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starryhutcherson · 7 months ago

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━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones.

It’s no different today.

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils.

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it.

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you.

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom.

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is.

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.”

Mike scoffs.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.”

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas.

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.”

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation.

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air.

“If anything happens, call me.”

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream.

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that.

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.”

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out.

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity.

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild.

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so.

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you.

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode.

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this.

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly.

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat.

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks.

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble.

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.”

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.”

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth.

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.”

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!”

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house.

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!”

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!”

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is.

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in.

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it.

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle.

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him.

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.”

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down.

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak.

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever.

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face.

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up.

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you.

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you.

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking.

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed.

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you.

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so.

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter.

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon.

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing.

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to.

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities.

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be.

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink.

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples.

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him.

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton.

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor.

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his.

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you.

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge.

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps.

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you.

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body.

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly.

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch.

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes.

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently.

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw.

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless.

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach.

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you.

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute.

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him.

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it.

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does.

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins.

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you.

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same.

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it.

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake.

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls.

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well.

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace.

He’s found his new familiar.

masterlist

✩‧₊

#mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #peeta mellark smut #hunger games #michael schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson angst #josh hutcherson fluff

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starscabaret · 1 month ago

Note

Omg, I love yandere cowboy!! I’ll call him David cause the name Lane reminds me of someoneDavid x a chubby reader? You said he’s careful with the reader but at the same time he’s really strong, right? So, he is kinda rough with her while they make love. Him thinking you being chubby you can take it better. At first it hurts a lot but reader gets used to it and even enjoys it

Cowboy Yandere! Lane x Chubby Fem Reader ✧.*

pairing : yandere! lane x chubby fem reader

summary : quick drabble to this ask, started this last night, edited the best I could.

authors note : im still alive just busy with college but, im always happy to answer ask if I have time I am more motivated to write if I know itll bring someone joy, please give me feedback on this, it was a biggg task

warnings : nsfw, teasing, first-time having sex, fingering, slight argument, PIV sex, daddy kink, breeding, mating press, etc

You and Lane had been on a few dates ever since he saw you at your local honky tonk bar, on the county line. Since then you two had been almost inseparable, very much due to Lane’s unabashed obsession with you. He took you on dates very often and spent as much time with you as you allowed when he wasn’t working. He was courting you, yes, but you’d never had anyone lay it on so strong. It was bliss, having someone be all about you, especially your favorite cowboy. Lane insisted on you being his “ol lady” after your first date, but you wanted to give it time, and for you, he yielded… for now.

With no date or plans with your cowboy arranged for the day, you set out downtown for a day of antique shopping and sweet treats. As you are leaving an ice cream shop, a man stops you.

“Hey Miss, where’d you get the ice cream, I can’t find the place?” the kind stranger asks.

And just as you begin to answer him, you hear an all too familiar roar and hum.

“Y/N ! Get your little ass in this truck now.” Lane shouts from the window of his truck as pulls up beside you and the man.

Embarrassed by his outburst you turn to the man, “Two shops down, sorry about that sir, have a good day!” you rush out, running over to the passenger side of Lane’s truck cone in hand.

As you get in slamming the door, you glare at him before he can even speak, “Lane have you lost your damn mind? Screaming and cursing at me in public!?”

“No, I think YOU have lost your damn mind, you know I don’t like it when you curse little lady, and more importantly who the hell was that guy?” he shoots back at you as he darts off down the road to God knows where.

“Are you serious right now? Just some fucking guy asking where I got the ice cream from.” you roll your eyes at his possessiveness.

“Serious as a heart attack, sweetheart. Now eat it before it melts,” he commands.

“I thought you had business to take care of today, Lane?” you ask accusingly.

“Did, it’s taken care of now. You are coming to my house; I’m making you supper.” he states.

“Ugh you Brute, didn’t ask, didn’t call or text, you’re lucky I walked downtown.” you sigh out irritated.

The rest of the ride to Lane’s house was a quiet one as you both brewed in your thoughts and slight irritation with one another. You’d been to his home before, when he took you on a scenic walk and picnic around the property for a date and tried to convince you to move in.

Once you had arrived and settled in Lane spoke up, “Go in the master bedroom and wash up so you can help me please doll face.”

Once you entered his bedroom, you breathed in deeply, it smelled completely of him, of his manly musky scent that drove you crazy.

Making your way to his bathroom sink you begin washing your hands, it is not long after that Lane’s tall form is pressed against your plump backside.

“Hi, honeybee,” he spoke as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Hi Lane.” you purred as you leaned into him.

“Come sit with me on the bed, we have time.” he spoke as he took your hand guiding you back into his neat and rustic bedroom.

Sitting you on his lap he begins to kiss all over your face and down to your neck. Your hands move to wrap around his neck and steady yourself.

His lips meet yours as his hand presses at the back of your head, as you launch into a searing kiss. Tongues down one another’s throat, as you suck and caress each other’s tongue with urgency.

The kiss creates a warmth in your core, like everything else about him. You could be embarrassed but it is impossible to not feel him hardening beneath your thighs, letting you know he feels the same.

He reluctantly pulls away from the kiss to stare you in the eyes, as you both attempt to catch your breath.

He moves his hands down your body to grope and fondle all of your curves with stars in his eyes.

“Gorgeous girl,” he murmurs.

He is so entranced by looking at and squeezing your body, that your moans sound like white noise to him. He also doesn’t notice the dampness caused by your pussy crying for him. Or the darkening spot on the zipper of his blue jeans where his tip began to leak precum.

What he does notice is you, taking off your top. You’re not sure what urged you to do so. Perhaps it was wanting to show yourself off even more, to make him physically drool over you.

“Aww sweet girl, getting undressed for me? You want me to see more of your pretty self?” he asks as he continues his hands-on exploration of your body.

“Ugh yes.” you moan out at his teasing praise.

“Well let me help,” he says as he stands you both up.

Before you can move to unbutton your skirt, he is on his knees in front of you, face buried in your soft pudgy tummy, as his fingers knead at the fat. He pecks away the skin as he unbuttons and pulls your skirt down.

The second your skirt is down, and you are left in your underwear and bra, you expect his eyes to fall on your pussy clad with embarrassingly wet panties, but they don’t, his eyes and hands launch to the fat of your thighs.

“Pretty, thick thing huh? Just perfect for me, aren’t ya?” he asks as his hands run up and down your legs stopping to grope the fat of your ass cheeks and around your hips.

Dumbfounded, you don’t respond, you just continue to stare down at his handsome face in awe as you caress his short dirty blonde locks.

He rises up from his knees to tower over you, while taking off his tailored t-shirt revealing his chest and torso that is paler than the rest of him due to hours of toiling in the sun. You eye the raised scar on his chest from what you recognize as a brand, the number 4. You recall he regarded it as his lucky number.

Once his shirt is removed, he wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer to him.

“May I?” he asks as he fiddles with the clasp of your bra.

“Please.” you moan out.

“Yes mam,” he flashes you his big bright white smile. He was elated at your trust and want for him. It created a feeling of fullness in his chest at having you this way, he hoped to have you fully in every way soon. If he had his way it would have been the day you two met.

Once your bra is removed and discarded somewhere in his room, he gently guides you to lie in the center of his bed. You reach your arms out and whimper, gesturing for him to join you. Missing the warmth of his body against yours, and of his large hands laying tender touches over your plump form.

“I’m coming sweetheart, don’t rush me.” he breathes out teasingly, staring at you almost naked on his bed as he works on unbuckling his belt and pulling down his jeans.

You try not to stare at the bulge in his boxers. Lane was a big guy, you weren’t shocked. Your eyes avoided his dick, to keep yourself from jumping his bones.

Making his way onto his bed, straddling your plump flattened thighs, he continues your make-out session with even more fervor.

Pulling away he brings your hand to his mouth after trailing his kisses from your mouth, to down your neck, and up your arm, finishing with a darling peck to the back of your hand.

“You want me?” he asks against your hand.

You move your head to nod but stop yourself as you know Lane will only accept a verbal answer, “Please,” you breathe out, breathless from your arousal and activities.

“Atta girl, Lift up for me” he praises as he moves to slide your panties down your hips and thighs, eventually throwing them somewhere off to the side.

You draw your legs up, feet planted on his bed, spreading your legs, to make room for him between them.

Being naked in front of anyone is enough to give anyone anxiety, but since your first meeting, Lane has done nothing but praise your beauty. Just your smile brought him to his knees, practically begging to cater to your every need. By the time his eyes moved down the rest of your face and body, he was enchanted. He always ensured you had some point of physical contact when together, claiming he couldn’t get enough of his “gorgeous girl”.

Your anxiety was low, you were happy to share your body with him, as he had proved he could be trusted with it. Trusted with you, your heart, your every need.

One of his big hands moves to spread your folds so he can have a peek, “Ahh look at that pretty flower, you been hiding it from me?” he teases.

His thumb rubs your clit as his other hand holds you open, so he can see all of you. He refuses to have anything hidden from his view. His thumb gently makes its way down your puffy wet folds, to your hole which throbs at the sight and feel of him.

As your greedy wet hole practically sucks his thumb in, he groans aloud, “God you’re so pretty Y/N, please say I can have you?”

He peers up at you as his hands continue their exploration of your pussy.

“Yes Lane, I want you,” you respond, throwing your head back into his fluffy white cotton pillows.

“Daddy’ll take care of ya,” He replies moving up to peck your sweet lips.

His words didn’t even catch you off guard, it was very clear that Lane was the kind of man to provide, lead, and care for you beyond your wildest dreams. Hence why your relationship was moving fast by your standards, of course still much too slow for him.

With that promise, Lane began prepping you. He swiftly pulls you into his lap, setting his back against the headboard. You go to lay your legs flat in front of you, having no clue about his goal. He stops you immediately, pulling your back to his front, and splaying each of your legs over his muscular thighs, making you wide open to him. His head comes to rest with his chin on your shoulder, looking down so he can see the mess he is making between your legs.

You feel two fingers enter you as his thumb prods at your clit again. You are beginning to drip all over his hands and soon his sheets, as he works you like some sort of familiar machine. As you feel your climax approaching, he swiftly removes his fingers. You whine out, wanting, no needing them back in you.

“Don’t worry doll I’m not done,” he whispers in your ear kissing the side of your face and urging you to look at him.

He plunges his two middle fingers back into you at an alarming rate. Your blush has spread down your chest at the feeling of him fucking you on his fingers. He continues his brutal pace even as he feels your wetness increase.

He doesn’t even come to a stop when you begin to go stiff in his arms, moaning his name loudly repeatedly as your orgasm forces your thighs to tremble and try to close around him.

“Please Lane” you beg.

“Please what sweet girl?” he hums and asks as his fingers slow.

“You, want you.” you breathe out.

“You know I can’t say no to you” he winks as he takes you off his lap, laying you on the bed.

On his knees between your legs, he removes his boxers and you don’t know what to look at first.

His large cock is hard and dripping between the deep v shape of his muscular hips, It’s covered in short almost blonde tufts of hair at the base. His balls swing beneath it like they’d been aching for you.

He comes in closer to you, leaning over you, centering himself between your thighs. He lays his dick on your soft fat tummy. Going past your belly button, and letting you feel the warmth, throb, and weight of him.

You both gaze down at the sight in awe, letting out moans and groans at the erotic image. You have to bite your finger to keep yourself from begging him to fuck you.

His hand wraps around it giving it a few strokes before he’s tapping the heavy tip at your clit.

He groans and moves his other hand to grope one of your breasts as he continues to move his tip through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“Beautiful tits, beautiful pussy, beautiful tummy, could you be any more perfect for me?” he speaks up while looking into your eyes.

“Glad you like it,” you breathe out biting your lip.

“Like it? No, I love it, I adore it, sweetheart. Matter of fact I’m more sure than ever of you being mine. My ol lady, my girlfriend, my boo, whatever you wanna call it. You’re mine. That means no more talking to random fuckers in the street, and no more cursing.” He states hand on the side of your neck rubbing his thumb over the column of your delicate throat.

You truly didn’t realize how upset he was by earlier events until he slid his whole length into you at once. His hips meeting yours. His bush tickles your clit. Causing you to moan out and your hole to seize around him. He let out the deepest groan you had ever heard from him.

You could only respond, “Yes Daddy” while sucking in a sharp breath. Even if his possessive almost controlling nature upset you, you did not care in the moment. You were the fullest, wettest, and warmest you’d ever been and it was because of him.

“That’s right darling, and you won’t be bad again. Ill make sure of it.” He responds with hearts in his eyes but sternness in his tone.

He really meant it, pulling his hips all the way out just to slam back into you in seconds. You were wet enough, and he felt your pussy wrapped around him begging for him to move. You knew that Lane was strong as an ox. All-American football player, horse rider, champion bull rider, and all-around farm boy, it wasn’t until now that you realized just how strong his hips, and legs were. He was absolutely plowing you, better than any field.

He felt so good inside of you, as his dick kept stroking, and rubbing every spot inside you. His strong arms caged you underneath him, as he bent down to kiss your lips, never once slowing in the pace or strength of his thrust.

You open your mouth to tell him to slow down, to pull out, to let up, but your brain short circuits with him inside of you fucking you so thoroughly. It is not long till his headboard is slamming against the wall with every thrust, which would drown out the sound of anything you had to say.

He continues his powerful thrust only slowing to move your positions a little bit. Now you can catch your breath to speak up, “ ’s too much Lane please, my pussy is gonna hurt.” you breathe out, not mentioning any pain. The pain that did come from the stretch and sheer force was not so much that it interfered with your pleasure at all.

“Whaddya mean too much doll? I picked you for a reason, I know you’re strong, firm, plump, and beautiful. Perfect for me to use how we both want.” he coos at you as he moves your position into a mating press.

“Don’t tell me you can’t take a dick? A beautiful well-built woman like you?” He asks as he brings his hips up high and all the way back down into you in your new position.

You give no answer at first too cock drunk, at the feel of him in this new position. You thought you were full before but by god, you thought you might die as his balls hit your tight ass hole, and his muscular thighs held down your own. You couldn’t see him entering you, he was so big and going so fast. All you could see was your tits bouncing over your chubby folded-over body, and his over yours holding your legs up.

With his arms still wrapped around your legs he falls onto you bringing his chest down to yours, you smell his heady, manly scent, making you moan out at each thrust he gives you.

His hips do all the work as he continues slamming into you with loud plaps, you hardly notice the drops of both your arousals squirting all over your tummy from the impact.

“Huh? Making you feel good yeah?” he moans into your neck, his face pressed passionately against yours in an effort to prevent himself from spilling inside you.

Now that was a question you could answer, “Yes!” you scream out as you pulse around his cock.

“See doll, Daddy knows what he’s doing.” He pulls away to smirk at you. You feel your stomach and your hole begin to quiver around him. With him on top there’s not much you can do to brace yourself except wrap your arms around his neck above you.

Recognizing the feel of you around him, he keeps at the same pace, his tip hitting the same spot inside of you over and over again.

You tighten your arms around his neck and hold him close to you as you cum all over his dick.

“Atta girl” he groans pecking you on your pursed lips. With his hand on your jaw as his thumb lovely brushes over your face, he continues pushing and pulling out of your pussy at a slower pace. You watch as his eyes move down to watch the way he splits you open as your hole still breathes around him.

It’s not long before he pushes into you with renewed strength. With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself inside of you cumming in his little flower.

His groan is loud as he falls on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You were perfect, more than I ever could have imagined. Ya okay doll?” he asks turning to you breathing heavily.

“Yes, lane felt so good” you mewl out, “It’ll hurt when you pull out.” you remark, still feeling him inside of you.

“To be expected, ya took me so well.” He smirks. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it sweetheart, as soon as I pull out you’ll feel my cum dripping out, that’ll cool ya down.”

“Then I’ll take you to the bath, wash you up, bring you back to bed, and give er’ some kisses, how’s that sound?” he asks.

Caught up in your ethereal look of bliss, after your lovemaking and orgasm, he can’t stop admiring and kissing your hot blushing face. His smile can’t be contained, having you in that way made his heart beat faster than any strenuous activity. You let him have you fully. To take care of you stirred something in him, he could only compare to raising up animals, a good harvest, or a job well done.

It was now, he realized you’d forever be his favorite thing to care for, his pride and joy. He’d stop at nothing to make you the most kept woman in the world. For the rest of his life, any of his success would be to impress and provide for you.

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wonryllis · 10 months ago

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previous poll won fic: watermelon sugar ( jake )

TEASER!!!

GOT MY EYES ON YOU (revamp) · heeseung

strangers to lovers classical trope, college au, popular frat guy with quiet girl trope, quite literally only has eyes for his girl, loves to make her heart race tropes kinda thing. lotss of fluff, smut, some sprinkles of angst and a happy ending. typical popular frat & basketball captain!heeseung with his shy and inexperienced!angel. the always chased after guy chasing someone for the first time. the 'fuck i didn't know i got the hots for someone like that' trope. my writing was not that good then so will be heavily revamping this series into a oneshot(new scenes) with probably the third installment included. like 15k word vomit probably??

DADDY ISSUES: MY LITTLE GIRL (revamp) · jay

neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, smut, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his doll!girl, heavy on daddy issues and dark topics alike. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. did i mention it starts with jay babysitting you? kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. first part was 16k so will include the next part and make it a oneshot but if it gets like 25k-30k then i'll probably do it in two parts.

CALL ME DESTINY (new) · jake

an online to offline love au, loosely based off of the cdrama love o2o, college setting, smut, literally tooth rooting fluff and crack, angst... what's that? dumb x dumber couple with their fed up friends, slight misunderstandings and miscommunications but it's just full of crack no hard feelings. flirty nerd!jake with his online game mentor!crush. know each other online and offline but don't know it's the same person. the 'im crazy about her but i don't have the guts to tell her' trope. they're just so over each and everyone can see it but them, about 30-40% done. hmm i got no idea how long it'll be maybe 10k or more not sure.

#☆ ! polls #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay smut #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake smut

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 8 days ago

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@inmyheaddd

HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY JUDEEE 💖💖 WORDS CANNOT AND WILL NOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I LOVEE YOUU AND I REALLY HOPE THAT THIS DAY IS ONE OF THE BEST FOR YOUUU BECAUSE YOUR DESERVE IT SO MCUHHH!!🎂🥳🎉😘 YOURE ONE OF THE SWEETEST, KINDEST, MOST AMAZING PEOPLE, I KNOW AND IM SO GLAD TO HAVE MET YOUUUU

(AND ALSOOO I MANAGED TO WRITE SOMETHING SO LONG THAT TUMBLR WONT LET ME POST IT ALL OM THE SAME POST SOOOOO THERE’S TWO PARTSSS 😭😭 SORRY GIRLLL )

THIS IS SET BEFORE AVERYYYY (TOBIAS IS STILL ALIVE JUST NOT A FEATURE)

HERE IS MY BIRTHDAY PRESENT TO YOUUU, I HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY…

title: jude’s birthday (part 1)

pairing: jude x jameson hawthorne

“I hate how long it takes popcorn to pop,” Xander groaned putting his head in his hands as he stared dismally brown bag of popcorn doing pirouettes in the microwave.

Jude laughed, shaking her head, “it’s like two minutes.”

“Two whole minutes,” he replied, eyes widened with hyperbole, “outrageous isn’t it!”

“You are funny Xand,” she sighed.

It was one of Jude and Xander’s classic movie nights, they were hosted at least once a month and were quite the occasion. But, as usual, Xander was being extremely impatient for his popcorn. If Jude had a pound for every time they had this conversation, she’d probably be richer than him.

“It wasn’t a joke I really think that-“ the ding of the microwave cut him off.

“You were saying?” she raised an eyebrow, folding her arms in challenge.

“In theory,” Xander began, “two minutes always feels a lot longer than it seems.”

“Mmm sure,” she grinned playfully.

Xander had been Jude’s best friend forever now. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. He’d been there for so long he was automatically part of every thought she had, connected to her heart. They knew each other like the back of their hands, an interlocking history of stories shared between them.

“Let’s change the conversation topic,” he said quickly, averting his eyes.

Jude shrugged, leaning against the countertop behind her, “I don’t mind this one.”

“Well I do,” he countered, “let’s talk about you and Jameson.”

Jude’s stomach somersaulted at the sound of his name.

“Xander! Lower your voice!” she hissed, looking over her shoulders.

The kitchen didn’t exactly have thick walls. She’d never actually meant to tell Xander about her feelings for Jameson, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t tell anyone. But Xander was her best friend and there were only so many things she could keep from him. It turned out that birthday presents were significantly easier than crushes. Every second she tried to keep it, she felt like a liar, so eventually the truth was just revealed.

“Relax,” he shrugged, “he’s not even home.”

“Doesn’t matter, you promised me you wouldn’t speak about it,” Jude said, giving him a pointed look.

“So as your best friend you really expected me to say nothing about him to you?” he raised the one eyebrow that wasn’t burnt off.

“Well no but-“

“So you’ve spoken to him?” Xander asked, excitement glimmering in his eyes.

“I talk to him every day,” she sighed, “we’re friends, remember?”

“Ouch,” he winced, “the friendzone.”

Jude laughed, “you sound like a documentary voiceover.”

Somehow Xander always managed to make her laugh. He had the rare quality to pretty much turn any situation into a positive light. Jude loved that about him.

“Maybe I should make a documentary about you guys,” he pondered, putting the voice back on, “the Jujubear backs away once again, retreading from the rare Jameson raccoon dog-“

“Raccoon dog!” she yelped, unable to stop herself.

“He gives those vibes,” he shrugged in reply.

“He does not!”

“I think you have an unconscious bias,” Xander grinned, wiggling his eyebrow.

“Nope I’m very conscious of my bias actually,” she stuck her tongue out, laughing.

Jude had liked Jameson for a while now. Maybe a bit more than a while. Initially, Xander and Jude had been the two to click, best friends since the day Xander had found her lost doll, the one with her name engraved on the front. She remembered the moment distinctly, a little boy with intelligent eyes and a shy smile walking towards her. She’d been crying and was still a little bleary eyes, yet her expression totally flipped when he revealed the doll and asked her if it was hers. From then on they’d just been stuck with each other.

Jude had always been close to all of the brothers in her own way, growing up around them just naturally made them gravitate together. But with Jameson it had always felt that bit different, that bit more special. He made her feel free, like she could breathe, like the stress of life didn’t matter, like no weight was heavy on her chest anymore. She loved how she felt with him, how he made her feel inside.

“So have you made a move yet,” Xander asked her, a mischievous smile lacing his lips.

She stared at him, her face saying it all, “what do you think?”

“Jude!” he exclaimed, melodramatically throwing his head into his hands.

“It’s really hard,” she defended, arms up like a convicted criminal.

“You’re just scared,” he told her.

Xander was always honest, annoyingly honest. He didn’t even embellish the truth to soften the blow. Jude knew he had a point, she was scared of ruining over a decade of friendship with Jameson. It wasn’t exactly something she wanted to lose over her feelings. She’d rather be friends than nothing.

Still, she was slightly stubborn and didn’t want to fully admit that quite yet, “am not,” she countered.

“Are too!” Xander quipped, “and you can’t even admit it so you’re also in denial.”

“Eat your popcorn,” she grumbled, not looking directly into his eyes.

“Ahhhh so I am right but you can’t accept it,” he grinned, throwing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, “I see you Judesicle.”

“I swear to you Xander, I will steal all your blueberry scones if this conversation doesn’t end here,” she glared at him.

His face paled slightly and his jaw hung slack, “you wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” she said, with a dark smile.

Xander knew better than to mess with that face. He’d only seen it a couple of times but he recognised it always as a direct warning sign.

“Fine I’ll end the conversation,” he replied with a sigh.

Jude grinned, satisfied, before he flicked her forehead. She was more in shock than in pain but complained just as well. Xander teased her further but she could only smile. He was everything. A ray of sunshine. If she was drowning, he was her lifeline. He was always there, no matter what.

“You know I’ve decided something,” Xander said, popping another piece of popcorn in his mouth.

“Are you finally going to properly grow your eyebrows out?” Jude guessed, “seriously I miss them.”

“What? No! Ouch!”

“Sorry,” she said quickly, reaching for her water glass.

“I’m going to get you two together,” Xander announced.

Jude almost choked, “what?”

“You and Jamie,” he shrugged.

“What happened to ending the conversation,” she exclaimed with wide eyes.

Xander only smiled, “you never said for how long!”

“Hawthornes and their loopholes,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. Of course, the one time she hadn’t been meticulously specific with her words Xander had taken advantage.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he replied, “anyways I am committed now, to make this relationship happen.”

Jude knew that look in his eyes that stubbornly determined look that he often had when one of his experiments was constantly failing. ‘Failure is just success waiting to happen’, he’d once told her. It was safe for anyone to say that Xander was an optimist.

“No you’re not,” she shook her head, “you’re going to stay out of it.”

“You wish,” he pokes his tongue out, “think of me as your wingman.”

“Well can my ‘wingman’ stop meddling with my love life,” Jude deadpanned, folding her arms.

“That’s all a wingman is meant to do!” he yelled, exasperated, “you want to take away my destiny Jude? My one life goal, the desire and aspiration of my soul, the thing that makes my heart-“

“Fine.” she said dryly, “you can help-“

A wide grin spread across his lips, “I knew I’d make you crack.”

“But-“

“Why is there a but!” he pouted.

“On my terms,” she finished.

“Okay…” Xander said slowly, “but your terms can’t be ‘don’t help’.”

Jude made a face.

“You’re so predictable,” he teased, ruffling her hair, “you have to remember I’m the loophole master, you’re not getting anything past me.”

She rolled her eyes, smoothing down the hair on top of her head, “fine, but here are the terms so pay attention. Term one, don’t make it obvious because I swear Xand, if he finds out I’m going to kill you.”

“You know for you to get together he has to know you like him right?” Xander said.

“Yes but knowing you, he’ll find out way to early and if he doesn’t like me back-“

“Which I think he does,” he interrupted.

Jude groaned, she’d been in this cycle with him too many times, “stop feeding into my delusions!”

“But I’m your wingman!”

“Just!” she sighed running her fingers through her hair, “anyway, if he doesn’t like me back the it’ll get awkward so try and retain yourself.”

Xander saluted, “roger that!”

“Second term-“

“How long is this list?” he asked impatiently, somehow he had the attention span of three year old for conventional instructions but not for complex maths.

“You agreed to my terms remember so there’s as many as I like,” she beamed, batting her eyelashes sweetly.

He groaned. He’d missed a loophole.

“Second term: no grand schemes to noticeably leave us together,” she announced, “please try and be subtle.”

“Subtle is my middle name!”

“Xander,” Jude said flatly, “you’re about a subtle as an elephant doing a ballet routine on a pogo stick wearing multicoloured polka dots.”

“I thought you liked that about me,” he said, large brown eyes wide.

“I do,” she reassured him, “just not when it comes to me and Jameson.”

“Rewind,” he cut in, “isn’t term two the same as term one?”

“No, term one is essentially don’t reveal I like Jameson with your mouth,” she explained, “term two is don’t reveal I like Jameson with your actions.”

“What’s term three; avoid obvious body language?” he scoffed.

“Wow you’re picking this up faster than usual!” Jude teased.

“Hey!”

“No sneaky looks,” she instructed, “obvious eye contact, smirks or that wiggly eyebrow thing you do.”

“This?” Xander asked, pointing to his eyebrow and a half, wiggling them up and down.

“Exactly,” she said, “please don’t do that.”

His expression dropped, “but I love making my eyebrow wiggle!”

“Restrain yourself wingman,” she replied, patting his shoulder.

He gave a long and exaggerated sigh, “for the good of your relationship, I will.”

“There is no relationship,” Jude muttered, “don’t get my hopes up.”

“Yet… there is no relationship yet,” he corrected, “I’m not getting your hopes up, I just have a whole lot of faith that this is going to work out.”

She sighed, with a small smile silently questioning what she’d ever done to deserve a best friend with such a beautiful soul in her life.

“Okay,” she confided, “fourth term Grayson and Nash do not find out.”

Xander hesitated for a long second before replying. Jude’s chest seized in panic. No one else was supposed to know.

“Hate to break it to you,” he winced, “but I think they already know.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry but-“

“Why would you tell them!” she exclaimed, with wide eyes, her heart racing.

Part of her almost felt betrayed. It wasn’t like Xander to spill anything she’d told him, in fact he knew nearly all of her secrets. One side of her brain was telling her he’d never do that and the other was saying the proof is in the pudding. All Jude knew was that she was starting to get a headache.

“I didn’t say anything I swear,” he defended.

“I trusted you Xand!”

“I swear on my last blueberry scone I said nothing!” he said quickly, holding his hands in the air so she could see none of his fingers were crossed.

Jude knew then he was telling the truth. Not just from the uncrossed fingers or the fact he swore on his last blueberry scone, but from the earnest look shining through his eyes, that bled into his face. Guilt began to gnaw at her internal organs for assuming so quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to jump to con-“

“It’s fine,” he shrugged with no hint of offence, “don’t worry about it.”

“How do they know then?” Jude wondered aloud, confused.

Maybe they’d overheard one of her and Xander’s many conversation on this topic? Maybe she’d spoken in her sleep subconsciously? Maybe Grayson was a secret mindreader? She’d always suspected to last one anyway.

“Jude,” Xander sighed, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, “has it ever occurred to you that you make it a teensy bit obvious?”

She giggled and shook her head, “I don’t make it obvious.”

He looked at her.

“Do I?” she murmured, anxiously.

“Let’s just say I think the only person who doesn’t know you like Jameson is Jameson,” Xander said slowly.

She stood still, paralysed, “please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish I could but as your best friend and newly appointed wingman-“ he paused to wink, “- I have to be honest with you.”

“This is so bad,” she groaned.

“Did you miss the part where I mentioned Jameson not knowing?”

“Of course he knows Xander!” she cried, “do you even know how perceptive he is!?”

“Not when it comes to girls, trust me.”

“I’ve messed everything up all over some stupid feelings for a stupid boy with really cute, get-lost-in-for-hours green eyes!” Jude said, raking her fingers through her hair.

“You haven’t messed anything up, you’re overthinking entirely,” Xander soothed, putting an arm around her, “but can we keep fangirling over my brother to a minimum please, I do not need to hear that.”

“But you’re my wingman,” she teased, looking up at him.

“Touché Jude, touché,” he sighed.

“But fine I’ll keep it a minimum around you,” she replied.

“Thank you,” he said, “and I promise you Jameson has no idea you like him, trust me.”

She glanced over him sceptically, questioning his logic silently, as much as she did trust him, the signs pointed the other way.

“When have I ever let you down Jude? Have some faith in me,” he said.

He had a point. Xander had never let her down. Not in all the time she’d known him. No matter how big or small it was, he was by her side immediately. All his promises were kept, all the shared secrets, hidden.

“Okay then,” she told him, “I believe you.”

“Great,” he flashed her a grin, “now you go to bed whilst I go and work out phase one of mission:” he took a deep breath, “get-my-best-friend-and-brother-to-go-out-because-they’re-both-too-scared-to-make-the-first-move-which-is-totally-dumb- because-they’re-clearly-made-for-each-other.”

“Well that’s a bit of a mouthful,” Jude replied dryly.

“I shortened it to mission JJ,” Xander said, moving his hand across the air as if revealing a title.

Jude looked at him, head tilted to the side.

“Mission Jude and Jameson,” he clarified, “obviously,”

“Right…”

“Anyway I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” he said, “you need to get your beauty sleep.”

“Hey!” she yelled, whacking his arm, “and what happened to our movie night? There’s cold popped popcorn in that bowl for about six people.”

His eyes widened suddenly remembering their plans, “oh yeah.”

“And I made homemade brownies this afternoon per your request!” she said, “did I do that for nothing?”

“How could I forget!” he replied, “change of plans, movie night first, plotting mission JJ tomorrow.”

“I call first dibs on the movie,” Jude said before he could get there.

“No fair!” he whined.

“You snooze you lose Hawthorne,” she grinned, “besides I made the tray of brownies that were about to enjoy so surely I should get first pick.”

“But I’m your wingman,” Xander pouted, trying to win her over with the puppy dog eyes.

Luckily for Jude, she’d gotten good at resisting. It was certainly not an easy task, something about the pleading expression and longing face from his eyes reeled you in like a sirens song.

“Wingman shwingman,” she stuck her tongue out, “we’re watching ‘bones and all’.”

“No not this torture!” Xander protested, “not again! It’s like the fifth time this week!”

“Second actually,” she corrected him, grabbing the box of brownies, “and don’t lie, you secretly love it. “

“No I don’t,” he replied, “it’s disturbing Jude, utterly disturbing that you enjoy it.”

“It isn’t!”

“And you always cry at the end even when you know what coming,” he rolled his eyes, carrying the popcorn and drinks.

Jude gasped, “don’t judge me, you bawled it on Tuesday night!”

Xander didn’t look her in the eye and made his way to their movie room. Despite Hawthorne house making multiple movie theatres Jude and Xander had created their own. It had all begun when they were ten, making pillow forts and now it had become this. A large white screen sat towards the back of the room, a projector ready to play the movie. The room was adorned with fairy lights and was cozy and warm. The sofa was a mess of fluff and blankets, dozens of mismatched pillows and soft plushies sat there, waiting to be cuddled.

“Do you really want to cry again tonight?” Xander sighed, slumping down.

“Yes,” she replied, sitting beside him with a grin.

“Do you really want me to cry again tonight?” he asked, trying to play on her heartstrings.

“Brownies,” she sang, waving the box towards him, a little incentive went a long way with Xander.

He glared at her for all of two seconds before taking the box, grumbling, “fine.”

“See I knew you secretly loved this movie,” Jude beamed, pressing play.

“I do not but I love you and I love brownies so I’ll brace it,” Xander said, taking a bite.

“Good idea.”

***

The credits rolled across the screen, not that Jude could even read them, her eyes were too blurred with tears. How did it get her every time?

“It’s so beautiful,” she choked out.

No matter how many times she watched it, the feeling never got old.

“Don’t cry you’ll set me off too,” Xander said, clearly trying to keep it together, wide brown eyes glossy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t shed a tear at the halfway mark,” she exclaimed.

“I’m actually hardcore Judsicle,” he responded, “made soully of masculinity and weightlifting and football and…”

“And scones?” she raised a brow.

“Well of course I’m 98% scone,” he smiled.

“Naturally,” she grinned.

“Speaking of which you know what would be amazing,” Xander said.

The way he said amazing, made Jude question the next thing that might come out of his mouth, partly because she knew Xander so well it would be something utterly bizarre but equally wonderful that wouldn’t fail to surprise her.

“What?”

“If we cut a blueberry scone in half and put icecream in the middle,” he proposed.

“Like a scone icecream sandwich,” she asked.

“Exactly!” he clicked fingers, “that would be revolutionary.”

“I’ll stick to my brownies,” she laughed.

“Oooo ooo ooo,” he bounced excitedly, shaking her arm, “what if i sandwiched one of your brownies in a scone, now that would be-“

“Completely ruining a culinary masterpiece.”

Jude’s heart skipped a beat. It was only his voice that could do that to her. She shot a look at Xander that said ‘I thought he was out’ which Xander only shrugged in response to. Jude dared to look in Jameson’s direction and there he stood, loose tie, slightly messy hair, his top two buttons undone and blazer jacket slung over one shoulder. She noted the scratches on his patent shoes as well as the watch on his wrist which looked to be two minutes behind.

“Isn’t that right, Judy?” he grinned.

Butterflies attacked her stomach like an angry mob, hurling themselves at the walls. They fluttered around carelessly and bashfully. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her from smiling right back like an idiot.

She glared at him instead, “don’t call me that.”

“Okay…” he paused, “…Judy.”

“You’re back early,” she commented, regretting saying the words as soon as they left her mouth.

Why was she being so obvious when she’d literally just lectured Xander in not being obvious? She knew she was going to replay this moment over and over tonight and drive herself mad over it.

“Got tired,” he shrugged.

Jude’s eyes fell over his attire again, scanning it for any clues. Jameson wasn’t one to leave places early, he liked a good party and a couple of drinks. But judging by his state he hadn’t had many, if any. Her eyes caught when they met his collar. A perfect red stain was printed on the white, a pair of round lips leaving their mark.

It felt like a punch in the gut, her heart just plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t think he liked her so why did it hurt so much to come to the realisation he actually didn’t. Why feel sad over something she hadn’t even lost?

Jameson caught her looking, his eyes growing wide with some sort of panic, “this isn’t what it looks like,” he rushed.

“I know you well enough now Jameson,” Jude laughed it off, burying the pain, “I’m not your mother, you won’t be in trouble for kissing a girl.”

“Like our mother would care,” Xander murmured.

She’d almost forgotten he was sat there, watching the whole thing play out. Tonight, Jude knew she’d definitely be asking him to analyse every detail of this conversation with her.

“Oh I didn’t kiss anyone tonight,” Jameson replied.

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head towards his shirt, “lipstick says otherwise.”

He sighed, “I spilt whiskey down my shirt after getting a little tipsy and it stained, shame really I liked that shirt, anyway some guy offered me a spare shirt, one catch was he’d worn it the previous night, I didn’t even notice the lipstick stains until I was on my way back.”

She stared at him blankly, betraying no emotion with her face.

“You don’t believe me,” Jameson said.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she replied, tilting her head to the side.

“That’s why it’s true,” he pressed on, an inch of desperation in his voice.

“Okay,” Jude said.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

Jude smiled coyly.

Looking at his shirt now, it didn’t fit as well as his other ones. Usually Jameson’s clothes were expertly tailored to his body, this shirt hung too loose around his torso yet his arms made the fabric taut. All of the buttons were there, also uncommon for Jameson as he nearly always had one that was loose or had fallen off.

Still, leaving Jameson Hawthorne the mystery as to why she wouldn’t believe him was one thing that would surely play on his mind. And Jude wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of playing on his mind.

“Right I’m picking the next movie,” Xander announced, rushing to the movie box.

She groaned, “fine.”

“Don‘t give me that look I just sat through ‘bones and all’ for you,” he scowled.

“I love that movie,” Jameson grinned.

Jude look up at him, “you do?”

“I don’t,” Xander yelled from the corner.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I had no idea you liked it too.”

“Yeah I do,” she said.

“Maybe you two should watch it together sometime,” Xander said, plainly and simply, no weird signals or hidden messages, “it would save me from a few hours of torment.”

Jude smiled to herself. Maybe this wingman thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah maybe we should,” Jameson nodded.

Her heart leapt and began to race uncontrollably. He wanted to watch her favourite movie with her. She pinched herself just to make sure this moment was real.

“I’d be up for it,” she agreed.

“Soon then,” he said, “but now I have to go and shower, I don’t know what happened in this shirt and I don’t think I want to.”

She wrinkled her nose, “you should probably burn it after.”

He leant down, “you read my mind.”

Jude felt her cheeks burn.

“Enjoy your movie night,” he winked, “goodnight Judy.”

“Jude,” she snapped.

“Judy,” he sang, sauntering away.

She shook her head with a laugh and watched him until he was out of the door. Still, Xander and Jude were quiet until they were sure he was completely out of earshot.

“Well hello Mr and Mrs Flirty McFlirtison,” Xander exploded, bringing back the eyebrow wiggle.

“Xand!” she yelled, slapping his arm before burying her face into his shoulder to hide her blush.

“I mean I thought rom coms were bad but you two top that entirely,” he said.

“Oh shut it!” Jude tusked, “he wasn‘t even flirting.”

“Please,” he scoffed, “were we in the same room?”

“You’re totally making it out more than it is,” she rolled her eyes, “besides you saw the lipstick.”

“He explained it,” Xander defended.

“Likely story,” she sighed, sinking under a pile of blankets.

“You know it’s true, I saw you analysing,” he replied narrowing his eyes at her, “and usually I can always see through my brothers lying and my lie detector senses were not tingling.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not going to happen,” she said.

She needed to be real, honest with herself. The chances were slim, slimmer than slim. Maybe she could settle for just friends.

“Nu-uh I’ve started mission JJ now, it will be completed,” he replied a strong hard determination in his voice.

“Forget it Xand,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I have a talent for being annoyingly determined and persistent,” he sighed, “so sorry but no can do.”

She rolled her eyes, “what movie are we watching?”

He sensed the changed in subject and didn’t press her anymore. Another thing about Xander was his incredible ability to sense emotions and let things go when they needed to be let go.

“Finding Nemo,” he replied, “obviously.”

Jude looked at him for a moment. Time stood still and memories of their friendship played like a mini movie in her mind. Every movie night they’d had, every laugh they’d shared, every time he’d held her when she cried and every time she’d held him after his grandfather was horrible. Every moment, every second of her everything.

“Hey Xand,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“I love you,” she beamed.

A large smile spread across his lips before he swiftly tackled her with a classic Xander hug.

“Love you too Jujubear,” he said, “now where are those brownies, I need to make my brownie-scone sandwich concoction: the scrownie as I like to call it.”

“Did you just make that name up now?” she asked him.

“That obvious, huh?”

“You,” she said, “are one of a kind.”

“Best way to be,” he poked his tongue out pressing play on the movie.

***

Jude woke up with her head on Xander’s stomach. His long limbs were sprawled out every which way. She almost laughed at the sight. Light streamed through the curtains, giving her a perfect view of the chaos. Pillow there, sweatshirt here, half eaten bowl of popcorn there, Xander’s sock here. She noticed someone had covered them both over with a blanket.

Slowly sitting up, she stretched out her stiff body before she covered Xander back over with another blanket. Jude sighed, wiping the sleep from her eyes before untangling a piece of popcorn from her hair. That must’ve been from the midnight popcorn war. She smiled to herself and glanced at the screen, the jungle book was playing quietly the background, though the last thing she remembered watching was little women.

Groggily, she stood up and despite stretching, her legs and hips still clicked. She made her way to the kitchen, craving a warm drink. As she walked in she hit something hard and stumbled back. Jude felt her stomach drop as she fell backwards, panic seizing her throat, keeping her from yelling out. Inches from the floor, a strong hand grasped the small of her back, saving Jude from what seemed to be an inevitable crash into the tiles beneath her. Reeling her upwards and setting her straight, she met the emerald eyes of her saviour.

“Good morning,” he smiled softly.

She just stared, unable to form a coherent sentence or even a simple thank you. Jameson Hawthorne was stood there, shirtless, his arm still around her waist. An electric feeling tingled deep within her chest, a spark of sorts. Their eyes clung to one another’s and for a moment everything stood still. The clock’s hands didn’t tick, the birdsong was silenced and their mouths didn’t breathe.

And then it passed. Then it was nothing again and she jerked away suddenly, realising where she was and who she was with. Her brain could only process one word as she stared. Abs. Abs. Abs.

“Holy cow!”

“Ouch,” he laughed, “I know it’s early but I didn’t think I looked that bad.”

The regret sunk in, she’d pulled away from his touch, his hands on her waist. She shook the feeling away.

“No you don’t look bad,” she rambled, “you look the opposite of bad, actually, which is good, which is an understatement, not that I think you look good good but I don’t think you don’t look good, but you just surprised me because-“

“Hey I was kidding,” Jameson chuckled, “do you want a coffee?”

Jude knew her cheeks were bright red before she felt the heat in them. She’d never felt so mortified in her life.

“Rather a green tea please,” she replied meekly.

He raised an eyebrow fetching two mugs, “I thought you were a coffee person?”

Jude’s heart palpitated as her stomach tied into yet another love knot. He remembered. Why did he remember? How did he remember? Had he noticed her always drinking coffee?

“I am…” she hesitated, “…well was, I’ve recently found a new love for green tea.”

“Nash got you into them didn’t he,” Jameson sighed.

She winced, “possibly.”

He wrinkled his nose, “that means I’ve lost another bet.”

“Bet?”

“I wagered,” he explained, “that Nash couldn’t convince another person green tea was actually good because it tastes like grass-“

“It doesn’t not!” she interrupted him, passionate for her cause.

He laughed, a sound melodic to her ears, “I seriously thought I had this one in the bag.”

“I can’t believe my love for green tea is now all part of a bet,” she sighed, resting her elbows of the counter to cup her face in her hands.

“Awww are you really surprised?” Jameson asked.

“Oddly enough,” she replied, “no.”

“Good,” he winked, sending a swarm of baby butterflies into her stomach, “now let me make you a nice cup of grass stew.”

She rolled her eyes, “it doesn’t tatse like grass.”

“Are you trying to convince me or you, Judy?”

“Shut up,” she groaned.

“How about, no?” he proposed with a smirk.

“You’re annoying,” she commented, jabbing him in the ribs.

He squirmed, ticklish there.

“No, I’m Jameson,” he poked his tongue out.

She laughed, tilting her head back a little as she did. From the corner of her eye, she could’ve sworn his eyes were more fixated on her than the drinks he was supposed to be making,

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, turning on the coffee machine.

“Ish,” she shrugged, “Xander as a pillow did not work any wonders on my neck though. Did you sleep okay?”

“As well as I could,” he replied smoothly, “there was the occasional midnight wander.”

She grinned in reply, then swiftly changed the subject, “thanks for not letting me crack my head open on the floor.”

“No problem,” Jameson said, “it would’ve been a real hassle to clean up.”

“Glad you saved yourself the trouble,” she joked back.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “just watch where you’re going next time.”

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going,” she criticised.

He shook his head with a smile as he handed her a mug, “drink up your grass water.”

“It’s not grass water,” she snapped, her expression deadly serious.

“Keep telling yourself that and one day you might actually believe it,” he responded, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Like how you keep telling yourself you’re actually funny,” she countered.

His eyebrows shot up, he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing up and then back down. He cleared his throat, leaning down closer towards her, “you, Judy, are ruthless.”

“Don’t lie, you know you love it,” Jude teased, feeling a little bold.

“I do,” he said, not even denying it.

A golden hope blossomed in the left side of Jude’s chest. It burned with a fiery passion and glowed brighter with every little thing that happened between them. A comfortable silence settled over the kitchen as the two of them just sipped their drinks and enjoyed the presence of one another.

“I like those,” Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence.

So deep in her own thought Jude registered the comment later than she normally would’ve, “what?”

“Your pyjamas,” he cocked his head towards her pink pyjama set.

She almost choked on her green tea, looking down at her attire, “my pyjamas?”

He nodded, “they’re cute.”

“Cute?”

“Is this a repetition game?” he deadpanned.

“No, sorry,” she laughed, “thanks.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“It was horrendous Xander!” Jude exclaimed, on their walk, the air crisp and cold.

All the trees had shed their leaves, looking naked and icy on the pale winters day. Bleached of colour, a small layer of ice slush that you could just about call snow, lay on the ground. It was so bitter that you could feel the cold biting through your coat, tinting the tops of your ears and cheeks and nose with a warm red. Winter walks were a necessity to Jude, but on this one she needed to rant as well.

She’d finally managed to drag Xander from his slumber after many different tactics. Blasting alarm bell sound effects through speakers, pillow attacks and the good old temptation of food. Eventually she’d coaxed him out of the house to go on a walk to discuss the events of the morning. She explain everything to him in the exact detail she remembered it in, each part sounding worse and worse as she said it out loud.

“It doesn’t sound that bad,” Xander replied, pulling on his gloves after his hands had gotten too bored of sitting in his pockets.

“Ughhh and it was so embarrassing,” she groaned, “no, scratch that, it was mortifying!”

“You’re overthinking it,” he sighed putting an arm around her, “you have a tendency to do that.”

“Overthinking!” she exclaimed, “how is this overthinking?”

“Maybe he didn’t think anything of it,” Xander suggested.

“I can’t work out whether that’s better or worse,” Jude sighed.

If he didn’t think anything of it then it meant the moment he seen her and then caught her had meant nothing he if he did it meant she’d made an idiot of herself.

“Look I’m sure it’s fine,” he soothed.

“Easy for you to say,” she scoffed, “you didn’t humiliate yourself.”

“You didn’t humiliate yourself,” he sighed.

“I basically told him he looked good shirtless!” Jude said, with a dismal look.

“Hey you finally made a move,” Xander chuckled, attempting to get her to lighten up.

“Not funny Xand,” Jude deadpanned, “I hate the world.”

“No you don’t,” he laughed, pulling her closer into him.

“This is my second caffeine hit today!” she pointed out, waving her coffee cup in his face.

“Yeesh,” he coughed, “you’re really going through it.”

“It isn’t a joke Xand!” she said, “I just want the ground to just swallow me whole.”

“I know and it sucks,” he sighed, “but I have an idea.”

“Is this a Xander idea?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re going to do something to take your mind off of things?”

Jude furrowed her eyebrows, “like what?”

“How do you feel about a game of laser tag?”

***

“This looks questionable,” Jude murmured as Xander handed her a light up laser tag vest.

“Don’t you trust me Judesicle,” he tilted his head to the side.

She sighed, pulling the vest on, “to an extent.”

“Good enough,” he shrugged, moving to her side to tighten the straps.

Their roles reversed as Xander slipped his vest on and Jude helped him do his straps tight enough. He went through the basic rules of the game and how to work everything as well as showing her around the area so he didn’t have such an advantage. Of course, he’d played many times with his brothers so he had an advantage there but Jude was ready. She had too much feeling to not be.

“There’s me and you and of course the simulations of extra people that you can shoot or get shot by,” Xander finished his explanation, “there are three, one blue, one green and one red.”

“Perfect,” she nodded, having had absorbed nearly every word.

“See you on the other side old friend,” he nodded, taking her hand and giving it a firm shake, with a solemn look in his eyes.

“Does this game entail death,” she asked.

“No but it sounded like a cool line to drop right about now,” Xander’s face broke out into a grin.

“Okay, let’s get this started,” she said.

Jude shook his hand with a grin before they walked in opposite directions. The question was where to start. She wanted to be hidden and even though she was familiar with the place, Xander knew it back to front was an obvious hiding place was pretty much out of the question.

She eventually chose a flat, unassuming wall and pressed her back up against it, holding her laser gun waiting for the sound to tell her the game had begun. A sharp, crisp whistle like sound screamed through the empty air and the game had begun.

***

Jude’s face was red and her face sleeked with sweat, she was also a little breathless. She’d managed to hit the other players quite successfully gaining her some points but she’d also lost some from being shot herself. Breathing heavily she’d found a corner to hide in, waiting for someone to pass to shoot them.

As soon as she heard footsteps she knew it was Xander. He was also heaving, trying to inhale as much oxygen as possible as he continued to run. Jude readied her gun and with one swift, well-timed pull of the trigger, Xander’s white light dulled to nothing. Xander looked up confused, until he saw Jude and screamed.

“Way to give a man a heart attack!” he yelled.

“It’s called tactics,” she winked, running off before his vest came back on and he could shoot again.

She ran across an opening, always a dangerous thing, but lucky for her, her lights still remained on. She made her way down a narrow pathway and twisted through walls and bends when she realised something. She looked down as her pink lights faded. Confused she looked around, getting a start when she saw Xander not three feet behind her, blowing the end of his gun as if it were a pistol.

“Did you follow me?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t prefer to say I tracked you,” he shrugged.

“How? I ran across the opening and no one followed,” she said.

“It was a combination of an epic floor roll,” he explained, “and very silent feet.”

The minute was up, her lights came back on, so she took the opportunity to shot first.

“Hey!” Xander yelled as she sprinted off, “you can’t distract me with conversation to beat me!”

“You snooze, you lose Xand,” she yelled back, running off.

She didn’t hear his reply if he did respond, she was too far away. Suddenly her lights faded again and in the corner of her eye she saw the blue simulation. She sighed, the whole game that blue one had been catching her out. She ran towards another set of jagged pathways with walls parallel to each other and slipped between them carefully, eyes on her target. The red simulation. Once her lights were back on she aimed.

Suddenly she saw a flicker of green approaching and knew she had to make a run for it. Mid-movement, she shot off the red, then turned to the green and managed to get it too. She noticed Xander trying to hide behind a wall so expertly aimed her laser gun around the corner to hit him too. The only one left was the blue simulation, but she wanted to hit it before the other’s lights came back on.

Her eyes darted from left to right until she caught it. The simulation seemingly sprinted down a different corridor, so Jude followed. Fearlessly running, she didn’t take long to catch up to the blue programmed player, and took even less time to shoot him. With a satisfactory smile, she watched as the lights dimmed and turned back to the other way to continue playing. She found Xander mid laser war with the green simulation. Dodging and shooting, dodging and-

A sound roared over all the chaos signalling the game was over. Breathless, Jude and Xander made their way to the exit and the simulations disappeared into thin air.

“Who knew laser tag could take it out of you huh?” Jude panted, taking her light up vest off.

“Daily workout checked off of my to do list,” Xander agreed.

Her eyebrows shot up, “you have a to do list.”

“Nope I have a scrambled mind full of things I’ve had to do in the past that occasionally come back to bite me,” he responded.

“I need to buy you a notebook,” she told him.

“Too conventional for my liking,” he wrinkled his nose.

“What if it played music whenever you opened it?” She proposed.

“I’m more intrigued now I must say,” he mused, making Jude laugh.

“So who won?” she asked him, shrugging off her gear.

“You,” he said.

“What?”

He pointed up to the point board, “you’re a natural.”

“I’m not sure about that one,” she laughed.

“Beat me and it’s your first go ever,” Xander shrugged, then his eyes sparkled, “I want to see you against Gray!”

“And risk my life?” she scoffed, “yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Come on Jude,” he sighed, “where’s your Hawthorne spirit?”

“I ran it over when you mentioned the possibility of competing against Grayson the Destroyer,” she replied smoothly.

“I forgot we nicknamed him that,” Xander contemplated wistfully.

“I’m still not over the scrabble incident,” she said, the game they had given him the nickname in.

“I’ll rope you into it one day,” he decided.

“Have fun trying,” she said with a stubborn smile.

“Race you back to the house!” Xander suddenly exclaimed.

“What?”

“Go!”

He took off before she even

“Hey!” Jude yelled, “get back here you cheat!”

And then she started sprinting.

***

She still beat Xander in the race, catching up to him easily. He was right, laser tag had been a good distraction, but what now? Now showered and in a fresh set of clothes Jude retreated to her favourite of the libraries in the house for a bit of quiet.

She needed some peace with her own mind and thoughts. Halfway through the second paragraph of the page, Nash sauntered in hands in his pockets and cowboy hat tilted forwards. Jude looked up to meet him, something about his eyes looked sad and hollow. That made her feel a little sad and hollow.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He sat down across from her, “you look tired.”

“Xander managed to get me to play three round of laser tag,” she replied, with a small yawn, “that might have something do with it.”

He chuckled softly, “only our Xand.”

Pain flickered across his face for the fraction of a second, if Jude had blinked, she would’ve missed it. She hummed in reply to his comment, eyes flicking between him and the page of her book.

She paused and shut the book, “are you okay Nash?”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly, hoarsely, like something had caught in his throat.

“Are you sure?” Jude pressed on.

Nash nodded, “of course I am.”

He wasn’t. Everyone knew it. Ever since his break up with Alisa he’d been a mess. Obviously no one saw what a mess he was but they could feel it. It didn’t feel like Nash was walking into a room, rather a mass of mixed up emotions.

“Okay,” she said slowly, “were you looking for someone?”

“Not in particular,” he shrugged, “I like this library.”

“Me too,” she replied quietly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Nash surveyed the book shelves, his fingers running down spines of well loved books until the right one caught his eye.

“Try this,” he said, handing Jude a book.

She looked down, Amerika by Franz Kafka. Slowly she took the book from his hands and traced her hands across the cover.

“I believe it’s one of his first books,” Nash said, “you’ll like it trust me.”

“How do you know?” she wondered aloud.

“Because I have a tendency to observe people and based on previous reads,” he responded, “you’ll like this one.”

“Why’ve you been keeping such a close eye on me?” she raised her eyebrows looking at his quizzically.

“You’re my little sister at heart,” Nash told her softly, “how could I not?”

Jude’s heart squeezed. She’d always seen Nash as a role model, an older brother, but she’d never expected him to think the same of her.

“Thanks Nash,” she smiled.

“Don’t thank me kid,” he said, grabbing a book with an emerald cover and sitting in a leather armchair.

After a while she felt Nash’s eyes on her and looked up.

“What’s the question that you’re burning to ask me?” she shut her book, “just ask it.”

He sighed and paused for a long thoughtful while, “I’ll cut to the chase. Are you and Jamie a thing?”

“What? No!” Jude exclaimed quickly, too quickly, too defensively “I mean no, we’re just friends, just friends.”

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.

“Just friends,” she clarified.

He raised an eyebrow, “you mentioned.”

“You and Alisa broke up,” she blurted out, every compassionate, apologetic sentence she’d wanted to start with slipping through her finger faster than water.

“I know,” Nash said quietly, “I was sort of there.”

“Sorry,” she corrected herself, “I wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Thanks kid,” he nodded sharply, inhaling unevenly.

Jude groaned and put her head in her hands, “that came out all wrong.”

“I figured,” Nash responded, cracking a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She sighed. She knew she had to ask. She had a feeling she also knew the answer. As she looked him in the eye, he predicted what she was going to say, yet still let her ask.

“Are you leaving again?”

“For a bit,” he murmured, looking at his cowboy boots, “yeah, need space, air, these place suffocates me too much, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Jude mumbled.

“It’s not your fault,” he said sadly before he paused for a moment, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Take care of him for me, okay?” Jude knew in an instant, he was talking about Jameson, “all of them.”

“Of course,” she said softly.

He took her small hands and clasped them between his calloused ones. Nash looked her in the eye as he told her, “you’re the strongest one of us, kid.”

“Nash,” she murmured, tears welling up, “will you ever come back?”

“I always come back,” he promised silently.

“So did you really come here to say goodbye?” Jude said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Yes and no,” he replied, as confusing as ever, as Hawthorne as ever.

“Bye Nash,” she whispered, her voice barely a sound.

“Goodbye J,” Nash said, pulling her into his arms, “I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” she murmured into his chest, inhaling his scent for the last time, she realised, in a while probably.

Nash was a constant, in a sea of madness, he was the rock that refused to erode. And now he was leaving because if he stayed he would break. He’d rather be broken far away and come back fixed than break here. Jude knew that. She wished she didn’t understand. Then she could be mad and this whole goodbye would be easier. But Jude had never been at goodbyes.

“Not possible, kid,” he said tenderly, kissing the top of her head.

He let her go, before squeezing her shoulders. With one final very cowboy nod, he began to walk away and she watched him with glossy eyes and a full heart.

“Oh and Jude,” he said spinning around.

“Yeah?”

“By the time I’m back you two better be going out,” Nash winked.

“Nash we’re just-“

“Friends,” he murmured, “I know.”

Then he left.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

She’d watched as the motorbike had pulled out of Hawthorne House and driven down the rode. She’d watched as he’d paused at the gate to take on final look behind. She’d watched as Nash, with a single bag and his cowboy hat had left. This was gong to be hard on all of the brothers, Jude knew that as well as anyone.

But still, the next day, a sadness weighed on her own chest. Nash was gone and might be for a while. The reality only just seemed to be sinking in. She slowly focused her attention to her book, not the one Nash recommended her but another. She wanted to save that one for when she needed Nash, so it would remind her of him.

“What you reading?”

It made her jump but she suppressed any reaction. She didn’t expect anyone to be there but she knew to voice all too well. It sent a tingle down her spine.

“A book,” she replied, not tearing her eyes from its contents.

“What book?” Jameson said from behind her.

“The metamorphosis,” she told him, closing it to reveal the cover.

“Franz Kafka?” He asked, walking around to sit next to her.

Her eyes lit up suddenly, “you’ve read it?”

“You sound surprised,” he laughed.

“Not surprised,” she said, “just shocked.”

“That’s a synonym of surprised,” he teased, ruffling the hair on the top of her head.

“Excited then,” she corrected, pushing his hand away, “now I have someone to talk about it to.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement, an overcast of seriousness shadowing his expression, “Nash recommended him to me too.”

“How did you…” she trailed off, “why are you back so late anyway?”

“Detention,” Jameson replied.

Jude wasn’t exactly surprised that Jameson had gotten a detention, it wasn’t uncommon. She was more surprised that he actually went, something was up.

“You never go to your detentions,” she murmured, slowly pressing him to reveal what he was hiding.

He shrugged his shoulders, his face betraying nothing of his feelings, “I felt like it.”

“What’s wrong?” Jude asked softly, touching the top of his arm.

He looked down to her fingers, “what do you mean?”

He tried to play it off as if it meant nothing but she’d known him too long to fall for it.

“There’s something on your mind,” she said quietly, looking into his hurt green eyes.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, some note in his voice a little strained, almost hoarse.

“A few things,” she replied.

“What things?”

Jude raised an eyebrow, “you want the list?”

“Desperately,” he replied, the ghost of a smile tingling on his lips .

“Well, if you must know, your stance is different your weight was more forwards it’s usually slightly more upright, but when something bothers you, you hunch over in the slightest way. You keep fiddling with things, your own hands, the cushion, my hair, the hem of your shirt. Your focus is shifting from anything but your problem and you keep making mindless conversation with me to distract yourself, but it’s not working. You never go to your detentions and suddenly you turn up to one and…” she paused wondering if she should say it aloud, then channelled her inner Xander and recalled his life motto: yolo, “…and your eyes looked sad, hollow almost, it’s hard to explain, they just looked like you were in pain.”

“Very observant of you Judy,” he said, eyes pinned to hers, almost captivated by something. He was trying to keep up his usual banter but it wasn’t getting past her. She knew him too well.

She didn’t tell him not to call her Judy, like he wanted her to. Instead she got straight to the point. No more distractions, no more detours, it was time to face the truth.

“It’s about Nash isn’t it,” she sighed.

“That obvious,” he mumbled, forcing a small chuckle to push down the wave of pain.

“It was an educated guess,” she murmured, trying to make him feel a little better. That was a lie. She could see it on his face but he didn’t have to know that.

“It feels like I’ve lost a piece of myself without him you know,” he admitted, finding the material of the sofa far more interesting than looking directly at Jude for the moment.

“Yeah,” she replied, letting him continue.

“You can’t build a house without a foundation, it’ll collapse,” he sniffed, “and Nash is our foundation.”

“And he still is,” she reassured him, slowly interlocking her fingers into his, “just from a distance now.”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, gripping her tightly in need of the comfort.

“You think if you needed him he wouldn’t be back in a heartbeat?” Jude asked.

“I know he would but I don’t know…” he trailed off, lost in a world of his own thoughts, “…I just hate it when he leaves.”

“He’s going through something,” she said, “he needs time.”

“I know,” Jameson muttered.

“And he doesn’t handle it like you or Gray or Xand,” she continued, “he handles it like this.”

“I wish he didn’t,” he sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

“Do you?” Jude said softly, “wouldn’t it be more chaotic if he got reckless like you or shut down like Gray, hid it with a smile like Xand,” she sighed, “Nash knows how to manage his feelings, he needs to feel freer, this house hasn’t exactly always been a home to him.”

“You’re right,” he said quietly.

Jameson wasn’t one to admit that easily. Jude knew that. She looked at him tenderly, her eyes speaking volumes to him in the silence. She tried to read his face.

“But you’re still doubting something,” she picked up, almost immediately.

“How can you tell?” he asked, worming his way around the question first before answering it.

“I can just see,” she shrugged.

“I’m…” he trailed off, the words lodged in his throat. He didn’t want to say them out loud, it made them more real.

Jude waited silently until he was ready, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m scared he won’t come back,” Jameson finally said.

“He will come back,” Jude replied, her voice strong and sure, “he always comes back.”

“What if he doesn’t this time?” he asked, worry lines rippling across his face.

It almost scared Jude. She wasn’t used to seeing him so vulnerable, so emotional. It had shocked her he hadn’t done something utterly reckless yet, like sky diving or bungee jumping. Usually it would’ve happened by now, but instead he was here, with her, actually talking out his problems. What did that mean?

“You know Nash better than I do,” Jude said slowly, “you know in your heart he’s coming back, just like I do.”

“There’s always that bit of fear in me though, the dreaded ‘what if’ he decides not to,” Jameson replied.

“He wouldn’t abandon you Jamie,” she soothed, the nickname rolling off of her tongue naturally, “he loves you.”

Just like I do, she thought, but the words didn’t dare near her lips.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After talking to Jameson, Jude had checked on Xander who was also down about Nash leaving. He wasn’t in the mood for much. Seeing Xander so sad made Jude sad too. He wouldn’t even eat a scone which got to Jude the most. Eventually after a lot of coaxing and scone concoctions, she managed to get him to have one but usually it was a given he would.

It was strange. The whole thing. Hawthorne house was deadened without Nash, all the brothers had retreated to themselves and gone quiet. Grayson had disappeared to the music room playing emotional pieces on his violin, Jude felt it was best not to interrupt him in that state. He hadn’t come out in hours and the violin hadn’t stopped once. She wondered if his fingers were bleeding, so left him some food and water and a packet of bandaids outside the door, just in case.

The next morning she set her alarm to wake up early. She had a netball match, first thing. Part of her didn’t want to leave the brothers on their own but she realised she could only do so much when she was at the house anyway.

She figured they might want time to themselves or time to talk with one another about the situation. So she decided to play in her match. After a soothing, long shower, she did her morning skin care before slipping on her netball dress. She walked back into her bedroom standing infront of the mirror to begin on her hair.

***

Jude groaned in frustration, starting the braid again for the fifth time. Why wasn’t it working this morning? Of course it just had to go wrong the day she actually needed it braided out of the way.

“Let me braid it.”

She gasped softly upon seeing Jameson leaning in her doorway, silently watching her.

“What?”

“Let me braid it,” he repeated. She couldn’t detect any hints that he was joking about the prospect.

“How long have you been standing there?” she countered.

“Not long,” Jameson shrugged.

“That’s a little creepy,” she told him, looking back to the mirror as she ran her finger through her wavy hair.

“Well how else am I going to keep you on your toes,” he winked, “now are you going to let me braid your hair?”

“You know how to braid hair?” she folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows.

“I have a lot of free time,” he shrugged.

“You’re surprising me more and more every day Jameson Hawthorne,” she smiled gently.

With a smirk he stepped in towards her back, “well what else am I here for?”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his reflection in the mirror stood in front of them both even when his breath tickled her neck.

“French or Dutch?”

She spun around to face him suddenly, “are you serious?”

He gave her a confused look.

“You know how to French and Dutch braid hair,” she exclaimed.

He grinned, “it’s like a pattern, a puzzle, something to solve.”

“Okay then,” she thought for a minute, “french.”

“Turn around then Judy,” he said, raising her arm above her head and spinning her around as if she were a ballerina.

“Jude,” she hissed, glaring at the mirror so he could see the reflection.

“Hairbrush,” he said.

“Is that a new nickname?” she batted her eyelashes, “very cute.”

“No, I need the hairbrush,” he rolled his eyes, holding his hand out.

She passed it to him before he gently picked up a piece of hair and began to brush it from bottom up. He took each and every section and handled it with the upmost care, like each stand of hair was made of glass.

“Your hair is really soft,” he commented, after he’d finished brushing it through.

She felt the heat rise in her cheek, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, “you might want to sit down for the actual braiding part.”

She nodded and took a seat on the floor, just below her bed. He sat behind her and slowly began to pick up the first bits of hair needed. Carefully and neatly he twisted the pieces into place. Jude could feel that he was doing it exactly right, adding the right sections at the right times. She’d never thought of a braid a puzzle before, but now she supposed it was. The twists and turns of intricacy, one wrong move and the whole thing would lose its effect.

It was so relaxing for Jude, for someone else to do her hair. It was a nice change from her arms burning and her head aching every morning. Best thing was, Jameson knew exactly what he was doing and he was someone making it comfortable for her head. Usually she’d pull one strand too hard and it’d give her a headache but that hadn’t happened so far.

“Do you have a hair tie?” he asked, once he’d gotten to the bottom.

She passed him the one from around her wrist, before grabbing the ribbons on her team colours.

“Could you tie these in the bottom too?” she asked.

“Of course,” he replied, taking them and putting them into the bottom of the braid, “okay go and see if you like it, I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

She grinned walking into her mirror to admire the plait. It was near on perfect and it looked so much better than her five previous attempts put together. She walked back towards him.

“It’s amazing thank you so much!” she smiled, instinctively wrapping her arms around him to give a grateful hug without actually realising what she was doing.

Though when she did, she didn’t pull away.

“Careful,” he rushed, “we haven’t hair-sprayed it.”

“Is Grayson rubbing off on you?” Jude teased, with a giggle.

“Don’t insult me,” he deadpanned, “I just did your hair.”

“My humblest apologies,” she bowed, mockingly.

“Gratefully accepted,” he nodded at her, grabbing the hairspray bottle, “right, close your eyes.”

She did as he said before he sprayed her hair so it stayed in, setting his masterpiece in stone before she washed it out later.

“Perfect,” he smiled, as she opened her eye again, “you look perfect.”

Her heart nearly stopped beating.

“What?”

“Your hair,” he coughed, “I meant your hair.”

Something sunk, it just plummeted right into her stomach. She felt heavy with disappointment and mentally scolded herself for it.

“Are you only saying that because you can credit yourself?” she played it off as a joke to mask her true feelings.

“Possibly,” Jameson replied, his face slowly breaking out into a grin.

She laughed sideglancing at the clock, “I need to make sure I’ve got everything before I leave, I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come to your game?” he asked suddenly.

She stopped mid step and spun around.

“You want to?” she said.

“Of course I do,” Jameson replied, as if it were an obvious answer.

“Yeah,” she nodded slowly, “sure.”

He’d seen her play before, just not recently. Something about that made Jude nervous but more driven to win, not just for herself and her team but to make Jameson proud too.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

She laughed melodically, “you are such a gentleman.”

“What can I say Judy,” he replied with a wink, stepping closer to her.

“Jude,” she corrected him, stepping in as well.

“Judy,” he smirked back.

“Jude.”

“Judy.”

“You won’t win,” she whispered, fierceness in her eyes.

“Try me,” he murmurs back, mischief in his.

Their faces were so close, that their noses almost touched. His eyes looked down at her lips and flicked back up again. Before she knew it they were both leaning in. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, screaming to be heard. Was this moment really what she thought it was?

“We should go,” Jude cleared her throat, pulling away, “don’t want to be late,”

“Yeah,” Jameson nodded slowly, picking up her bags for her.

And Jude could’ve sworn his cheeks were suddenly a little rosy.

***

Jude cursed herself for pulling away and for the whole journey thought about what could’ve been. However when she got to the venue she had to put all those thoughts aside to play.

The match went well, better than well actually, her team won and her play was excellent. After she’d said goodbye to her teammates she met Jameson who enveloped her into a hug, picking her up and spinning her around, telling her how amazingly she’d played. Jude can’t remember a time where she’d felt more special. He always made her feel like she was the brightest star in an ebony sky.

On the car ride home, the two of them just discussed her game and he let her rant about all the things she felt she could’ve done better before he pointed out some of things she’d done excellently. By the time they got back to Hawthorne House, they’d pretty much dissected the whole game about a thousand times over. But Jude didn’t mind and from the smile of his face, neither did Jameson.

As soon as they got in the two of them went straight to the freezer to grab a well-deserved ice pop.

“Icepop berry for mon chérie,” he winked, with the most awful French accent Jude had ever heard.

She physically cringed, taking it from his hand, “that one was horrible, please never say that again.”

“It sounded better in my head,” he sighed, grabbing a blue raspberry one for himself.

“You butchered that accent,” she snorted.

“Leave me alone,” he complained.

“Hey you’re back! How was your game,” Xander asked walking in.

“Good,” Jude nodded with a smile.

“Good is an understatement,” Jameson scoffed, “Judy played amazingly.”

“It wasn’t that good,” she rolled her eyes, he made her sound like some kind of netball prodigy.

“Xand she was lightning fast,” he explained.

“I bet,” Xander grinned, helping himself to a cola ice pop.

“And her interceptions were killer!” he added.

“Not really,” Jude interjected.

“Passes were legendary,” Jameson just continued.

“He’s over exaggerating,” she rolled her eyes, “surprise, surprise.”

“The best wing attack to ever exist,” he said.

“Okay, that is a stretch now,” she laughed.

“You’re too modest,” he replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Her face glowed as she felt an electrical jolt when he touched her, a spark of sorts. She wondered if he’s felt it too, but if he had, he didn’t show it.

“We should celebrate,” Xander announced.

“I agree,” he nodded.

“Oh but would you look at the time!” His brother continued, eyeballing his watch as if he’d never seen it before, “I haven’t blown anything up yet today, off I go.”

Xander practically skipped out of the kitchen door, though just before he turned he snuck Jude a wink to which she almost face palmed right there and then.

“Just us then, I guess,” Jameson said.

“Yeah,” she murmured, eating some more of her ice pop that was slowly melting in her hands. It made her feel like a little girl again.

He looked down at her, staring for a little bit as his lips parted slightly, “want to go somewhere?”

“That depends,” she smiled playfully, “where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he grinned, “get changed and meet me down here in half an hour.”

“That smirk is saying all the wrong things to me,” she replied, “what are you planning Jameson Hawthorne?”

He shrugged and with a wink, left.

WELLL THATS A WRAP FOR PART ONE… HERE’S THE LINK GO PART 2 💘💖💕😍💖🥰💗 https://www.tumblr.com/littlemissmentallyunstable/770127988151992320/inmyheaddd-hellooo-again-judeee-welcome-to

#bella writes 🤍#moots 💕#jude ❦#the inheritance games #jude’s birthday fic ⋆˚✿˖°#tig #the brothers hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #jameson hawthorne #the grandest game #i love jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson x reader #jameson

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icarusredwings · 1 month ago

Text

Trying something new, be kind.

Baby talk. 1/2

Ft. Wo-wo, mama, and 'essy

A Sfw very little Wade fic

Cws include: Brief mentions of adult fun, truama, brief discussion of death, an unexperienced caregiver, an uncomfortable caregiver, cursing, struggles/ happy ending.

Coming home, Wade was quiet. Too quiet.

"Wade?" He calls.

"Last time I heard him he came to hug me for a bit but he didn't awnser me when I asked what he was doing." Al mutters, half asleep on the couch.

"Oh.. well I got food so don't nod off just yet. I'm gonna make that alfredo stuff you like."

"Mmh.. You're a good kid, Logan."

"Althea, I'm older than you...Remember?" He says, setting down the bag of ingredients in the kitchen.

The old woman waves her hand. "Yeah yeah... just wake me up when you're done."

"Alright. Swear you'll wake up? Don't go dying on our couch." He tells her jokingly.

"Bah! It's my couch, I can die on it if I want too." She smiles, pulling the blanket up a bit.

Sometimes she did this, and it was starting to worry Logan. She was forgetting little things more, taking more naps, not wanting to move a lot either. Something about her back? Either way, Logan was terrified. He's already lost so many to old age, he didn't want to see her go too. And thinking about what it would do to Wade scared him more.

It's not until he checks the bedroom to see Wade W sitting, sucking his thumb, and playing house with his action figures and the doll house that Vanessa bought him a couple of years ago.

"Darlin'?"

From the looks of it, he had Spiderman in the kitchen, an old woman on the couch, a doggy on the couch, two little girls upstairs, a barbie in the tub (that didn't fit at all) and a wolverine action figure in the bed, claws up and out.

It took him a second to process before smiling softly. He hasn't been this small in such a long time. "Did I have a nightmare?" He asks, watching as Wade takes the wolvie out of the bed, reaching up as if showing him.

"Yeah, I see. Mad little guy, isn't he?" Logan crouches, grunting a bit as his knees popped.

"God, how do you get down here? Dosn't that hurt your knees?" Logan asks, only to be given a dead stare. As if not processing what he was saying.

"Oh.. uhm.. these?" He pats his knees. "Ouches. Sometimes.."

His eyes light up, only to frown, looking concerned, his own hands coming to his knees. "...ow?"

"Sometimes... hey so... how big are you right now? Can you tell me?"

But there was that stare again, a small tilt of his head with such wide white eyes. Yeah.. that just about tells him everything he needs to know. Vanessa has told him about when this first started and how truely little he had become, not talking much, simply....staring.

"Well.. Kitty's going to make dinner soon. How about you come out and sit in the living room, okay? So I can see you?"

Another stare, his head tilting to the other side now, like a puppy watching its owner do something it had no concept of.

"Uh-huh.... right. Uhm... nevermind. Just stay in here, okay?" Standing again is when Wade begins to panic, making an urgent whine, putting his arms up. "MmMmh!!"

Blinking, Logan swallows, not exactly comfortable with this age. This was Vanessa's age. Not his. He was used to the 5 year old wanting to play stuffies or the smart alack 8 year old who ranted to him for hours about stars, planets, and dinosaurs.

So this was.. weird. New. Unexplored territory. And Honestly, he was fine with that. Totally fine with not knowing.

"Er...I-i don't.. this isn't-" He starts, having a subconsious guilty feeling in his gut for not wanting to take care of him, but also felt like he shouldn't be interacting with him. I mean- They did big adult things last night. And now he was giving him grabby hands? It felt wrong. And with Wade's truama? He didn't want to make it worse on accident.

"Ups?"

"N-no.. Wade.. I-...Im gonna go call Vanessa. Okay?"

"... 'essy?"

"Y-yeah. 'Essy. Erm.. thats ness right?"

" 'essy?"

Swallowing, he nods, leaving the room with his hairs pricked up on the back of his neck, a knot in his stoamch. Taking a deep breath, he dialed the poor woman twice. The phone range through to voice mail both times. "Shit- okay.. fuck.. uhm.."

So he goes to google, trying his best to look for awnsers only to become more disgusted with himself at what he saw. Why was there so much- He groans, trying to calm himself. He couldn't even ask Althea because she was sleeping, snoring away.

Okay. Come on, Howlett. It can't be this hard.. right? I mean, it's just like a regular ki- Oh come on! He's never had a kid this little before! Especially not alone. What was he supposed to do?

Another deep breath, feeling defeated, and put his face in his hands. A buzz comes from the phone, and just as he looks at it, it was like signing his own death certificate.

'Sorry, I'm working. Whats up?'

"When he was really young what did you do to him?"

'???'

"He's really little right now. What do I do?" He asks, trying to type coherently.

'Oooh okay. So ussually I would give him a cup and put on a movie. He was really cuddly too so sometimes I would just hold him.'

Before Logan could respond again, she sent another message saying she had to get back to work and that it will be fine. 'It's easy, don't worry' She said but Logan had his doubts.

Alright. Movies.. cups.. hugs. Got it. He could do that. He could do hugs and cups. That was normal.

Sighing, he puts the phone away, going to the kitchen as he made him his cup, just putting straight milk into it. He liked milk right?? Did tots like milk? Yeah- obviously. Come on- get it together.

Walking into the livingroom, Logan sets it down, going through movies as he remembered what Vanessa told him before, about singing princess movies. "Ariel it is" he thinks, clicking it on and shifted the coffee table so he would have room to lay or play- what ever it was he did.

Coming back to the room, he gathers up some blankets and his stuffies, taking them from the room only to drop them all infront of the tv.

"Wade!" He calls. "Got a cup for ya! And look its a princess. You like princesses." He says, but he doesn't come.

"Wade? Come on, Bub! I gotta make dinner still." This last part was under his breath, only to grunt, going into the room only to see him sitting in the same spot.

"What are you doing? Come on. Livingroom with mama. Lets go." He shifts, gestruing his arms to the door but Wade didn't move, infact the loud words made him frown more, looking at him with those big wide eyes, a deer in headlights.

Logan took a step forward, watching Wade lower his head, holding his small angry Wolverine near his chest, like he would take it away.

This is what Logan was worried about. Great! Now he was scared of him. How was he supposed to care for someone who was too scared to move?

Think, Logan. This isn't hard. Just carry him.

Grunting, he hesitantly puts his arms out, leaning over. "...come'ere."

Another head tilt, making him groan, slightly annoyed. "Wade. Uppies. Come on, kiddo."

Instantly, he smiles, crawling quickly to his legs and put his hands back up, still keeping mad wolvie in one hand.

Picking him up, a shiver went down his spine, suddenly feeling a sense of severe protection after Wade wrapped his arms around his neck, affectionatly nuzzling into his neck with a big smile.

Unconsciously, he hugged him tightly, holding his bum and rubbing his back. "...Hi honey."

Wait. What was he doing? no. No. No. No. NO.

He couldn't feel that way about him. Absolutely no way. That was wrong. Fucking instincts! Not everthing adorable is your kid damn it!

Shaking his head, he quickly walks to the livingroom, putting him down.

"Now. You stay. Sit and watch princess." He says, pointing at the Tv and shaking his head, watching as Wade whimpered, giving him grabby hands again.

"No, Wade. L-later..." He swallows, wanting to punch himself for feeling that way. He had hugged him the same way Gabby did after a long time of seeing him, and it had activated his instinctual parental habits.

Quickly, he walks away to the kitchen, rubbing his temples. "I can't do this shit.." he grumbles.

#kid wade #age regression #sfw agere #sfw littlespace #sfw interaction only #caregiver wolverine #caregiver logan howlett #kitty and kid #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #trying something new #vanessa carlysle #blind al

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loveiis · 7 months ago

Text

oh you fancy, huh?

chris sturniolo x black!fem!reader

summary: chris pretty much has a thing for seeing you all dolled up for a just a day of spoiling you. he loves spending his money on you all the time and seeing your reaction when he randomly takes you out to get your nails done and go shopping.

warnings: suggestive jokes, cursing, fluffy, NOT PROOFREAD

(A/N: i am somewhat proud of this but also not at the same time. i literally wrote this because apparently it was an idea i recently had. idk.)

“come on ma, you’ve been in that bathroom for an hour already.” chris called from the other side. “sorry bae, im coming i promise. one more thing.” you responded, dragging your lip gloss across your lips.

you forced the applicator back into the container, and walked out the bathroom to see your boyfriend scrolling on his phone. he looked up at you, looking at how beautiful you looked dolled up like this.

“damn, i didn’t know you were doing all that.” placing his phone in his pocket, he kissed up and down your neck softly. “chriiis, let’s go i’m ready.” you cupped your hands around his neck as he kissed up your jawline and finally placed a kiss on your lips.

“mm, i like that cherry.” licking his lips and tasting the bit of lipgloss on his lips now. “ew, chris. dont eat the lipgloss.” you swiped it from his mouth with your thumb. “i’ll eat you if you don’t stop touching my lips like that.” he looked down at you with low eyes.

you removed your thumb from his mouth and instead held his hand. “lets go, please. you’ve been waiting and i feel bad.” you say softly. “its okay, ma. it was worth the wait to see you look like a full course meal.” he smirked.

“chris.” you glared at him. “okay, sorry. let’s go.” he started walking, keeping his hand intertwined with yours.

he opened the car door for you, giving him a small “thank you” before settling in. he got into the drivers seat and started the car.

“we should go get your nails done before we go shopping.” he stares at you. “how’d you know i needed to get them done again?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“cause’ i got you a tech without your permission. you haven’t been able to tell by the amount of times i’ve taken you to get them done again?” he replies.

“no, actually i didn’t notice. that’s so sweet of you, baby you know you don’t have to do all this.” you hold his hand as a thank you.

“actually i do, spoiling you is my middle name.” he kissed the top of your hand. yeah, you’re marrying this guy.

he pulled out of the driveway, starting his destination to the place you usually get your nails done at.

——

“hey girl good to see you again!” the nail tech, rachael, greeted you. “heyy!” you gave her a nice hug. “so what we getting today?” she asked. you didn’t really plan this out, since it was kind of a last minute decision made by your boyfriend.

“ummmm….” you slowly turn to look at your boyfriend, who’s again, scrolling on tiktok. “ma, you know you can get whatever you want. i’m not going anywhere.” he deadpanned.

you rolled your eyes as you thought about what you should get. “uh, lets just do regular coffin french tips.” you turned to smile at her. “feet too? or no?” she asked. “no, not today.” you shook your head. “okay, lets get started.” she walked towards a manicure table and sat in the chair, as you followed behind and sat on the other side.

your boyfriend sat in the chair next to you, at the other manicure table. she started to get to work on your nails, as your boyfriend sat patiently next to you, occasionally checking on the process to make sure they look nice.

——

“baby, they’re done.” you wiggle your fingers in front of him, showing off your new set. he immediately looked up from his phone, smiling. you smile, doing a little shoulder dance, happy with your new nails.

chris loved to see you like this, happy with new things he bought you, looking like the happiest girl in the world.

you both stood up from your chairs, moving to the front desk to pay. “you look so pretty, baby.” chris stood behind you, his hands on your hips and kissing your neck.

rachael smiled and mouthed the words “yall are so cute”. you smiled at her comment. “how much?” you asked. “twenty dollars.” she leaned over the counter. “twenty? thats different from the last time i got these.” you questioned.

“yeah, twenty dollars because i love you guys. we’re like family now.” she shrugged. you chuckled, reaching into your purse to grab a twenty dollar bill, until a hand slapped your wrist.

“ow! what the fuck chris?!” you twisted your head a bit to look at him, who was still kissing your neck. using his left arm to hug your waist, he used his right to pull out his black card and hand it to you. “its just twenty dollars, jesus you don’t need to flex. its only rachael.” you rolled your eyes, handing rachael the card.

she scanned the card, and handed it back to you. “have a great day guys!” she waved at both of you. chris stopped kissing your neck and waved as you did too. you both walked out of the place, chris’ arm wrapped around your waist. “thank you baby.” you kissed his cheek as a reward.

“you say thank you in that tone again and i swear to god im gonna fuck the shit out of you.” he says, pressing the button to unlock the car. “whats going on with you today?” you get in the car as he holds the door for you.

he gets in the car, starting it up. “nothing, you’re irresistible, you know that.” he pulled out the parking lot, his right hand on your thigh.

——

you arrived at the mall, chris holding your hand as you both walked in together. chris had felt pretty scared since you were looking a little too good today and you were out in public.

“lets go to windsor.” you suggested. “wherever you want, just take me there. don’t even ask.” he once again kissed your hand, but kept holding it as you led him to windsor.

you looked around at the dresses, grabbing a formal one, and a sundress. he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were grabbing, so you went into the fitting rooms with him.

he waited outside while you tried on the formal dress, it was a sparkly blue skin tight dress.

“okay, im done.” you came out the tiny fitting room, stopping in front of your boyfriend who was sitting down on the complementary bench. he looked up at you. “what’s this dress for?” he caressed your sides with his hands.

“maybe for like parties or something, when i wanna go out with my girlfriends.” you looked at him, knowing he was going to say something stupid.

“oh you fancy, huh?” he smiled at you. “boy what do you know about fancy?” you chuckled.

“i listen to that song, what do you mean?” he continued rubbing your sides. “mhm, sure baby.” you laughed. “don’t doubt me, ma.” he said. you shook your head, and went back to the room to try on the next dress.

you came out again, this time with the sundress on. you gave him a little twirl and asked him what he thought about it.

he didnt say anything, but he stood up and got closer to you. he placed his hands on your hips and smiled. “you look so fucking beautiful. in everything. even in what you were wearing today.” he started to kiss your neck, again, for like the third time today.

“does this mean i can get both dresses?” you removed his face from the crook of your neck and looked into his eyes. “yes, baby. get whatever you want. just grab it.” he looked back at you.

he seemed entranced by you. like you put him under a spell today, he has never said no to his sweet girl, and he never will.

you kiss him softly on the lips and go back to the fitting room to change back.

you grab both of the dresses and head to the register, chris immediately giving you his black card again.

you started to hit more stores, never forgetting to say thank you to your lovely boyfriend everytime he got you something. even though there were clothes he didn’t like, but you did, he couldn’t say no. you were his weakness, and the way you looked today just made him even weaker.

chris carrying about four clothing bags and you carrying three sephora bags headed back to the car. putting the bags in the backseat you sat in the front as he got in the drivers seat.

“i love you so much chris. thank you for today, you know you didn’t have to.” you smiled at him. god he was gonna lose it if you smiled at him like that again.

“i do have to, i’m never going to not spoil you. i love you too, okay?” he lifted your chin with his index and thumb and placed a light kiss on your lips. “still liking that cherry flavor, ma.” he licked his lips, smirking. you rolled your eyes as he plugged in the aux cord.

“oh lord, what’re you about to play now?” you looked at him. “you’ll see.” he grinned at you.

“Go, go 'head (Go, go, go)”

“oh my god, chris.” you smiled, knowing he was playing Fancy by Drake. he started to head bop to the beat, you joined in after a little while.

“this song was made for you baby.” he says, driving out the parking lot. “that’s what you think.” you looked out the window, listening to the song.

“oh you fancy, huh?” chris sang along with the lyrics.

——

when you arrived back home, you both took the bags inside and placed them upstairs as you started to get unready.

chris was now in grey sweatpants and a white shirt, while you removed your makeup and wore one of chris’ shirts and nothing but underwear underneath.

chris laid back in the bed, waiting for you to finish whatever you were doing. you came out, no makeup or anything like that on. “you still look so pretty. how am i so lucky to have such a beautiful girl?” he opened his arms as you climbed into them.

you laid on his chest, his right arm around your waist and your right leg across his. he used his other arm to pull up the covers, and then placed it back on you.

“thank you baby.” you lifted your head a bit to look at chris, then scooted up a bit to cup his cheeks in your palms, and placed a bunch of kisses all over his face. you wanted to show him how thankful you are for a man like him.

“stop kissing me im seriously about to lose it.” he halted your actions. you went back down to your position, chris rubbing your back in up and down motions.

you get more comfortable as your eyelids started to feel heavier, falling asleep in your boyfriends arms.

#Spotify #writing #reader insert #fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #drake #fancy #fluff #art #one shot #loveiis

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nicksolemnlyswears · 1 year ago

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WASH YOUR WORRIES AWAY

pairing: opla!buggy the clown x reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: 18+, cursing, oral (male receiving), p in v, honestly this one is pretty tame but it's cute <3

a/n: hi hi hi! im back with my bullshit! no but this one is really fucking sweet (maybe a tad cheesy at the end). i had the idea for a while so i was really happy to see that he people of tumblr voted for this choice on the poll.

i started this being super naughty with sanji and zoro and now look at me being a doll with buggy and mihawk (which is strange cause they can easily be the kinkiest mfs).

so i think im gonna write another oneshot for buggy in the near future. maybe one for nami and then i'm gonna go back and write the third part for the sanji x reader x zoro. that's gonna be real fucking interesting. it'll be my first time writing a threesome so wish me luck!

thank you guys for reading and putting up with my wild imagination!!

(as always my psa that this is solely based on the live action)

Buggy the Clown stomps into the Jolly Roger angrily. His crew is nowhere to be found on the empty deck. He expected them to be awake, running around, making plans to get their Captain back. Instead, they are snoozing in the rooms of his ship, shielding themselves from the cold ocean breeze.

Buggy mutters insults towards his freaks under his breath. The lot of them should freeze for all he cares. The fishmen kidnapped him, and all they're doing is getting their fucking beauty sleep. He's starting to believe he wasn't missed.

He beelines to the Captain's quarters, where he finds a pretty sight welcoming him. You're on his side of the bed, peacefully asleep. Buggy intentionally slams the door behind him, rudely waking you up from your slumber.

You jump at the bang and sit up, looking alarmed at the intrusion. "Buggy!" You gasp, relieved to see him, "You're back!"

You and the freaks have been working nonstop on keeping the ship afloat and searching for its Captain. You've barely rested in weeks, tracking down Arlong and his crew.

Today, you finally found the location of Arlong Park and set sail. You stopped an island away to let the freaks rest before marching into battle. They will need it to beat the fishmen or at least make enough damage to get Buggy out.

"No thanks to you and my useless crew," Buggy bites, throwing his coat to the side dramatically. At least his theatrics were not hurt while he was away.

You stand from the bed and approach him softly. He's like a wounded animal that might bolt at any second.

"That's not fair. You know we were on our way," you softly say, feeling bad about his harsh tone. Buggy loves to tease you and push your buttons, but it's not often he's genuinely angry at you.

"Taking your sweet ass time, it seems," he cries out, gesturing at the door as if referring to his sleeping crew.

You let it go and decide not to continue arguing. He's physically and emotionally wounded. Not to mention his ego. You stand centimeters away and grab his gloved hand, "Let me make it up to you, Bugs."

Being this close, you can assess his appearance closely. His makeup is smeared more than usual; it's faded on some parts as his blue stubble breaks through the white face paint, and his eyes look defeated.

"Yeah, make it up to me. Let's see what you come up with," he says sarcastically, letting your hand fall from his grasp. His words might drip with sarcasm, but they are a plea for help in disguise. So you pay him no mind, knowing that by the end of the night, you'll have him like putty in your hands. Only to rebuild him back into the Buggy the Clown you know and love and the Marines fear.

"I'll be right back." You tell him, leaving the room momentarily. You return minutes later with a freak who pushes a wooden tub behind you with steaming water. The freak barely spares a glance at Buggy, scared that the clown might lash out at him.

Closing the door once he leaves, you prepare the water with oils and fragrances. Buggy watches from afar, sitting on the wooden chair he has in his room. He's used to hunching on it for hours, examining his maps, and executing master plans for the next big adventure. He likes looking over his shoulder to watch you sleep peacefully as insomnia grabs hold of him. It brings him peace.

"Come 'ere, Bugs," you say, grabbing his hand to help him up. Buggy grumbles in protest despite looking forward to the bath. "Let me take care of you," you whisper, looking up at him. You place your hand on his chest in comfort.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I'm a grown ass man," Buggy gruffs out, avoiding your gaze. It's not like he's felt like a man in the past few weeks as he's been carried around in a sac as a mere head while his body was beaten constantly by the fishmen. It was degrading and made him feel extremely weak.

You roll your eyes at him but play along, "You're right. You are a grown, strong man. Will you indulge me, though? It'll make me feel better seeing you're okay."

Buggy finally meets your eyes and nods, "For you."

There's no reason for him to say no. You're the person that knows him best in this world. You probably know what he's feeling without him telling you in the first place. Still, he acts difficult because he's bratty like that and because sometimes he has a hard time understanding you're there for him no matter what, with no ulterior motive.

You softly smile at him and pat his chest. Your hands trail up to the scarf tied around his neck, and your fingers swiftly undo the knot. You throw it on the bed as you continue down his chest, reaching the buttons of his vest.

Buggy watches you closely as you concentrate on undoing the buttons. Your touch never lifts from his skin for more than a second, granting him the pleasure of feeling your soothing touch after many weeks.

The vest falls on the floor as you push it back over his shoulders. Fingertips tickle his arm as you reach his hand to take off one of his gloves. Your eyes timidly meet his as you plant a small kiss on his palm.

Before he met you, he never thought such a minuscule action could mean so much. Now, he craves it often. It's your way of saying 'I love you,' seeing as Buggy is not good with words. You give him options to show his love, and that's priceless to him.

Your curious eyes have already taken in all his bruises and minor cuts. There's no doubt Arlong's men had been beating him up. You don't bring them up, knowing Buggy will close up again. He'll talk when he's ready.

You kneel on the floor, helping him off his boots, and quickly after, you get rid of his pants, too. You guide a butt-naked Buggy to the tub, ordering him to get in.

"Ohh," Buggy bites back a moan as the warm water soothes his aching muscles. The smell of eucalyptus wafts up to his nose. It's his favorite scent because it's the one you used when you met.

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" You ask him, untying the knot on his head scarf.

"You said you were gonna take care of me. Do whatever you want, sweet cheeks," he knows you've already made your decision, as his hair is already down before he can respond. You beam at the nickname, knowing your Buggy is softening up.

His bright blue hair falls down his back and into the water. Grabbing a jug, you fill it with water and softly tell Buggy to tilt his head back. The water cascades down his head, wetting his hair and turning it a beautiful deep teal.

Buggy opens his eyes and sees your calm expression as you concentrate on not getting any water on his face. A small fraction of his anger chips away, seeing how much you care for him. Only you'd know he hates the feeling of water pouring down his face.

You grab oils from your selection and brush them through his hair, ridding him of any sand and grime stuck in it. Buggy involuntarily closes his eyes as you massage his scalp with the tip of your fingers. A mixture of a sigh and moan falls from his lips.

When his hair is clean and untangled, you grab the bar of soap and a sponge to clean his body. Your eyes are attentive to any bruise or cut, careful not to hurt him any more than he is.

You notice his neck is quite stiff as you spread the soap suds across his back, so you spend some time massaging the area. You dig your thumbs into the tension knots, causing Buggy to become more vocal, groaning and moaning whenever you hit a spot that needs extra care.

Moving to kneel beside the tub, you wash his chest and stomach. Buggy simply stares as you focus on getting every speck of dirt off of him. Any other day, he'd be making you laugh and throwing inappropriate jokes, but the time didn't seem right to him. So, he kept quiet and observed how you tried to hide your grimaces whenever you encountered a nasty bruise.

You massage his knees when you get to his legs because you know they hurt. Buggy might not complain about any pain, but you know the chop chop fruit makes his joints ache when he uses his abilities.

As the dirt is washed away from his body, so does his anger. He's sure that by the end of the bath, he won't be any better than a harmless puppy, and that's all you wanted. Buggy needs to let go of the anger he harbors inside so he can come back stronger than ever and lead the crew to its next adventure, whatever that may be.

You leave his face for last. You're the only person on earth who has the honor and pleasure of cleaning his face free of its makeup. Carefully, you wipe away with a rag the grease paint covering his handsome face. There's layer upon layer of paint staining his skin. A splash of blue over his eyes, red on the corner of his lips, white on his hairline. You wipe away each layer until you're able to see your Buggy. Not Buggy the Clown.

"There you are," you smile, cupping his face. Buggy's hand comes up to encase yours to simply kiss your palm. Beautiful blue eyes stare back at you shyly. Without all the makeup, he tends to feel more self-conscious about his nose.

"You know I was coming for you, right?" You ask him to make it clear you never intended to abandon him.

"I know, Princess," he says, leaning further into your touch. Your thumb brushes over his stubble before you pull back your hand. A soft protest leaves him.

"Let's get you out," you murmur, helping him out of the bath. You tell him to stay where he is as you fetch the towel.

Once you start something, you have to finish it. With the same love and care, you dry Buggy's body, kissing his bruises as you go along. You get on your knees to dry his legs as well.

It's a very intimate position you're in. Buggy's manhood is right in front of your face. He's looking down with hooded eyes, waiting for your next move. He'll go as far as you want to go tonight.

Having him away for so long, you can't resist kissing around his pubic bone. You avoid touching his cock for now as you tease him, looking up at him innocently.

His length begins to harden as you keep brushing your lips all around his thighs and pubic area, but not where he needs to feel you most. You notice his fists clenching as he holds back from grabbing your head and placing it exactly where he wants.

Finally, your lips kiss his length, all the way from the base to the tip. That alone gets all of his blood to surge down to his cock. You continue this torturous pace for too long, teasing the tip of his cock with your tongue.

"Fuck, Princess," Buggy groans, looking into your eyes.

He's tired. He's been away for weeks. Despite wanting to fall on his bed and die for the next ten hours, his need to have you wins out. So, with the energy boost you gave him with the bath, he grabs your arm and pulls you up.

There will be time for you to suck his cock another time. Now, he needs to feel you as close as humanly possible. Buggy grabs your face and presses his lips against yours.

He kisses you deeply and sloppily, tasting your minty lip balm. He hunches over you as you lean back, overwhelmed by the sudden display of affection. Kissing him back just as fiercely as your arms wrap around his sides, pulling yourself closer.

His hand leaves your cheek to tug on the strings of your night dress and push it off your shoulders. The falling fabric tickles your skin as you're left just as exposed as he is.

Buggy grips your breasts, your sides, your thighs, and your ass. All to feel you so fucking close to him. He doesn't care if he's suffocated by you. After weeks of being tortured, all he wants is to feel your soft, caring touch.

You push Buggy back into the bed, and you tumble down with him as his hold on you is unrelenting. You won't be leaving his side tonight. Buggy sits in the center of the bed with you on his lap, grinding against his length.

"Fucking adore you," Buggy breathes, digging his head on your shoulder to leave kisses there, "and the way you take care of me."

"I'll always take care of you, Buggy," you tell him, cupping his jaw so you can look into his eyes, "You're mine. I gotta take care of what's mine, okay?"

A whine comes out of him as he nods at your words. He kisses your palm again, telling you everything you need to know. Buggy leans his forehead against yours. Something he had to get used to at the beginning due to the fact your noses also touch, but right now, it's the farthest thing on his mind. Having you close is his number one priority.

You line his cock with your entrance and slowly sink into it. You watch Buggy's face contort into one of pleasure as his mouth slightly gapes and his eyebrows furrow. You start bouncing softly, being mindful to be gentle with his aching body. Meanwhile, he grabs into your hips, helping you along, his fingers digging into you, afraid this is all a dream, and you'll go away.

There's no way this is a dream. You feel too warm and tight around him for it not to be real.

Buggy's arms encase your body as he pulls you flush against him. Chest to chest. Stomach to stomach. It doesn't matter that it makes it harder for you to move on top of him. Buggy drags his short nails down your back, relishing the heat of your skin. It's not with the intent to hurt but to feel you close.

You keep your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots just how he likes it. You've resorted to grinding on his lap, as that's how much movement he allows you. His eyes bore into yours, depicting so many emotions he can't begin to comprehend, much less talk about. But it's enough for the two of you.

You peck his lips and ask, "You doing okay?"

Buggy nods and whispers, "I'm doing fucking perfect." He steals a kiss and another and another. Each kiss you let him steal gets progressively longer until he has his tongue in your mouth, tasting you.

The grind of your hips is enough to bring him to the edge. With a warning to your lips, Buggy spills inside of you. He revels in the level of closeness that brings. You play with his hair as he rests his head on your chest, catching his breath.

You need not say anything. It's a moment of vulnerability, and you let him have it. Buggy is resetting and pulling himself together back to the person he usually is.

That night, you sleep naked with Buggy basically on top of you. His head rests on your chest as he falls asleep listening to your heartbeat, and you hold him all throughout the night.

Except, when you wake up, he's gone. As your senses fully wake up, you notice the boat rocking. You've already set sail. Quickly, you get ready and go out onto the deck.

"About time you woke up, Sweet Cheeks!" Buggy yells from the helm, standing by the ship's wheel. The sun beams on Buggy's face, the familiar makeup freshly painted on his face. "It's time to get to work. I have some pirates to deal with."

"Yes, Captain!" You say, which earns you a sneaky wink from Buggy. With a soft laugh, you shake your head and walk through the ship to help the freaks with whatever they might need.

With you by his side, there is nothing Buggy can't overcome.

#opla #opla fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece live action #opla smut #buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy #one piece fanfiction #fanfiction

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1427 · 10 months ago

Text

When the Levee Breaks (pt. 5)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Story Summary: The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her, right?

Chapt Setting: The Farm/Woods

Chapt Warnings: pretty explicit drug use (meth), season 2 Daryl, degrading/sexist language (he’s starting to get better lol), SOPHIA CHAPTER (I think that deserves a warning)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Daryl’s POV story. Daryl’s starting to be less of a dick, trying really hard to make it feel organic/make it make sense in the story. Idk. This chapter was really rough to write because… it made me sad. Also have no idea if it even makes sense (the hallucination bit, really hope it does) lol ALSO; I looked up some timeline stuff and i just?? Really thought Daryl was out there for days on his own? But apparently he wasn’t? We’re just gonna say that he is in this story. 🤷🏼‍♀️ I can only do so much when the timeline of TWD is fucking stupid sometimes. (I mean it. Come for me. Idc. Rick was in a coma for 59 days without food or water???!?!!!? Bye)

masterlist

17+ mdni (no smut in this one tho sorry)

Like fiberglass in my veins, it tears through me. Mellow, at first, almost think I should rail more before I can feel myself sweatin’. Different kinda sweat, comin’ from my fuckin’ soul.

Haven’t felt like I was doin’ something ‘wrong’ since I was little. That feeling that ch’ya get when you’re doin’ somethin’ ya know you’re not s’possed to. This ain’t the first time I done spazz, but maybe it’ll be the last. The anxiety about doin’ it goes away the second I feel the devil kick me through my nose to the back of my brain. Even though I know it’s comin’, it always feels like gettin’ skullfucked by satan.

Been out here for a day. I brought Merle’s shit with me because I decided to finally get rid of it somewhere. But I got somethin’ that needs doin’. And anyway, I got years of experience with ice. Not doin’ it. Sometimes doin’ it. Never let Merle know, he’d’ve made some big whoop ‘bout it. And everytime he’d gone and done more than he remembered, he woulda blamed me. Shit though, sometimes it was.

M’not like Merle and Beatle. Ain’t an addict. Can do shit and put it down. Always been able to put it down. Figured other people could too, that they just didn’t wanna. ‘m not sure, but still kinda think that.

Never felt fuckin’ guilty about it before, though. Fuckin’ Beatle. I’unno if it’s cuz I’d be done with her if she did the same shit, or if it’s cuz I know if she knew that I was - she’d be mad at me. Mad I didn’t invite ‘er.

But this shit ain’t for fuckin’ playtime. Only reason ‘m even doin’ it i’so I can find Sophia. So I can stay awake, focus, and get ‘er back. They use ta use this shit in war. War’s the reason methamphetamines even exist. Nazi’s? Hell, every single one of ‘em in WWII. Kamikazi’s loaded up, totally fuckin’ wasted outta their minds on crystal while they bolted ‘em in. Kept ‘em awake, kept ‘em happy, kept ‘em focused on the mission. Tha’s what I gotta do.

I can’t stop lookin’ til I find ‘er. Sophia. ‘m the only one that can, only one that knows how. And anymore, ‘m the only one that seems to give a shit. ‘Sides Carol. And Beatle. She wanted ta come. Told her she’d only slow me down. Distract me. Drawn more geeks. She woulda. Told her I didn’t need food either but she packed me some anyway. Knew I wasn’t gonna be hungry. Knew I was gonna use this dumb shit to help. But whatever.

Doesn’t matter what happens to me, right? My life’s not worth nothin’, not compared to that little girl. Now that her old man’s outta the picture she actually got a chance. Maybe not mucha one, not the way shit is these days. But she got ‘er mom. And ‘er mom can actually be ‘er mom now. Not scared of some piece’a shit prick that finally got what was comin’ to ‘im.

Man fuck that guy.

The trail I’m followin’ disappears so I backtrack to the mangroves where I found her doll and try to find another one.

I start to wonder what kinda old man Beatle had. What kinda mom? Startin’ ta realize I don’t know a damn thing about Beatle. I know she likes drinkin’, she likes laughin’, she likes fuckin’ with me. But…

Beatle keeps surprisin’ me. Not just because she let me hump her face a few days ago, the fact that she liked it, shit I haven’t even had a second to process that. Nah, more cuz she hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t tried to hold my hand again. Hasn’t been annoyin’ me nearly as much. Not even at all, if ‘m honest.

My brain’s goin’ a million miles a fuckin’ second over Beatle and what happened between us. Not just the other night, but back then. Got questions that need answerin’ but she ain’t here. Try to keep myself occupied with trackin’ but it ain’t like trackin’ takes much thinkin’. Follow every trail I pick up, but none of ‘em lead me to Sophia.

I’d prob’ly start gettin’ really frustrated about this, but that’s what crystals good for. All the dopamine I need, and nothin’s annoyin’. Focus.

✨🏹

Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, walker guts. Trees and rocks and blood and mud and dirt and greens and browns and reds and blacks. And it’s dark and it’s light and it’s dark. And it smells fuckin’ rotten. Bent branches, wilted leaves, another trail, another dead end, another undead shithead. Bent branches, wilted leaves, mud impressions, Beatle.

How many times did I go into Merle’s bag and take the devils dick up my nose? Cuz Beatle’s standin’ here right in front of me. ‘Cept she’s all done up in makeup and glitter and her pupils are the size of dimes. Little pink crop top, tiniest pair’a daisy dukes I ever seen. ‘n she’s in my face sayin’ the shit I been thinkin’ about her sayin’ since that day she said it.

“I like you, Dar.”

“You like bein’ fucked up more.” I say it like I said it the last time.

“That’s not true! I mean - I like you, Daryl.” She steps closer, tries to put her hand on my cheek before I brush her off. She slumps back a little, turning away. “You like me, too. You said it.”

My hearts in my fuckin’ throat and I’m standin’ there, this can’t be fuckin’ happening. I know is’not but doesn’t make it feel any less real. “Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle.”

Hate that I said that to ‘er. Did I really say that? Cuz maybe that’s how I felt. Hell, maybe that’s how I felt last week. But it ain’t fair. I don’t know her. Still. Now. Don’t know ‘er at all. Thought I did. Thought I understood what kinda girl did those kindsa things. Is that really what I said? Fuck.

She’s still turned away from me, but I walk the half circle around to look at her face. And she’s sobbing. Silently, trying to stay as still as possible. I… I don’t remember this part. Maybe I didn’t see it? Nah, I saw it. Just didn’t care. Didn’t wanna look at ‘er. Didn’t want to hear her lame ass confession. Especially after she’d brought up that I told ‘er I liked ‘er. She sniffles and wipes her face before she pulls a bubble pipe out of the waistband of her shorts and lights the bottom, starts smokin’ it. She asks if I want a hit, like last time.

I go to say no, but the words don’t come out. Instead my hand reaches for it. I look back up and Beatle’s dressed all different. Baggy jeans and a bikini top. That night. Fuck. Shit. I don’t want to relive that night.

“I promise, I won’t tell Merle.” She says, handing me her lighter. And I smoke it. Inhaling the vapor slowly like she had. “You gotta sip at it, like it’s a coffee and you’re drinking the air to see if it’s still too hot. Roll the bowl or it will burn.” I do it the way she says. She’s like ten years younger than me, but she looks at me - talks to me like it don’t matter. Like she don’t see it that way. Guess I don’t either, never really did.

I’d never wanted to smoke it before. But that night I wanted to. With her. Woulda done anything she’d asked that night ‘fore she ruined it. I ruined it. Til it got all fucked up an’ it was never the same again. Not the way I saw her, not the way she looked at me.

I’m goin’ through memories like they’re happening all over again. Feelin’ fuckin’ sick. I don’t wanna remember this.

I hand the pipe back to her and she asks, “How do you feel?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” She smiles.

“Good.” I clarify.

“Good.”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I think I like you, Beatle.”

She laughs too hard, “you think?” I feel myself getting sicker and angry again all at once.

I split in half. One half feelin’ those same feelings I felt. That this conceited fuckin’ bitch really acts like everyone likes her. I hear her words and it sounds like she’s sayin’ ‘well obviously’ - but the other halfa me hears it like a real question. Like she wanted ta know what I meant. I don’t remember how I responded then, but I can hear myself say it, “Self-obsessed cunt.”

Beatle laughs, “Is that what you like about me?”

My misunderstanding continues; Thought she was pickin’ on me. Makin’ funna me. All these years. All this time. Thought she was fuckin’ laughin’ at me. Never told a girl I liked her. Not that I never did like one, just never told ‘em. Not like some teenage fuckin’ confessional. And I do and what? she just laughs.

Shit.

Cuz inside ‘m screaming. Screamin’ at myself ta say somethin’ different. To jus’ tell her. She’s special, she’s exciting, and when she smiles at the shit I say it makes me feel like I’m the only one in the fuckin’ world to her. Tha’s what she wants ta here. Tha’s why she’s askin’.

“Nah. Forget it.” She nods, and I thought she did forget it. She forgot until she brings it up again in the memory I already re-lived.

Tha’s how I was so damn sure she didn’t give a single shit about if I liked her or not. Didn’t bring it up again for months. Didn’t give a single shit about me at all. Felt stupid for ever thinkin’ she might. Just a dumb crush on a dumb girl, and I forgot everything about it. An’ every little thing she did that made me like ‘er ended up as somethin’ else I hated. And every time I saw her after that she was fucked up on somethin’. Meth or booze or weed. Usually all three.

It comes at me like a fuckin’ freight train, her lips crashing into mine, but this time I want it. Don’t wanna stop kissin’ ‘er. Instead my arms move and I push her down to the ground. She’s wearing the crop top again, can tell she’d been cryin’. She’s layin’ there in the rocks lookin’ up at me and I flash back to the living room where this happened, where she’d told me she liked me back. I wanna beat the shit outta myself for makin’ her look like that.

How didn’t I see it?

I did see it. I just didn’t care. Thought I knew what kinda girl did those kinds’a things.

Wonderin’ what kind of old man she had. What kinda boyfriends before she met me. How maybe she’s just as fuckin’ scared’a feelin’ stuff as I am. How maybe it took her months to even get up the courage to tell me after I’d told ‘er never mind and slowly started to hate her. How many’a those drinks were for courage? How many’a those hits were cuz she was nervous?

Shit.

And she’s runnin’ away like she did then. Away from me an’ outta my life until a few weeks ago. I know it ain’t real but I run after her anyway. Screamin’ her name into the open air like maybe somehow I can change it if I can get her to come back. But she’s gone and ‘m still running tryin’ to find her. Screaming for her ‘til my throats hoarse.

‘Til the walkers hear me.

✨🏹

Andrea fuckin’ shot me. What is wrong with this fuckin’ group?

✨🏹

Beatle’s in the bedroom with me but I can’t look at ‘er. Don’t wanna. Feels like she knows what I was doin’ out in them woods without ‘er. Like she can see the dirty shit in my soul and for some reason it makes me ill. Can’t look at ‘er. Knowin’ I hurt ‘er like that all that time ago. Knowin’ it now like I ain’t ever known anything else.

It’s just me ‘n her and she doesn’t try to talk to me. Just lets me lay there hatin’ myself for all of it. Didn’t even find Sophia.

Spent a lot of my days in my life hatin’ myself. Thinkin’ I was good for nothin’. Now ‘m sure of it.

I feel the bed move under the weight of her. She hugs herself around me, and like some pathetic kid I fuckin’ cry. Don’t know if she can tell or not but she tries comforting me anyway. “It’s okay, Dar. You did your best.” Her voice… how could I have ever thought it was annoying? Her bein’ so nice just makes me hate myself more.

“Lea‘me alone, Beatle.” Shakin’ her arm out from around me. She gets off the bed and sits back in the chair she’d been in. God, I fuckin’ hate myself. Wanna scream No, come back. I didn’t mean it.

Still got question’s that need answerin’. This time Beatles right here, and I ain’t got nothin’ to lose. “Why were you naked in Merle’s room?” Grateful that she’s sittin’ behind me. Don’t think I could talk to ‘er ‘bout this stuff if she was lookin’ at me. Right now? If I saw her face? Don’t think I could talk at all.

She laughs. Fuck her stupid fuckin’ laugh. “I still can’t believe you think I fucked around with Merle.”

“Why not? Y’all hung out every other day.” My voice is sharp, feels like she’s laughin’ at me again. Always feels like everyone’s laughin’ at me.

“We all hung out every other day, Dar.”

“Stop callin’ me tha’.”

“I was carpet surfing. Your dumbass brother spilled all the schkag all over the damn place.”

Oh…. But, “Ya didn’t have any clothes on.”

“I never had any clothes on, Daryl. You sure I wasn’t just wearing something ‘slutty’? You know, like you always said I was? Cuz I don’t remember, but I’ve never been naked with Merle. Ever. Sounds fuckin’ gross.”

Oh.

It made sense. Makes so much sense, ‘specially now. She keeps talkin’ an’ ‘m grateful cuz if I tried to say anything else I’d start fuckin’ cryin’ again. “I liked you, man. I…” she stops herself. Wanna beg her to keep goin’ but I can’t.

Instead I ask ‘er the only question I got left, “Why’d ya leave, then? Ya left ‘n ya never came back.”

She’s silent for a long time. “When you and Merle moved, where’d you go?”

She did come back.

“Why’d ya leave, Beatle?” Doesn’t matter where Merle and I went. She’s avoidin’ the question.

“Got sober. After that night… with you. Wanted to get sober. Wanted to…” she don’t say the rest but she don’t need to. I got it. Fuck, my heart can’t take it.

“Cuz I said ya liked gettin’ fucked up more than ya liked me.” It ain’t a question. I know.

“Think it was more the other thing you said.”

Tha’ was before I really knew ya, Beatle. I can still taste the words. “Shouldn’t’a said that to ya.” My voice is barely a whisper.

She gets back up on the bed and puts her arm around me again, this time I don’t shake her away. Her voice, so close to my ear, “I didn’t want to tell you that I came back. I didn’t want you to know that I got sober for you.”

What? “Why not?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d care. And if you did… I didn’t want you to have all the what-ifs in your head that I have in mine.”

She hugs herself into me so tight it’s hard to breathe, and she tells me, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

I feel guilty, can’t take any of that back. Can’t make any of it better. I don’t deserve this. Her. After all the nasty shit I ever thought about her. After what I did to her the other night. I can’t bring myself to tell her to leave cuz I know she wants to be here. Don’t wanna make her cry again.

So I let her hold me. Even though I don’t fuckin’ deserve it.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon imagine

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differentpostrebel · 3 months ago

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Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

This gif cause Zoro looked ready for war

Chapter 30: The Palace Siege

A/N: Another Chapter in the books! Still one of favs writing it. So much is at stake as Y/N will now be facing Doflamingo in a stipulation. Im not gonna lie Y/N is going to be put through the ringer, and secrets will be revealed. Thank you guys for everything, liking, commenting, following!. I cant wait for you guys to see what else is in store. But without further a do let the adventure begin! We will be getting some Sanji POV’s as he is just about arriving to Zou.. and we have the first set of surprises coming also (heheh)

Word count: 5.5K

Sanji X Reader, OP x Reader, Sanji x Y/N

Y/N POV…

A few minutes passed since I made that stipulation with Doflamingo. I knew I wasn't going to win—that was certain—and I knew he would never release Law. Doflamingo is a man who cheats and manipulates to get his way. It's his game, and I was just a chess piece. Now, I found myself staring at my reflection as Baby 5 had escorted me to Doflamingo's quarters. I was still in chains, but the strings binding me were gone, which was at least a small mercy.

I looked down at my legs, where marks were starting to form from the restraints. Slowly, my gaze returned to the bruises forming on my neck, remnants of Doflamingo’s cruel grip. “Now for Phase 3,” I thought, trying to stay focused. "Cause enough damage to the palace so that once Luffy is inside, he’ll know exactly where to go."

As I continued to contemplate the next move, Baby 5 walked in with some materials in hand. "What's that?" I asked, not bothering to look away from the mirror.

"The young master requested a few changes," she replied, her tone dripping with annoyance. It was clear she wasn’t happy with me being here. "And I didn’t forget that you’re the harlot who stole my Law from me," she added with a cigarette between her lips.

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, my eyes still focused on the mirror. "Harlot, huh? Funny. That’s the same thing Monet called me before I killed her." My gaze locked onto hers through the mirror, challenging her. "I suggest you find a new word or else."

Baby 5 faltered for a moment, her bravado cracking ever so slightly as she laid out the materials on the bed. The room was luxurious, with silk satin sheets adorning the king-sized bed. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a short red corset dress, its bodice sparkling with gemstones and intricate embroidery. Alongside it sat makeup, hair ties, and something that made my stomach twist—a tiara. It was silver, with a large red ruby glinting at the front.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes in disgust. “Let me guess. He wants me to look like a doll, right?”

“Something like that,” Baby 5 replied, her voice dripping with amusement. “Young Master said you need to look your best... for when the game begins.” She picked up the dress, holding it out for me to inspect. The gems glistened under the soft light of the room, but all I saw was a prison.

I stepped forward, glaring at the outfit and then at her. "And this too?" I said, pointing at the tiara. "The bastard wants me to wear a tiara?"

Baby 5’s eyes flicked to the tiara before meeting mine, her smirk widening. "It suits you, doesn't it? A pretty little ruby to match his 'precious' princess."

my eyes narrowed. "He really thinks this will break me? Dressing me up like some sort of twisted prize?"

"Why fight it?" Baby 5 said, raising an eyebrow. "You’re already in chains. He’s already won."

I leaned in closer, my voice low and dangerous. "He hasn’t won yet. This game is far from over."

Baby 5’s smirk wavered, just for a moment, and I knew my words had struck a nerve. I turned back to the mirror, my reflection staring back at me, bruised but not broken. The tiara sat there like a crown of mockery. Minutes passed, and Baby 5 had already changed my outfit, tying the strings in the back with a roughness that hurt my ribs.

“I need to figure something out, in the meantime,” I thought. “I need my blades to create a stronger impact.” Baby 5’s harshness in tying the strings caused me to wince. “Easy!” I protested.

“Oops, sorry,” Baby 5 said, smirking as she continued her task. She finished with my makeup and styled my hair into a high bun, carefully placing the tiara on my head and securing it so it wouldn’t move. “There! Don’t you look regal?” she said, laughing.

All I could see in the reflection was the hatred I had for Doflamingo. Suddenly, an idea struck me. “Baby 5 did all this because Doflamingo needed her to,” I realized. “What if...”

“Baby 5,” I said, turning to her.

“What do you want?” she sneered.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said, watching her closely. Baby 5’s eyes widened in surprise. “You... need me?” she stammered.

“Bingo,” I thought, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Yes, Baby 5. I need you to tell me where the—” I almost spat the words, “—young master has hidden my blades. We’re playing a game of ‘find the prize,’ and the prize happens to be my blades. If the young master gets to them first, I lose. And I don’t want that. So, I need you to tell me where they are. Do you think you can do that for me?”

Baby 5, still caught up in the idea that someone needed her help, moved to one of the cabinets in Doflamingo’s room. “They are right here!” she said, opening the cabinet to reveal my blades and thigh halter, all tied together with one of Doflamingo’s strings.

“So that’s how he got them,” I thought. I reached for my blades and yanked the string off, feeling a sudden surge of power as they returned to me. Although I was still in chains, the rush of energy from my blades was unmistakable. I quickly grabbed my thigh halter and attached it to my left thigh, hiding the blades once more.

I turned to Baby 5 and said, “Thank you, Baby 5. You’ve been a real help.” I smiled, and she still looked dazed, mumbling to herself, “Someone needed me, and I helped,” clearly pleased that someone had relied on her.

Just then, the transponder snail rang. Baby 5 picked it up. “Is the princess ready for me?” Doflamingo’s voice caused my anger to flare.

“Yeah, she’s ready, young master,” Baby 5 said, her voice tight with renewed focus.

“Good. Bring her to me,” Doflamingo said before hanging up the transponder snail.

Baby 5’s demeanor changed abruptly. She grabbed my left arm with a firmness that snapped me back to reality. I couldn’t help but smirk as Phase 3 was about to commence.

Zoro POv…

“So wait! You’re a princess! Just like Y/N?!” Luffy exclaimed, smacking me across the head.

“Would you keep it down!” I hissed, rubbing the spot where Luffy hit me.

“Wait, are you implying that you are Dressrosa royalty?” Kinemon asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I used to be,” Violet said, placing her hand on a hidden stone. “I’m no longer part of the royal family, but I was once.”

“Wait! If Rebecca is the king’s granddaughter, that makes you...” Luffy’s eyes widened in realization.

“Rebecca is my niece,” Violet confirmed, as she found and revealed a secret passage leading to the palace. “She’s the daughter of my late sister, Scarlet.”

“A hidden door?! Are you a ninja?! A princess and a ninja, how remarkable!” Kinemon exclaimed, clearly amazed.

“Now… I’ve seen everything,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

As the hidden passage came to light we made our way down the dusty stairs. We’ll remain hidden and avoid detection by using this passage. It belongs to the Riku family. Not even Doflamingo knows about it.” said Violet.

“Hmmm, it looks like this passage leads to the top,” I said, examining the narrow corridor that seemed to rise toward the palace.

“Hey Luffy, why don’t you take this boulder and shoot yourself up?” I suggested, gesturing to a large boulder nearby.

Luffy grinned. “Got it! Alright, here I go!” He stretched his arms around the boulder and began to elongate, lifting himself and the boulder up toward the top.

“Make it snappy, Luffy! Y/N needs us!” I shouted, trying to keep my voice steady despite the urgency.

“Please, climb up quickly!” Madame Ninja—Violet—pleaded, her concern evident.

“No way! What?!” Violet exclaimed, shocked at our unorthodox plan to reach the top quickly.

Sabo POV…

I did my final stretch as the competition neared its start. A laugh escaped me, and I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. With my metal pipe in hand, I made my way to the arena. "Well, let's go, Marine Colosseum!" I called out, turning to the guy next to me.

"What did you say?" he asked, clearly confused.

"It’s Bartolomeo," he corrected.

As I stepped out, the crowd erupted in cheers. I raised my right hand to the sky, whispering, "I hope you are watching over me, Ace!" My mind then flickered to Y/N. "Y/N, wherever you are, I hope you're safe," I muttered, determination and concern intertwining as I headed toward the dome.

As the other four contenders entered the arena, I noticed Rebecca’s gaze lingering on me. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, as if she might be questioning whether I was really Lucy.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the Colosseum, introducing Diamante to the stage. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I adjusted my sunglasses, locking eyes with Diamante. He had a confident smirk, and his presence demanded attention.

Diamante began speaking to the crowd, his voice carrying over the noise. "Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves! In the waters below, we have some special guests—the fighting fish!" His tone was dramatic, clearly enjoying the crowd's excitement. "One of these fighting fish carries a treasure chest on its back, and within that chest is none other than the Flame-Flame Fruit!"

The announcement was met with an uproar of cheers and gasps from the audience. Diamante continued, outlining the rules with a flourish. "The rules are simple: stay in the ring and retrieve the chest with the Flame-Flame Fruit to claim victory. No matter what, the chest must be secured."

With that, the bell rang, signaling the start of the match. The arena filled with a mix of tension and anticipation as the competitors readied themselves for the challenge ahead. My mind was focused, determined to navigate through the chaos and claim the prize.

As the bell rang and the match commenced, Burgess lunged at me with a powerful strike. I quickly dodged, slipping to the side with practiced ease. I could feel the intensity of the battle heating up as I circled the ring, my eyes scanning the water for the first sign of the fighting fish.

The crowd's cheers echoed around me, but I focused solely on the task at hand. I kept moving, staying light on my feet and watching for any disturbance in the water. The fish were fast and erratic, making it hard to pinpoint which one was carrying the treasure chest.

I continued to dodge sporadic attacks from my opponents, using the movements to draw out the fish. I needed to be patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. The key was to avoid getting caught in the crossfire while I searched for the prize.

My heart raced as I kept my focus on the water, hoping that the right fish would reveal itself soon. Each second felt like an eternity as I danced around the ring, ready for whatever came next.

Y/N POV…

"Well, well, well, look who finally showed up," Doflamingo said, his voice dripping with mockery as he sauntered towards me. "Baby 5, thank you for getting the princess ready for me. You may leave."

Baby 5 nodded and quickly exited, her footsteps fading away. Doflamingo moved into my line of sight, blocking my view of the video transponder snail. I couldn't see if Luffy had made any progress, which made my anxiety spike.

Doflamingo approached, his hand trailing suggestively across the ornate corset dress I was forced to wear. His touch was both unsettling and humiliating. He grasped my chin roughly, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I must admit, you look quite the part, princess," he said with a smirk. "But let’s see how long you can maintain this charade."

As he leaned in closer, I discreetly activated the hidden mechanism in my bracelet, loosening the chains that bound me. I kept my movements subtle, hiding my growing resolve behind a veneer of defiance and fear.

Doflamingo’s laughter was dark and taunting. "What’s the matter? Stunned into silence? Or are you plotting your escape? I must say, watching you struggle adds an extra layer of enjoyment to this whole affair."

His fingers brushed lightly over the tiara on my head, mocking the regal costume he’d forced upon me. "And this little crown," he continued, "just adds to your humiliation. It’s a sight to behold."

The chains on my wrists were somewhat secured in front of me, but with the hidden mechanism activated in my bracelet, they were now loose enough to be manageable. I met Doflamingo’s gaze with steely determination. “Are you going to talk, or are we going to compete?” I demanded, defiance clear in my tone. Stepping closer to him, I added, “Like I said before, Doffy, I will never be your toy, and I intend to win this chase.” I glanced over to where Law lay unconscious but still breathing.

Before Doflamingo could respond, an alarm blared. “This is the front entrance to the rampart tower, emergency! Strawhat Luffy has broken in!” the transponder snail announced.

"Luffy’s here!" I thought, a wave of relief washing over me. Doflamingo, visibly annoyed, turned his attention to the video transponder snail to view the fight. I managed to catch a glimpse of the screen and my eyes widened. “Wait a minute… is that…” I thought, unable to contain my surprise.

“Huh?” Doflamingo said, his confusion evident. “What the hell is going on here!” He continued to stare at the screen, his frustration mounting.

I broke away from the screen’s gaze and looked at King Riku, sending him a subtle wink and mouthing “don’t worry.” I then returned my attention to the screen to see the man before me. “So, this was your plan all along, Sabo…” I thought, feeling a surge of pride. Despite the lies and the hidden identity, seeing him in action reminded me of why I wanted to know him more. He was an excellent fighter.

“Damn Sabo, I’m supposed to be focusing on my plan and you’re out here distracting me like this.” I thought, a smirk tugging at my lips. Doflamingo’s eyes snapped back to me. “What do you know about this?!” he demanded.

“What’s wrong, Doffy? You’re not afraid, are you?” I taunted. “Besides, we have our own match to play, and it looks like you’re scared.”

Doflamingo gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on me. “Remember, princess, what’s at stake.”

“I know,” I said, smirking. “And I’m not afraid to go head-to-head.”

Just then, another voice cut through the chaos. “I can confirm it’s Strawhat Luffy! And he’s with Pirate Hunter Zoro! And wait, Lady Violet and another swordsman!”

“They made it!” I thought, excitement building. “Now to do my part.”

With renewed determination, I broke free from the chains and lifted my right leg, landing a swift tremor kick to Doflamingo’s chest. He was sent crashing into the wall, debris scattering around him. I looked at King Riku and whispered, “I’ll come back for you as well.”

“Hey Doffy!” I called out, clenching my left hand to activate its power. Doflamingo slowly began to rise. “Catch me if you can.” I smirked and, with that, I broke through the door, speeding away from Doflamingo. As I began to activate Phase 3 of the plan, I felt the weight of the moment and the urgency to ensure everything went as planned.

Zoro POV…

With Luffy demolishing the door, we didn’t have much of a choice but to barge into the palace. An alarm blared throughout the building, and I yelled, “Luffy!”

Luffy, undeterred, continued to pummel the guards with relentless attacks. “The alarm? You don’t think that’s…” I started to say, but was cut off by a loud bang from upstairs.

Luffy laughed and shouted, “Yup, that’s Y/N!”

��Y/N,” I whispered, a sense of relief flooding over me at the sound of your name. “Fire! Don’t let them escape!” a guard ordered, blasting bullets at us. I drew my swords and swiftly took them down. After a few more punches, the guards fell.

“Kinemon, take care of the little one, okay?” I said.

“But Sir Zoro, I must find my friend Kanjuro. I need to get to the toy house!” Kinemon protested.

“That’s where Operation SOP is happening with the other Tontata,” said the little one.

“Then we must head over there at once!” Kinemon insisted. “Sir Zoro, I will be heading to the Toy Factory!”

“Fine by me. I need to find a reckless princess,” I smirked, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement.

Just then, another loud bang echoed from upstairs. “Let’s go!” I commanded. Luffy, Violet, and I raced up the stairs. “Which way?” Luffy asked.

“Left!” I replied. As we ran, we heard Luffy shout, “I’m coming, Mingo! The coast is clear!” His voice echoed with his usual bravado.

“Guess security can’t keep up!” I said, as we continued sprinting through the halls. Suddenly, a loud noise accompanied the extinguishing of all the candles. “Uh, that’s weird,” Luffy said, looking around.

The wall began to shift, revealing a giant face. “A face!” I exclaimed, looking up. “It’s huge!”

“It’s Pika!” Violet identified. “He’s a top executive!”

“Great, now we’ve got to deal with him,” I muttered.

“He ate the Stone-Stone Fruit,” Violet added. “He can manipulate stone.”

“He looks like a bunch of bricks, if you ask me,” Luffy commented, eyeing the massive stone figure.

Pika launched an attack, nearly hitting us. “We gotta try something. He’s blocking our path!” Luffy said.

Luffy then unleashed his Gomu Gomu Jet Gatling, smashing through Pika’s stone form. “That was easy! Come on!” Luffy cheered.

As we continued running, Pika morphed once more. “Damn it!” I muttered, watching the walls start to close in on us. “The palace itself is our own enemy!”

“Great,” I said, as the walls squeezed tighter. “We’ve got to find another way out.”

“The walls!” Luffy shouted, pointing out the impending danger. “They’re closing in on us fast!”

We pushed forward, fighting against the shifting walls and the chaos that seemed to be closing in around us,

Sabo POV…

As I continued to fight and dodge, I spotted the fish carrying the treasure chest. “There you are!” I called out, leaping into the air and landing on the fish’s back, evading the other attackers. Just as the fish was about to move towards Rebecca, I grabbed its fin. “Nice, I got you now!”

“Not so fast!” Diamante shouted, rushing towards me with his sword. I laughed and swung my metal pipe, shattering his sword into pieces. “Don’t forget about me!” Burgess roared, preparing to strike.

I held my ground, ready for him. “Eat this! Dragon Claw!” I shouted, launching my attack at Burgess. His assault faltered, and I smashed through his armor, shattering it into fragments.

“Don’t want to give me the fruit? That’s what you get!” I declared, defiance ringing in my voice. “I won’t give up!”

With the fish still under my control and the treasure chest within reach, I remained focused on my goal, determined to secure the Flame-Flame Fruit and turn the tide of the battle.

Y/N POV…

As I dashed down the stairs, the echo of Doflamingo's voice followed me like a dark shadow. I could hear the amusement in his tone, and it only spurred me on, despite the exhaustion seeping into my muscles.

“Oh, Y/N,” Doflamingo called out, his voice rich with a blend of amusement and desire. “I must admit, watching you run like this is quite entertaining. The more you try to escape, the more I want to catch you. It’s almost a game for me.”

I glanced back briefly, catching sight of his smirk. “This is no game, Doflamingo. I’m not going to let you win.”

He chuckled darkly, his laughter echoing off the walls. “Is that so? But it’s exactly that defiance of yours that makes this all the more exciting. Every step you take, every breath you draw, it only intensifies my desire to catch you. You’re like a wild bird trying to escape from a cage, and I’m eager to see how long you can keep it up.”

I pushed myself harder, my heels pounding against the marble stairs. “You won’t catch me, Doflamingo. Not today.”

“Such fire,” he taunted, his voice growing closer. “But that only makes me want you more. The struggle, the chase, it’s all part of the thrill. And once I have you, oh, you’ll understand just how much I enjoy this little game we’re playing.”

My eyes darted around, searching for another way to outmaneuver him. “Keep dreaming. I’m not falling for your games.”

Doflamingo’s voice was a dark purr, filled with promise. “We’ll see about that. I plan to savor every moment of this chase. And when I finally catch you, I’ll make sure you remember this game for a long time.”

I gritted my teeth, determined to keep moving and make every moment count. His words were a constant reminder of the stakes, but they also fueled my resolve to stay one step ahead.

A string bullet whizzed past, grazing my shoulder and causing me to tumble. I barely managed to roll back onto my feet as Doflamingo's menacing figure closed in, his expression a mix of amusement and desire.

“You’re getting closer,” he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. “Just a few more steps, and I’ll have you right where I want you. You can’t escape, no matter how fast you run.”

With a desperate burst of energy, I clenched my right hand and connected it with my left palm, activating the electrical charge, hoping to buy myself some time. The crackling power illuminated the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

“What’s this?” Doflamingo sneered, his eyes widening with a mix of interest and frustration. “Trying to make things interesting? I must admit, you’ve got some fire in you. But that’s just what makes this all the more exciting.”

He advanced, his strings flickering like deadly whips. “I’ve been waiting for a challenge like this. The way you defy me—it’s almost endearing. Almost.”

Doflamingo’s gaze was fixated on me, his desire for victory palpable. “I want to see you struggle,” he continued, his voice filled with a sadistic thrill. “The more you resist, the sweeter your defeat will be. Come on, Y/N. Give me everything you’ve got. I’m savoring every moment.”

His words stung, but they also fueled my resolve. “You’ll get nothing but my defiance,” I shot back. “I’ll never give you the satisfaction of my surrender.”

I clenched my left hand and activated its power, feeling another familiar surge of energy. Stepping with my left leg, I appeared behind him in a blur. I released the electrical charge from my right hand, sending a powerful jolt through Doflamingo’s body.

“Ugh!” Doflamingo gasped, his eyes widening in shock as the electricity coursed through him. “What the—”

“This isn’t a game for me, Doflamingo,” I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. “I won’t be your toy, and I won’t let you win.”

The electrical shock gave me the moment I needed. I sprinted away from him, putting as much distance between us as I could. Doflamingo’s furious shouts followed me, his frustration palpable. “You won’t get away! I’ll make you regret this, Y/N! Just wait until I catch you again!”

But I didn’t stop. I focused on my escape, knowing that every second I could delay him brought Luffy and the others one step closer.

Zoro POV…

“Damn it!” I cursed as Pika continued to lift the entire palace floor, causing the ground to shift beneath us. The stones we’d destroyed always reformed, making it feel like a never-ending fight. “This guy’s a real pain in the ass!”

Luffy, equally frustrated, shouted, “What the hell is this?!”

“None of our attacks seem to be hitting! Luffy, we gotta think fast or we’ll be stuck here forever!” I gritted my teeth, frustrated at the situation. “108 Caliber Phoenix!” I shouted, unleashing my attack and shattering more stones. But Pika just kept coming back, his stone form regenerating with each blow. The massive stone walls surrounded us again, blocking any chance of escape.

Luffy was about to launch another attack when I stopped him. “Luffy, listen! You need to take Violet and go on ahead. Leave this stone bastard to me. You go and kick Doflamingo’s ass twice as hard for me, and get to Y/N—fast!”

The weight of my words hung in the air. I gripped my sword tighter, feeling the urgency pounding in my veins. Y/N was somewhere in this palace, and I wasn’t going to let some stone giant stop us from getting to her.

Luffy hesitated for a moment, but then he gave a determined nod. “Right, got it, Zoro! I’m counting on you!”

Without another word, he grabbed Violet and dashed off, leaving me to face Pika alone. The ground shifted underfoot again as Pika towered over me

I clenched the handle of my sword tighter, my jaw set with determination. “Hold on, Y/N. We’re almost there,” I muttered under my breath as I prepared for my next strike.

Y/N Pov…

I continued to run, leaving bloodied handprints on the walls as markers for Luffy and the others. My right hand was throbbing, bleeding from the strain I had put on it. I came to a stop, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. "I think... I lost him," I whispered, trying to catch my breath. But I knew better than to believe Doflamingo would give up so easily.

I glanced down at my left thigh where my swords were still secured, untouched. "Not yet," I thought, biting my lip in frustration. As much as I wanted to use them, I couldn’t—those blades were my trump card, my last resort. "This isn't the time… I need to hold out just a bit longer."

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” I muttered under my breath, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. My breathing was labored, my heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to escape. "Luffy, Zoro, Kinemon... where the hell are you guys?" I whispered, feeling a pang of desperation. "Please... hurry."

I made a sharp left and found an empty room. Without thinking twice, I rushed in, slamming the door shut behind me and locking it. My chest heaved as I tried to regain some composure, the adrenaline still coursing through me. I pressed my back against the door, sliding down until I was seated on the floor, my head leaning back as I tried to calm my breathing.

After a few moments, I forced myself to stand, pushing off the door as I slowly walked deeper into the room. The eerie silence settled around me, amplifying every step I took.

"Okay, just breathe... just think," I murmured to myself, glancing around the dimly lit room. "I need to figure out the next move."

I clenched my fists, ignoring the sharp sting in my right hand. "I can’t let him catch me, not now. Not when we’re this close."

I made my way closer to the desk, my footsteps echoing in the silence. Papers were scattered haphazardly across its surface. Curiosity getting the better of me, I began sifting through them, spreading them out further. My eyes scanned the pages, my mind racing to make sense of what I was seeing.

“What the…” I muttered under my breath, confusion turning into disbelief as I looked closer. There, laid out before me, were all of our wanted posters—Luffy, Zoro, and even mine. They were pinned down, as if meticulously studied. But next to them, something else caught my eye.

Documents. Detailed records. And at the top of one of the pages, bold letters spelled out the truth behind Dressrosa. My breath hitched in my throat as I quickly skimmed through the papers, piecing it all together.

My hands froze, my heart skipping a beat as my eyes locked onto the final few lines of text.

“No… this can’t be right,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “This whole time… this is what he's been hiding?”

I clenched the papers tightly, anger rising within me. “The citizens... everything that’s happened—it’s all been a lie.” I stood there, stunned, the weight of the truth crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Doflamingo… you bastard."

I made my way toward the door, desperate to leave before Doflamingo could catch up. My breath still shallow, my hand hovering over the handle—when suddenly, his voice cut through the air like a blade.

"I’ve got to hand it to you, princess," Doflamingo’s voice dripped with menace, "you’re exactly what they make you out to be."

The lights flickered on, illuminating the room in a harsh, cold glow. My heart sank as I realized the truth. I had run straight into a trap. My body tensed, my mind racing to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in.

Doflamingo’s smirk deepened as he approached, his steps slow, deliberate. “But, it looks like I caught you, which means you’re mine now.”

My eyes widened in panic. His fingers moved with precision, strings shooting out from them and wrapping around my wrists and body before I could react. I struggled, but it was no use. His strings tightened, immobilizing me completely. He yanked me back effortlessly, pulling me toward him with a sadistic grin plastered across his face.

"Let's get you back where you belong," he whispered, his tone low and dangerous.

I was dragged through the hallways, my body unable to fight the pull of his Devil Fruit power. By the time we reached the familiar room where Law and I had been held before, my wrists and body were bound tightly in the same chair. I could see Law now, fully awake, his face contorted in anger and desperation.

Y/N!” Law shouted, straining against his sea prism stone handcuffs. “Damn it! Let her go!”

His voice was filled with urgency, but the situation seemed hopeless. The room was crowded with three guards, Baby 5, and Buffalo, all of them poised to act if either of us tried anything.

I forced a strained laugh, despite the pain. “Wow, Doffy, you really had to bring backup this time? Scared I’m gonna kick your ass again?”

Buffalo chuckled, but Doflamingo’s eyes were cold as ice. “Oh, Princess,” Doflamingo said, his voice dripping with mockery, “it’s not fear. It’s about ensuring you stay exactly where I want you. I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”

I nodded toward the wall where I’d left a dent. “I mean, if you come to think of it, that hole in the wall over there,” I said, pointing with my head, “is a pretty solid reminder of what happens when you underestimate me.”

Doflamingo’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Careful, Princess,” he warned, his tone edged with menace. “Your defiance is only going to make things worse for you. The more you provoke me, the more pleasure I’ll take in breaking you.”

He tightened his grip on the strings binding me, causing a fresh wave of pain to shoot through me. I winced but kept my gaze steady. “I’ll never give you the satisfaction,” I spat out.

Doflamingo’s lips curled into a sadistic smile. “You’re quite the little warrior, aren’t you? But bravery won’t save you here. In my domain, strength means nothing. All that matters is how well you endure.” He glanced over at Law, who was still fighting his restraints with desperate energy. “And as for Law here, his pleas are nothing but background noise. He’s powerless to help you now.”

His fingers lingered on the strings, tightening their grip with deliberate cruelty. “I have no intention of letting you go. You’re mine now, Princess, and I plan to savor every moment of your suffering.”

The room was heavy with tension as Doflamingo’s words and actions continued to taunt and torment. The guards, Baby 5, and Buffalo remained vigilant, their eyes fixed on the scene as the situation grew ever more dire.

As I continued to struggle against the tight, painful bindings, my mind was focused on one thing: Luffy. I couldn’t help but think, "Luffy, where are you?"

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