straightened out your clothes. "You're going to have to put up with me for a while longer. Also, do you have some spare clothes I can wear? I've been wearing my school uniform for the last four days straight and I'm beginning to stink."

"I'll call Harley about it," Penguin said.

(PAUSE)

The clown prince of crime arrived with his harlequin. "You kidnapped Bruce Wayne's child? Penguin, I didn't know you had it in you."

"Where is the little sweetums?" Harley burst in with bags laden with clothes. "I wasn't sure what they'd like, so I bought everything!"

"Uh . . . hi," you said, waving awkwardly. "Who's that for?"

"You, sweetums!" Harley said. "I also brought soap, toothpaste, shampoo, general hygiene products. Everything you'll need to live here."

"Thank you." You smiled up at the jester. "I just wish my folks could be as nice to me as you guys are."

Harley's smile dropped. "I . . . take it they're not the most attentive."

"They haven't bothered noticing my ransom, why would they notice toothpaste?" you snarked.

Joker and Harley looked at each other with horror and pity before turning back to Reader. "OK, kiddo, can you tell me what the Waynes are like to you?" Joker asked, his tone softened. "We need details. Lots."

"But not yet! You need a shower first. A long one," Harley ordered. "Here's the bag with all the bath stuff and here's the bag with all the clothes. Once you're dry and dressed, tell us everything."

You looked at Harley with confusion. "You . . . really want to know?"

"Of course!" Harley insisted. "Think of it as talk therapy. While you're in there, I'll call Ivy. She's the best with hair. And Professor Crane, too. You are not going to be alone with all those thoughts, honey. Let me know when you're done so I can get you a snack."

Your head was spinning. All those people would be arriving . . . and all for you.

How would you ever get used to this?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 <- You are here

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Taglist: @tinybrie

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[appocalipse]

no pilots allowed • bradley bradshaw

Rooster and his teammates are frequent patrons at your aunt's bar, the Hard Deck, while they're training for a dangerous mission. When he asks you out on a date, the two of you jokingly agree to keep it friendly, never cross certain lines…but Rooster has other ideas.

"Do you ever sleep?"

You don't look up from the glass you're polishing, but your mouth twitches into a faint smile...the same way it always does when he shows up at the Hard Deck this early.

"We're not open for, like, another few hours," you tell Rooster, as if he doesn't know that already. You can hear him approaching the bar from behind, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor, making his way through the quiet, mostly-empty room.

You're not supposed to let people in before hours, technically. Especially not good-looking naval aviators who will inevitably distract you a little more than you'd like to admit, but...

"Then what are you doing here?" he asks.

You look up at him. He's taken off his aviators, his dark eyes watching you rather intently. His posture is casual, his tall frame leaning against the counter.

You set down the glass you've been polishing and reach for another one, returning your attention to your task. "Someone has to make sure everything's ready before we open."

He gives you a slow, easy smile. "Mind if I help?"

"Help?"

"Yeah." He looks around the bar as if trying to figure out where to start. "What do you need me to do?"

"Aren't you tired from training?"

"I'm fine," he says, not convincing you in the slightest. "Seriously. What do you need?"

You set down the glass. A small part of you can't resist the chance to keep him around longer.

"I'll feel bad if I make you work," it sounds like you're reasoning with yourself.

Rooster grins. "Then don't make me work. It's my idea."

"My aunt will kill me if she catches you in here, especially if you're working."

"She won't know."

Well...there are some heavy crates that need to be brought in from the storage room, bottles of alcohol that need to be placed on the shelves, tables that need to be wiped down...

The heavy ones. Oh, the heavy ones are tempting.

"You're a menace," you tell him, though it comes out sounding more like a compliment than an insult. It's hard to offend him anyway, you've found; he seems to take everything you say in stride, regardless of whether you mean it or not.

He smiles at you, unfazed. "Is that a yes?"

"What are you doing here so early anyway? You and your team don't usually show up until well after dark."

"Do I need a reason?"

"It's early. You can't be that bored already."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you."

Boy, is he good.

Not falling for it is a challenge every time. You wonder if Rooster knows that, if he gets a kick out of it the way Hangman does when he flirts with every pretty girl who crosses his path. The difference is, Hangman's flirting is playful, an intentional provocation that you can take as a compliment or blow off with a laugh.

Rooster's flirting is different. It's always delivered in that same deep, mellow voice of his, a warm baritone that reminds you of dark whiskey on a cold night, and he has a way of saying things that makes you think he might actually mean them.

"...you don't have to sweet-talk me," you tell him. "I already let you in."

He grins at you. "Who says I'm sweet-talking?"

You turn back to your task of polishing glasses so he won't see the smile you can't contain. That's it, you think. New rule: no more letting him in early. He's too distracting.

"Am I being kicked out?" Rooster asks, amused.

"Yes."

"Really?"

You try not to laugh. "No. But you really don't have to help."

He straightens up from the bar and stretches his arms, yawning. "Where's Penny? Did she leave you here to do all this by yourself?"

"Visiting her mother with Amelia. She'll be back later. I offered to cover while she's gone," maybe out of boredom or some desperation for human contact, but it sounded like a good idea at the time, you just didn't realize it would involve so much work. "The other waitresses will be here, um, soon, I guess, once it gets closer to opening time."

You don't want to admit you're a little intimidated by the responsibility. You've only been working at the Hard Deck for a few months now, having moved here from halfway across the country, and most of that time has been spent behind the bar or taking orders on your notepad, doing the tasks Penny asked you to do, and nothing more. Now that she's away for a few days, you're starting to feel a little overwhelmed with the amount of work that needs to be done.

"You look tired," Rooster observes.

"Thanks."

"I mean it in a good way."

"It doesn't sound good."

"You always look nice," he clarifies, to your mild embarrassment and surprise. "I just mean you seem like you could use some help."

You don't meet his gaze because, no, you're not going to be distracted by those brown eyes again, it's bad enough already. "I...okay. The delivery truck is supposed to arrive soon, so...there are a lot of crates that need to be brought inside. And some in the storage room that I need to bring here to the bar. Some of them are really heavy. I'm not even sure how Penny brings them in by herself."

"Let me take care of that for you."

Let me take care of that for you, says he, like it's no big deal.

"There are some boxes of liquor that need to be taken out of the storage room and brought in here, too," you continue, despite your better judgment, still watching him out of the corner of your eye.

He gives you another slow smile. "Okay. Where is this storage room?"

"There's a door behind the bar. To the right. I'll help you carry them."

"You don't have to."

"I'll show you where they are. And it's gonna be easier if there are two of us."

He looks at you with a knowing smile. "Is that why you want to come along? So you can make sure I don't get distracted and break anything?"

"Exactly."

"I think you're just making excuses to spend time with me."

Does he really have to keep looking at you like that?

"Rooster," you say, as firmly as you can manage.

"Yes?" It doesn't seem to bother him that you're trying to scold him. In fact, you think he's enjoying it.

You walk backwards behind the bar to lead him toward the storage room, pausing when you reach the door. You let out a sigh. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

"Really?" He grins at you, putting his hands in his pockets. "I thought I was being very nice."

"Is that what you call it?"

"Yeah."

"Crates," you say, gesturing to the storage room and changing the subject before he can talk his way into any more compliments. "In there, by the wall. The smaller boxes on the shelves are for the bar. We'll bring them in after we move the big crates. The ones with the heavy bottles inside."

Rooster pauses. "'We'?"

"I can't let you carry all of those by yourself. They're heavy."

"That's cute. But I can handle it."

"No. Not by yourself."

He gives you a confident grin. "Watch me."

The moment he disappears into the storage room, you start to regret saying anything at all. You're not entirely sure what possessed you to let him help you with this; he must have gotten to your head. There are plenty of things you could be doing right now while he's out of sight, and yet...you decide to stand there in the doorway, watching him take inventory of the room, squinting in the dim light and trying to decide where to start.

It's not like you can just leave him to it. It would be too embarrassing if he hurt himself and you did nothing. The best way to keep an eye on him is to stay close by.

Right?

Rooster lets out a groan as he heaves one of the large crates up off the floor. "You weren't kidding," he mutters. "These are heavy."

"Let me—"

"I've got it."

He doesn't let you help him. He lifts the crate off the ground with another grunt, and you're distracted for a moment by the sight of his muscular arms flexing under the strain, the tight white t-shirt he's wearing pulled even tighter across his chest, the—

"Y/N?"

"Hm?" You look up quickly. "What?"

He grins at you. "Want to open the door for me?"

Fuck, you think, not for the first time that day, stepping out of the way to let him through.

You grab a smaller crate for yourself. It's not as heavy as the one Rooster is carrying, but you still strain a little under the weight of it, and Rooster still gives you a disapproving look when he notices.

"I told you," he says, slightly out of breath from his own effort, "you don't have to help."

"It's literally my job to help," you mutter. "Actually, it's my job to carry them all myself, so—"

"I got it."

"Yeah, but I can—"

"You can relax," he tells you, letting out a small groan as he heaves the crate up a little higher. "And go back to what you were doing."

It would be easier to protest if he didn't make it look so effortless. He carries the crate out of the storage room and sets it on the floor near the bar with a thud, barely breaking a sweat.

Your fingers dig into the rough edges of your own crate, which seems ten times heavier all of a sudden. You set it down next to his, more carefully than he did, glancing over at him to see if he noticed.

He looks down at the crate you just set on the floor, then over at you with barely concealed amusement. "Not bad," he says. "You could handle that all by yourself?"

"Shut up."

"No, really." He's not trying to hide his smile anymore. "Impressive."

The laugh you let out is entirely involuntary, equal parts embarrassed and amused. "Okay, fine, I get it," you say. "You're strong. You go get the rest of them while I finish wiping down the tables."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

"Any time."

It's fine, you tell yourself as he heads back into the storage room. Rooster being in here won't distract you. It's fine. Everything is fine.

The delivery truck arrives shortly after Rooster has brought in the last of the crates to the bar, so you spend the next hour opening the boxes and sorting the bottles, filling the shelves behind the bar with whiskey and rum and vodka, gin and tequila and other liquors...and totally not stealing glances at Rooster as he carries the crates from the truck into the storage room.

You've found a rhythm by the time he returns from the truck for the final time, wiping your hands on your apron as you watch him approach the bar.

"I think that's all of them," he says, letting out a groan as he stretches his arms above his head.

The nerve, you think, resisting the urge to stare. The absolute nerve.

"Thank you."

He lowers his arms. "I never said it was for free."

"What?"

Rooster leans forward and props his elbows on the bar, the same cocky grin from earlier playing at his lips. "There's a price for my help."

"A price?" you ask, still polishing the same glass you've been working on since he arrived. "And what's that?"

"...a drink."

Well, that's easy.

"A drink? You want me to pay you a drink?"

"Ah, no, no," he says with a laugh, waving his hand like the idea is ridiculous. "I want you to let me buy you a drink."

Oh.

"Oh."

"And something to eat, too," he adds, and by the time you recover from the initial shock of what he's suggesting, he's already standing up straight again. "What time do you get off work?"

"No."

"No?" He looks at you in surprise.

"I can't," but you're only barely resisting.

"You can."

"Rooster."

He frowns. "What?"

"I..." Why is this so hard? "I can't go out with you. It's—I can't."

"Why not?"

You feel tempted. Boy, are you tempted. You're smiling even as you shake your head, trying to focus on polishing the glass in your hands. "Because I actually...like you."

Rooster pauses, his smile returning. "You can't go out with me because you like me?"

"This heart," you tap your fingers on your chest, smiling still, "is off limits, okay? No pilots allowed."

The tables are clean and the bar is stocked and organized, but you need to do something else, anything else, if only to avoid Rooster's gaze. You slip the cloth you've been using into your apron pocket and look around for another task. There must be something you missed. Anything.

Tables, yeah. You can wipe down the tables again.

"Okay," he says slowly, clearly not convinced, "so let me get this straight: You like me, therefore you're not allowed to go out with me?"

You nod. "Exactly."

"Are you kidding?"

You take the cloth out of your apron pocket again and glance around the bar, searching for any traces of dust on the tables or chairs that might need to be wiped down.

"Y/N?"

You've already gone over the tables once...

Rooster steps closer. "You know that makes no sense, right?"

You're not distracted by the sight of his hand sliding onto the countertop next to you. You're not distracted by the sudden proximity of him as he leans in closer. It's fine, it's not a problem, you can deal with this.

"So...you're saying you do want to go out with me," he says, sounding far too pleased with himself, "but you won't?"

He's so close. He smells good, like pine and leather. You glance over at him, realizing how little space there is between you now, and quickly look away.

"That's—I don't..."

"Because you like me."

"Shut up."

His gaze drops to your mouth. "Make me."

You swallow. Hard.

It takes a monumental amount of willpower to step away from him, to resist the temptation to touch him or get closer, but you manage. Barely. You make yourself focus on the task you've found for yourself, pretending that Rooster isn't standing behind you watching as you wipe down the tables a second time.

"I think we should go out," he says again, obviously not taking your silence for the no it's supposed to be. "There's a place downtown that I think you'd like."

You chuckle, which probably doesn't help matters, but...it's really hard to say no to him.

"Would I?"

He must have sensed weakness because he follows you around the bar as you continue your pointless cleaning. "Today is one of the last days we have off," he tells you. "Maverick has us in the air all day tomorrow, and most of the day after that. If we don't go out tonight, who knows when we'll have another chance...or how long it'll be before I see you again."

"Rooster..."

"Come on," he says, more gently this time. "One drink. Or maybe dinner. Nothing too fancy. I promise."

You pause and glance over at him. He really doesn't know when to quit. "But it's not a date."

"No. Totally not."

You don't like how much it sounds like he's laughing at you.

"Really?"

"Not even close," he says, like he's serious. "It's a totally not date between two friends."

He follows you, like a puppy, around the bar, until you pause again, thinking it over for what feels like the millionth time in the last few minutes. One drink, he said.

Not a date.

...just two friends hanging out.

No feelings involved.

You sigh, letting the cloth in your hand drop to the table, giving in to the inevitable. "Fine," you say, turning around to face him. "But it's not a date."

"No."

"Or a first date."

"Right."

"And it's just one drink."

"I swear."

"And we can't—we can't..." You can't help but notice the way he's looking at you, his brown eyes full of mischief, a hint of that playful smile on his lips again, and you're suddenly worried he might get the wrong idea about this whole thing. "No...you know."

His eyes linger on your mouth again before meeting your gaze with a sly smile. "No...what?"

"You know."

"I really don't."

"It's not a date."

He chuckles softly at your obvious distress, clearly enjoying this. "Okay, it's not a date."

"Exactly. So don't do anything you'd do if it was a date."

He steps closer, grinning, the space between you evaporating again. "And what is it," he asks in that deep voice of his, a low rumble that resonates somewhere in the pit of your stomach, "that you think I would do on a date?"

The table behind you feels like it's digging into your back.

"No kissing."

"Got it," he says, resting one hand on the table behind you, "no kissing."

"Or any other...date stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like..." You glance at his mouth.

Rooster smiles. "You want to make a list?"

You duck under his arm before he can do something that will get you in trouble. "I'll meet you after work," you tell him over your shoulder as you walk back toward the bar, desperate for some space before you lose your resolve altogether. "Just...stop talking. You're distracting me."

He turns and watches you, amused. "Okay. Pick you up at seven?"

You wonder if it's too late to back out of this, or if he's going to show up here at seven with that stupid smile of his and his ridiculous mustache and ruin everything anyway.

"You don't have to pick me up," you mutter, wiping your hands on your apron one more time, unable to hide your smile. "It's not a date, remember?"

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Oh, he's impossible.

"It's not a date!"

[andyoullhearitagain]

Every Starfleet Uniform Ranked By How Annoying The Sleeve Is To Sew, Part 2

Part 1

6. TOS Men's Uniform:

Here we have 1. Quite a severe curve 2. with a zipper in it 3. an invisible zipper at that 4. with pattern matching through the zipper at the collar

5. in velour (slippery). Woof.

7. Disco:

OK we've got two points of pattern matching, but they don't have to be too precise because they've got this round shiny striped piece between them. Of course that piecing means we're basically setting a sleeve in twice, but I will concede that the stretch will be more forgiving than a woven would be. Add in the piecing on the bicep and two different sticky rubber-y fabrics for further difficulty. 

8. TNG Version 2B and Voyager:

All the work of a tailored sleeve with an added inverse corner in an intersection of four seams.

PLUS two points of pattern matching, which is very tricky in an armsyce because you're trying to get the pitch right. You can see in TNG they often have trouble with it and have either a jog in the pattern matching

or too much ease in the wrong place to force the pattern to match.

They seem to have figured it out by Voyager though. I'm also fairly certain they have raglan shoulder pads in them instead of regular ones, which isn't really harder I guess but is a bit odd (no shade, they're incredibly flattering).

9. DS9/ TNG Movies:

All the difficulties of the TNG armscye and now we've added trim, meaning we really have four points of pattern matching instead of two. I could be persuaded that the contrast pieces are applied over the upper sleeve piece instead of pieced, which is easier than what TNG is doing.

10. Enterprise:

I think this is regular raglan sleeve and not some kind of half raglan/half set in sleeve like we see in TNG. Either way it's a bit easier than the TNG sleeve because the trim and yoke are applied on top and top stitched. But we've still got that mitered corner in our bias trim and our four points of pattern matching on the shoulder seam. And then we've also added like four zippers!!!

11. Picard:

What did the stitchers do to this designer? FOUR inverse corners (I guess at least it doesn't intersect a seam this time) PLUS the piecing at the cuff, PLUS all the pattern matching at the armscye, and all in stretch (I think). The only reason it's not the most difficult sleeve is because it looks fairly flat and I bet if you do a nice tight hand baste you can get everything lined up on the first try. Also this is not strictly speaking part of the sleeve but those little corners in the yoke? Good grief.

12. TNG Version 2A:

Never in my life have I seen an armscye like this. What is this even called? How do you construct it? I suppose I would sew the sleeve pieces together, set them in the armscye, then sew the raglan/yoke pieces together at the shoulder seam and then stitch them all the way across the front and then all the way across the back. But good grief. The ONLY other sleeve I could find remotely like this is this 1940s Simplicity pattern (it's on ebay if you want it).

With a few added seams you can imagine what these pattern pieces must look like.

13. TNG Version 1:

All the malarkey of 2A except you've got to do it in spandex. I'd pick wool any day. We also have a second yoke (?!) so now we have to do that little inverse corner TWICE and also add piping. Never in my life have I done an intersection of piping correctly the first time.

And then on top of all that it's ugly. Terrible sewing experience. Worst sleeve in Star Trek *bangs gavel*.

[yanderedrabbles]

Misery - Part Three

Based on Misery by Stephen King

Stuck in the mountains, you foolishly decide to drive through a blizzard. The man that drags you from your wrecked car brings you to his cabin and patches you up. But as the snow piles up outside, you start to suspect that your rescuer's intentions may be far from pure.

Previous Chapter

After Andy left, you managed to change out of your clothes. The flannel shirt he gave you was worn down just enough to feel cozy and the smell of his cologne still lingered 'round the collar.

You settled against the headboard and almost dozed off before he came back. He'd taken off his jacket and carried a pile of firewood in his arms. He dumped the logs in the fireplace and stood up, revealing a wife beater and arms thick with muscle. You were right about his strength - his body was just further proof of it.

"Sorry 'bout that. I should have brought some in last night but well..."

He turned to you, dusting his hands. "I got a good look at the situation outside. You might not wanna hear it but we're totally snowed in. Phone lines are down too."

"Oh. I didn't realise it was that bad."

You felt a dull sort of trepidation. Andy had been nothing but kind to you, but being stuck out in the mountains frightened you.

"Any idea when things will open up again?"

He sat down in the chair beside your bed and stretched out. For a second, the only thought in your head was how dangerous and lean he looked. His dog tags caught the light and winked at you.

"Hard to tell. We're far off the beaten path. Only folks nearby are the Roydmans and they're a good few miles off. 'Sides, snows too deep to drive through so even if they clear off the main road, we ain't getting there anytime soon."

You felt your heart sink. "Do you think I need to go to the hospital?"

He raised a brow and skimmed his eyes across your body. "It ain't looking pretty, but I reckon you can handle it."

"Hurts like hell though."

"Sorry princess, but it'll take a while for this sort of hurt to heal. Best I can do is give you something strong for the pain."

Your ankle still throbbed mercilessly and hearing him say that made you all the more aware of it. You searched desperately around the room for a distraction.

The room was much larger than you realised, with a panelled wood ceiling and big bay windows. From your position, all you could see was the sky.

It was comfortable and starkly clean. Oh God, was this his room or a guest room?

"I haven't kicked you out of your room, have I?" you asked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

He grinned and rubbed his jaw. "I reckoned you needed a nice bed far more than I did."

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" Your hands fluttered to your lips. You felt terribly guilty. "I can't imagine how much I've put you out."

He waved you away. "It gets awful quiet up here. You have no idea how nice it is to have company."

His eyes dropped to the shirt you were wearing. "Real nice."

He reached up to play around with his dog tags and you finally noticed the tattoo across his forearm.

"Semper Fidelis?"

"Always loyal."

He reached forward and let you inspect his arm. You took hold of his wrist and traced the tattoo with your fingertips. The words themselves were small and neat, but the rest of it was an intricate pattern of barbed wire that wound round his forearm.

"Did it hurt?"

"Tell you the truth? It stung like a bitch."

He was watching your face and when you looked up at him, your eyes met. Those eyes on the other end of a gun would have sent you running for the hills. You pitied the soldiers that faced off against him.

You let go of his arm and swallowed.

"When did you get it?"

He let his forearm rest next to your thigh.

"When I was deployed for the first time."

He was close enough that you caught the scent of his cologne and the sweet smell of pine from the wood he chopped.

"How did you end up in the Marines anyway?"

"I've got you curious, do I?"

You felt yourself blush. "Maybe a little."

"Hmm." He rubbed at his jaw, like he was trying to rub away a smile.

"Maybe I'll tell you about it someday. For now though, you need to take some tablets and get some sleep."

"But what about you? I've kind of colonised your bed."

"First thing you learn in basic is to sleep standing up. I'll be fine sleeping on the couch. 'Sides, I ain't the one who went crashing off the road less than a day ago."

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a blister pack of tablets.

"These are Novril. They pack a hell of a punch, so I expect you to sleep through the rest of the day. Best thing you can do right now is rest, got it?"

"Yes sir."

He dropped two shiny white pills into your open palm.

"Good girl. Now drink up."

He passed you a glass of water from the nightstand. The tablets left a slightly bitter taste behind, but you hurt too much to mind it.

Outside, the snow started up again.

You smiled at him. "How am I ever supposed to repay you?"

He studied you for a second.

The shirt you borrowed was missing a few buttons near the top and gaped open just a little at your tits, but you were too drowsy to notice.

He grinned that slow, lazy smile of his. "I'm sure you'll think of something, princess."

You hadn't fully realised just how intimate this all was. You were wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed. Entirely reliant on him to take care of you.

He stood up and shook his head.  "You must be hungry. Any requests?"

"Nope. I'll take anything at this point."

His eyes flickered to your chest and then quickly away. "I can make you regret that real fast, y'know."

"Come on, you can't be that bad of a chef."

He huffed and shook his head. "You just sit pretty and I'll be back."

He returned with a bowl of oats sprinkled with brown sugar. His fingers brushed yours when he handed it to you and he lingered for a second longer than needed.

"I'm afraid it's all hospital chow until you're stronger. It's too bad - I make a mean flapjack."

You played around with your spoon and then gave in. Plain oats or not, you needed your strength.

Andy was quiet while you ate, watching the snow swirl across the window.

He tugged at his dog tags again and spoke up, "Does anyone know you're out here? A boyfriend, a sibling, anyone that knows where you were headed?"

You carefully put your empty bowl down on the nightstand. With the tablets, the pain was mercifully retreating. Not gone, never entirely gone, but a tiny bit more manageable.

"No. I wanted to surprise a friend but they don't know I'm coming."

You felt unnaturally drowsy for this early in the day. He must have noticed it because he stood up and gently pressed at your shoulders.

"Lie down and I promise you'll be out like a light soon enough."

You listened to him and found your eyes drifting shut as soon as you hit the pillow.

"Y'know." Your voice was muffled by your pillow. "You're a really great guy."

"Thanks, but save that until after you're better, yeah?"

He pulled the duvet higher and carefully tucked it around your shoulders.

"Not a soul knows you're out here?"

You hummed in agreement. You were almost entirely asleep and barely felt the hand that drifted across your forehead, gently pushing the hair off your face.

"Just you and me, princess."

You didn't hear it, but there was a strange note to his voice. Fear, maybe. Or longing. Hard to tell, with how similar they can be.

Next Chapter [coming soon]

Masterlist

Taglist

@pleorexicz @lem-hhn @mybelovedjupiter

[woso-dreamzzz]

Icy III

Mapi León x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: He watches your match

He sits up in the box with Laporta, stretched out on the foldout chair like it's his personal throne.

He's wearing a new suit, freshly ironed and tailored to fit his body perfectly. His hair has been cut and styled to give that almost effortless look about him.

"Trust fund, I reckon," Patri says from your warm up circle," That guy that's up there with Laporta."

"No way," Pina disagrees," That's new money, not old. Probably a hedge fun manager."

"Or some kind of oil and gas giant," Mapi laughs.

"None," You say," Real estate at first then tech and then big pharma over in the states."

"What made you guess that?" Mapi asks and you stubbornly kick the ball away.

"I didn't. Laporta's not going to get money out of him anyway. The wife is the one that invests in sports but only ones she gets good profits out of. Two NFL teams, a Formula One team. She owns a tennis stadium in Paris. Big investor in the Olympics."

"Oh come on," Patri complains," There's no way you just know that off the top of your head."

"It doesn't matter. If Laporta wants money he should talk to the wife."

You can feel his gaze on you throughout the match.

It's a team at the bottom of the table and you're so technical that they can't get close but you can still feel the weight of his stare on you at all times.

'You carry the weight of our family'.

He's told you that many times.

'If you cannot exceed expectations then we have no use for you'.

He's told you that too, something you remember as you cross the ball into Pina, who taps it in easily.

You celebrate together, hugging and you feel Ingrid's familiar presence behind you as she gives you her customary kiss on the head.

You look up at him in the crowd, just out of reflex but you can't see much.

He's still splayed out like he's a king on a throne, looking down at you like you're a peasant in the street, fighting with someone else for just a scrap of bread.

That's his idea of entertainment, like holding up a magnifying glass towards an ant hill in the middle of a sunny day.

You feel small under his gaze, dipping your head in submission as you walk back into your position.

You assist in the next three goals.

Alexia.

Aitana.

Even Keira.

You're good at that. You've perfected the art of assisting.

Mapi's even joked before that you're going for the record of assists from one person this season.

Alexia says she's going to make you be more selfish and shoot more but you don't think you really need to do that, not when Caro can do it instead of you.

This is one of the rare matches where Caro's being rotated so gets no minutes. You fill her place though, like you always do, setting up goals and carrying the ball down the wing.

Barcelona win, of course, and you drift back to Ingrid and Mapi like you normally do.

Mapi grins at you, arm thrown over your shoulder and a frown on her face as you go rigid under her.

Laporta is on the pitch with him, stuttering over his words and hurrying to keep up.

He stops in front of you.

"Y/n."

Your head drops automatically, thoroughly chastised as you step out from under Mapi's arms.

His hand clamps down on your shoulder and you can tell how this is going to go before he even opens his mouth.

"Of course we're very proud of her," His honeyed tone tells Laporta," We've wanted nothing but the best for her."

For them, you correct in your head.

"She's always had such a passion for football. We love watching her play."

He's never seen you play in his life.

"We-We're very happy to have her here!" Laporta tells him," She's a real talent. You're produced quite the footballer."

He laughs, waving away the compliments as his hand feels like a shackle around you. "You're too kind. Sports has never quite been my thing. I'll have to talk to the wife about what we were talking about, I'm sure you'll understand."

"Of course! Of course! Take all the time you need!"

He will. You know he will.

He'll discuss with her and they'll write up a contract if it's really something they're interested, about what they pay in and what they get out of it.

She's always been better at the sports side of it, despite her background in real estate. She knows how to talk people around in circles. How to get through the little boy's club that every sport has. She'll get what she wants if Barcelona is even something she's interested in.

You hope it isn't.

"I'll leave you alone with your daughter," Laporta says and you want to call after him.

You want to tell him not to leave with your father.

Barcelona was supposed to be yours. You were supposed to be safe here.

You can't control when they summon you in Norway but if you're in Barcelona, they're not supposed to be able to get to you. You're not meant to be subject to their whims in Barcelona.

You want to go home. You want to go home with Mapi and Ingrid and curl up in your bed with Toast and not move for a week.

His casual hand on your shoulder grows heavy in an instant, nails digging in to your skin through your shirt and you have to keep the smile on your face to keep up appearances for the cameras you know are on you.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers to you," If you ever blindside me like this again then I promise you won't like what happens next."

"Sorry, Father," You say back.

"You better be. I didn't like sitting up there with potential business partners to see my own daughter down there like a football hooligan."

"Sorry."

"I'm better than that and I raised you to be better than that too."

You resist the urge to tell him that he didn't raise you at all.

Your wrist twinges, the phantom injury flaring up like it always did when you're nervous.

You throat bobs, already closing up as you fight back tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Apologies mean nothing." His voice is harsh in your ear and you find a point ahead of you to stare at so you don't cry.

If there's something that he hates more than apologies, it's tears so you stubbornly don't let even one fall.

"Who's this, y/n?" Ingrid asks, clearing her throat and you flick your eyes to her.

"My-"

Your father says his name, sticking his hand out and he's back to playing the role of proud father. "And you are?"

"Ingrid Engen. I play with y/n on the Norwegian team too."

"Ah! Yes. I think she's mentioned you before!" He's lying.

He didn't even know you played on the national team.

"And I'm Mapi. She lives with me and Ingrid."

"I can't thank you enough," Your father says," She can be quite a handful sometimes." He laughs but no one laughs with him.

"I think she's delightful," Ingrid says," Very helpful. Very studious. She's the best in her class."

The smile on his face is real now, like it always is when he hears about your academics.

He started in real estate and then moved to investing in technology and pharmaceuticals. He and your mother are scarily intelligent and it might be the only thing they passed onto you.

"We expect nothing less of her," He says," I'm sure everyone at the party will be glad to hear it."

Your breath stutters in your chest. "The party?"

"Yes! The party! I must have forgotten to tell you! We're having a little get together with a few potential business partners. We'll have to get you a dress."

"I don't need to go."

"Don't be silly!" His hand tightens on your shoulder and you know that this isn't a discussion. "There's some people I should introduce you too."

Your head drops again, the fight leaving your body.

"Do you want us to go?" Ingrid asks, ever polite though you feel like without her and Mapi there you won't survive. "So you two can have dinner?"

Your father is laughing again, finally releasing you and you take several quick steps to duck behind Mapi.

"I've got a flight to catch. Meetings to get to. Far more important things."

He can't see you anymore, not with your head bowed and pressed against Mapi's back and you finally let the tears fall.

Ingrid watches your father leave, down the tunnel and escorted to the player's exit by the staff that seem to be falling over themselves to make him happy.

"Y/n," She says, coaxing you out from your hiding spot," Oh, sweetheart...Are you okay?"

You look at her, bottom lip trembling as the tears run down your cheeks.

"Ingrid," You say, sounding small and wounded like an animal," I want to go home."

Ingrid nods as Mapi tucks you under her arm.

"Let's go home."

[crownmemes]

Tired Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sentences from various sources for threats to and from a muse. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Are you feeling okay? I've never seen you sleep for so long."

"I couldn't sleep last night again. It's like my mind won't shut down or something."

"You haven't been to bed, have you?"

"Do you know what time it is? It's past noon!"

"I thought you were sleeping?"

"You're a bit out of it tonight."

"You better sit down before you keel over!"

"It's late. Can I be in trouble tomorrow?"

"I'll sleep when I'm published!"

"It's called work-life balance. Maybe try it sometime?"

"Are you coming to bed? It's almost midnight."

"I cannot afford spare time."

"You've got to stay lean, mean, and full of caffeine!"

"You've never relaxed in your life."

"Of course I'm awake; sleep is for babies."

"Utter the word 'rest' and you die."

"Do you really stay awake all night?"

"You can keep on telling yourself that you're fine, but you're not fine!"

"You've been asleep for three days!"

"There's only so much that you can do, and you've obviously reached the limit!"

"Can I call my own children annoying?"

"You look like you haven't slept in a couple of days."

"I don't sleep. I just dream."

"I need coffee. Lots of coffee."

"Remember, one minute's sleep before midnight is worth one hour after!"

"Do you realise that I don't usually get out of my pyjamas until five in the afternoon?"

"I have the distinct feeling that I've only been asleep for ten minutes. What time is it?"

"Are you seriously thinking of sleeping there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"This may be something of an understatement, but you are not doing well."

"Wouldn't you rather be at home than here?"

"Are you sleeping at night? You've got circles around your eyes, pale skin - you don't get more than two or three hours at a stretch, do you?"

"I don't sleep."

"We're going nowhere for a while. Might as well get some sleep."

"Come to bed. It'll all seem better in the morning."

[karikarasuno]

part five | part six | part seven

you indeed did not fuck the next time you and law were together. but it does feel like death is sitting patiently and wickedly at your doorstep. the room you wake up in is dark. thank god. because any sliver of light makes your head throb and your stomach churn.

mistakes were made last night, for sure. you blame luffy for the shots. the little shit doesn't even drink, but at some point you were downing tequila in an absurdly foolish attempt to keep up with zoro and sanji. it was dumb. but luffy liked to instigate the two of them and somehow everyone was always roped into the mess. consequences be damned.

you remember inviting law out with you. he had just gotten off from work, but you caught him unlocking his front door as you stepped out to walk chopper. excitement shot through your veins at the sight of him. you could probably overdose on that man if it was possible.

"you work tomorrow?" you call out from your lawn. he looks over at you and smiles. you feel it all the way in your toes.

"no," he says, propping his arm against his now open door.

"on call?" you make sure to ask, remembering vividly the mishap from before.

"nope," he answers, his smile stretching into something devilish and you nearly faint. god, how you want this man.

"good, we're going out tonight," you say, not offering because he would be joining you even if you had to drag him out the house yourself.

"where to? if i may ask."

"drinks with my friends." you keep it vague on purpose because your crew could get a bit rowdy sometimes and you don't want to scare him off.

"seems a bit forward, don't you think?" you know he's joking. poking fun at whatever relationship this is that you two share.

"i almost met your family pants less, i think going out with my friends is okay," you laugh, tugging chopper back to your side when he tries to chase a duck.

"what time should i come over to get you?" it's thoughtful. reminiscent of a date. he would be the type to pick you up. maybe even open the car door for you. and the question while innocent in nature sends a thrill of something arousing down your spine. the bar for men really is in hell if this is what turns you on.

"i'll be ready by 7." he was ringing your doorbell by 6:58pm.

"someone's eager." after that the night shuffles through your head in disorganized memories. like a film reel, but some squares are black and others are just so fucking blurry.

you remember introducing law to your friends. everyone was friendly. nami and sanji grilled him in this weird good cop, bad cop schtick they randomly decided to do. but it was more bad cop, annoying cop if you were being honest.

you remember flirting with him in a booth a couple drinks in. the bar was dark so you two were pretty secluded, thankfully. you don't think you could handle your friends witnessing how willing you were to throw yourself at him.

but after that, there's nothing. you don't remember getting home and when you try hard enough a sharp pain shoots through your temple and you groan miserably into the pillow.

"someone's finally awake," law's voice pierces through the pleasant silence and dread washes over you like a bucket full of ice cold water. what the hell is he doing here? you lift the blanket over your head to hide how horribly you know you look. attempting to save yourself from further embarrassment.

"what're you doing in my room?" your words are jumbled together and you're surprised he even understands you.

"this is my room, silly," he responds with a chuckle you can barely hear over the instant surge of alert mortification that floods your nervous system.

"no it's not," you argue, hoping and praying this is just some prank he's pulling since you were the one who started this whole breaking and entering scheme.

"look around, sweetheart," he says, suddenly much closer than he was before. you peek out over the top of the comforter. four-poster bed, heather gray black out curtains, and law. he's standing above you with a prescription bottle in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. black ribbed tank top hugging his torso and a pair of sweats hanging low on his waist.

you decide that you now hate him. why the fuck does he always look so good? it's just unfair at this point.

"why am i in your room?" your voice is rough from sleep and your throat is sore from how dry it is. even blinking hurts.

"i tried to take you home last night, but you refused to give me your house keys," he explains and you cannot believe you got that drunk. you're never drinking tequila again. "you said it would be more fun if we had a slumber party."

"oh lord," you complain, rubbing your temples with your thumb and pointer finger.

"take this," law says, and you hear the pills in the bottle rattle around as he pours a few in his hand. you hold out your open palm, refusing to look at him out of sheer defiance. really you're trying to save face.

you sit up when he hands you the open water bottle and even that action is a struggle. you're going to kill your friends the next time you see them. not that this is totally their fault. still you needed to spread the blame in the hopes that you can yell at them if law decides he never wants to speak with you again.

you chug down half of the water in a few large gulps. you're so dehydrated it's physically painful. a few drops of water drip onto your shirt and you absentmindedly swipe at them until it hits you that the shirt you have on isn't yours.

"law?" you question, you gaze finally sliding over to him. he hums in acknowledgement. "who's shirt is this?"

"mine," he gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

"why am i wearing it?"

"funny story actually," his smile grows less sympathetic and more... tickled. you hate him. you really really do. "i had to wrestle it onto you when you decided it was a good idea to strip down to your underwear."

"i did not." mortification is an understatement. humiliation is nowhere near severe enough to describe the feeling that's now burning through you.

"mhm, you said sleepovers are more fun naked," he laughs lightly. you're glad someone finds this situation humorous. because you’re about to dig a hole in your backyard and bury yourself in it.

"don't make that face," law pinches your nose between the knuckles of his fore and middle finger. it's annoying how cute he is because your face immediately un-scrunches from the gesture. "i thought it was adorable."

"me in the nicest lingerie i own is adorable to you?" you argue, irritated that you wasted your matching set on a night that law didn't even get to take it off you.

"no, the lingerie was very sexy," he leans in towards you, his thumb pressing into your brow bone to relieve some of the pressure that was there from your raging headache. your stomach flips at his words, even more agitated at how awful you feel when you should be climbing him. "you're just an energetic drunk and its entertaining. you're also really handsy."

you lean into his massaging fingers that are now kneading at your temples. you don't even want to answer him out of pure misery.

"i wish i could remember how handsy i got," you grumble, mopey and disappointed. you hear a light chuckle from him as his fingers travel to the soft spot behind your ears. law's hands are so perfect you're forgetting how bad you feel.

"nothing too scandalous. perfectly pg-13." he starts massaging your neck and a sigh of reprieve falls from your lips. bless him and his long fingers and his strong hands. actually you don't hate him anymore. you hate yourself for ruining the perfect opportunity to roll around for hours in these very sheets with him. fuck it all to hell, starting today you're gonna be sober.

"oh!" you just now remember your dog. on top of being a lousy drunk, you're also a horrible mother. "i gotta walk chopper!"

you wiggle away from his magical fingers reluctantly, yanking the comforter back to jump out of bed. you don't make it far though. law's hand finds you bare thigh to keep you in place.

"he's in the lanai. i got him when i woke up this morning when i realized you weren't waking up any time soon." he covers you back up with the blanket, tucking you in. "i stole your keys from your purse."

"and you fed him?" on top of law being a magician, he's also a saint. you think about proposing then and there.

"and," he pushes you so that you're laying down again, "i fed him."

"i think i'm gonna marry you," you say out loud, and completely on accident. but without his hands on you the headache has returned full force and the pain doesn't give you the time to regret it.

"go back to sleep," he scoffs throwing the blanket over your head. "you'll feel better when you wake up."

****

you wake up who knows how long later to the sound of nami's voice. but that can't be right because you're at law's house. still in his bed. and still in his shirt-- that thought makes you giddy. it is nami, though, you’d recognize her voice anywhere.

“thanks for taking care of her. we definitely over did it last night,” she says, her voice carrying a slight note of apology. which is unlike her.

“it’s really no problem. once she was in bed she knocked out.” you can’t believe nami is even here. your headache is thankfully gone only to be replaced with anxiety in your chest. “and thanks for the dinner. how much was it? i’ve got some cash.”

“no no! you don’t have to do that!” nami declines and you can almost imagine her hands waving in front of her in that way she does when she gets nervous. law really does have that effect. “that’s her favorite hangover food. just the right amount of grease.��

“you’re gonna clog her arteries,” law says and you hear the crinkling of a bag and you assume he’s looking through it. he’s such a dork.

“oh with you around i’d worry less about her arteries and more about-” she catches herself. you’re ready to smack her but she’s right. your arteries are perfectly fine.

law just laughs though. and you feel guilty for eavesdropping when you should announce that you’re awake. but you’re nosy and actually very comfy nestled in all of law’s bedding. so you’re hesitant to get up.

“you know,” nami starts, pausing for a brief moment. “well…”

“what is it?” law asks. you’re nervous. your pulse is picking up the pace and you can feel it thump in your throat.

“she really likes you,” she says quickly. next time you see her you’re definitely going to slap her. not that you hid it very well. but as a best friend there’s certain rules to abide by. telling the man you’re sort of sleeping with that you have feelings for him is definitely breaking one of those rules. “at first i thought it was some rebound after kid and i was rooting for her because you’re tall and successful and hot so of course i approved.”

something’s wrong with her. she must have lost her mind.

“but you should hear the way she talks about you. it’s kinda gross if i’m being honest.”

“i’m not sure how i should take that,” law’s voice is a funky mixture of confusion and amusement.

“i’m just saying if this is some fling to you save her the heartbreak. the break up was hard and seeing her like that made me contemplate murder, but she’s much more forgiving than i am.”

the silence that follows has you clamming up. you’re terrified because you don’t want him to end things. you don’t care about the repercussions. you just love spending time with him. kissing him. teasing him. law just makes it all so easy. and you refuse to give it up.

“that’s not something you have to worry about. as much as i appreciate the threat,” he pauses when nami releases a breathy laugh, “i have no intentions of hurting her. i... really like her too."

your heart soars. it flies right out of your chest. assuming his feelings were reciprocated is one thing. but knowing it-- that's an entirely different sensation. it's tingly, bubbly, fuzzy. you almost kick your feet and squeal.

you have to contain yourself when you hear nami leave the house. you have to contain yourself further when you hear law's steps approach the bedroom. you don't want to give away the fact that you've been awake the last few minutes. and that you overheard a conversation that you probably shouldn't have. you don't regret it though. especially not when law's hand finds your shoulder and gently shakes you.

"hey, you," he whispers, leaning over so that you can feel his breath fan over your cheek. "nami was nice enough to bring over some food for you, so why don't you wake up and eat something?"

you turn around, blearily looking up at him. he's smiling softly above you. his face is relaxed, his eyes are fond. and unfortunately while your heart flies, you feel yourself beginning to fall for him. it's overwhelming.

you reach out to him, your fingers fisting in his tank top and you pull him towards you harshly. he isn't expecting it. so he falls on top of you with an umph of surprise.

"you need to eat," he says as he tries to escape your grip, but it's fruitless. you won't let go. you wrap yourself around him until he lying beside you. and he's laughing at your clinginess. you feel his laugh rumble against your body and you nuzzle your face into his neck. refusing to release him even when he tries to force space between you.

"come on," he urges with a hand on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into your side. "you've been lazying in my bed all day. i'm sure you're hungry."

"just five more minutes," you plead. "stay with me like this for five more minutes, please."

his whole body finally relaxes next to you. both of his arms, strong and thick and secure, cradle you to him. he kisses the top of your head. the world fades into nothingness because in that moment law becomes everything to you.

"ok," he agrees, "but i'm only giving you five."

part eight

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

summary. luffy's relationship with hancock begins to strike a deep nerve within you.

⤷ contents. monkey d. luffy x gn!reader, fluff + angst, boa hancock is rude, jealous!reader, light angst (resolved by the end), slight miscommunication // wc. 2.1k

⤷ notes. request by @amortentiaz for a jealous!reader over luffy's relationship with boa hancock. i think i got a little too invested in writing reader's anger, maybe i should write some more angst... i hope you enjoy! <3

Your boyfriend wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Was he caring? Of course, he cuddled and hugged and kissed you near constantly. Was he attentive? Easily, he always wanted to snuggle with you, no matter your location—even if it led to some unfortunate circumstances.

But he may just be the most scatterbrained boyfriend anyone could ask for, and your current situation was perhaps the best example of his obliviousness.

"Ah, Luffy! I have more food if you want it!"

"Really?! Thank you, Hancock!"

You and Luffy had gotten pulled off your ship by a terrible storm, only a small makeshift raft of wood to keep you afloat. A miracle had led you to land on Amazon Lily, an island led by a woman with a fixation for Luffy.

And so here you were, stuck watching the most beautiful woman in the world drape herself over your boyfriend like they'd been married for the last thirty years. Sure, your boyfriend was the greatest catch in the East Blue, but he was your boyfriend. Not Hancock's 'sweetie pie honey bun super-special pirate king.'

You had just finished talking with Jimbei through the snail transponder, who informed you that the ship would be there tomorrow in the morning. Unfortunately, that meant you would have to stay here.

"Alright, Luffy," you sighed, "The Thousand Sunny will be here in the morning, which means that we're stuck here for tonight."

"There's a room prepared for you in the palace if you need it, Luffy! I can have whatever you need brought there," Hancock swooned, feeding Luffy a drumstick.

"Ooh! Hey, is there anything you need, ____?" Luffy turned to ask, voice muffled by all the meat stuffed inside his mouth.

You looked behind Luffy to meet eyes with Hancock, watching her expression sour at the mention of your name.

"I think I'm fine. Thanks, Luf," you muttered, crossing your arms.

"Ok, but Hancock can bring us anything, so if you change your mind you can ask her!" he grinned, taking another large bite of the drumstick.

You sighed, briefly meeting eyes with Hancock who silently scoffed at your presence. Angrily, you stomped out of the palace and out of the town, going far, far away from the oh-so benevolent queen of the island.

As you walked into the expansive forest of the island, you began kicking a rock with each step, muttering under your breath.

"Oh Luffy, here's some yummy food!" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, what dress do you think I should wear?" you kicked the rock. "Oh Luffy, you should break up and we should get married and have a bunch of tiny beautiful babies!"

You kicked the rock off the path, watching it roll off into underbrush and onto the grass floor of the forest.

"Go on then," you grumbled, "go get married to the prettiest girl in the world! then you can really be King of the Pirates..."

As you walked further into the tropical forest of the island, you came upon a rocky cliff, a beautiful location covered in small plants and light foliage. Rocks jutting out harshly in every which way, moss growing upon it, unbothered and untouched.

This is just what you need.

You stepped up to the edge of the cliff and gazed at the forest below, wild and vibrant green hues filling up every space you looked at. The sky was similar, a brilliant cloudless blue, like a calm blue sea without a boat in sight. You could stare at this serene scene for all of eternity, if only time allowed.

Sighing wistfully, you closed your eyes and stretched your body, taking a deep breath.

And then, you screamed.

You screamed at nothing and everything, all at once. At Hancock and Luffy, together, singularly, at their actions, at their attitudes. You shrieked at Hancock's cruel expressions, her blatant disregard for your own feelings. You screeched at Luffy's oblivious disposition, his inability to realize how you felt about all of this. You screamed until your throat burned, until you could feel your eyes welling up with tears and your screams turned into sobs turned into silent crying.

Needless to say, it was a much needed catharsis.

You calmed yourself down and walked back to the bustling city, taking in the nature surrounding you. As you continued walking, a long, rubbery leg touched down onto the forest path. The leg was attached to your boyfriend, who jumped down from the trees with a bewildered and frightened expression on his face.

"Are you okay ____?!" I heard—"

"I'm fine," you snapped, brushing past him.

Luffy gave you a confused look as you walked towards the village, on your way to check out the room in the palace Hancock so graciously gave you.

It was placed right next door to Hancock's own chambers, no doubt because she wanted to keep Luffy close, but the interior was far more shocking. Instead of a giant king sized bed in the middle, two beds—one far bigger than the other—with a great deal of space separating them were inside. It was almost too obvious to tell which bed was Luffy's, given the amount of food and gift baskets surrounding it.

You were just shocked that she put you in Luffy in the same room.

Deciding it wasn't worth complaining about, you instead searched around the castle in search of a library, a place Luffy would never look for you.

It wasn't that you were mad at him. No, it would be more accurate to say that you were furious. But you knew deep inside your mind that it wasn't his fault. But you also knew that if you saw him again, you would blow up, explode, in his face.

You stayed in the library until midnight, reading fairy tales and historical texts, immersing yourself in the stories and history these books contained. You could feel the anger and jealousy in your veins dwindle with each page you read.

Once you had returned your amassed collection of books back to their shelves, you made your way back to your room. Expectations were low, you were fairly certain that Luffy wouldn't have a clue regarding your feelings, and a conversation would most certainly need to happen.

Walking quietly to your shared room, you carefully opened the door. the first thing you noticed was that Luffy was still awake, crouched in the middle of his bed. It wasn't strange for Luffy to be awake so late in the night, knowing that his sleep schedule was pretty irregular, but an unusually upset expression was etched into his face.

The second thing you noticed was that the delicious gifts surrounding his bed were uneaten, unopened, the wrapping on a few having not been touched.

Luffy noticed you immediately, the corners of his lips pulling down even further, his brow furrowed in a mixture of, seemingly, sadness and confusion, like a puppy watching their owner leave for the first time.

"Are you mad at me?" he blurted out quietly, clutching his knees.

All you could do was sigh in response, moving to sit on your own bed.

"I don't know," you confessed, looking away from him. "I'm...mad, yeah. But at you? I don't know."

Luffy remained quiet until you decided to break the silence.

"Hancock is pushy," you crossed your arms, "she's pushing my boundaries and she's pushing her way between us. I know she's a friend of yours and she's helped you a lot, but it hurts to watch her snuggle up to you and talk about the 'love' between you."

You looked up at Luffy, seeing the realization and hurt flood his eyes, his fingers twitching as his legs slid towards the edge of the bed.

He didn't say anything yet, instead squeezing the blankets and looking down at his feet, clearly composing his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, ____," Luffy whispered, standing up from the bed. "I know Hancock does nice things for me, but I don't see her like I see you,"

"Then why don't you tell her off? Tell her to leave you alone, tell her you're in a relationship?" you pushed, feeling the jealousy seething out of you.

Luffy frowned and walked closer to you, sitting down on your bed. "You're the greatest treasure I've ever found," he confessed, moving his hands to yours, "it's like you're so shiny and bright, and everybody else is all gray. I know Hancock talks a lot and gives me a lot of food, but if you don't want me to talk or take stuff from her, then I won't, promise!"

Despite your attempts to remain stoic, you were unable to disguise the twinge of a smile caused by Luffy's statement, choosing to nuzzle your face in his neck to hide.

"You don't have to ignore her, Luf. Just ask her to tone it down, maybe? She is the queen of this place. Even if I'm mad at her, I'd rather not piss off someone who can kill us with a snap of her fingers," you mumbled, playing with his vest.

Luffy gave you a big hug, wrapping his rubbery arms around once, and then twice. "If she tries to hurt you, then I'll stop her! You're way more awesome than her," Luffy declared with a pout, falling back into your tiny bed with you in his arms, "and I promise I'll be an extra awesome boyfriend for you."

"You're too sweet, Luf," you laughed softly, hugging him tighter. "But maybe we should move to the bigger bed?"

"I'm too tired, and I'm already comfy," he whined.

"Fine," you grumbled, too tired to argue with your much stronger boyfriend (and captain.)

"G'night, ____," Luffy hummed, pulling you closer to his chest.

You smiled, shutting your eyes, "Night, Luffy."

The morning seemed to come swiftly, light spilling into the room and striking your face. Your boyfriend was still wrapped around you like a vice, caging you tightly against his chest.

"Luffy," you groaned, trying to push him away, "you gotta let me go, it's time to get up,"

Luffy moaned and pressed his face to your chest, "Five more minutes, pretty please?"

"Jimbei said the ship would be here in the morning, the mor-ning, Luf. If we're late to meet them then Nami will beat our asses."

"Then I'll beat her up!"

"Then I'll have to dig your grave."

Luffy pouted and retracted his arms, crossing them, "Fine, we can go now."

Now free from you boyfriend's hold, you and Luffy changed your clothes for the new day, then exited the bedroom.

Immediately upon opening the door, you were greeted with the beautiful, illuminating face of Boa Hancock, who was clearly shocked and upset to see you exit with Luffy.

"Ah, Luffy! I just wanted to see if you wanted to have breakfast? I've had 60 eggs cooked and 30 plates of meat—"

"Sorry, Hancock!" Luffy interrupted, scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder, "we've gotta go!"

"But—"

Without letting her get another word out, Luffy sprinted through the halls of the palace and out of an expansive window, stretching his way across the viridian forest below.

The sights below were familiar, but it was strange seeing them down below. You could make out the path you travelled through the leaves, even catching a glimpse of the cliff you had stood on last night, a horrible moment during a horrible day that seemed so far away now.

As Luffy jumped from tree to tree, occasionally breaking through the canopy to give you that bird's-eye view, you eventually landed at the gate to Amazon Lily, where the thousand sunny was currently floating.

"Hey, lovebirds!" Nami yelled up, waving her arms, "you're just in time! Let's get out of here!"

"Please, let me go! I need to get onto that island!" Sanji cried out, held in place by Robin's devil fruit-generated limbs.

Luffy let out a boisterous laugh, "We're comin' down! Let's go, ____!" he howled, sprinting towards the ledge.

You looked over your shoulder, fear in your eyes, "Luffy, don't you dare!"

Luffy, ignoring your pleas for a safer entrance, leapt onto the ship with a battle cry, landing perfectly on the wooden deck with you in hand. He gently set you down, flashing a grin as he patted your shoulder.

"Wasn't that fun?!" Luffy exclaimed, dusting off his straw hat.

You collapsed in shock, sprawling your limbs out on the deck as you recovered from your near-death situation.

"We'll...we'll work on that," you panted, desperately attempting to catch your breath.

"Sweet! Let's go now!" Luffy cheered, pulling you back up

"Go? Where?" you asked, astonished, "we just got back to the ship?"

"I told ya, I'm gonna be and extra super awesome boyfriend!" he beamed, "now we have to go do some extra super awesome stuff!"

He once again wrapped you up in his arms, flashing a smile as he hugged you.

"I promise I'm gonna be a way better boyfriend from now on, I won't disappoint you!" he beamed.

You smiled back and ruffled his hair, kissing his forehead.

"You're already the best boyfriend I could ask for, Luffy."

"But I can be better!"

"Better than best?"

"Best of the best!"

You threw you head back and laughed, squeezing him back.

"Alright, Luf. Show me what you have in mind."

[busybeewriting]

And so, the stars aligned.

Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader.

Summary: After the Cauldron had transformed you and your sisters into High Fae, it takes some adjusting. But as life settles down, your left with searing normalcy and dealing with your sisters being grossly in love.

Warnings: None!

This is going to be part of a ongoing series! Feel free to send over any other ideas!

Requests are open!!

part two part three part four Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were happy for your sisters. Truly. Feyre had found Rhysand and made her life here better than anything you could have imagined back home in the rundown cabin you had grown up in. Nesta, well she was still Nesta. But now she had Cassian. And they were annoyingly in love.

But here you were. Sitting in the gardens with your only other single sister, book perched in your lap as you get distracted watching how Elain floats gracefully through the gardens. She had a few smears of dirt across her cheek, and a light sweat sheen made it look like she was glowing as the sunlight hit her. The sound of footsteps echoed as someone approached the gardens. Looking over you saw Azriel standing there- noting how he purposefully made himself known before entering. He doesn't bother to look in your direction at first, his eyes trained on where Elain was kneeling.

"Az!" Elain chirps, quickly standing and smoothing out her dress. Smiling up at the Shadowsinger. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Azriel had the faintest smile as he looked at Elain. "I wanted to make sure you were doing well." Finally he looks over in your direction. His hazel eyes meeting yours as he seemed to share the same sentiment towards you as well. Elain seemed to remember that you were there as well. Looking over at you, she gives an easy smile.

"I think we're doing well. What about you? y/n?" She asks overly sweet. And you knew your sister well enough to know she was telling you to answer and find a way out so she can be alone with Az.

Smiling as well, though admittedly tighter due to her sisters look. You understood her hesitance with her mate. But did she really not even respect the man enough to just flat out reject him? He clearly wasn't accepting her indifference as rejection. "I'm well." You nod, standing and stretching with a slight yawn. "I think I'm going to take a nap."

Elain winks at you, taking Azriel's arm as she tugs him further into the gardens. Rolling your eyes and shaking your head, you head upstairs toward the room Feyre had crafted just for you. And you couldn't lie. It was so nice to have your own room, your own space. A luxury you couldn't have ever imagined the nights you laid on the floor of the old cabin.

You were young when your mother passed. You had barely known what life was like before poverty. Just two years younger than Feyre, it had been enough to ensure that you couldn't read- but like Feyre you knew the Alphabet…at least somewhat. You wondered if you could teach yourself to read now? You look at the book you had in your hands and sighs. Tossing it aside, you just occasionally flipped through the pages to make it look like you were doing anything else but getting lost into your head. Letting yourself fall back onto your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Boredom was going to kill you. Not wanting to wither away just yet. You got up with a heavy sigh and decided to go find Nyx. If there had been nothing good about becoming a High Fae, he would be your shining light. He was the Archeron's pride and joy. You and your sisters argue over being the favorite Aunt. Nesta claims that since she saved his, and Feyre's life, she is automatically the favorite. You and Elain told her that Nyx doesn't know her yet so it's not a fair assumption. Secretly, deep down you know that you're the favorite.

Making your toward Rhys's office- where you knew Feyre tended to be around this time. Gently knocking on the door, "It's open!" Rhys answers and looks toward the door expectantly. Stepping in you give a small smile.

"I have come to steal your son." You joke, walking in and seeing the baby in Feyre's arms. Her and Rhys laugh as Nyx perks up at you reaching his little arms out. You can't help the smile growing on your face as you take him. "Well hello there, Nxyie!" You coo as you brush the hair out of his face. He babbles to you, and you nod along to it. As if it isn't just gibberish.

"Nothing exciting going on y/n?" Rhys asks, standing from his desk as he wraps an arm around Feyre and presses a kiss to her temple. You shake your head.

"You're welcome to join us, we were just about to go out to lunch." Feyre offers, her smile is soft and sweet. She was practically glowing here. Gently you shook your head.

"Nah, when's the last time you guys had some alone time? I've got Nyx go enjoy." You give your sister and her mate a gentle smile. They look at each other- eyes glossing over as they talk to each other. You try and keep the ache in your heart out. Watching your sisters fall in love was the best thing that ever happened to you, to them. You were so insanely happy for them it was sometimes hard to remind yourself that mates take time. And yours would be out there, and you'd find them one day.

Feyre turns to you, "If you're okay with watching him then we'd be happy to take you up on the offer. "

"I can compen-" Rhys begins but you cut him off before he can continue.

"He is my nephew, Rhysand." You hardly used his full name. Giving a playful glare as you turn away with Nyx, who giggles at the movement. "You don't have to pay me to watch him."

Feyre laughs and shrugs, looking up at him. "I told you she wouldn't accept." Rhys hands his hands up defensively.

"Don't say I didn't try." He gives an easy smile to you and Feyre. In a few quick steps he presses a kiss to Nyx's head. "Behave for your Aunt." He tells him gently, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. "And you, call me if you need anything." You nod and smile as Feyre also quickly kisses Nyx's cheek and tells him that she loves him. Hugging you as they leave.

You look back at the infant in your arms. It was strange to how much this little guy looked like your sister, but there was so much more Rhys in him. He blinks his big blue eyes up at you. "Well Nyx. It's just me and you." You sigh and give an exaggerated shrug to jostle him- earning a giggle.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Laying on the floor, you continue to play with Nyx. His attention currently on a crinkly kids book. And you try to read the book with him- able to make out a few words.

"Pretending to read that one too?"

You jump as you whip around to see Azriel there. HIs face remains stoic, but his eyes have a glint of amusement in them. You wrinkle your nose at the Illyrian in front of you. "Spying on us?"

He raises any eyebrow and crosses the room, sitting next to you and picking up Nyx. Holding him up above him, "Hello Nyx." Nyx babbles in return and Azriel nods along as well. He looks back toward you as he lowers Nyx and passes him back the book. "He says that you were reading to him."

You smile, leaning back on your hands as you look at him. Raising an eyebrow while Azriel continues to look at you- you'd normally shy away under the Shadowsingers gaze. But for some reason today you can't seem to do that right now. "Is that so?"

Azriel simply nods. "But if you ask me, I think you were just fake reading to him."

If there was one person who had picked up on your inability to read. It would have been the Spy master himself. "What makes you think that?"

Not expecting the challenging tone from you, you could swear that Azriel looked shocked for a second. But he leans forward, equally as challenging. "What is your book about?"

Shit. You blink, what would make it so he wouldn't question you? "…romance. Pure. Filthy romance. I got it from Nesta." You lie quickly and pray to the Mother that he believed you.

Azriel nods, seeming satisfied with that answer. "You ran out of the garden quickly." He notes. You could have sworn that as you looked at him leaning back there was a…sadness to his voice. But that would be ridiculous. He was in love with Elain.

"I wanted to give you and Elain time." You shrug, looking back at Nyx who is now smashing two trucks together. You take one of the rubber ducks on the floor, setting it on your nephew's head.

"I went out there to talk to both of you."

You don't dare to look at him. "Is something wrong?"

"…No." He says after some contemplation. Taking another duck and setting it on the babes shoulder. Nyx seemed unbothered by it. Continuing to smash the trucks.

"Then, no harm no foul. Right?" You smile as you look back over at Azriel. And the spy master didn't flinch at your words, but something told you that he didn't agree.

"I suppose." He nods. Getting up and bowing to you. "Goodbye Nyx, Goodbye y/n."

You scoop up Nyx and make him wave, trying to ease the tension. "Say bye-bye Uncle Az!"

And there was a hint of a smile from Azriel before he turned and walked out. ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: This was a lot of exposition, but I swear that there is more drama coming up!!