#butter-dock

[ed-wwarren]

Ten year old Ed Warren grew up on the shores of one of Connecticut’s most popular and beautiful lakes. From Memorial Day through Labor Day, business was booming in the town and his grandfather owned one of the fueling stations for the hundreds of boats the lake would see during the season.

Ever since he was old enough to start understanding and comprehending how boating worked, he was taught everything there was to know because he was going to be expected to help out and make some money working at the family owned station. His mother was a single mother, thank god, because his father had been an abusive drunk who drank himself to death but luckily she had her own mother and father around to help.

So everyday during the summer, Ed spent the days with his grandfather refueling boats. The rich and wealthy families would always get a little entertainment watching a little ten year old boy tie the boy into the slip, hop on the boat like it was nothing, refuel it, untie it, and push it out of the dock. He got a lot of tips that he was quite proud of.

One hot July afternoon, Ed was eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on one of the boats in the dock when he saw a rather large boat heading towards them. He swallowed the bit of his food in his mouth, brushed his hands off, and jumped onto the deck so he could point to the slip they needed to pull into.

@giftedclairvoyance

[keferon]

Still in the hospital but bored af so here's Part Two of fish dad

PART 2 of A Family can be A Fish and his Foster Kids

—-

Trailbreaker watched the mer approach their dock of concrete and broken cars, long tan body cutting through the water like butter. Soundwave held his hand tightly, Ravage curled around his shoulders. The twins and Windcharger were pressed against Trailbreaker’s back, the twins holding onto an arm each, Wrap on his left and TC on his right. Buster, TC’s service dog for his seizures, stood in front of his boy. Damus held Soundwave’s other hand in a vice grip, the cloths around his mangled hands dripping slightly, Skids behind him holding onto his shoulders.

The mer seemed to take them all in, large inhuman blue eyes tracking over one child to the next. It didn't make any more movement, except to lift it's torso out of the water.

Trailbreaker tensed as the mer revealed its true height, torso alone bigger than any human man. He took a half-step back, placing himself a little more firmly in front of the twins.

“He's so cool.” TC whispered softly, voice shattering the tense silence. Soundwave flinched back at the sound, his hat nearly falling off as the red glasses he used for his migraines fell a little off his nose.

“Dude!” Windcharger snapped, glaring at the other boy.

“It's true!” Warp said, voice raising in defense of his brother, his need to defend his twin overriding his fear.

And, in Trailbreaker’s opinion, his Goddamn Common Sense.

“Do…” Skids spoke up, running his hands over Damus’s wet hair nervously. "Do ye think th’ bloke’s friendly?” He asked, looking at Soundwave. “Th’ mers at th’ ‘quarium didn’ seem so bad, y’know. Not ta us kids.”

“Those were orcas.” Soundwave said slowly, squinting at the mer in front of them, still quietly watching the group of boys. "And trained to perform. We have no idea how this one will act.”

There was a moment of silence, before Thundercracker let go of Trailbreaker's arm and took a step forward, Buster by his side.

“I'm gonna go say hi.”

Trailbreaker made a move to grab TC’s shirt, fingers falling short as his brothers who were still holding onto him pulled him back.

“Wait, TC, no-” He called, only to be cut off by Ravage’s fur in his face, the cat having jumped off of Soundwave’s shoulders to follow the boy and dog.

Soundwave made a noise Trailbreaker never wanted to hear again but didn't move, all of them watching as TC walked up to the mer, dog and cat right next to him. Trailbreaker felt like he was going to pass out, heart pounding in his head.

“Hi!” Thundercracker said brightly, one hand on Buster’s head, the other held out as if the goddamn fish was going to SHAKE IT. Ravage wound herself around TC’s legs, sitting down on his feet like she could prevent the boy from moving any further.

Warp was trembling in Trailbreaker’s arms, barely held back from going to tackle his twin and bring him back to the group. Trailbreaker felt like Soundwave’s hand and Windcharger’s grip on his OWN shirt were the only things preventing him from grabbing the kid. (And maybe strangling him a little. He'd deserve it. Warp would have to understand)

A huge hand lifted out of the water, clawed and tan and big enough to crush TC like a fucking twig. The middle schooler didn't even flinch, keeping his own hand held out steady.

Trailbreaker practically felt Soundwave deflate as the mer gently shook Thundercracker’s tiny hand in its own much MUCH larger one.

“Guys, see?" Thundercracker said with a grin, wiping his hand off on his shirt, though that didn't help much. “He's nice!”

The mer looked back at their group, dipping lower into the water and smiling up at them.

“That's great, kid.” Trailbreaker said softly, trying to mentally teleport Thundercracker back to his side. “Can um- can you come back now?” He asked, trying to ignore how his voice cracked.

Ravage meowed loudly and jumped onto the mers head, provoking something that sounded suspiciously like a chirp from the fish itself. Soundwave’s cat, notorious for hating anybody and everybody except for Soundwave himself, settled into a loaf.

Soundwave let go of Trailbreaker’s hand to adjust his hat and glasses, sniffed once, and took a step forward, beginning to walk towards the fish with Skids and Damus in town.

“Ravage likes him.” He said simply in response to Trailbreaker's utter look of fear.

Trailbreaker took a breath, acknowledged that level of logic, and pulled Skywarp and Windcharger forward.

If nothing else, he could make sure the fish ate him FIRST, if it turned out they were wrong.

—----

HELP. Shockwave got cat-approved ahajakdmdmdbKFKDBDH OH THIS IS AMAZING

Just the. The mental image of this giant fish guy with tiny ass cat-loaf on his head??? I had to doodle it hehejej

[nylqnder]

TREACHEROUS LUKE HUGHES

pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: this slope is treacherous, this path is reckless. this slope is treacherous and you like it.

warnings: loosely based on 'treacherous' by taylor swift, childhood friends to lovers, heated make out, luke & reader being awkward a little bit, appearances from jack, quinn, mark, and ethan

word count: 5.06k

notes: literally the longest thing i've ever written omg but i hope you guys enjoy!!

The summer sun blazed down on the lake house, casting bright rays onto the water and the worn-down wooden dock, where you and Luke sat side by side, your fingers inches apart but never touching. The shimmering lake stretched out before you, a mirror reflecting the clear blue sky and the occasional ripple from a passing boat. It was the familiar scene of your summers, but this summer felt different — more charged, more intense.

You and Luke had always been inseparable since childhood. The backyard games, the bike races down the hill, the late-night chats under the stars—those moments had forged a bond that felt unbreakable. But beneath the surface of that easy camaraderie, there had always been something more—a secret, unspoken longing that neither of you had dared to voice. As you both grew older, the simple crushes you had harboured blossomed into something more profound, but you both chose to keep those feelings hidden, afraid of ruining the one relationship that had always been your rock.

This summer, as you and Luke reunited at the lake house, the tension between you was palpable. The familiar comfort of your shared experiences was now tinged with a new, almost unbearable intensity. Every look you exchanged seemed to linger longer than usual, every touch felt more significant. The boundary between friendship and something more had become increasingly blurred, and it was becoming harder to ignore.

One morning, as you were in the kitchen making breakfast, Luke appeared in the doorway. His presence was as familiar as the morning sun, but today, there was something different in his eyes—an earnestness that made your heart race.

“Hey, wanna go on a boat ride with me?” he asked, his voice casual but with an undertone that you couldn’t quite place.

You glanced up from your toast, meeting his gaze. “Yeah, sure,” you replied, a slight smile tugging at your lips as you finished buttering your piece of toast. “Quinn and Jack coming?”

“No, no,” he said shaking his head, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Just me ‘n you.”

The simplicity of his offer was almost too loaded to process. You could feel the heat of the sun on your skin and the way the space between you seemed to shrink. You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

“Y-yeah sounds good,” you say. “Just let me finish breakfast and then I’ll go get ready.”

“Of course, take your time,” Luke said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and left the kitchen. You finished your breakfast in a daze, your mind racing with thoughts about the boat ride.

After breakfast, you quickly changed into your swimsuit, grabbing a hoodie from the pile of clothing that accumulated on the armchair in the corner of your room. You examined it quickly, realizing it was one of Luke’s Michigan hoodies that you had borrowed earlier in the week during a bonfire.

You found Luke waiting at the dock, the boat bobbing gently in the water. “Ready?” he asked, his voice steady as he helped you onto the boat.

“Yeah,” you replied, settling into one of the seats. The boat ride started out in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the lapping of water against the hull. As the boat moved further out onto the lake, Luke kept glancing at you, his eyes flicking from the water to your face as if he were trying to gauge your mood.

It wasn’t until you approached the tiny, rocky island, that you realized where Luke was taking you. It was the small island you’d found when just after Luke had gotten his boater’s licence. It had become your own little private oasis that the two of you would visit just to relax, using the privacy of the space to talk about whatever had been bothering you or whatever was on your mind.

Luke put the boat in neutral, allowing it to slowly float up to the rocky shore. He hopped out, steadying it before the bottom would scrape, then turned to you. "Hand me the anchor."

You obliged, tossing the towels to him first, then reaching for the small anchor. As you handed it over, Luke teased, “Not too heavy for you?”

You rolled your eyes behind your shades. “It’s like 13 pounds, Luke. Fuck off.”

He snorted, taking it from your hands and lodging it on a nearby rock. “Here, take my hand so you don’t fall on your face.” Luke said, extending his hand to help you down onto the shore.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, though Luke couldn’t see that behind your shades. You grabbed his hand, feeling the heat of the sun still clinging to his skin. As you hopped down, your foot slipped on the wet surface, and for a split second, you thought you were about to fall face-first into the water.

But Luke’s grip tightened, his other hand reaching out to catch you by the waist, steadying you before you could stumble any further. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he murmured, his voice soft, yet steady.

Your heart skipped a beat, and as you stood there for a moment, pressed against him, you could feel the tension thick between you. “Thanks,” you breathed out, stepping back once you found your balance, though the warmth of his hand lingered.

You moved to the towels Luke had tossed onto the sun-warmed rocks moments ago, straightening one out and lying on it, putting your arm over your eyes. Luke lingered by the boat a moment longer, watching you, his heart still pounding. He took a deep breath and sat beside you, staring out at the water, wondering how much longer he could pretend nothing had changed.

You sat in silence, the birds cawing in the air and the splashing water providing a nice background noise. Luke glanced over at your body lying just a foot away from him, your tanned skin glistening under the beating Michigan sun. Luke couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He felt dirty for staring at you like this; staring at your chest that was just barely covered by a teal bikini, rising and falling rhythmically as you breathed. Your stack of gold necklaces rested on your clavicle and Luke couldn’t fight off the thoughts about marking your collarbone with lovebites.

“I missed this,” you said suddenly, Luke snapping his head forward to focus on the water that lapped steadily against the shore.

He swallowed hard, trying to shake the heat that consumed him — not just from the sun, but from the way his mind was racing. “Missed what?”

“This,” you replied with a soft smile, lifting a hand to gesture around. “The lake, the sun, the quiet… just being here. It feels like nothing else matters for a while, you know?”

Luke let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He dared to glance over at you again, this time his eyes landing on your head — your eyes were still covered by your arm, but he had the perfect view of your plump lips, as well as the way the sunlight caught in your hair, making it shine like it was woven with gold.

Luke shifted uncomfortably, forcing his eyes to the water once again, trying to ignore the fire burning inside him. He wanted to say something — anything — to break the silence, but his mind was a mess, tangled with everything he’d been holding back for so long.

“I get that,” he finally managed, his voice quiet. “Feels like… everything else just disappears out here.”

You nodded, still lying back with your arm draped over your eyes. “Yeah, exactly. No distractions. Just us.”

The simplicity of your words hit him harder than he expected. “Just us.” Luke bit the inside of his cheek, knowing full well how dangerous those two words felt right now. He was suddenly acutely aware of how close you were — the soft rise and fall of your chest, the small space between your bodies.

You sat up, stretching your arms over your head, the movement catching Luke’s attention again. You glanced at him, your eyes hidden behind sunglasses but the tension was palpable. “You okay?”

Luke nodded a little too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” You tilted your head, watching him curiously.

Luke’s eyes involuntarily traced your face, landing on your lips a moment longer. Your breath hitched, the air between you charged with something unspoken but very real. “Yeah… really good.”

And just like that, the distance between you vanished.

It happened fast, almost like you both decided at the same moment. One second you were staring at him, heart racing, and the next his lips were on yours, the kiss electric and urgent. You didn’t know who moved first, and you didn’t care.

All the years of restraint, of not crossing the line, melted away as your lips moved together. Your hands found Luke’s curls, tugging on them slightly which elicited a groan from him. You moved onto his lap, no longer oblivious to the physical toll you had taken on Luke. His hands hesitated at first, but then they slid down your sides, his touch searing. He traced down your ribcage, onto your waist, then finally settled on your ass.

The kiss deepened, both of you getting lost in the moment as the years of pent-up tension finally released in waves. You tugged on his roots, causing him to squeeze your ass tightly, a low grumbling coming from his throat. Your fingers untangled from his brown locks, tracing down Luke’s shoulders and onto his torso, feeling the curves of his abs under your fingertips. Luke shivered beneath you despite the burning sun that shone down.

You finally pulled back, the both of you gasping for air, your chests rising and falling rapidly. Your gaze dropped to his slightly swollen lips, then to his bare chest glistening in the sunlight. The intensity of the moment suddenly caught up to you — his hands still gripping your ass, his body warm and hard beneath yours. You realized the position you were in, straddling him, looking dishevelled as one of your bikini straps had slipped down your shoulder, exposing a deep tan line.

Luke’s eyes followed the movement, his pupils blown wide as he swallowed hard. The weight of everything you two had held back over the years came crashing down on him. His grip on your waist loosened, his hands hovering as he was unsure of what to do next. You felt the tension in the air shift, both of you realizing you’d crossed a line that you couldn’t un-cross, no matter how badly the two of you have wanted to all along.

“Oh, God,” you whispered, your eyes wide as you pulled back slightly. “What did we just do?”

Luke ran a hand through his hair, looking as freaked out as you felt. His cheeks were flushed, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the kiss or the heat. “I don’t know. I—” He looked down, then back at you. “Does this change everything?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your mind racing with all the implications of what just happened. “I…we should head back.”

You swung your leg back over Luke, standing up and quickly walking back towards the boat. You grabbed your hoodie and threw it on despite the heat, feeling like you needed to cover yourself, needing something to hide behind. Luke sat there for a moment longer, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched you retreat. He ran his hands over his face, trying to make sense of what happened, but the feeling of your body pressed against his lingered too heavily. His mind was a mess of excitement and confusion, with lingering sentiments of regret as he couldn’t help but feel that everything was screwed now. Luke stood up quickly, jogging to catch up to you, but the air between you was thick and awkward now.

The boat ride back to the lake house was silent, and the roar of the motor made it easy for neither of them to face the reality of the situation. You sat in the front hold, knees tucked to your chest, staring out at the water as it splashed against the sides of the boat, stray droplets hitting your skin. Luke sat in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel a little too tightly, sneaking glances at you every few seconds.

As the lake house came into view, you stood up quickly, ready to jump out as soon as you were close enough to the dock. Your heart was still racing, no longer from excitement, but from the overwhelming sense of reality that had come crashing down. All the unspoken tension, all the nights you spent wondering if this would ever happen, it had—too fast, too soon. You didn’t know how to face it, how to face Luke.

The second the boat docked, you jumped out onto the wooden pier, barely pausing to steady yourself. You grabbed the rope, helping Luke quickly tie up the boat, before starting up the dock towards the house.

Luke hopped out, following you closely. “Wait, can we talk for a sec?” he called after you, his voice shaky, filled with desperation.

But you were already halfway to the house, your footsteps quickening. “I…I need a minute, Luke,” you replied without turning around, feeling your chest tighten with the weight of everything.

Luke stood there for a moment, watching you disappear inside. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he ran a hand through his hair again, frustrated with himself. He knew that something had changed between you before this but now this was something that was going to be impossible to ignore.

Inside the house, you hurried up the stairs to your room, closing the door softly behind you before sinking onto the edge of the bed. Your heart was still pounding, not from the brisk walk you’d just done to escape Luke, but instead as you replayed the kiss in your head — how natural it had felt, how long you had waited for it, and yet how terrifying it was now that it had happened. You buried your face in your hands, trying to slow the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

As the sun set over the lake, the tension between you and Luke didn’t go unnoticed by the others at dinner. You didn’t sit in your normal spots next to each other, instead sitting at opposite ends of the table, avoiding eye contact, and only speaking when necessary. You kept in conversation with Mark, bringing up just about anything you could think of to avoid interacting with Luke. The energy felt heavy, and no one could ignore how different things seemed between you two.

After dinner, it didn’t take long for the others in the house to confront you and Luke about what had happened that afternoon. Luke found himself outside on the back porch with Quinn and Jack, while you were cornered inside playing pool with Mark and Ethan.

Quinn and Jack watched as their little brother swirled his glass over and over, the sound of the liquid sloshing and the crickets chirping being the only sounds around them. Quinn leaned back in his chair, studying his brother carefully. His bottom lip was bright red from how hard Luke had been chewing on it, his eyes unfocused on the glass in his hand. Luke, uncharacteristically, hadn’t said anything in about 10 minutes. Normally he’d find a way to get his two cents in during every conversation, but his silence was overwhelming

“Alright, what’s going on? You and y/n have been acting weird all evening.” Quinn finally asked, honestly a bit weirded out by his brother’s behaviour.

Jack chimed in, less tactful than Quinn. “Yeah, man, did something happen on the boat? You’ve both been all… tense since you came back.”

Luke snapped his eyes off his cup, and onto his brothers whose eyes were burrowing into him. He hesitated, running a hand through his messy curls, his heart still racing from earlier. He couldn’t seem to get it to slow down. “I, uh… I made a move.” Luke admitted quietly. “I kissed her, I mean… We, uh, kissed.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jack, who smiled and nodded in approval at his brother. “Finally,” he grinned. “So… was it everything you’ve ever hoped for? Did it live up to your fantasies that you’ve been dreaming of since you were fifteen?”

Luke knew Jack was poking fun at him, but as he replayed the kiss in his head, he realized it was. “It was… intense,” Luke said, choosing his words carefully. “We were chatting and then I just kissed her. Her lips… it felt like there was nothing around us when I kissed her. But…”

Luke trailed off, sinking back into his chair as the events that immediately followed replayed in his head.

“But what?” Jack probed.

Luke sighed, feeling the weight of his doubts. “After we pulled apart, I freaked out. All I could think was that I’d just ruined everything between us. I like her a lot… but I didn’t think she felt the same. And… and now I’m worried our friendship is done.”

Quinn let out a little sigh, a small smile tugging on his lips at his little brother. “Look, if it came to that point, that the two of you got close enough to make out, then it means she probably feels the same way,” Quinn said, leaning forward in his chair. “You’re not going to ruin what you two have. I promise that your friendship is strong enough to survive this.”

Jack, more relaxed, shrugged. "Yeah, you clearly like each other. Just talk to her."

Inside, the sound of pool balls clacking loudly filled the air, and no conversation was exchanged between the three of them. Mark and Ethan exchanged silent looks that were traced with unspoken words, urging the other to break the ice and ask you about what had transpired on the boat. Finally, Ethan gave in to Mark’s coaxing stares.

“So uh,” Ethan started, drawing your eyes onto him. “You gonna tell us what the fuck happened on the boat?”

Your fingers stilled on the pool cue, hesitating as you glanced between him and Mark, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Your heart thudded uncomfortably in your chest. Mark and Ethan’s eyes bore into you, expecting answers you didn’t even have for yourself. The tension from earlier had followed you inside, wrapping around your chest like a vice.

You straightened up, brushing a hand through your hair as you tried to collect your thoughts. “I… I kissed him,” you admitted, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you. “Or maybe he kissed me. I don’t know… it just happened.” You let out a sigh, biting your bottom lip.

Mark raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Okay, you kissed, big fucking whoop,” he said, taking a step forward. “Explain to me, then, why are you both acting like someone just died?”

Ethan snorted, leaning his cue against the table. "Yeah, seriously. It’s not like anyone’s surprised. You’ve had this thing between you for… what? Years?"

But to you, it felt like something had. Not a person, but something sacred between you and Luke—something that had been built carefully over years of knowing one another. You had always skirted the edges of something more, but you’d never let yourselves tip over. Until today. And now everything felt fragile like the ground beneath your feet was unstable.

“It’s not that simple. Luke and I… I mean we’ve always been friends. We never crossed that line, even when it felt like we were close. And now… I don’t know. I feel like I messed it all up.”

Ethan scoffed. “Messed it up? You didn’t mess anything up. You guys finally did something that everyone’s been telling you to do for ages. Hell, it’s about time.”

Mark chimed in, his tone a bit more understanding. “Listen, I know it’s scary now that you think your friendship’s changed, but from what I’ve seen, I don’t think anything’s ruined. I think this is something you’ve both wanted for a while. You’ve always liked each other, even if you both pretended not to.”

You looked down, fingers tapping nervously against the side of the pool table. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” you whispered, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at you since the moment you left the boat. “I mean, I… I basically jumped on him. What if I made things awkward for him?”

Mark rolled his eyes, walking over to stand beside you. “Trust me, if Luke had a problem with it, he would’ve said something by now. You didn’t force anything. From what it sounds like, he was just as into it as you were.”

Ethan nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Don’t overthink it. He’s probably freaking out just as much as you are. Just talk to him.”

You sighed, knowing deep down that they were right, but the anxiety still clawed at your insides. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you admitted quietly. “We’ve been close for so long… if this messes things up, I don’t know how I’ll deal with it.”

Ethan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. No matter how many times they reassured you that your friendship wouldn’t be ruined, it was clear that your anxieties were getting the best of you. “You won’t ruin anything. I’ve seen how Luke looks at you. That guy is all in, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it anxiously. As their words sunk in, you couldn’t help but glance toward the back door, where you knew Luke was with his brothers. The thought of confronting him, of actually talking about what had happened, still terrified you. But deep down, you knew it was the only way to move forward.

Mark and Ethan’s advice echoed in your mind: Talk to him. It was scary, but you couldn’t deny the spark that had ignited between you and Luke. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more waiting for you both on the other side of this conversation.

After the conversation wound down, you couldn't help but feel the lingering tension between you and Luke. Even though Mark and Ethan’s reassurances helped ease some of your worries, the knot of uncertainty in your chest remained. It gnawed at you, the same question echoing over and over in your mind: What if this changes everything?

As the house settled into its quiet evening rhythm and the sounds of conversations faded into the background, your thoughts were still consumed by that kiss — how everything had felt so right in the moment, yet so terrifying in its aftermath. You and Luke had always danced around the possibility of something more, but now that it had finally happened, the reality of it weighed heavy on you.

Later that night, sleep refused to come, your mind running wild with the events of the day. You lay there in the quiet of your room, replaying the kiss over and over again. Every brush of Luke’s lips against yours, every touch of his hands, the way his breath had quickened as he held you close. The intensity of it all made your heart race, but so did the fear that followed.

You glanced at the clock: it was well past midnight, but sleep was the last thing on your mind. Instead, your thoughts turned to the advice Mark and Ethan had given you. Talk to him, they said. But what if talking only made things worse? What if everything fell apart? Yet, despite the fear gnawing at you, one truth remained clear: you couldn’t ignore this. You couldn’t pretend the kiss hadn’t happened or that it hadn’t meant anything. You needed to talk to Luke.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed back the covers and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, your heart pounding as you quietly made your way to the door. The moment you turned the handle and pulled it open, you froze.

Luke stood there, his hand raised as if he was about to knock, his blue eyes wide in surprise. “Oh!” you gasped.

“I was just coming to talk to you,” he said, his voice soft and uncertain. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. The air between you felt heavy with anticipation, and as Luke entered, the awkward tension that had been present all evening seemed to follow. You both sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a small but noticeable distance between each other. The silence was deafening as you each tried to find the right words to start.

“So…” you started, breaking the tension. “About earlier.”

“Yeah,” Luke muttered, glancing at you before looking down again. “That was… intense.”

You let out a small laugh, though it was more out of nerves than humour. “Yeah. It was.”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry I freaked out. I didn’t mean for it to… you know, get weird.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, it wasn’t just you. I was freaking out too. I mean, we’ve been friends for so long, and I didn’t know if this would… ruin that.”

Luke’s eyes finally met yours, and there was something vulnerable in his gaze. “I thought the same thing. But… I think we’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

You fought a smile that was grappling to show, needing to hear Luke say it. “What do you mean?”

Luke swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I want us to be more than friends. I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I didn’t think you felt the same. But after today…” He trailed off, his words hanging in the air.

“I do,” you whispered. “I’ve felt the same way for a while. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Relief washed over Luke’s face, and a small smile tugged at his lips. A matching smile formed on your lips as you thought for a moment. “How do we move forward? Like… as more than friends,” you asked.

“I think we just stay the same,” Luke shrugged. “Except now I can call you my girlfriend, and I can kiss you, and we can have sex.”

You laughed, feeling some of the tension melt away. “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Luke replied with a grin, leaning closer. “Is that okay with you?”

Your breath hitched as the space between you shrank. “Yeah. It’s more than okay.”

Without another word, Luke leaned in, and this time, when your lips met, there was no hesitation. All the years of restraint, of not crossing the line, melted away as your hands found his curls, tugging them gently. A low groan escaped him as you moved into his lap, feeling the heat between you intensify. His hands slid down your body, resting on your waist before moving lower, gripping you as he pulled you closer. You could feel every inch of him beneath you, the warmth of his skin against yours. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the two of you, finally letting go of everything you’d been holding back.

The weight of the uncertainty that had been sitting between you all evening lifted, replaced by a dizzying sense of relief and excitement. Luke's hands gripped your hips firmly, grounding you in the moment. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, fast and erratic, matching the wild rhythm of your own. The connection between you had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, but now it was tangible, electric, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

Luke’s lips moved against yours with a sense of urgency, wanting to taste every bit of you. His hands slid up your sides, fingers brushing your skin under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You let out a soft sigh against his lips.

Pulling back slightly, you caught your breath as you both took a moment to come back to reality. Luke’s hands stayed on your waist, his thumbs gently brushing your skin, as if he didn’t want to let go.

“I can’t believe we waited this long,” Luke whispered, his breath warm against your lips.

You laughed softly, reaching up to his curls and gently running a hand through them. “I know, it feels kind of crazy, right?”

He chuckled, a low sound that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “We’re idiots. Could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble.”

You smiled, scanning his eyes. There was something different in them now—no more hesitation, no more uncertainty. Just Luke, as you had always known him, but also something more. “Better late than never, though,” you teased softly.

Luke's hands moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing gently across your cheeks. “You know, I meant what I said earlier,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. I just didn’t think you’d ever want me like that.”

You blinked, feeling your heart squeeze at his vulnerability. “Luke, I’ve always wanted you,” you admitted quietly, your voice shaking just slightly. “I just… I was scared.”

His gaze softened, and he leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I get it. I was scared too. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth flood your chest at his words. “Me either,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through his curls. “I’m not scared anymore.”

The moment cooled down, and you both slipped into a comfortable silence, basking in the newfound closeness. You moved up the bed and under the covers, wrapping yourselves in each other’s arms. The steady rise and fall of Luke’s chest and the soft sound of crickets outside lulled you into a sense of peace. With his hand gently tracing up and down your side, you nodded off, feeling the weight of all the years and uncertainty melt away, leaving only the warmth of the present.

[widowlyy]

💉 Uncongratulations, Unthank You

analysis. Money was hard, especially working as a waitress fulltime for income. Especially when your wife is an alcoholic who wastes all your earned money on beer and gambling. When you find out you're pregnant, you couldn't think your day could be worse until you find out your new doctor is an agitating, adorable, dork. pairings. Natasha Romanoff x Maria Hill (married), Hela x Reader (married), Natasha Romanoff x Reader (cheating, affair later on), Reader x Wanda Maximoff x Rio Vidal (iconic platonic trio) warnings. alcohol consumption, hints of manipulative relationship, unwanted pregnancy

an. uploading again due to catching up on challenge, i know denny wenny was excited for this one. @thewidowsledger

tags. @fxckmiup @ihartnat @scarlettbitchx @moimmmm

wc. 2.3k

Your hands kneaded the dough softly as you finished mixing the ingredients. Sugar, butter, flour. Sugar, butter, flour. Your thoughts were quiet, nauseous enough as you put the pie in the oven to bake. Clapping your hands together as you put the already made pies towards the counter near the burners where Agatha would scramble eggs, before the sound of a door opening had your senses widen.

“What’s the flavor today?” Agatha asked as she went to check on the supplies for eggs, tomatoes, anything else she would require for today. Her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun with a blue cap on, blue polo and jeans. You quirked a brow before wittily replying.

“My day has been shit pie,” You snarked slightly, checking the time as you tied the white sash over your waist atop of the short pink dress you wore for the work uniform. Your hair was put in two dutch braids which ended off in a neat ponytail, swallowing slightly as you saw the glare.

“Y/N,” Agatha responded sharply, before you rolled your eyes, “Honey my Blackberry Exploded pie,”

Agatha sighed, she wiped the counters before the ding of the door cut off the tension as a familiar ginger walked in followed by a darker-haired woman.

“You two are late,” Agatha scolded as Wanda came to hug you as she kissed your cheek in greeting. Rio scoffed, snapping out, “You can kiss my ass, there’s no such thing as late,” 

Agatha glared, before grumbling, tossed you three a washcloth and washing sprays as you started cleaning. Customers started walking in, and at your station Fury had sat himself down, Nicholas J. Fury, the man who started this diner himself. Fury’s diner and pie shop, you put the cleaning utensils away and grabbed a menu for the elder.

“Good morning Nick, what would you like today?” You offered, handing him the menu as he looked up at you before he started his rant.

“It’s too hot in here Y/N, can you turn the air on,” Cranky as usual, you patted his shoulder and reassuringly smiled.

“I’ll tell Agatha,” You reassured, before he snapped back, “Tell Agatha it’s too hot in here, anyways. I’d like my eggs scrambled, the ‘Honey my Blackberry Exploded’ and tomato on the side. I want the tomato on a separate plate,”

You scribbled that down in the notepad, nodding before you added on, “And to drink?”

“Coffee, but I want water to come first. Coffee comes with the meal, not before, not after. With the meal,” Fury stated, you felt more nauseous than ever. The bile in your throat threatening everything, “The coffee has to come with the meal, Y/N, what’s the matter, am I making you that sick?” 

You rushed out of the main room to the bathroom, Agatha stepped out from the kitchen, “Hey! Y/N, where are you going? You have a customer to serve!” Wanda dropped everything and followed, Rio lifted the finger to Agatha before waltzing into the bathroom after the two of you and Agatha snapped out, “Get back to work!” “Make me bitch!” The familiar bickering between Rio and Agatha started to occur, Agatha who pouted had grumbled, “Don’t make me say it again!” Silence emitted from the bathroom, the cook tapped her foot against the flooring before continuing on, “You’re getting one more chance!” …

“I can dock your pay!” Hopelessly, she was bickering with a wall at this point. Rolling her eyes as she walked back into the kitchen.

You were in a cubicle hunched over before walking out. Going to the sink to wash your hands, hands found your shoulders before you murmured out, “I’m fine Wands, really, we need to go,” You spun away from the ginger before Rio grabbed you and spun you around while slamming a box into your chest back to the cubicle with a lifted brow. Concern was on her face before tutting out, “We aren’t leaving until you pee on the stick,” A groan had left your lips, taking the pregnancy test with you to the cubicle. Stress was consuming you, after you did your business. You went over to the sink and set a timer on your phone, before going back to the three before complaining, “It was a stupid mistake! I was drunk, I shouldn’t of slept with Hela,” The mention of your wife had you recoil, you don’t know what changed, was it the alcohol? You pushed your face into your hands as a sigh left your lungs, Wanda rubbed your shoulders before offering out, “Look, you need to leave Hela. She ain’t good,” “I have no money Wands, she takes everything just for bottles of beer, if I leave her I have nowhere to go,” You told the two again, shaking your head, “Hela wasn’t always like this, she’s just going through something,” 

“Look, dump her, you can stay with me,” Wanda suggested again, eyes roaming over to Rio for help as the woman shrugged, before Rio added on, “Especially for that baby,” “I’m not pregnant, it’s going to be negative!” You snapped, the ringing went off. Before you knew it you were on your feet and moving to the sink. Picking up the test, two lines. You groaned and threw the test in the trash before sighing, “I’ll figure something out, I promise, but let’s just go,” s soft and reassuring for you before you shook your head, “No I can’t possible do this, I’ll be fine, the test is negative,”

“Honey, positive or negative you need to get out of there,” Rio added on, a brow quirked before the ringer sounded from your phone. You walked over and flipped the test over and you felt everything slow.

Sugar. Butter. Flour.

You walked out of the bathroom after the two, noticing your spouse sitting among the stools at the bar. You went on over, hands slightly shaky before asking softly, “Hela? Honey? What are you doing here, you’re supposed to be working,”

“Well I quit that job, Stark said I was late, complains I’m always late. I don’t fucking care!” She snapped out, rough hands grabbing your soft hands, eyes softening as a pie was slid between the two of you, and she took a bite.

“How much money are you making? Because this won’t do,” A frown found your lips, worry finding your mindset as you opened your pouch and handed her the dollars.

“You said my pie is so good I could open up my own pie shop,” You murmured, a questioning look found your face before your wife actually looked you in the eyes. She scoffed.

“Well, I only said that back then so I could butter you up and put a ring on your finger, now give me my kiss,” You leaned in, pressing a peck against Hela’s cheek. She ran a hand over your hips before asking, “What’s going on with you? All the sudden your tits are bigger, are you doing some sorcery to make me fuck you more?”

You winced, letting out a quiet sigh at her antics. It wasn’t until Hela stood, pressing a haste kiss against your lips before pulling back, “well, I’m going out to the casino, I’ll see you soon,”

And just like that, your wife left the diner. You pulled out your phone and went outside for a moment, calling your local doctors office to schedule an appointment after your shift. Taking a moment to process everything before you turn to go in the kitchen, snagging the ingredients that your doctor loved. Baking a quick pie before you went back to work.

Sugar. Butter. Flour.

Your mind was racing, a freshly made pie was sitting in your hands and you couldn’t help but think that everyone’s eyes were on you, talking about you. Knocked up. You saw how some heads ducked in to talk, you swallowed before a nurse walked out, “Y/N,” As your name was called, you stood up. Following the nurse, after getting your height and weight you were led into a room and you sat on the examination table, common questions were asked before you had your bloodwork done. What were you kidding? If you were actually pregnant what would you do? Your spouse was a wreck, you were hardly surviving on money and worst of all is that you don’t want this baby. The pie was held in your lap as you waited for Doctor Danvers, it wasn’t until a knock sounded and the door opened to show a stranger. Who the hell was this woman? She was fit, biceps slightly showing through the white coat and her hair was neatly tied back in a bun.

“Ms.L/N,” She pronounced your last name wrong, and as your brows pinched and jaw opened about to correct her she stumbled over her feet and the stool that was near the examination table as she slipped, caught herself with her hand on the floor and pushed herself up. “It’s L/N,” You retorted, noticing her scratch the back of her neck, a brow furrowed. Just as she was about to apologize you snapped out, “Where is Doctor Danvers?” “Errrm, right, Doctor Danvers is.. semi-retired?” She responded to your question, green eyes analyzing your frame. You were gorgeous, but she mentally slapped herself. She was married with a wife, and she shuffled, “I’m the new doctor here, Doctor Romanoff, two weeks in, from New York, originally Russia,” “I don’t care where you’re from! You are not my doctor,” You snapped, cutting her off and sending Natasha a glare that could shatter glass as you roughly turned your head away. 

“Okay, if you are that uncomfortable with me as your new doctor, can I refer you to someone else local?” She asked, eyes flitting over to the pastry in your lap as you slid it off of your thighs before you shook your head. Giving up, you dragged a hand down your face in exasperation. “No, it’s fine, but you’re not my doctor,” You grumbled, and she noted how stubborn you were. She held the clipboard and sat down on the stool that she tripped over. A brow quirked. “So, why are you in here today, Mrs.L/N,” She once again pronounced your last name incorrectly, it was agitating. Maybe a little bit cute, but mostly agitating. You nibbled on your bottom lip to help with the stress before dropping the bomb.

“I’m pregnant,” You rumbled grumpily, arms wrapping around your lower abdomen.

“Congratulations!” She enthusiastically added on after your statement, but she took a note to sit her ass back down when you looked back over and glared at her.

“I’m not happy about it, I don’t want it,” You snapped, seeing her eyes fill with concern. It wasn’t the first time she heard it, but coming from a gorgeous woman like you brought up a surprise.

“So, I can refer you to–,” “No, I’m keeping it, I’m not that cruel,” You murmured out sheepishly after, fingers picking at the beds of your nails as you exhaled softly, before the harsher voice came out, “it’s not a party though,” “Okay,” She murmured, clicking her pen and writing down in the notes box of her sheet, before mumbling quietly enough for you to hear, “it is not a party,” Another knock sounded on the door, and Doctor Romanoff stood up and went to the door to gather the file the nurse handed her. A small conversation picked up, you listened quietly before the door shut again and the redhead walked behind you back to her stool and opened the file. “So, Ms.L/N,” Finally she pronounced your last name right, a sigh left your lips as you rubbed your temples with your fingers before she announced, “You’re pregnant! Uncongratulations!”

“Unthank you!” You retorted back, biting down sharply on your tongue before you groaned to yourself. “The receptionist will hand you a packet of dos and don'ts, alongside good and bad foods. No coffee, alcohol, much more,” Natasha told you, she stood up and patted you on the shoulder before you slammed the pie into her chest carefully so it would not make a mess. “Here, have it, it was Doctor Danver’s favorite pie. Honey with roasted walnuts and a hint of marshmallow,” You murmured softly, eyes meeting Natasha’s before she nervously chuckled. “I don’t really eat pastries or sugar-y foods that much anymore. Not good for me,I kinda wanna live long” She held the pie in one hand, and scratched the back of her neck in the other. “Well my mama told me that you can live for as long as you like as long as you do what your heart wants you to do,” You pouted, eyes daring the doctor to decline your offer as she sighed. Giving in and setting it to the side. “Okay, I’ll take it, just call me or the office if you have any concerns or questions,” She spoke softly. Eyes soft, before she was going to go to the door you spoke out again.

“How pregnant am I?” you asked softly, turning slightly to look at the doctor. “Very much pregnant,” She responded, turning her shoulder slightly to get another look at you You scoffed, before groaning out, “I meant weeks,” “Oh! Oh! Sorry, weeks, about eight so you have a while,” She answered, before opening the door and holding it for you to leave. “Please Y/N, do call if you need anything,” She said softly, you simply nodded before leaving. Her eyes shut as she closed the door and pressed her forehead into the wood. Taking a moment to process, before turning to the pie. She bit on her lower lip, she really shouldn’t. Innocently looking at it before locking the door and grabbing a fork. Placing the utensil back down as she debated.

After a bit, she lifted it up and dug it into the pastry and took a bite. Moaning at the flavorful tastes on her tongue, it was delicious. Spooning mouthfuls as she favored the dish, now she knew who to rely on for pies. In hope you don’t go to another doctor. 

[emeraldtortoiseshell]

So, @nightwatcherraph and I were just talking about the scene in The Ancient One where Leo says what food he has packed for his trip:

And something stuck out to us.

Trail mix. Dried fruit. Peanut butter. They're all practical choices for someone going on a long hike. Very Leo.

But then there's the chocolate.

Still a practical choice - good in moderation for a quick energy boost.

But this is also the tail end of Leo's super serious arc. Chocolate seems like a treat he wouldn't see himself 'deserving'. I struggle to see Leo packing something so indulgent for himself.

So, that begs the question: who did pack it? Maybe one of his family snuck the chocolate in to his bag?

Just imagine:

Leo's just been told by Splinter that he's sending him away to another Sensei in Japan. His brothers were eavesdropping on the conversation, so they know too. Leo's in his room packing his bags.

His family are all on edge and unsure what to do or say. Leo's been "brooding, surly, and stubborn" as Splinter pointed out. And he just lashed out and wounded their father! No one knows what to do or say to him anymore.

They all gather in the main area of the lair as Leo emerges.

Don tries to hug him. Leo doesn't shrug him off, but he isn't receptive to the hug, either. It's cold and stiff, and Don withdraws self consciously.

Raph is crossing his arms and glaring at the wall. He's still mad at Leo for losing control and hurting Splinter. Anger and fear and confusion are churning silently within him.

Splinter puts a hand on Leo's arm. For a moment, Leo almost softens. But then they blink, and it's gone. They're both hurting too much to say anything.

Mikey doesn't know what to do. He can't talk to Leo. He can't hug him. All he wants is his oldest brother to put a reassuring hand on his shell and tell him everything will be OK.

But that's not going to happen.

As Leo makes for the exit to go to the docks, Mikey stealthily slips a small sweet treat into Leo's bag. Something that says "We still love you. Come home safe."

Bonus:

Leo's successfully snuck onto a cargo ship to Japan. As he's tucked away in the storage area, he begins to unpack the few things he brought for the multiple days he'll be at sea.

Something catches his eye. He pauses. He definitely didn't pack that. He reaches in and draws out a small bar of chocolate.

Mikey.

The tiniest flicker of warmth ignites in Leo's icy chest. He's not yet ready to smile again, but something familiar stirs deep within his gut

[incorrectbatfam]

Do the batfamily members ever get too into their undercover work? (Undercover in an office and theyre worried about spreadsheets, working in a warehouse and coming home complaining about missing parts)

Bruce: Status updates on your undercover missions. Dick, you first. What have you got down at the docks?

Dick: I haven't confirmed the Killer Croc sightings yet, but more importantly, our catch hasn't been measuring up to last year's. Tuna we're doing okay on, but the salmon population seems to be on the low end. I've contacted the Department of Wildlife and Fisheries but it'll be another 3-5 business days before they can come down and check it out.

Bruce: At least you're doing something to help. Jason?

Jason: Class was okay. I think the kids are warming up to me as their substitute while Mrs. Maloney is out on maternity leave. The average on the last vocabulary quiz was 83.53% so either I'm doing my job right or they need to be challenged. I'm worried about Tristan Lancy, though. He's normally a good student but his grades have been dropping recently and his parents don't seem like safe people to tell. I'll talk to him tomorrow and try to pair him up with a peer tutor if he needs it.

Bruce: Also see if he has any alternate contacts besides his parents. Tim, any updates at the chemical plant?

Tim: If by updates you mean OSHA violations, I could go on all week. We got a batch of new recruits today and they were just thrown into the work—no PPE, no safety training, nothing. This is what happens when you place production over employee well-being. I'm gonna file a complaint after this meeting. Also, I think the union will have something to say about the manager cutting people's lunch breaks short.

Bruce: I see. Damian? Please tell me you found something volunteering at the zoo.

Damian: Depends on how you define "found." While I have not obtained evidence of a mutant larvae black market, I did help some of the animals at the sanctuary make progress with their recovery. Bobo the monkey is healing from his broken arms and we're gradually getting him re-acclimated to climbing higher surfaces. Suzie the black bear was born a little prematurely but seems to be catching up to her peers in terms of growth. Lastly, we got a grant for additional wildcat research and enrichment. As an aside, we are having an educational seminar on European mountain goats this Friday at 3:30 and I expect all of you to be there.

Bruce: I'll put that on our calendars. Steph?

Steph: It's not really undercover work for me, just work. Anyway, yes the newest Batburger location is being used for money laundering. But I really need to vent about the customers for a sec. We don't open until 10 and at 9:30 this morning some moron was banging on our door demanding Jokerized cheese fries. Then right in the middle of the lunch rush, Janie got sick so I had to fill in as the cashier and it was hell. After that, I had to step in between a fight at the drive-thru because the customer claimed we only gave him nine pieces of his ten-piece Robin nuggets and tried to beat up the kid who took his order. And to top it all off, an entire high school hockey team came in five minutes before closing.

Bruce: Cass?

Cass, blowing balloons: Can't talk. Arranging bat mitzvah.

Bruce: Duke, you're my last hope.

Duke: Margie's bringing a peanut butter chocolate cake to the bake sale. I swiped her recipe and we can easily beat her. Her ganache is way too watery and just runs off the top of the cake, which isn't even leveled. She's also trying to do something with a raspberry filling that isn't working at all. It's like she couldn't decide on what to bring. The bake sale committee also asked if we can bring some apple pies because the original baker has to go out of town for a family emergency. I think we'll win if we bring them with some ice cream and a touch of caramel, even though this isn't a contest.

Bruce: Thank you. At least our most critical case has been taken care of.

Barbara: ...I'll save my book launch for later.

[ts-witchy-archive]

Fun witchy things to spice up your school/uni/college year

School/uni starts in late Jan/late Feb here in Australia so leave me alone if you're already in the middle of your school year lol /hl. These are just a few things I did when I was in HS and intend to do now that I'm going to university next year.

Enchant your water bottle with cleansing/purifying energy. The water will cleanse your energy this way. I do this to help me chill the fuck out. I do not do well with academics and the last thing I need is to pick up other people's stress.

Draw sigils for academic success in the back of your notebooks and planners.

Try binding your hair or veiling this school year! It doesn't have to be for religious reasons, it can just be to protect your energy.

Colour code your books or folders to what you need from each subject and set the intention accordingly! For example, red for math because you need confidence and strength or green for science because you need some extra luck in that subject.

Do you remember the erasers with yes and no written on them? Yeah! Make one of those and flip it for on the fly divination! It actually works if you put enough intention into it and it's a fun way to pass time.

Use colour magick in your outfits and shoes/shoe laces! This is a lot of effort so I've rarely do it but I've heard a lot of good things from people who regularly do. Just be careful that you don't accidentally send a nasty lace code message with your docks (or other boots) and shoe laces.

More colour magick but get coloured pens that correspond with your wanted intention! The ink could be coloured or just the outside, it's up to you.

If you pack your own lunch try your hand at some kitchen magick this year! Deli meats, bread, butter, pasta, tofu, etc all have their own uses and meanings. You can do some amazing stuff with food! I really recommend you try it at least once :)

Set your computer's folders names to affirmations or intentions! "I have incredible grades" "I respect my physical and mental needs" "I have the perfect work/school/life balance" are all examples.

This is less about school/uni/college but enchant any jewellery you wear with protection or dedicate it to a deity!

Again, not super school related but do a glamour spell with your skin care and/or make up. It just puts me in a good mood and sets the tone for the day.

I hope you enjoyed! As always, suggestions and tips are more than welcome :)

[radio-fmm]

A princess armor

Zoro x princess!reader

afab reader, fluff, mentions of misogyny in reader’s past

1.5k words

Tagging: @alucardsdaddyissues

When you heard about some group of pirates docking on your island you didn’t quite expected them to rescue you, after all, you hated to be seen as a damsel in distress

Nonetheless,there was nothing wrong in asking for help. And hell you needed it

Being born a woman and the only heir to your fathers throne had turned your life into a living hell since you can recall; overlooked, treated like a decoration only expected to marry rich and powerful, your father ever cold and absent hated your mere existence, a remainder of his failure to continue his strong lineage because no matter what you did you were never enough

And hell you had worked so hard to impress that old man; you were a remarkable fencer, excelling in every topic of conversation you had been educated in, always being praised by your strategy abilities and expected to be the perfect queen by this alone. The list of your achievements was long, an overachiever if you will… but he never cared, what can any of that be of use in the body of a woman?

You hid your emphatic and kind heart under a strong cold armor to protect yourself from the cruel world around you; still, Monkey D. Luffy was able to tear trough it, offering him and his crew a sympathetic hand

You thought you were helping them, turns out they were helping you. The moment the colorful crew heard about your life behind the walls of the castle and your fathers evil empire, they didn’t hesitate in taking you in, after all you had been more than helpful and kind

So you escaped joining them as the strategist and diplomat for the crew, finally free from expectations, slowly taking your armor off before it had rusted into you forever

“What can a princess know about fighting anyway?” Zoro’s voice is sharp and quick to ambush you, you wished his opinion about you didn’t mattered, but as you are about to set sail by his side you can’t help the need to defend your case climbing quickly to your tongue

“I’ve been educated by the greatest warriors and strategist in my kingdom as I was expected to rule my nation one day”- every single word leaves your mouth like butter, an ease and confidence the swordsman perhaps didn’t expect from someone with your background, you stand proud with eyes that pierce right trough his being and eyebrows scrunched down without a drop of a doubt making him shiver.- “Believe me Mr. Roronoa, I am more than capable”

And that was no lie. Every since your arrival to the crew, the strawhats found themselves winning their battles with much ease and organization; the number of injuries after battle dropped immensely, your time in the battlefield reduced in half and no one was getting lost, the latter being resolved by planting you beside the stubborn green haired swordsman that was obviously not happy about this new routine

“Stop following me, princess” he grumbled, your step quickening at the same rythm as his which was quite the hassle from your part considering one step from Zoro was two of your own

“Stop calling me that”- your hand flies to grab on his shirt, your touch stiffening every muscle on his back and his heart skipping a beat, a feeling unwelcome and alien. As uneasy as he felt, his step never falters leading you behind him as you trot around the streets, annoyance clear on your face.- “As much as I want to continue my errands without you, I don’t want you getting lost around here, this is not a welcoming place for pirates and your face is quite recognizable”

His walking finally comes to a halt, making you quite literally crash behind him a yelp of surprise escaping through your lips.- “Fine” he finally relents

Zoro replays that evening in his head over and over as he peeks down from the crows nest, it was the first time you made his stomach turn and this strange warmth extend trough his body, and he still wonders why. While Usopp and Luffy play cards, he watches as you take the cards that the sniper was hiding on the back of his overalls making Luffy get up and bash on him as you laugh. The sound even tough muffled by the glass makes him smile, that same feeling he recalled moments ago blooming in his being once again, but he now welcomes it

So he wonders what would it take him to impress you, to make you want him as much as he wants you, you’re royalty after all. The stories of the suitors that had knocked at your door with gifts and promises still on the back of his mind sour and venomous, he compared himself to them and it dawned on him the act that he had nothing to offer you, other than his own life, was that enough for you?

Little did he know you were trying to impress him since day 1 on the ship, training day and night to earn his respect and admiration which best believe you already got more than that, yet you seemed to find yourself repeating the same pattern of your old life

“You did great back there” Zoro commented one time, before taking a swing from his beer. You turned your attention to him, admiring the way his earrings glistened with the light of the bar, a smile quick to spread on your face that you erased as fast as it came, not wanting to give yourself away

“Really? Thanks” even though your tone was nonchalant and casual your insides did a 360, relishing on your victory, after spending the last few months over training like a maniac and studying more fencing techniques had finally earned you a compliment, his compliment

Zoro’s eyes go over and over your form, as if trying to keep it in his memory to admire you even when you weren’t there which could be much easier, since the mere thought of you made him stumbling. As if in command, you look up to the crows nest, your gaze locking with his for a fleeting moment that makes Zoro loose track of thought, you offer him a sweet smile and a tiny wave which he answers by freezing for a while, then scowling and turning away from the window

Oh god

The thing about this whole tangle of gazes, feelings and smiles was that Zoro could not figure you out; you were a mystery, a concept that he can’t quite grasp even after months of knowing you and quite literally living with you on the sea. You had the elegance and gentleness of a princess out of a romance book, and the bravery and might of a warrior, all of that wrapped around your wit and beauty that had him losing his breath

He felt useless

His mind drifting to images of you while he trained, dreams by your side slipping on his sleep, his eyes glued to you in the battle field, his heart singing your name at any change it got

What can he could possibly give you that you don’t already have?

“Boo!!!”- Your voice startles him pulling him out of his daze, something he was certainly not used to, his eyes jump to your face painted with a big smile as you giggle at his expense.- “Got ya”

You sit delicately by his side, still giggling while he clicks his tongue to express his annoyance.- “That’s not really princess of you to do” you frown at the title just as he expected, his scowl turning into a proud smirk

“Stop calling me that” you turn to face the window behind both of you, looking over the deck

“Hiding from someone?” Zoro comments although he already has an idea

“Let’s just say Usopp doesn’t quite like being called out on his cheating” a honest loud laugh rumbled from the bottom of the swordsman chest, eliciting a bright smile from you, It is this moments that you treasure, moments that feed on your heart that had long belonged to him without even knowing it

The sunset beams that color the sky crash on your features, brightening your presence making Zoro’s mind wonder once again. He couldn’t understand how could you take him out of it by simply being, his eyes take another round around you, stopping at your plump lips. A new feeling takes over him, it makes his chest heavy and his breath erratic as he stops himself from crashing into them. Suddenly his doubts puddled as you sink at his side, a playful glint in your eye as his heart clenched at the thought of you seeking him while looking after a safe place

He may not be royalty, have absolutely nothing but his katanas to his name but he’ll bend the world backwards for you, and something tells him you don’t want all that fancy shit other men could offer you, you want genuine love, real love. So he savors the quiet in your company up on the crows nest, slowly letting both of you guards down to embrace each other, the armor that you once hid behind long discarded leaving you bear and free

Because whats more romantic than that?

Masterlist

[bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades]

Bill was gone, but he took something with him

It seemed, at first, that Stan was just the same: the same fun grunkle, the same shifty salesman, the same brother. Whatever happened inside his brain, however the memory gun worked, it had spared Stan the worst of it. Ford was suspicious; even as Fiddleford's memories came back, too, and the others stricken by the Society of the Blind Eye began to recall what had been taken from them, Ford observed his brother closely, concerned.

It started with pancakes. Stan made excellent pancakes, and he made a smiley face with marshmallows, chocolate chips, and edible glitter for Mabel just like she liked. Dipper's had an amount of butter and syrup that could not be good for his young arteries, and Ford's were plain, with just a light coating of butter, syrup on the side for dipping--- how they each preferred. Stan's, though, was the same as Ford's. There was nothing wrong with that--- except for the fact that Stan hated plain pancakes. He liked his absolutely drowning in flavored syrup, like Dipper. Ford convinced himself Stan was just trying something new, or maybe was finally growing up and acting like an adult.

But the trend continued- they went clothes shopping, because many of their possessions were destroyed when they turned the Mystery Shack into a Mystery Mech; Stan hovered over the cargo shorts, jeans, and Hawaiian shirts, but turned eventually to a sweater and straight-leg pants, the same kind Ford wore. When they watched a movie together, he always let Ford choose, at first; when Ford insisted Stan make a decision, he chose an old sci-fi movie, or a documentary, instead of the rom-coms, mysteries, and action thrillers Ford knew Stan preferred.

Ford shook the bad feeling off, at first: they'd hadn't seen each other in thirty years, and before that, had been separated for nearly a decade and a half. Surely, Stan's tastes had just changed--- matured, evolved, whatever. But it just didn't seem right; Stan's choices seemed at odds with the personality he still displayed. It made for a disjointed view of his character; he seemed conflicted whenever he had to make a decision, no matter how big or small.

It was a year after Bill's defeat, eight months after construction of the Stan o' War II was completed and they set sail around the world, that everything came to a head. All Ford wanted was for Stan to pick the restaurant after they had docked up in a marina somewhere on the east coast of Florida. And Stan--- well, he was picking restaurants, sure, but they were all ones that Ford would choose. And Ford kept pressing Stan to no, pick one Stan would like, and Stan would pick another that just felt uncharacteristic, and they went in circles about this for a while, until it jumbled into an argument. And just like any pair of siblings, they shouted about a lot of things, shit from last week and last month and fifty years ago, just for the hell of it, and finally Ford had snapped and cried---

"I don't think I even know who you are, anymore!"

And Stan, faced screwed up in anger, had shouted back, "and you think I do?"

And that just shut that argument down, didn't it? Cause Ford felt, in an instant, no anger, just grief.

Because, really, they both realized at that moment, when had Stan been allowed to be, well, Stan? For thirty years, habits of grifting maintained or not, Stanley was dead and it was Stanford doing the grifting. And before that, it was a host of fake identities, each further removed from the truth than the last, as Stan desperately fled across the country, running from himself. And before that, his teenage years were filled with just trying to be half as good as Ford, and so when was there ever time for Stan to be, wholeheartedly and without judgement, himself? What did he like? What did he want? Who was he? And it was just the cherry on top, he had to admit, when not even Bill, evil genius extraordinaire, couldn't tell his beautiful Artist apart from his failure of a twin brother.

His only worth, as far as he was concerned, was defeating Bill. That was done, and then what was supposed to be his ultimate sacrifice, that thing that would set him apart from his brother, ending up being, well, pretty OK in the end, if one didn't count how hard Mabel and Dipper cried.

So with Bill's defeat any idea of his identity also dissolved, that damned triangle cracking open a flood of insecurity. Bill had cackled, those final moments of breaking into a million atoms of forgotten nothingness, and Stan hadn't realized at first why he would be so happy. But while Bill couldn't grasp anything physical in his evil little paws, he was a trickster of the mind until the end.

Bill whispered it, as he died: what do you have left to do? And he was right: Ford was back, the kids were safe, Soos was running the Mystery Shack, and that left Stan to---

Well, he didn't quite know.

[cherubcameron]

Igual Que Un Angel

Chapter Four

Synopsis: Sofia is pregnant, and the last thing she needs is for Rafe to find out. It’s her dirty secret, it’s not like he’s barging down her door to speak to her. He looks as if he’s done with her for good. Will outside forces, force Sofia to confront the situation at hand. Or will she be able to keep this secret up? Not like, her belly isn’t growing everyday or anything.

Trigger warning: mentions of throwing up

MASTERLIST

Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Sofia sighed; her legs were killing her. She was glad the swelling in her feet wouldn’t start until four months in. But god, she thought the nausea would have gone away by now. She held herself against the sink at the Pelican Yacht Club. Thankfully, it was for workers only. So no one would see her, nearly dying. She was starting to think this was going to be a recurring thing for her. Always holding the sink for support.

“I love you, but I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill me.” She whispered to her baby, rubbing her belly. She’d thrown up three times now, she hated this. Hated feeling nauseous all the time. It didn’t help that she was always surrounded by food.

“Sofia! You okay in there!” Shit, it was her manager.

“Ye-yeah.” Shit, her voice sounded wobbly even to her own ears.

Sofia quickly washed her mouth, the room still felt like it was spinning. But she needed this job. She opened the door slowly, smiling up at her boss. He looked concerned, his eyes scanning her face.

“You look a little green. You sure everything’s okay?” He asks, his eyebrows raising. Leaning a bit forward to see her face.

“I’m good, promise. Just a little bit under the weather.” She attempts at a smile, but she knows it doesn’t look right on her face. She feels so weak, she rather be sitting.

“Rick says he heard you throwing up. Not once, not twice. But three times. Plus you don’t look too great. You know, if you’re not feeling well. You’re free to go home.”

Sofia tried to speak but he cuts her off.

“Just go home, my wife was the same way. When she was…” Sofia blinked several times, he smiled at her softly. “I can recognize it now. My wife has gotten pregnant three times.”

Sofia nodded, a smile appearing on her face. Just for a little while, it felt nice to share that weight she was carrying. That she wasn’t as alone as she thought.

“Thank you, Phil.” She couldn’t help but feel her heart warming as she stared at her boss.

“No worries, just don’t make a habit of it. We still need you. Rest as much as you can. I’ll ask my wife for advice for you. Oh and you’re lucky Rick didn’t suspect a thing.”

Sofia stops herself short. “How did you know I don’t want people to know?” She asks, almost shyly.

“Well, you did come to the furthest bathroom from the bar. So it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

Phil smiles at her, and as Sofia walks away, she nods. Smiling back at him. Happy that she didn’t feel like everything was crashing around her. For once at least.

Rafe hadn’t returned any of Topper’s nor Kelce’s calls. So he was surprised when he saw Ruthie approaching him, near the docks.

“I hate this just as much as you. But Topper says I’m just as scary as you. And I could get through to you.” Ruthie folded her arms against her chest. “Whatever that means.”

Rafe shook his head, tying the anchor rode. “Didn’t realize I needed, not one but two babysitters. Tell them I’m fine. I just need space.” He made sure the anchor rode was tied to the dock securely before finally meeting Ruthie’s eyes.

“Look, we get it. You and Sofia broke up. I know it’s not easy seeing your ex. But—”

He scrunched up his nose, squinting at her. “Not everything is about Sofia. Why does everyone always assume I’m hurt over Sofia? I could care less.” But even as he says it, he can feel the lie come out of his mouth like peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth. Difficult and hard to chew down.

Ruthie smirks, raising an eyebrow. “I never understood. One minute, you were saying you two weren’t a thing. That you wouldn’t stoop so low to be with a Pogue. Then Topper tells me, the two of you broke up. I mean, poor girl, I would’ve had whip lash.”

Rafe jaw clenched, he was sure if he kept clenching it, he’ll inevitably break a tooth.

“You just never know how to mind your own business!”

His outburst doesn’t make Ruthie flinch. It just made her smirk more. A little laugh escaping her lips. Rafe clenched his hands into fist. Did no one ever know how to leave him alone?

“If I were you, I would leave.” He says, through his clenched teeth. Ruthie tilts her head, a small fake pout on her lips.

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?”

“Ruthie, I swear to god—”

She rose her arms up in defense. “I’m leaving. I’m leaving. Don’t worry. I’ll just tell Topper and Kelce, you need your space. But you know you can’t ignore them forever.”

Rafe watched her leave, his hands still clenched in fist. Once she’s out of view, he turns towards the water. Puffing out his lips, he didn’t have the heart to tell them, he didn’t want to be their friends anymore. He never knew it would hurt. But it did.

He just didn’t feel like he belonged with them anymore. He didn’t think they’ll resort to getting Ruthie, of all people to try and speak to him. He untied the anchor rode once more. He needed to get back on the water. Try to clear his head a bit more. Clearly, he needed to do some more of that.

So Topper had resorted to going to his sister to get him to talk. Rafe threw his phone on the couch, not wanting to talk anymore about Sofia. Wanting to forget that she even existed. Forget the pain she’d brought into his life. The pain burned, he placed a hand over his heart. Shit, don’t cry, don’t cry. Fuck, stop.

Before he knew it, sobs were erupting out of him. He couldn’t control them no matter how much he tried. He held onto the wall, as he had tried to make his way to his room. Why’d she hurt him? What did he do to her, to make her turn her back on him like that?

He let out another sob, tears sliding down his face. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to forget. But he couldn’t. He loved her. He loves her so much, it burned.

He rubbed his nose, little hiccups escaping his lips. He hated how much he missed her. Hated what she’d done to him. And the worst part was, he didn’t think he’ll ever stop loving her.

There was two ways Sofia managed to reduce him into a boyish like state. When she was sweet, when she was giving him the kind of love he craved. Not realizing how much he truly wanted to just be accepted. Unlike his dad, she never used it to weaponize against. It was real, or at least he thought it was.

And then there was this, where he felt so much emotions. Things he couldn’t handle, that it just lead to anger. And pure melancholy. He didn’t know how long he stood there near the hallway of his house. Sobbing like a child. But once he was done, he fell into a fast sleep.

Sofia wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Lupita. Usually, she could confide in her. As childish as she could be. She was never one to go around spilling others secrets. She knew so much and kept it all hidden. Sofia knew she could trust her to keep her secret.

But she knew, this wasn’t a kind of secret you could keep forever. Eventually, her belly will begin to show more than it already was. She was going to have to eventually tell Rafe. But the idea of it, the thought of how he’d react. It scared her. And the last thing, she wanted was to abort the baby. She wasn’t the kind of person who would dictate how others decided. But for her own choice, she wanted this baby. More than anything in the world.

She covered her hand over her belly, “Mi bebe.” She cooed, as she glanced towards her belly. A small smile crept onto her face. For now, this was her secret. Her baby.

Well, now it was also Phil’s and Lupita’s secret too. But she didn’t want to think of all the logistics of the situation.

She sat back on her bed, she’d been standing as she read the messages Lupita send. She knew her mom was going to have a fit. Then she’ll go on a long lecture about how, this isn’t why she left Mexico for. How disappointed she was going to be. Sofia physically winced at the thought. The last thing she wanted to he was a disappointment to her family.

But the more Sofia did, the more she did just that. And not only that, she wasn’t even married to the father of the baby! Her mom was going to strangle Sofia. Sofia already felt strangled by the traditional views her mother held.

“Just you and me, baby.” She continued to rub her belly. “You and me against the world.”

She shook her head, Lupita just had to live in Georgia.

Two weeks later

She finally hit the three month mark. Her head was in the toilet, her eyes red from crying and throwing up. She was thankful, that her mother nor her father weren’t home. Her siblings were all at school. Leaving Sofia alone.

She grabbed for her phone, clicking Lupitas name. “Please, tell me you know how to cure morning sickness.”

Lupita laughter lilted through the screen. “Yeah, cause I’ve been pregnant before. Why didn’t you google it?”

Sofia slaps her forehead, “Oh wow, why didn’t I think of that.” But she sounds as sarcastic as she feels. Lupita groans on the other line. Sofia could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

“Espera, you’re the one who called someone; who doesn’t know shit about babies. Or pregnancy.” Sofia frowned. Yeah, she should have just called Phil instead. “I’m here for you all the way. But you have to remember. I can’t really help you with advice. I’m also like two years younger than you.”

Sofia felt her stomach begin to churn again. “Hold on.” She placed her head back into the toilet, throwing up more of whatever it was she’d eaten. Which wasn’t much.

“Jesus! Gross! You could have muted yourself!” Lupita says, Lupita laughed. Making Sofia know, she wasn’t being serious.

“Sorry, can’t help that this baby makes me nauseous.” Sofia let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes. She hated this, she’d always hated throwing up. Even as a kid, when she would get really sick. She was always crying how she didn’t want to throw up, as she threw up. It wasn’t something Sofia wanted to relive. Unfortunately, now she was.

“Google it, prima!” Sofia opened her mouth to speak but as she did so, Lupita hung up the phone.

“N-no, no! Lupita!” Sofia hung her head low.

She called the next person, she knew could actually help. No offense to Lupita or anything. She dialed Phil’s number. Her heart rate speeding up as she did so.

“Hey, it’s uh me Sofia. I’m sorry to call you like this but—”

“Hey, no worries. Is there something I can help you with?”

Sofia tried not to look into the toilet bowl. Her eyes glazing up at the ceiling.

“How did your wife deal with morning sickness?”

Phil laughs softly on the other lane, “is that the employee who’s pregnant?” It sounds like his wife and Sofia can’t help but notice that she sounds almost excited.

“I can—”

“Hello! Is this Sofia?” His wife says on the other lane. Sofia is fighting the urge to throw her head back into the toilet bowl.

“Uh yeah, that’s me.”

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her sweet voice lilted through the phone screen. Sofia felt her heart warmed. Finally feeling like she could truly express how she’s been feeling. Plus, Sofia trusted Phil. Therefore, she trusted his wife too.

“I’m so nauseous and it’s been like this for days. It’s never ending.” Sofia says, her hand going over her stomach.

“Morning sickness, yeah. Not for the faint of heart. Just make sure to have ginger with you. Ginger tea. But do it in moderation! If you find it makes you sensitive. Banana is great too. Lots of fluid, so basically water. You should also be resting hun.”

Sofia nodded, she didn’t have much of an appetite. But she rather do anything she could to stop feeling like the world was spinning. And like she was going to throw up every second.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Collin’s.”

“Oh please, call me Jane. If you need anything else. Don’t forget to call. Hold on, let me give you my number.”

Sofia quickly put herself on mute, so she could flush the toilet. Then laid herself against the seat. Finally, feeling less alone, it felt nice to confide in someone who knew what they were talking about. She finally manages to get herself up from the toilet, carefully walking herself to her bed.

[floralcyanide]

ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴄᴏᴜɴꜱᴇʟᴏʀ!ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Some cute, romantic, or funny moments I think would happen if you and Callum Turner were camp counselors together.

warnings: mentions of injuries, cuteness overload, smoking, mentions of drinking

author’s note: I had so much fun writing this (: here's the camp counselor au for everyone to read!!

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

✦ the first day, you’re so nervous you almost get physically ill, but then you see Callum, and all your nerves about counseling a bunch of tweens go away

✦ Callum smiles at you and compliments your ballcap, which has your favorite baseball team emblem on it 

✦ the first time the kids go swimming in the pool at the campgrounds, you warn them and the other counselors about sunscreen. it was nearing 100 F, so the sun was merciless. they all listen except Callum of course, who brushes you off despite his obviously fair skin

✦ he ends up looking like a lobster and is viciously ill that night, skipping dinner. you look after him and get to know him better. he tells you about how he used to burn as a kid and it was never this bad. you laugh at that and point out that he should’ve learned his lesson back then, to which he agrees with a sigh

✦ the camp lasts all summer, so you made sure to bring literally everything you could possibly need- like bug spray. you brought plenty for you and the kids in case they needed it

✦ it’s hiking day, and everyone applies the bug spray except, of course, Callum. he ends up with bug bites everywhere visible on his body that evening. you tell all the kids in your group to point and laugh at him when he enters the mess hall for dinner. Callum rolls his eyes, scratching at his arm. all the kids yell at him to stop or he’d scar

✦ karaoke by the campfire night is fun and games until Callum breaks out the guitar and blows everyone away with his talent. everyone applauds him, and your crush only worsens when he looks at no one but you the whole time.

✦ Callum freaks out when one of the boys in his group has peanut butter as a dare during mess hall when he’s allergic to peanuts. like full on panicking and nearly crying and you have to calm him down

✦ painting class where Callum decides to poke your cheek playfully and you have no idea he had paint on it until much later 

✦ then there’s that night at the lake. after that, you both grow closer. you sneak kisses when others aren’t looking and sometimes meet at the dock for a cigarette in the middle of the night. you hate the smell of cigarettes but they remind you of Callum now

✦ there’s a night where the head counselor rallies the kids to bed a little earlier so all the counselors can have an adult gathering. controlled, of course. wine coolers and such- nothing too hard. but Callum takes it too far as always. he gets handy with you and you have to scold him so no one figures the two of you out

✦ Callum singing the Campfire Song from SpongeBob at a bonfire one night, and none of the kids know where it’s from, but you and the other counselors sing it at the top of your lungs 

✦ you and Callum patching up a kid who fell and skinned their knees and scolding them gently for running when not necessary 

✦ Callum makes you something in pottery class, and you almost cry at the thought of him making you something. no boy- or man, rather, had done anything like that for you

✦ you definitely exchange numbers and stuff for after camp and agree to meet up and hang out before both of your college campuses start classes back up

✦ you and Callum work together to remove a series of stingers from the same boy who ate peanut butter while allergic because he was dared to touch a beehive on a hike

✦ you end up hurting your ankle on one of the hiking days, and Callum helps nurse it with ice and elevation in your room while everyone else you bunk with is away

✦ Callum confesses he really likes you and obviously didn’t want that one night to be a one-time thing. he asks you if you’d like to be his after you leave camp, and you say yes (obviously)

✦ Callum playfully makes fun of you for crying when the kids start leaving to go home, but then he also starts tearing up

[st4rlvr]

By the lake || LFX

The summer of 1943 began like every other. Days of heat shimmered over the endless green lawns of our estate, the hum of cicadas filling the air as I sat on the veranda with my mother, dutifully pretending to care about the guest list for our next garden party. It was the summer before my eighteenth birthday, the one my parents insisted would change everything a season of suitors, family alliances, and preparing for the life they had so carefully planned for me. I thought I knew my future. I thought my days would always be as predictable as the breeze through the magnolia trees.

But then Clara convinced me to go to the drive in theater that night.

We snuck out after dinner, giggling like schoolgirls as we crept past my father’s study and out into the warm summer night. Clara had borrowed her brother’s old truck, and the two of us tumbled into it with whispered promises to be back before anyone noticed.

The theater was on the outskirts of town, tucked away in a dusty lot where the wealthier families rarely ventured. I remember the thrill of it the smell of buttered popcorn, the flickering light of the projector, the low murmur of voices as the audience settled in. It was nothing like the stiff parties and curated perfection of my usual world. It felt alive.

That’s where I saw him.

Felix.

He was leaning against a rusted pickup truck, the kind of vehicle that seemed barely held together by sheer determination. His dirty blonde hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and his freckles caught the light of the screen above us. But it was his smile that stopped me in my tracks. Wide, boyish, and utterly disarming. He looked so out of place yet so comfortable, as though he belonged to this world in a way I never could.

I didn’t realize I was staring until Clara nudged me.

“Do you know him?” she whispered, her eyes flicking between me and the boy across the lot.

“No,” I said quickly, though my cheeks flushed. “I was just… looking.”

Clara grinned mischievously. “Well, he’s looking at you too.”

And he was.

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the theater faded away. It was just him, standing there with that easy smile and those impossibly warm brown eyes. He raised a hand in a small, almost shy wave, and I felt my heart stumble in my chest.

Clara, always braver than I, took it upon herself to act. She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me across the lot, weaving between cars and groups of strangers until we were standing right in front of him.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Clara, and this is Y/N.”

Felix’s gaze shifted to me, and up close, he was even more breathtaking. The freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose were like constellations, and his voice, when he spoke, was soft and deep yet magnetic.

“Hi,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Felix.”

And just like that, the course of my summer and maybe my life changed forever.

We talked through the entire movie. Clara excused herself at some point, muttering something about not being a third wheel, but I barely noticed. Felix told me about his family, about how he worked at the docks to help his parents make ends meet, about how he dreamed of traveling one day even though he’d never been more than fifty miles from town.

“I’ve always wanted to see the world,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet longing. “But for now, I guess this little corner of it will have to do.”

I didn’t tell him then, but I envied him. His life, though hard, seemed so real compared to the carefully curated existence I’d been raised in. He lived with purpose, with dreams that were his own, not handed to him by someone else.

By the time the credits rolled, I knew I wanted to see him again. And when he asked his voice hesitant, his cheeks pink with nervousness I said yes without a second thought.

That summer, Felix became my secret. Every stolen moment, every whispered conversation under the stars, felt like a rebellion against the life I was supposed to lead. And though I didn’t know what the future held for us, I knew one thing for certain: I’d never forget the boy with dirty blonde hair, freckles, and a smile that could light up even the darkest night.

The moon hung low in the sky that night, its pale glow shimmering over the lake like silver lace. The air was warm, and the soft hum of crickets filled the silence between us as Felix and I walked along the water’s edge. It was late too late for me to be out but I didn’t care. Being with him felt worth the risk.

Felix had brought me here, his secret spot, a place he said he came to when the world felt too heavy. It was quiet and still, the kind of place where the weight of the world seemed to melt away. He’d spread out an old blanket under a willow tree, and we sat side by side, our shoulders brushing as we looked out over the rippling water.

I glanced over at him, watching as the moonlight danced across his face. His dirty blonde hair was slightly messy, the ends curling from the humidity, and his freckles stood out against his sun-kissed skin. He was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache, a way that felt almost unfair.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly, breaking the silence.

Felix turned his head toward me, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was trying to memorize every detail of my face.

“I’m thinking about how lucky I am,” he said finally, his voice low and steady.

I felt my cheeks flush, and I looked away, suddenly nervous under his gaze. “Lucky?”

He nodded, leaning back on his hands as he stared up at the sky. “Yeah. I mean, look at me. I’m just some guy from the wrong side of town, working at the docks to get by. And then there’s you—this incredible, smart, beautiful girl who comes from a world I can’t even imagine.”

“Felix…” I started, but he shook his head, cutting me off gently.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he said, his voice growing softer. “Every time I’m with you, it feels like… like I’m dreaming. Like I’m living a life I don’t deserve.”

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that he deserved everything good in this world, but the words caught in my throat.

He leaned closer then, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous, but… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The world seemed to stop. The crickets, the soft rustle of the willow branches, even the gentle lap of the water against the shore—all of it faded into nothing. It was just Felix, sitting there with his messy hair and his wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for me to say something.

My breath hitched, and I looked down at my hands, trying to find the words. When I finally looked up, he was still watching me, his expression open and vulnerable in a way that made my heart ache.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” I whispered.

The smile that spread across his face was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It was pure, unfiltered joy, and in that moment, I knew I’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.

He reached for my hand then, his fingers intertwining with mine as he pulled me closer. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Y/N,” he said softly. “But I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. To make us work.”

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes as I rested my head on his shoulder. In that moment, under the willow tree with the lake stretching out before us, I felt something I’d never felt before.

Hope.

And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, love could be enough.

The weeks that followed my first night with Felix felt like a dream. We stole moments whenever we could, meeting under the willow by the lake, walking hand in hand along the quiet backroads, and talking about everything and nothing until the stars faded into morning. I didn’t care about the risks. All I knew was that with him, I felt alive.

But dreams don’t last forever.

It was late one evening when it all came crashing down. Felix and I had just returned from the lake. He’d walked me as close to the house as he dared, kissing my hand in the shadows before slipping away into the night. I was still floating on the warmth of his touch, his voice echoing in my mind, when I stepped through the back door of the house.

My father was waiting for me.

He stood in the dim light of the hallway, his arms crossed and his expression as hard as stone. My heart sank the moment I saw him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and cold. “Where have you been?”

I hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse, but the words wouldn’t come. He didn’t need me to answer. He already knew.

“You’ve been sneaking out,” he continued, his tone sharp as a blade. “With that boy.”

“His name is Felix,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.

My father’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care what his name is. Do you have any idea how reckless you’ve been? How foolish?”

“He’s not foolish,” I shot back, my voice rising despite the lump in my throat. “He’s kind and smart and—”

“And poor,” my father interrupted, his words cutting through mine like a whip. “He works on the docks, Y/N. He has nothing to offer you. No future, no stability, no place in this family.”

My stomach twisted, and I clenched my fists at my sides. “He’s more than that. He’s a better person than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That may be,” my father said, his voice softening slightly, though his eyes remained cold. “But love isn’t enough, not in the real world. You have a responsibility to this family, to your future. You can’t throw it all away for some boy.”

His words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. My father had always been strict, but I’d never seen him like this—so unyielding, so determined to put an end to something he didn’t even understand.

Tears stung my eyes as I finally found my voice. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s been through, what he’s capable of. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

My father’s jaw tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh. “You’re young, Y/N. You think this is love, but it’s just a passing infatuation. You’ll see that in time.”

“No,” I said firmly, my voice breaking. “You’re wrong.”

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “This ends tonight. You’re not to see him again.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in the dim hallway, my heart shattering into pieces.

I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face as his words echoed in my mind. I knew he wouldn’t bend, wouldn’t change his mind. He would do whatever it took to keep Felix and me apart.

But as I sat there, clutching my knees to my chest, I made a silent promise to myself.

This wasn’t over. Not yet.

The days after that night felt like a prison sentence. My father had made good on his threat, confining me to the estate under the guise of “protecting my reputation.” My mother, ever the diplomat, assured me it was only for a short while. “You need time to think, darling,” she had said, as if this was all for my benefit. But I didn’t need time to think. I already knew my heart belonged to Felix, no matter how much my father disapproved.

Weeks passed, each one more unbearable than the last. I spent my days staring out the window, imagining Felix by the lake or at the docks, wondering if he thought I had abandoned him. My father had forbidden any mention of him in the house, and I was too afraid to write to him.

Then Clara came to visit.

She arrived one afternoon, her voice cheerful and bright as she chatted with my mother before finding me in the garden. As soon as we were alone, her expression changed, her playful grin replaced with something softer, more serious.

“I saw him,” she said quietly, her eyes watching me carefully.

I froze, my heart lurching in my chest. “Felix?”

She nodded, sitting down beside me on the stone bench. “He was in town yesterday, near the docks. He looked… different.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Like he’s been worried,” Clara said gently. “He asked about you, Y/N. Said he hadn’t seen you in weeks and wondered if you were all right.”

Tears welled in my eyes, and I looked away, biting my lip to keep from crying. “He probably thinks I’ve forgotten about him,” I whispered.

Clara reached out and took my hand, squeezing it tightly. “I told him you hadn’t. That your father’s been keeping you here.”

I turned to her, hope sparking in my chest. “What did he say?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “He said he misses you. That he’s been waiting for you by the lake every single night, hoping you’d come back.”

My breath caught, and a tear slipped down my cheek. “I don’t know what to do, Clara. My father won’t let me leave, and if he finds out I’ve been seeing Felix…”

“You can’t stay locked up forever,” Clara said firmly. “You love him, don’t you?”

I nodded, the words spilling out before I could stop them. “More than anything.”

Clara’s lips curved into a small, determined smile. “Then I’ll help you. We’ll find a way.”

Her words were like a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again. Felix was still there, still waiting, and I knew I couldn’t let him down.

I didn’t know how we’d manage it, how we’d find a way to be together in a world that seemed determined to keep us apart. But one thing was certain: I wasn’t ready to give up on him. Not now, not ever.

The next morning, my father announced we’d be heading into town to pick up more seed for the garden. It was the first time in weeks he’d allowed me to leave the estate, and while the outing was far from exciting, I jumped at the chance. Anything to escape the suffocating walls of home.

The general store was quiet, with only a few familiar faces browsing the aisles. My father headed straight to the counter to discuss the seed order, leaving me to wander aimlessly. I trailed my fingers along the shelves of canned goods, my mind elsewhere, when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.

A flash of blonde.

I turned instinctively toward the window, my breath hitching. There he was. Felix.

He stood just outside the store, leaning casually against the frame of the large display window. His dirty blonde hair glowed in the sunlight, and his freckled face was turned toward the glass, scanning the interior. He hadn’t seen me yet, but the sight of him was enough to send my heart racing.

Before I could think, I was moving, my feet carrying me toward the door. The bells above the door jingled as I pushed it open, stepping out into the warm summer air.

“Felix!” I called, my voice louder than I intended.

He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes widening when he saw me. A smile spread across his face, slow and beautiful, the kind of smile that made me forget the rest of the world existed.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice laced with relief and something deeper.

I didn’t stop until I was standing in front of him, so close I could see the faint golden flecks in his brown eyes. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and the ache of all the time we’d lost.

“I was hoping I’d see you,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been coming into town more often, just in case… well, just in case you were here.”

My heart clenched, and I reached out, my hand brushing against his. “Felix, I’m so sorry. My father—he won’t let me leave the house. He—”

Felix shook his head, cutting me off gently. “You don’t have to explain, Y/N. Clara told me everything. I just needed to know you were all right.”

“I’ve missed you,” I whispered, the words spilling out before I could stop them.

His smile faltered, his eyes softening as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve missed you too,” he said quietly. “More than I can say.”

For a moment, the world around us faded away. It was just Felix and me, standing there in the sunlight, his hand warm against mine. But the spell was broken all too quickly by the sound of my father’s voice calling my name from inside the store.

I flinched, glancing over my shoulder toward the door. Felix’s hand tightened around mine.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his jaw. “No matter how long it takes, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I nodded, squeezing his hand one last time before stepping back. “I’ll find a way,” I promised.

As I walked back into the store, the bells jingling softly above me, I felt my father’s sharp gaze on me. But I didn’t care. Felix was still here, still waiting, and so was I.

The moment I stepped back into the store, I felt my father’s eyes on me. His face was unreadable, but the tight set of his jaw told me everything I needed to know. He had seen us.

“Who was that?” he asked, his voice sharp but low, so no one else in the store could hear.

My heart pounded as I tried to form an answer, but I knew there was no point in lying. “It was Felix,” I said softly.

His expression darkened, and he took a step closer, his voice dropping even further. “I thought I made myself clear, Y/N. You are not to see that boy again.”

I straightened my shoulders, summoning what little courage I had left. “You don’t understand, Father. Felix isn’t some troublemaker or a passing fancy. He’s… he’s important to me.”

“Important?” My father’s voice rose slightly, and a few heads turned in our direction. He took a breath, visibly reining in his temper. “You think your feelings matter more than your future? Than this family’s reputation?”

I clenched my fists at my sides, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Why does it always have to be about reputation? About what other people think? Felix is kind, he’s hardworking, and he loves me for who I am, not for what I have. Isn’t that worth something?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re young, Y/N. You don’t understand what it takes to build a life, to secure a future. Love doesn’t put food on the table or maintain a household. That boy—Felix—he has nothing to offer you.”

“You don’t know him!” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You don’t know anything about him or how he makes me feel. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I won’t give him up just because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little plan.”

For a moment, my father just stared at me, his face a mixture of anger and disbelief. Then, his expression hardened, and his voice turned cold.

“If you insist on defying me, there will be consequences,” he said. “I’ve indulged your foolishness long enough, Y/N. This ends now.”

My heart sank, and panic clawed at my chest. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if you so much as look at that boy again, I’ll make sure he’s out of your life for good,” he said, his tone icy. “Do you understand me?”

Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to let them fall. “You can’t do that,” I whispered.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Watch me.”

I stared at him, my chest heaving with anger and fear. This wasn’t just about Felix anymore—it was about control, about my father’s need to dictate every aspect of my life.

But as I looked into his steely eyes, I made a silent vow. He could try to keep us apart, but he would never break the bond Felix and I shared.

“Are we finished here?” I asked, my voice trembling but steady enough to convey defiance.

My father straightened, giving me a long, hard look before turning away. “Get in the car,” he said.

I followed him out of the store, my mind racing with thoughts of Felix and the promises we’d made to each other. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

As I followed my father out of the store, my heart felt heavy, each step dragging me further away from Felix. The bells on the door jingled again as we stepped outside, the warm summer sun beating down on us. My father marched ahead toward the car, his posture stiff with anger.

But I couldn’t move. Something made me stop, my chest tightening with an inexplicable pull. Slowly, I turned back toward the store.

There he was.

Felix stood across the street, leaning against a wooden post, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn trousers. He wasn’t smiling now, his usual playful expression replaced by something deeper—something sad and longing. His dirty blonde hair caught the sunlight, and even from this distance, I could see the faint freckles scattered across his cheeks.

Our eyes met, and it was like the world around us disappeared. My father’s sharp voice, the bustling of the town, even the sound of my own heartbeat—it all faded into the background.

He took a small step forward, his gaze locked on mine as if silently asking me if I was okay. The worry in his eyes sent a wave of warmth and pain rushing through me. I wanted nothing more than to run to him, to tell him everything, to bury my face in his chest and let him hold me.

But I couldn’t. Not with my father only a few feet away.

Still, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one small step back toward the store, my hand brushing against the doorframe as if it could anchor me to this moment. Felix must have noticed the hesitation in my step because his expression softened, a flicker of hope breaking through the sadness.

“Y/N!” My father’s voice snapped me out of the trance, cold and sharp as ice.

I flinched, my head whipping around to see him standing by the car, glaring at me. “Get in. Now.”

I glanced back at Felix, my heart aching as I saw him straighten up, his jaw tightening. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but his eyes spoke volumes.

I’ll wait for you, they seemed to say. I always will.

Tears stung my eyes as I nodded ever so slightly, a silent promise passing between us. Then, with every ounce of strength I had, I turned and walked to the car, my father’s disapproving stare burning into my back.

As I climbed into the passenger seat, I caught one last glimpse of Felix through the window. He was still standing there, watching as the car pulled away, his figure growing smaller and smaller until he finally disappeared from view.

I rested my head against the window, tears sliding silently down my cheeks. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

It had been over a year since I last saw Felix. A year of unanswered letters, fleeting memories, and a heavy ache that I couldn’t shake. In that time, I had tried to move forward—tried to immerse myself in the world my father had set out for me. But nothing felt right. No matter how many social events I attended, how many conversations I had, my thoughts always returned to Felix—the way he looked at me, the sound of his voice, the way his smile made me feel alive.

One afternoon, as I walked through the town square, lost in thought, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. The voice was unmistakable, but it was different, rougher, like time had changed him in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

I turned the corner, and there he was.

Felix stood by the storefront, his back to me, a guitar slung across his shoulder. His dirty blonde hair had grown a little longer, his face still dotted with freckles, but his posture was more slumped now, his clothes worn, the edges frayed. He wasn’t the same boy I had left by the lake, but the core of him was still there—still as magnetic as ever.

And he was singing.

“I know it’s over,” he crooned softly, his voice low and raw, vibrating with every word. The lyrics were drenched in sorrow, an aching kind of melancholy that seemed to echo through the air. “I know it’s over, and it never really began…”

The sound of his voice wrapped around me like a spell, drawing me in, pulling me closer. I stood frozen for a moment, just watching him, my heart pounding in my chest. How had I not found him sooner? Had he been here all this time, singing his heart out on the street, just waiting for me to come back?

He reached the end of the verse, his voice breaking slightly with emotion, and it felt like the world stopped spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, lost in the music, unaware of my presence. The rawness of his voice, the pain laced within it, made me ache in a way I hadn’t in so long.

The last note lingered in the air, and for a heartbeat, everything was still.

It was then that he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and everything came crashing down. His gaze widened, the flicker of recognition flashing through his expression before he quickly looked away, as though unsure whether he should be relieved or hurt by my presence.

I couldn’t move. I wanted to run to him, to pull him into my arms, but my feet stayed glued to the ground.

After what felt like forever, Felix lowered his guitar, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped his face. “Y/N,” he said, his voice shaky, as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things. “I… I didn’t think you’d come back.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I didn’t know where you were,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been searching for you, Felix. Every day, wondering… wondering where you went.”

He stared at me, his lips parting slightly, as though he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. “I—” he stopped himself, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want to keep waiting, Y/N. I thought… I thought maybe you had moved on, that I was just a memory to you.”

I stepped forward, my heart pounding, every part of me aching to be near him again. “Felix, you were never just a memory. I’ve thought about you every day since I left.”

He looked up at me then, his face softening, a faint glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. “Really?”

I nodded, taking another step closer. “I’m so sorry I disappeared. I had to leave, but I never stopped caring about you. Never stopped thinking about the life we could have had.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his lips curling into a small, bittersweet smile. “I should’ve known you’d come back… but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

We stood there for a long moment, just looking at each other, everything between us unsaid but understood. The years had passed, but it felt like nothing had really changed. The pull between us was still there, as strong as ever, and in that instant, I knew that I hadn’t just come back for the town, for my family, or for anything else.

I had come back for him.

Felix set his guitar down gently on the ground, and without a word, he took a step toward me. “I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “I never stopped hoping you’d return.”

And this time, I wasn’t leaving. Not without him.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the past year pressing on my chest. Felix’s words had opened a door I thought I’d locked away for good, but now that I was standing here, face-to-face with him again, everything came rushing back.

“I’ve been looking for a house,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “My parents… they’re moving to a bigger, fancier place soon. They’re leaving the town behind for something even more ‘suitable’ for their status, and I… I can’t go with them, Felix.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re leaving your family?”

I nodded, the truth tasting bitter on my tongue. “I don’t have a choice, really. They want me to go, but I can’t. I’ve been looking for a place on my own, somewhere I can start fresh. A place where I can make my own decisions without their expectations hanging over me.”

Felix stepped closer, his eyes softening with understanding, though there was a flicker of concern in his gaze. “But what about everything you’ve known? Your life, your family…?”

I bit my lip, the uncertainty swirling within me. “I’ve spent my whole life living for them, doing what they wanted. But it’s not my life, Felix. I’ve realized that. I don’t want to keep pretending that it is.”

Felix’s expression softened even more, and I could see the mixture of admiration and sadness in his eyes. He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. “I’m not asking you to leave everything behind, Y/N. But if you need to, if you want to do this… I’m here. I’ll help you.”

A lump formed in my throat as his words hit me harder than I expected. Here he was, offering me everything he had—his support, his love, his understanding—when all I had to give him in return was uncertainty and fear of the future.

“I don’t know where this will lead, Felix,” I said quietly. “But I can’t go back to that life. I can’t be who they want me to be anymore.”

Felix’s thumb traced the back of my hand as he held it, his smile small but steady. “Then let’s figure it out together. I know things aren’t easy, but you don’t have to face them alone.”

I blinked back tears, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. The future was still uncertain, still full of questions, but in that moment, with Felix by my side, I knew I was no longer walking it alone.

“So, you’ve been looking for a house?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes. “Maybe we can find one together, huh?”

I smiled softly, the warmth in my chest spreading. “Maybe. But first… I think I need to hear you sing something else. Something that isn’t so heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Felix laughed, the sound light and carefree, and for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to laugh with him.

It didn’t take long for Felix and me to find our way back to the lake. It was like the world had conspired to bring us to this place again—where everything had started, where time felt like it had stood still. The lake shimmered in the fading light of the sunset, its surface painted with shades of orange and pink, the air cool and refreshing. It was as though the world had paused just for us, granting us this moment of peace.

Felix sat on the edge of the old wooden dock, his guitar resting on his knee, looking out over the water as the last remnants of daylight dipped below the horizon. I sat next to him, close enough to feel the warmth of his presence, but not so close that it felt like I was rushing the moment. We had time now. Time to let things unfold at their own pace.

“I used to sing here, you know,” Felix said softly, his eyes distant as if lost in his own thoughts. “Before everything changed. It was just me and this lake. And my guitar. But now… it feels different.”

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. “I know. It’s like everything that’s happened has led us right back here. To this place.”

Felix smiled, a hint of sadness in his expression. “Yeah… I think it’s where I first felt like I could be myself, you know?”

I turned to him, my heart full. “I feel that, too.”

He let out a quiet breath and adjusted his guitar, his fingers resting on the strings. “Well, then… let’s make it our place again. You and me.”

And with that, he began to play, the familiar strumming of his guitar echoing in the stillness. His voice followed soon after, soft but filled with emotion. It was the song that had become his anthem over the past year, the one he’d sung to himself when he felt lost, when he needed to remember who he was.

“Are you lonesome tonight?” he sang, his voice low and rich, the words carrying through the twilight. “Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart?”

The song, filled with longing and quiet sorrow, floated through the air like a whisper, wrapping around us both. I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me, each note and word feeling like it was written just for us.

Felix’s voice cracked slightly as he reached the bridge of the song, the raw emotion behind it too much to contain. “I never knew that I’d be so lonely… until you left.”

The words lingered in the air, and I could feel the weight of them in my chest, in my heart. Felix had always sung from his soul, but tonight, it was like he was singing directly to me, for me. And as the last notes of the song faded, I felt something in my chest loosen—a tight knot of grief, uncertainty, and longing finally unraveling.

I reached out, resting my hand on his arm. “Felix… I never wanted to be apart from you.”

He stopped playing, his gaze turning toward me, the fading sunlight casting soft shadows across his face. He reached for my hand, his fingers lacing with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I felt truly at peace.

“Then we don’t have to be anymore,” he whispered, his voice steady, sure. “Not ever again.”

The sun finally dipped below the horizon, the sky now a deep shade of indigo, and the stars began to twinkle above us. Felix and I sat there for a while, just holding hands, listening to the night around us. And I realized then that, no matter what the future held, I had everything I needed right here—this moment, this lake, and Felix by my side.

A few weeks had passed since that evening by the lake, and Felix and I had slipped into a comfortable rhythm. We had become inseparable, the bond we shared deepening with every passing day. We had both found a sense of peace, of direction, that we hadn’t known before, and now, we were on a mission: to find a house.

The town had changed a little over the years, but it still felt like home. As we strolled down the cobblestone streets, Felix was walking beside me, holding the local newspaper in one hand and flipping through the housing listings with the other. His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the columns, muttering under his breath about the prices and locations.

“So,” I began, my voice light and excited as I walked alongside him, “I’ve been thinking about what kind of house I want. Something small but cozy, you know? A place that feels like it belongs to me.”

Felix glanced over at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I think that’s what we’re both looking for. Somewhere we can start fresh, make our own space.”

I nodded enthusiastically, my mind racing with ideas. “I want a house with a big front porch, one with a swing where I can sit and drink coffee in the mornings. Maybe a few rose bushes lining the walkway… something that feels like it’s always been mine.”

Felix chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”

“Of course!” I grinned, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “I’ve imagined it for so long. I want it to have a big kitchen, too—somewhere I can bake and cook, and we can sit around the table together. It has to feel like home. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” Felix said, his tone sincere. He glanced back down at the paper, his eyes scanning the listings again. “I like the idea of having a space where we can just be ourselves, where we don’t have to worry about anyone else’s expectations.”

“That’s exactly it,” I agreed. “I don’t want a house that’s just a house. I want it to be ours. A place we can make memories, grow together…”

Felix stopped walking for a moment, pulling my attention away from the paper as I caught his gaze. His eyes were soft, and there was a warmth in them that made my heart flutter.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I’ve never really thought about a house being more than four walls and a roof. But now, with you… I can actually picture it. I can picture us, here, in this town, starting a life together.”

The words hit me like a wave, and I had to take a moment to breathe. There it was—he was talking about a future. A real future. The kind I hadn’t dared to imagine, even after all this time.

Felix cleared his throat, as if suddenly realizing how serious his words had sounded. “But… don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect place, I’m sure of it.”

I smiled, squeezing his hand. “I don’t need the perfect place. I just need it to be with you.”

He grinned, the same Felix I had fallen in love with all those months ago. “Then we’ll make it perfect, together.”

We continued walking, the rhythm of our steps matching, the sun hanging low in the sky as we passed house after house, each one a possibility. Some were too big, some too small, but with every house we passed, we both knew we were getting closer. It wasn’t just about finding a place to live—it was about finding a place to build our lives together, to lay the foundation for a future that felt like it belonged to us.

As we turned the corner, a little cottage at the edge of town caught my eye. It had a white picket fence, a small garden out front, and a porch swing. The windows were wide, the front door welcoming. It wasn’t perfect, but it was everything I had dreamed of.

“That one,” I said, pointing toward the house with a grin. “That’s the one, Felix. I can already see us there.”

Felix looked at the cottage, then back at me, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “You sure? It’s not even listed.”

“I’m sure,” I said, my heart racing. “It feels like home already.”

He squeezed my hand, his eyes bright with affection. “Then let’s go see if we can make it ours.”

And just like that, the dream we had been building began to take shape, one step at a time.

The day we got the house felt like a dream. It wasn’t just the house itself, but the life that came with it—the one Felix and I were about to create together. The little cottage with the white picket fence, the porch swing, the windows that let in just the right amount of sunlight. It was perfect, in a way I hadn’t imagined. It was ours, and that was all that mattered.

The move was a bit overwhelming, though. Coming from my parents’ grand estate, I didn’t have much to bring with me. Most of the furniture, the fine china, the lavish things I’d grown up with, were all left behind. My parents didn’t see it as a loss, of course. They had their new home, their new life, but I… I wanted to make this place feel like mine, like it was truly ours.

Felix and I spent hours sorting through boxes, laughing at the mismatched things we had—an old lamp I found tucked in the attic of the house, a couch that had seen better days, and the few sentimental items I had brought along: some old books, a picture frame from my childhood. I’d gotten the essentials, but we were still building everything else.

But there was one thing I didn’t mention to Felix. I didn’t tell him how I’d secretly used some of my parents’ funds to make the purchase happen. The house was just under what they could afford to give me, and after everything had fallen apart with my family, I knew it would be easier to buy something without them finding out.

I could’ve felt guilty about it, but in that moment, all I felt was relief. It wasn’t as though I was taking from them—it was my own money, after all. But still, the secret weighed on me. I didn’t want Felix to know. I didn’t want him to feel as though I was using something that should’ve been a gift from my family to us. I wanted us to stand on our own two feet, even if that meant starting small.

As we unpacked the last of the boxes and arranged the furniture, Felix looked around the living room, his eyes lighting up. “It feels like home, Y/N. It really does.” His words were simple, but they hit me in the chest, making everything I’d done worth it.

I smiled softly, trying to push the guilt from my mind. “Yeah, it does. I think it’s because we’re here. Together.”

Felix grinned, his hands reaching for mine. “You know, this place doesn’t need to be perfect. As long as we’re here, that’s all that matters. We’ll make it our own, no matter what.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of those words settle over me, reminding me that what really mattered wasn’t how much we had, but the love we shared. And as we stood there in that little house, I knew—no matter how we got here—it was exactly where we were meant to be.

[keru0]

Tickletober 2024

Day 10: Teasing

Lee!Moze x Ler!Jiaoqiu

============================================

“No, I’m not. Stop lying to them, Jiaoqiu.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s the most ticklish out of- ACK-! Hey!” The pink-faced rouge elbowed the healer, who was currently explaining to a certain Trailblazer and his boyfriend how ticklish the stoic man actually was.

Jiaoqiu gave a half-hearted glare at the man before smiling back towards the two, making sure his words were loud enough to be heard across the docks. “He really is ticklish! You wouldn’t believe how often I can get the upper hand on him!”

Caelus giggled at the other’s embarrassment, watching as he flashed invisible, pulling his hood over his face. “And I’m assuming he always does that?”

Jiaoqiu let out a chuckle of his own before reaching out to grab the invisible man by the arm. “Yes, yes, he gets very embarrassed, but I can show you!” The foxian giggled mischievously, quickly shoving his arms under the man’s arms to grasp at his chest, hands right on top of the muscle.

“J-Jiaoqiu, don’t-!”

“All I have to do is squeeze right here and he becomes a giggly puddle! No more dangerous than a butter knife~” The healer teased with a smirk, beginning to knead his hands into the muscle of Moze’s chest.

“GrAhAHaHa nOhOHoHo!” Moze quickly flickered in and out of invisibility, unable to stay hidden for long before the sensations became too much to bear.

“Come now, Moze, don’t try to hide. Our guests want to see just how ticklish you are~” The sly fox smiled, his hands wandering down to his ribs where he poked and prodded them. “And if you go a bit lower, his laugh gets a bit more high pitch-”

“YAHAHAH JIAOQIUHUHOHOHOHO!”

“See?”

Dan Heng brought a hand up to his chin, a knowing smile on his face, all too aware of what the retainer was going through, Caelus doing the same to him on quite a regular basis. “So, the lower you go, the more ticklish he is?”

“For the most part, yes!” Jiaoqiu smiled at the boy, his hands crawling further down to poke and squeeze the man’s abs. “His thighs and feet are quite bad, as are his ribs and chest. In fact, there’s not really anywhere that isn’t sensitive…”

“E-EHEHENOHOHOUGH!” Moze wheezed, curling around the fox’s arms as they dug into his stomach, tears of mirth beading in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall.

“He really is ticklish, isn’t he?” The pink-haired man teased, almost whispering it into Moze’s ear before letting him go, the laughing man going invisible almost instantly to hide his red face. 

“I think that’s enough for now, we don’t want to embarrass him too much, do we?” He chuckled, giving the straining abs one last squeeze before finally letting go, wrapping an arm around Moze’s so he couldn’t go far.

“Don’t we?” Caelus smirked, giving the healer an expectant look as his eyes shined, the healer chuckling in response.

“Perhaps another time, not in public, so he doesn’t feel like killing us after…” He trailed off, already feeling the man sulk next to him, planning his revenge. “We ought to go report back to Feixiao now that our job here is done, goodbye~!” He waved off to the trailblazers, dragging an invisible, broody man along with him.

[writers-hes]

All Things End

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn’t realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps, depictions of mental illness, and a toxic marriage)

A/N: This whole fic was inspired by Hozier’s latest releases; Nth/Unknown, All Things End, Francesca, and Eat Your Young. I recommend listening to the album before or after you read this. This dedicated to everyone who reblogged the last chapter. Thank you for the love; it means the world.

PROTECTION SERIES TAGLIST | PROTECTION MASTERLIST navigation | main master lists |

PART ONE: Toy Horses Outside the Brothel

BIRMINGHAM, 1914

You’ve been inconsolable since the Shelby brothers left. Everyone can see how different you were ever since they left. The Shelby’s reached out to you—but you didn’t like going to Watery Lane. You begged Polly to remove the Blinders that were supposed to watch you and she agreed after a while. It wasn’t the same without Tommy protecting you. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to go to their house and pretend like it was all okay. 

“Angel, I’ve missed you,” he sighed into your hair. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course, I do, Simon,” you told him. “How are you? It’s been a while since you last saw me. You don’t like me anymore?”

“You know that I could never forget about you, darling,” he said. “I have a gift for you,” 

“Really?” you asked, eyes hopeful. “What is it?”

Simon smiled, fishing a velvet jewellery box out of his pocket. He opens it and you gasp. A pair of sapphire earrings. 

“I have to start dressing you up when I take you to London,” he says. “You’ll wear it for me?”

“I’ll wear it,” you confirm. You fixed your hair up in a faux bun. “Will you put it on me, Simon?”

“Of course,” he says, doing what you asked. “I’m fixing everything for us,”

“For us?” you asked, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I told you that I’ll show you the world, didn’t I?” he asked, grasping your jaw softly to make you look up at him. “I’m taking you away from this shit hole.”

“We’ll stay in Birmingham?” you asked, voice wavering. Fuck. What do you do now?

“No, we won’t,” he shook his head. “I have a mansion in London waiting for us. Why would I want to live here?”

“But…”

“But what? Are you not thankful that I’m showing the whole world? I thought I was your hero?” he asked, his hand over yours. 

“You are!” you said, inching closer. “You are. But I have friends here,”

“We can visit them,” he says dismissively. “Anytime you want. Or they can visit us, you know? Once you’re mine, you’ll have everything you want on your fingertips,”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked. 

“Because you’re my Angel. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. You make me want to take care of you,” he says. “I love you. You love me too, right?”

“Of course,” you lied. “Of course, I do.”

-

Polly and Ada liked to visit your house every now and then. They said that it makes them forget all about Watery Lane. Over the times you’ve spent here, the house was fully in bloom. You’d buy plants and some fresh flowers to keep in a vase. There was always a pot of water ready to be heated for tea. You hated your job but this freedom, your own house…it sometimes made everything worth it. 

“Shit, love. Your rich bastard must be buttering you up,” Polly says, helping herself on some tea. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you wore those sapphire earrings. You like him?”

“No,” you shook your head. “He has some of his men guard me…I’m afraid that he’ll stop showing if I stop wearing these heavy earrings.”

“Waiting for…”

“It’s hard,” you said. “I don’t go to the brothel anymore. Simon forbade me to work there after he gave me this. He said he’s fixing up things in London.”

“Do you want to leave?” Ada asked, looking at you. 

“No,” you swallowed. “I’m thankful for…for being here. Not having to work anymore and just living comfortably but the price that I’m paying for it…”

You wanted to be there when Tommy comes back. You wanted to be the one to kiss him the first time you see him out of that train. But if you left…if you didn’t wait like you promised, what good would that be on the end of things? You wanted to see how life with Tommy plays out but what would you in the meantime? Where would you go?

“You have to choose what you’re willing to sell, then. You can’t live like this if you won’t string that rich bastard along. You won’t have to leave if you still work at the brothel.” Polly said. “Did you at least…think about it?”

“He said I could visit…or you could visit,” you replied, looking at anywhere but them. “But…but…I want to be here,”

“What if he doesn’t come back? This war…war changes people. Would you really toss your entire life away for a man in the war? I’m supposed to be on Tommy’s side, but I don’t want you missing out on life just because you're waiting for him,” Polly said. She’s always been practical, and she was…right. But you desperately wanted to see him before anything else. Still, Tommy and his brothers might never come back. If you turned down Simon’s proposal, you’ll be the town pariah. You could be wasting a good life away for Tommy Shelby. 

“Pol,” Ada hissed but her aunt only smoked her cigarettes. 

“All things end, darling. Maybe whatever you have with Tommy has run its course,” she exhaled, clouds of smoke entering your lungs, closing in on you. All things end. All things end.

-

LONDON, 1915

“I can’t believe I’m going to be married today,” you whispered. Your voice betrayed you, wavering slightly. “Fuck,”

“Hey, you can still stop the wedding,” Ada replied, stopping the work that she was doing on your veil. It was an expensive one, it cost more than your home in Birmingham. You never let that go, asking Ada to take care of it while you were gone. “We can run away,”

“I’m already here,” you nodded. “I want to…I want to see Tommy.” Your face was crestfallen, heart drumming in your chest because you never imagined your wedding to be like this. You were picking on your nailbeds again, nevermind the lacquer that coloured your nails. You were getting married in the most expensive place in London. Flowers hung from the ceiling; pearls lined your wedding dress. The sapphire earrings hung from your ears like albatrosses. The diamond ring on your finger demanded attention, a big rock on a silver band embedded with smaller diamonds. You never imagined being married like this. You always thought that you’d marry in the countryside, a nice flowy gown that you borrowed, wildflowers, and dancing. Not like this…surrounded by other businessmen, rich families who never gave a shit about you until you married Simon. 

“You’re getting married but you’re unhappy. This should be your day,” Ada said, ensuring that nothing was out of place. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You smiled tightly. You should be thankful—ecstatic. You should be happy. So many girls dreamed of this. A fairytale wedding. The war was getting worse but not for you, not for Simon. In any case, Simon relished in the war, it brought him more money. You hated yourself for marrying him today when Tommy was most probably out there, fighting for his life.

Were you to blame for marrying Simon, though? It’s been a year and Tommy has never sent you a letter. All the letters you’ve sent were never replied to. It saddened you at first because his family would have something to look for, but you were left in the dust. You never brought that matter to light, maybe Tommy didn’t want to talk to you.

It hurts to be forgotten by the person you loved most. The only person who ever truly knew you. It hurt you to realise that for him, you were forgettable, replaceable. It’s like all the years you spent together were nothing. Maybe it was spite mixed with sadness and desperation that made you accept Simon’s proposal last year. Polly was right,—all things end.

Walking to the altar with Johnny to give you away was something else. Simon was kind enough to let the Shelby’s come to the wedding. He provided them with rooms to stay at a hotel. You should have been happy but the dryness in your mouth says otherwise. His family were there, judging you for being a prostitute; judging him for marrying someone so penniless. 

Simon’s smile was genuine, at least. He was waiting for you, a bundle of nerves. When you reach him, he thanks Polly. Taking your hand, he brings you to the ordainer and the wedding starts.

The reception of the wedding was in your new mansion in London. A real estate treasure with a little bit of plush green land. Your husband had a professional come in to decorate the garden—you never knew that a job like that existed. 

“This house is so big!” Finn said, after he ran to you. He was playing with the other kids. “You’d let me visit you?”

“Of course, Finn.” you said, a smile on your face. “But you have to be with Ada or Polly,”

“Okay,” he says, a toothy grin. “Maybe I can bring Tommy too when he comes back.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Maybe…” Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Would he appear if you called him in front of a mirror thrice? You just wanted to see him.

Simon comes to you and Finn. 

“Hi, Finn,” he greets. “How are you?”

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, hiding behind your gown. “I’m good. Thanks for letting me come,”

“My wife really wanted you guys here and I really needed to see who’s the famous Finn Shelby,” he said. 

“I was telling Y/N about how my brother, Tommy and I can visit sometime,” he said. You visibly tense at the mention of Tommy, Simon notices. You’ve talked about Tommy before. Tommy Shelby…

That night, after consummating your marriage, Simon asked. 

“Who’s Tommy? I know who he is but what did he do?” Caressing your naked back, he pressed again. “Finn was telling me about his brother, and it made you uncomfortable.”

“He’s no one,” you lied, looking up at him through your lashes. “You shouldn’t worry about him,”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable…if he’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll have him dealt with.”

“No!” you cleared your throat. “You don’t have to, Simon. Thank you for caring,” you smiled, kissing his lips softly to forget about Tommy Shelby—the man who broke your heart. 

NEW YORK, 1915

You were staying in one of your husband’s properties in America, a penthouse in New York when he came barging in, throwing you an envelope. He was angry, you could tell that clearly. He never got angry except now. 

“Simon,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Who’s Tommy Shelby?” he asked, demanding you to answer. He knew who Tommy Shelby was. He knew of the Shelbys in Birmingham. But who was he to you? “Don’t even fucking lie to me,”

“What’s wrong…?” 

“Who is he?” he asked, his tone more forceful now. “Don’t tell me that he’s no one! Who is he?”

“He’s a friend. A childhood friend. What is this about?” you asked. “Simon…”

“You told me during our wedding night that he was no one but I had him investigated,” he said. You furrowed your brows. “Guess what? I found out that you grew up together. You were seeing him while I was seeing you. You told me you love me!”

“I do love you,” you lied, trying to soothe his worries. “You don’t have to worry about him, you know? We didn’t see each other like that, Simon,”

“Fuck…I gave you my everything and you hang onto this Tommy Shelby cunt. Like, like…I had to buy your love and you gave it to him,” he said, stalking towards you. “I gave you everything! What could he give? He’s poor and he’s in the war. I’m here. I am!” he roared. 

“Simon—“

“You are to cut off any ties and communications that you have with the Shelbys, understood?” he spat, pointing a finger at you. 

“Simon, they’re my friends! They took care of me,” you pleaded, putting your hands on his waist to appease him but she just shrugs you off. 

“I said ‘Understood’?” he seethed. “I gave the Shelby’s and Johnny a hefty sum of money so you won’t have to think of them ever again but you have to promise to never fucking think of them—of him—of-of your life in Birmingham. Do you understand me?”

“Simon, you—“

“I know where Tommy Shelby is in France. Tunnelling. You’ll know better than to defy me. Trust me, I have my ways of getting him and his brothers killed. I know people. Do you understand me?” he spits.

You couldn’t cry in front of him, so you just gulped, nodding. 

“I understand,” you whispered, a frown set upon your face. Relief washes over your husband and he pulls you closer.

“You know that I only want what’s best for you. What’s best for us,” he whispered. “You’re my little bird. My beautiful flower, I won’t let anyone else have you. Okay? I’m sorry for making you sad but this is for the best. For us and for the family that we’re going to build,” 

“I know, Simon,”

“I love you,” he says but it felt like a threat.

“I love you too,”

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1915

Tommy,

I hope you’re well. We all pray for your safe return home. Have I told you that Y/N got married this year in London? His name is Simon Coventry, I’m sure you know him as ‘Rich Bastard.’

He truly loves her and has taken care of her so well. We’ve been to their mansion in London multiple times. Finn loves to visit because he gets him everything he wants. Did you know that he gifted Finn his own horse for Christmas? Please, don’t worry about her anymore. She’s in safe hands, in a loving marriage, with a husband that could give her the world. 

Pol

(This letter was never sent.)

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

“What do you think will happen to us?” you asked Tommy once. Twenty-one, and you allowed yourself to make bad decisions when it came to him. You were sitting close together in the balcony of your home; it was the morning, and you had the day off because it was your birthday. No serving customers today; Tommy didn’t go to work because you were free. 

“We’ll stay together,” he says, like it was a no-brainer. He had stolen a bottle of whiskey in the place where he worked out and you both decided to drink today. Twenty-one and you’d make all bad decisions for Tommy. There was a crinkle in his eyes when he looked at you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a sip of the whiskey.

“I got you something,” he says, tossing his cigarette butt away. “It’s not as…expensive as what that rich bastard got you, but I was thinking that…well, here,” he says, showing you something wrapped in a handkerchief. “Don’t know how to wrap gifts.”

You took it from him and undid the knot of the handkerchief. 

“Tommy…”

“I asked Polly and Ada,” he says. “So, that’s not all me.”

A picture frame of pressed flowers. It was more than that for him. For Tommy, it was a declaration of his love; a life-long commitment to you.

“I’ve been picking flowers that remind me of you for the past year,” he tells you. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Tom.” you told him, tackling him in a hug. “This is the best thing anyone has ever given me. Thank you so much,”

LONDON, 1916

Simon hardly allowed you to go anywhere without him or at least the presence of a bodyguard since last year. It was understandable, since he was a wealthy man—the world was too dangerous for him. But you couldn’t grasp why you needed his permission to go to the shops, why you needed to ask him if you could do something. Your wardrobe was chosen by him and you hardly had any control over that. The jewellery he bought were things he thought would look the best on you too. 

You had to ask him for approval to meet your friends—if you had any. None of them really stayed longer than a year. It was fine, they were never him anyways. They all had ulterior motives when it came to seeking a friendship with you. They were all parties and dinners and events. One time, there was a party in his house. Some charity gathering that you couldn't care less about. You were outside in the garden when one of your employees walked by. You called him to where you were sitting. 

“Can you please get me some water?” you asked. “I don’t really want to go back there right now,” you said. You spent the whole night portraying the happy wife; the younger wife and you were sick of it. To them, you were Simon Coventry’s wife. To him, you were somebody he owned. To yourself, you were a prostitute. He basically bought you from that brothel anyway. You sat there silently, allowing yourself to shed the tears that you’ve been keeping. 

You were sobbing, trying to comfort your body from the loss of personhood that you’ve experienced. You were a glorified doll for Simon to look at—a pet to protect. He’s never treated you like an equal and you will never be.

Your hands were shaky, makeup staining your face. If only Simon could see you now. He’d lose it. You clutched the locket that Tommy gave you. You told Simon that you needed it, that it was a picture of your mother and that you didn’t want to forget what she looked like. It was shabby; he asked if you wanted a better one, but you declined. When Tommy gave you that locket, he helped you put a picture of your mother right beside his. You still needed to give it back to him. 

In the quietness of the garden, you remembered Polly’s advice before your wedding. She was helping you fit into the gown when she started to talk quietly. 

“Remember, this,” she started, zipping up your dress. “Take advantage of the world you’re in now. Even if you do not love him, take advantage of what he’s willing to give. Take advantage of everything.”

The employee comes back to you with a glass of water. 

“Thanks,” you whispered. “You may go now,”

-

Simon loved your newfound interest in participating in his business. He always sought you in the brothel for advice. It didn’t matter if you never studied, what mattered was that you were correct. They were small matters in his company. Like, you told him that maybe he wanted to increase the bond to a partnership. Or that he had to host charity events to make his company more appealing; ensure that it was widely publicised. 

You were perched on his lap, looking through the documents, while he played with your hair. He was kissing your shoulder as you flipped through the pages. 

“Some of my investments have been transferred to your account,” he says and you look at him, surprised. 

“Simon—?”

“You deserve it,” he says, continuing his kisses on your shoulder. “You’re my wife. You should have your own money,”

“But that’s…that’s too much,” 

“Just enough for you to go on those shopping sprees, if you ever wanted anything,” he says. 

“Why—“

“You’ve proven to me that I could trust you after our…disagreement about Tommy Shelby,” he declared. “I’m sorry for cutting you off from your friends in Birmingham, darling but I promise, that they’re being taken care of. Especially Johnny. He doesn’t work in the brothel anymore after I bought him his house in Watery Lane,”

“It’s okay,” relishing in the newfound power that you had over your husband. You turned to him, your knees on either side of his thighs. You straddled him and grasped his chin with your hands. “I know that you only want what’s best for me, right?” you preened, dropping your lips to nibble on his ear. “Tell me,”

He sighs, clutching your body closer to his as you trailed your lips down his neck. 

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he moans. “So, so good. I’ll give you everything.”

FRANCE, 1917

Tommy had been injured and was sent to the wards immediately. There was a gaping wound on his chest when one of the tunnel rats shot him. His comrades were quick enough to retaliate; to put him above ground and call for help. He was on the hard bed, wondering if it would be easier to just give up and let the world take him. 

“Y/N…” he mumbles, reaching for you. He could see you, see your arms beckoning him to come closer.”Y/N…where…Y/N…” 

He mumbles your name over and over for what seemed like an eternity. He couldn’t say anything else, pleading with anyone.

“Just fucking kill me!” he shouts. “Fucking kill me, please…” he sobs, body shaking from the emotions that dwell inside. “Y/N! Y/N! Fucking kill me!” In…in-in the bleak midwinter…Y/N. Y/N. 

AMERICA, 1917

“How is it being married to Simon?” one of the guests in some event asked. She was supposed to be the wife of a big oil conglomerate. Simon’s father invested in their business awhile back and had been business partners since. 

“He’s kind,” you said. He is…you just can’t love him like that. “It’s amazing being married to him,”

“I see,” she replied. “May I ask where you met again?”

“We met in Birmingham,” was your meek answer, looking for your husband. You hated events like these. The heir and his younger wife. You hated everything about it. Where is he?

“What family are you from?” she asked, oblivious to the fact. Everyone was oblivious to that fact. Simon made sure to never let anyone know that you were a prostitute. ‘For your safety’ he said and you understood. She said that she’ll never forgive you for tainting her wonderful son but Simon said that it was okay. You both didn’t need anyone else. 

“Sorry—do you happen to know where Simon is?” you asked, trying to change the topic. 

“Can’t stay away from him too long, huh? You must really love him,” she gushed. “I hope I’m the same with my husband but our union was basically something that was already agreed upon,”

“Yeah, I do,” you half-lied. You loved Simon as a friend, as a companion. He tries his best to understand. He’s loving and as far as you were aware, hadn’t kept any mistresses. That came with a price, though. Simon never liked it when a man looks at you too long. He doesn’t like seeing you with the opposite sex. He didn’t like you exchanging pleasantries with them. “He’s the best. He allows me to help him out in the business, you know?”

“You’re involved in his business?” she asked. 

“Small things,” you replied. “Arranging charity balls and the like,”

“Your governess must have been a good one,” she replied. 

“I suppose so.” You lied, knowing that you could never have been able to afford one. You were living day to day when you were a kid.

The girl only smiled tightly before walking away. You watched her talk to other girls. How beautiful it is to be included in a group! You’ve always felt like an outsider. This room was filled with billionaires and millionaires. This room made up most of the world’s economy and you were a prostitute. You were in the nicest clothes that money could afford but it still felt like the same, cheap lace that you used to wear. You turned to look for your husband but he was already wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“Simon,” you greeted, kissing his cheek. You were relieved to see him, somehow.

“Hello, darling. Do you wish to meet my friends?” he asked, kissing the side of your head affectionately. 

“Of course,” you nodded, seeing the girl you were talking to with her own husband now. Simon took you to them, never letting your waist go. 

“Simon!” the husband greeted, regarding you with a swift look before shaking your husband’s hand. “Is she the wife or a mistress?” he asked, and you frowned. 

“The wife,” Simon replied honestly. “Don’t have a mistress,” 

“What about that bird you were seeing in…Small Heath? Is it Small Heath?” he asked. 

“Haven’t been there since I got married,” he replied. It was true. “By the way, Eric, I do hope your wife watches what she talks about with her other…friends,” he said, and you tilted your head in confusion. The girl looks down in shame. 

“What do you mean?” Eric asked. “Surely, Natalia only wished to make an acquaintance. Is that right, Nat?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever Y/N was saying must be untrue,” she said, feigning innocence. 

“I see. I must have been delirious when I heard your wife call Y/N boring,” he shrugged. “Anyways, if I see or hear you disrespect my wife one more time, there will be repercussions. Seeing as you’re financially unwell, I would hate to take out my shares in your company. Isn’t that right?” 

“Of course, Simon,” Eric coughed, glaring at Natalia. “I apologise, Mrs. Coventry,”

You could only nod before Simon whisked you away. 

“Let’s go home. No one’s worth talking to in this shit hole anyway,”

-

When you got in the car, Simon was already all over you. He was tugging on your sleeves, kissing your neck. You were used to this; the driver was used to this. 

“Did I ever tell you that you looked absolutely ravishing in this dress?” he growled, fisting the silk fabric. “The things you do to me, pet,”

“I dressed up just for you,” you whimper. “Do you like it?” You may not love him but he was good. Maybe it’s because you’ve known each other for years…or maybe, you’re more comfortable but Simon was good at what he does. He puts your needs first. In any case, that’s how he likes it. This is what you’ve been doing for about two years. Giving everything that Simon ever wanted from you and taking double back from him. You were wealthy on your own now. If you divorced Simon, you’d never have to worry about life anymore. He had put trusts, investments, and properties in your name that he promised he’d never take away. It was sealed in a document. You were his closest kin. You own everything. 

Except your freedom. 

“Of course I do,” he confirms, rutting his hips on your exposed thigh. He groans at the contact. “Fuck, are we close?” he asked the driver. 

“Twenty minutes, sir,” he replied. 

“I’ll triple your salary for the month if you could take us there in ten,” he proposes and the driver speeds up, never minding the laws of the road. 

LONDON, 1918

The war has ended and you were close to collapsing. There could only be two things—the brothers made it or they did not. You didn’t have any form of communication with them and you were nervous. What if they didn’t make it?

BIRMINGHAM, 1918

The boys were deployed in Birmingham. Cramped in vehicles, Tommy held the strap of his satchel tightly. He was anxious to see his family. He was so anxious to see you. He never received letters from you even though he wrote every week. He was too afraid that he'd turn his back on his country to come to you but he didn’t care. What kind of man would that make of him? 

There were a million things that he wanted to tell you—how he left without ever telling you that he loved you. How your face was the only thing that kept him alive in those tunnels. Would you still love him now that he’s not the same? Would you still soothe him until he falls asleep?

His brothers could see his nervousness. So, Arthur offered him a tight smile. John was looking forward to seeing his kids again. 

“She’ll be there, Tom,” Arthur offered. “If anyone’s going to be there, it’s her,”

“Yeah, of course,” Tommy replied. They were nearing Birmingham. They were nearing the place you both grew up in and he felt bad because he should have been thinking about his family but instead, he was thinking about you. The vehicle stops and he takes a deep breath. Will he see you? Will you run to him and finally kiss him like he’s been thinking of for four years? He braced himself as soldiers spilled out into the road. He could see Polly and Charlie with Finn on his shoulders. He smiled, telling his brothers that he saw everyone.

“You boys are back!” Polly gushed, taking the three of them in an embrace. She blinks away the tears. Tommy was searching the crowd for you and Polly could see that. “She couldn’t make it, Tom. She’s in London,”

His heart drops. Why would you miss this reunion? Why were you in London? He nodded wordlessly, keeping to himself while John answered all of the questions. The day after that, he went to your house but saw that nobody was there. He went to the brothel but there were new girls who didn't know who you were. Johnny wasn’t there either. 

He went there every day for less than two weeks until one day, he saw a scrap of newspaper sitting in the kitchen. 

SIMON AND Y/N COVENTRY PURCHASE NEW HOME IN PARIS AFTER THE WAR. 

He furrowed his brows, turning the pages until sure enough, there you were. It was a portrait of you and Simon. He barged into Polly’s room, opening the drawer where she kept memorabilia. There were multiple pictures of you and your wedding with Simon. There was a picture of you and the whole Shelby clan along with Johnny. There was an envelope with a cheque worth a few thousand pounds from Simon. He shook, his heart beating loudly as he let go of everything. You were married. You married Simon Coventry. You didn't wait for him. 

“Tommy,” Ada whispers from the door, seeing her older brother crouch in defeat. 

“When were you planning to tell me?” he spat. “When?”

“Tommy, we didn’t know how to tell you—“

“Tell me when the fuck were you planning to tell me, Ada or I swear, I will blow this fucking house down,” he threatened, running his fingers through his hair. It’s not the same when you do it. Ada walked towards her brother, seeing her brother so defeated was something new.

“I…” his voice breaks into a sob. “I was under the tunnels and all I could ever think—all I could—I’m smoking fucking opium because I’m so fucking worried and she’s—she’s,” Tommy couldn’t breathe, hyperventilating. “She’s gone, she’s gone…”

There was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t hear Ada call for help. He was panicking, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He waited for you. He counted the days until he saw you again, but you were not here. He felt like he was underground again. It was Arthur who calmed him down, slapping Tommy across the face to wake him up. It works, it always works.

“Leave us,” Polly ordered everyone. “Drink some water, Tommy, we have to talk,” 

“Pol—“

“Leave us,”

“Polly, it’s not right!” Ada said. “I should’ve listened to her when she told me she didn’t want it,”

“He has to know, Ada. I’ll tell him now,”

“It’s alright, Ada,” he croaked. “Leave us,” His brother dragged his furious sister away. He was embarrassed to have been seen like that—weak. But what else could he do? He crossed the vastness of a sea of fire just to go home to you. Polly sighed. 

“It’s my fault,” she said once everyone was out. He exhales, a staggered breath as if he’s been carrying all the weight of love that he has for you. 

“It’s all I ever wanted, Pol,” he said, looking down on his lap. A life with you in your home. There’d be a big garden for you to run on. You’ll have so many horses and you'll teach your kids how to ride them. “You know that it’s all I ever wanted,”

“I know, Tom but you can’t blame her,” she said. “She didn’t want to leave and I saw that but what else could she be if she didn’t leave Birmingham? I prayed for your safety everyday, I did. But…but what if you didn’t come back? Would she work at that brothel until she fades? There was an opportunity for her to have a better life outside of Birmingham. I told her to take advantage of it,” she explained, trying to reach Tommy but he flinched away. Polly puts down her hand, clearing her throat.

“She’s all I ever wanted, Polly and you took that from me. You took her-you took her away from me!” he sobbed, cradling his head in his hands. “You took her away. You took her away…”

“She sent you letters while you were away,” Polly said, placing a stack of envelopes beside Tommy. “I’m sorry, Tom but I wanted her to have a good life. Birmingham isn't good for her. You were only going to keep her from making a name for herself,”

Polly nodded to herself before leaving Tommy and a stack of letters that he never received. 

He opens the one on top just to check—just today. 

Dear Tommy,

Every day passes by without you and I still can’t bear it. I hope you’re well, I hope my letters become a sense of comfort for you. 

It’s getting harder for me to spend time with your family. All I could think about was how the two of us would run freely in Polly’s house because you were chasing after me. I couldn’t spend time at home either because my bed reminds me of how much I liked sleeping beside you. It’s so peaceful. I sleep in your clothes sometimes and Ada gave me some of the shirts that you left. I’ll return them to you when you’re back but right now, it’s the only way for me to feel like I could breathe…that someday, you’ll come back to me. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you, like I promised. 

I haven’t told you everything yet, but I hope I can tell you soon. 

Tommy opens another one. What’s another stab to the heart anyway?

Dear Tommy,

It’s been years and you haven't written back. Are you mad at me? I’ll stop writing to you for the meantime but just know that I’ll wait for you.

-

LONDON, 1919

Dearest, 

I’m so sorry to tell you but Johnny has died. Please come to Birmingham soon. 

The letter from Johnny’s wife shook in your hands. Big Johnny was dead, and you had to go to Birmingham to the funeral. You ran to your husband’s office. Upon seeing your tear-stained face, his face falls in concern. 

“What the matter, love? Did someone hurt you?” he asked, patting his lap, telling you to sit on it. You complied, hiccuping. You were heartbroken but you knew that if you wanted to go, you had to play smart. You had to play the broken doll that he loved to take care of. 

“Johnny’s dead,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest. You allowed him the privilege to soothe you. His hand inching their way underneath your shirt for unbridled contact. “Johnny’s dead, Simon,” you cried. “I—I got this…letter,” you said, showing him the crumpled piece of paper on your hand. He had to fire whoever gave you this letter—it was a strict rule that he was supposed to read all the letters sent to you. It was a rule that no letter from Birmingham must arrive in your hands. 

“Oh, darling,” he said, kissing your temple. 

“I know…I know that I can’t go,” you said. “But…can I please go, Simon?” you asked. “He was like my father,” you whispered. It was true and Simon knew that. Johnny took care of you to the best of his abilities. You told Simon of the stories when you were younger. Him teaching you arithmetic, teaching you how to throw a punch to defend yourself…he helped you move into the house you bought. You’ve never been there for years, and you wondered if Ada continued to take care of it after abandoning them. “I understand if you won’t allow me,” you nodded, removing yourself away from him but he held you closer. 

“You can go,” he whispered. He’d have you guarded so that no one could even come to you. No Tommy Shelby. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” you shook your head, regaining your composure. “I know that the partnership with Alfie Solomons will require your full attention. Do you promise to be home once I arrive? I need you,” You stilled on his chest.

You didn’t know what a lie was anymore. 

“Of course, I’ll be here,” he said. 

“I can take some of the guards with me for my safety,” you compromised. You weren’t lying, though. The business he had with Alfie Solomons kind of scared you. What if he sent men to take you as ransom?

“Of course,” he said. “Where will you stay? Are there hotels there?”

“I can stay at my old home.” you said. “We can send in some cleaners before I arrive to make it nice,” 

“Alright, darling. Are you leaving tomorrow? I’ll send some people now. Will that be okay with you?” he asked. You looked up to him, doe-eyed. 

“Yes,” you replied. “Thank you, Simon. I love you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

The Blinders mentioned to Arthur that the old house that Ada takes care of had the lights on. There were multiple servants coming in and out of the run-down house and they asked who was coming. It was the owner of the house. That could only mean…

“Tommy!” Arthur called, nodding at Harry before barging in the special room at the Garrison. “Stop fucking the barmaid and listen to me, mate,”

Grace looks at him sheepishly before excusing herself. 

“Fuck, what is it Arthur?” Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette. 

“Y/N’s coming back,” he said. Tommy halts, looking at Arthur. 

“Arthur—“

“The Blinders saw the lights at her old house open with a fuck ton of servants cleaning up. They asked…told her that the owner of the house is coming back to go to a fucking funeral,” Arthur explained. “She’s coming back, mate. Your Y/N’s coming back.”

Tommy leans on the couch, running a hand through his face. He wordlessly leaves Arthur, not sparing a glance to Grace, before leaving the Garrison entirely. It was midnight, you could be home soon. In the shadows, Tommy waited, his peaky cap making him incognito. 

He waited the whole night, smoking his cigarette and looking at the spot where your house could be seen clearly. At around six in the morning, he sees a convoy of high end cars line up. A black Bentley stopped right in front of the house and there you were. Tommy’s breath is knocked out of his lungs. You were dressed in something simple and comfortable for your travel but you’ve never looked so ethereal. The driver gives you his hand to help you and you smile at him. Looking around the place, peace settles in your features. 

He doesn’t realise it but his face relaxes too. It’s like he hasn’t breathed in all the years he spent without you. He gulps, not allowing himself to cry. He’s stronger now and he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. 

He looked on, noticing that Simon Coventry was not with you. It was then he realised that guards dressed formally surrounded your house. It didn’t matter to him. Fuck your husband’s security system. He’ll make a way. Just because there was a change of plans doesn’t mean that you can begin again. He doesn’t care.

You were here. You were finally home, and he wonders if the frame he gave you on your 21st birthday was still there.

PART 3

A/N: Grace will not be romantically involved with Tommy in the story for obvious reasons. There will be mentions of her but they will be minimal. Thank you so much for reading and for giving my story love and support. I hope to see you in the next one!

BTW, we need a face for Simon. Who do you think will be a perfect Simon?

Don’t forget to reblog / leave a comment if you liked it! TAGLIST:  @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius​ @trixie23​ @everythingelseisextra​ @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay

[witchofthesouls]

The only reason Waffle House would outlive the cyber formation of earth is because half of its shifts are run by vampires and the other half are run by people who are ready and willing to throw hands with god as an example

Exactly. Those people had stared into the abyss and decided to throw a molotov cocktail at it.

Waffle House employees are just built different. Smoke and violence are both inherent experience and complimentary with the pecan waffle.

To be honest, they would be quite the hit among the Cybertronians, especially with the former gladiators and dock workers.

They would probably be consumed over chewable food for a moment, but they'll get into the spirit when they figure out the plates can be thrown and the glory of butter on their tongues.

[queserasora]

SANJI X READER | FEM! READER, SHE/HER WORD COUNT: 1,301 words CW: Sanji is sick and tired of y/n shit, brown curly haired y/n doing the most on a sunny day, mangoes are juicy and salacious, a little bit NSFW, mostly teasing nothing serious A BADLY WRITTEN SUMMARY: The one where Sanji decides he’s going to fix the y/n problem he has but he feeds her instead, he is a gentleman! Most of the time, and Luffy tries to invite himself over for a midnight snack

PART TWO

You had been teasing him for days on end, trying to meet the last line of his patience. Sanji thought there was nothing he couldn’t handle in all the seas but he never accounted for your tenacity.

He was tired of the looks you launched at him when he was least expecting it. You often found an excuse to pass him by–to squeeze where you didn’t fit, just enough to graze your breasts against his back or chest. You relished the way he would hold his breath, anything to avoid hissing within earshot. You’d giggle at his reddening face and walk away, not before letting your fingers brush his chest on your way out.

He was tired of feeling your presence in every room; like a heavy heat weighing his shoulders down. His brown eyes would seek out yours and find your plush lips stretched into a smile. He was tired of the growing warmth at the bottom of his belly when he watched you rub cocoa butter on your legs. He tired of smelling it on you at dinner time, or when you’d sneak into the kitchen while he cooked to ‘just have a taste’ of what he was preparing.

He grew tired of the way he wanted to give  you a taste, alright, and how shameful it made him feel.

He quickly grew tired of that too; tired of waiting.

The sun was docked on an island and the crew had all gone shopping. Sanji had given Nami a list of groceries, as she requested. Everything was taken care of–everything except the annoying itch he couldn’t scratch. Sanji didn’t know or understand the reason for you to stay behind; something about being too hot to walk around. If it was too hot, then why were you sprawled out on the lawn chair, ass up in nothing but a bikini bottom.

Where had your top gone? Disappeared along with your common sense?

He swallows and approaches you despite the possibility of a nosebleed. Saliva thick, he pushes it down with sheer determination. You had called his name. It would be rude to ignore you.

“Yes, my dear?” he asks slowly. You hum upon hearing his voice and turn your head to look at him. Your face is partially covered by your tight curls but he can still see the smile on your lips; the tiniest twinkle in your eye. He feels his face heat up. He knows you’re up to no good again but can’t bring himself to leave you alone.

“I’m feeling a little thirsty,” you say with a pout and reach towards him, fingers grazing a knee. He pulls away sharply and clears his throat. 

“I’ll bring you something,” he says and leaves just as quickly. Once inside the kitchen, there were no witnesses, so he allowed himself to scream silently–at least this once. Having regained his composure, he prepares a quick drink–something sparkly, and grabs some mango from the fridge that he had already prepared earlier this morning.

He meets you on the deck again, his eyes following the path of the sweat dripping down your brown back; he is mesmerized by the slickness of your oil coated legs, the way they shine under the sun. You turn slightly to meet him, one arm draped across your breasts. He breathes out harshly, fighting for control.

Your arm is barely enough to contain them. They spill over the top, teasing him. 

He places the drink down on the small table next to you, and grabs a piece of mango from the plate with dextrous fingers. “Here, open up,” he commands gently and places the juicy slice of mango against your lips. You watch his gaze, how his heavy lids barely contain the heat in his eyes, the way his cheeks are rosy pink. You can’t help but notice how his lips remain parted, anticipating your next move. You smile against the fruit, watch the juice drip down his fingers before giving it a careful lick. 

He is in trouble, and he knows it. A jolt of electricity travels from where you grab his wrist, up his arm and throughout his body. He watches you with a mixture of horror and delight as you ignore the fruit pinched between fingers, to lick the side of his palm instead, where juice had made you sticky. 

He was tired of this game. 

In a swift move, he grabs your wrist instead and is on you, the lawn chair creaking underneath the weight of both of you. His mouth is hot and moist against yours. He invades your mouth despite your muffled protests, and sucks on your tongue eliciting a soft moan from you. 

You think, for the first time, perhaps your teasing had gone a little bit too far.

You try to distract him, mention that he is being wasteful now that the piece of mango laid forgotten where it fell; trapped somewhere between your chests. Sanji smiles.

“Waste not, want not,” he declares with a grin. He lowers himself enough to suck the piece of mango with his open mouth. You are unsure why but it makes you shiver. “Mm, there’s more,” he says almost in a pur, and he is licking the slick juice left behind. He follows the path that dripped sideways under one breast. He continues to lick and suck, despite your fingers in his hair, doing a poor job at pushing him away. 

He is relentless. He ignores you.

His mouth continues to lick, suck and bite his way down your soft belly. His fingers press against the dips and rolls on your sides, taking pleasure in your softness, how good it felt to grip you; all of you.

Your back stiffens as he gets near the top of your bikini bottom where his tongue runs along the seam, back and forth. He is watching you, as if looking for the merest sign of weakness.

“Don’t,” you breathed out in a hiss. Your eyes glance sideways, thinking perhaps you heard someone coming back; perhaps it was your imagination.

“Why?” he asks, slipping an index finger under the elastic. You bite back a whimper. Sanji pulls on it just enough to slip his tongue under it. He pushes a little further, feels the soft tickle of your hair and hums to keep himself from moaning. “I thought this is what you wanted?” The heel of his palm is on your cunt, and he rubs at your clit gently, in circles. “I just want to please you. I live to please.”

Your body shudders, and you moan. As you toss your head, you are blinded by the bright sun. Spots dance in your vision. You drape a hand over your face to shield yourself from further punishment, and to hide your embarrassment.

His hands were on your thighs, and you almost cast caution into the wind when this time you definitely heard footsteps. Sanji hears them too and brings his hands up as you sit up with a jolt, holding them there as if to admit retreat. 

“I meant what I said,” he says, tilting his head and smiling wide. You are floored at his feigned innocence. Sanji reaches for the abandoned fruit. It was warm now as it sat cooking under the sun. He brings another slice of mango to your mouth. This time, you open up for him. He slides it in, leaving his index and middle finger a second too long in your mouth. “If you’re thirsty still later tonight. I’ll bring some mango juice to your bedroom.”

He gets up as Luffy approaches.

“I want mango juice too!” Luffy declares, fists on his hips, chest sticking out. Sanji drops a heavy hand on his shoulder as he walks past him.

“No. Not for you.”