#he was demoted to babysitter

[hoperaypegasus]

Beyblade + The Onion Headlines

[kagoutiss]

the newly vassaled gerudo king is inexplicably handed a baby

[impishsensei-a]

get a motorcycle . be cool . let me ride on your back .

"but! but!! everyone can ride a motorcycle if they really want to. only i can teleport, so technically it's cooler because only i can do it." he's hurt that his power is not cool, apparently. "i can give you a piggyback ride and warp. it's the same thing, really."

[koiyoiki]

crack AU where L gets fed up with the task force complaining about him being chained to Light, snaps, and just brings in Near with the explanation that the issue is clearly that L is too old and Light should be supervised by someone within his age range. Cut to Light being absolutely livid for being demoted to a babysitter and getting chained to said baby (he doesn't know that Near is actually 13 and not like... 6. this also means he feels utterly insulted by L by calling Near "someone within Light's age range"). Fast forward a bit and Light and Near are actually getting along, which results in Watari overhearing L muttering "it should have been me..." more than once, with a depressed expression.

[fridaysmind]

Shifting priorities

The Doctor x reader (platonic)

Okay, I've only written on Transformers, but seeing the new installment of PPT just made me smile and sit down to write. I love the scientist characters too much. Warning: mention of organs and violent experiments, possible spoilers. If you want me to write you something, feel free to request it!

Yes. Yes, he knows no mercy, yes, he's ruthless and cruel. So what? If even half the employees in this company were as logical, goal-oriented, the greatest things were created long ago. If that snot-nosed jerk Ludwig, with his inspirational speeches and penetratingly understanding gaze, would stop acting like a softy, immortality would not be a dream, but a matter of money. Sure, these assholes would be sure to talk about the good for the world, but who gives a damn? They don't understand anything at all, make heroes out of themselves, sympathize, pity, as if they are not the ones watching bloody experiments on cameras, as if they are not the ones keeping living corpses in cages without food

Let any of them call Sawyer an asshole, so be it, but he was honest enough, at least with himself. He knew who he was and didn't try to appear different.

Some of the employees laughed at him when he brought you, a kid, into his cleanest (and relatively) office for notes and paperwork. They threw jokes about his demotion to babysitter or his willingness to leave his job and go into fatherhood. The doctor had no trouble putting them in their place.

They don't understand because of their own feeble-mindedness, Sawyer says to himself, looking down into your big, overly intelligent eyes. He took this kid away, like finding a diamond in a pile of dirt, sand, and debris. He knew those test results, he knew that communication style. It was hard not to recognize himself in your face. A kind of little genius who'd been so lucky to get into the orphanage.

You're definitely different from the other kids, you don't look at him like he's the last hope, like you're a yard dog, you don't act like a nasty snotty brat, none of that. But he sees respect, he sees that one genius recognizes and acknowledges another and it rubs off on his ego. You laboriously write something out of his study guides by the light of a desk lamp, read his notes, speak of him to others with reverence, causing him something resembling a surge of pride.

Kids are always too curious, especially the smart ones, and you were out of the question. Of course you did sneak in during one of his experiments. He can blame himself for not locking the door. He could, yes, but he won't. Another body opened up before him like a flower bud, not moving as he carefully separated the marrow with a scalpel and as your stupid face crawled out from the other side of the bunk, making him shriek in fright.

He was almost on the verge of a breakdown, it had all started out so well, now he'd have to either keep you on a leash or get rid of you altogether, the kids can't live with themselves after a sight like that!

But oh, oh, he remembered why he chose you. Staring emotionlessly at the pale face of the girl you had definitely previously known, you point a finger towards her head asking to see the actual brain. He calms down in an instant, noting to himself again what a genius he is for discerning the right specimen.

As the doctor continues to poke around inside the children, you sketch out cerebral gyrus in your notebook, interjecting now and then about the purpose and name of certain parts of the large hemispheres of the brain. Wonderful child…

As the years of his work go by, you grow up. You enjoy interacting with experiment 1166, stroking his colorful fur, throwing him things to bring back. You're aware of his human nature, as well as many other things, but you remain as he chose you to be–cold and indifferent.

The Doctor notes some signs of savagery in you, very slight, but that's not surprising when a child grows up underground, in the company of adults, experiments, and beast-like unintelligent creatures. You can survive it.

***

His first reaction when he wakes up, immobilized, split into pieces and placed in the damn machine–worrying about himself. Not that it's unexpected. He remembers you pretty quickly, too. Where are you, where is his favorite apprentice? He asks questions, demands answers, threatens, but a short 'run away' is all he gets in response.

Immersed in darkness and silence, abandoned by traitors who only turn when they need his brainpower, he thinks of you. You're still not as bright as he is, but your company was much more pleasant than this one. Did you just run away, leaving him alone? You don't think of him even after all these years together? You grew up around him, he taught you so many things that he knew himself, didn't you get attached?

What a silly thing to say, he doesn't get attached, and you're so much like him that you're hardly different in this. Sawyer can't help but feel something unpleasant at the thought. Abandoned, all traitors and all abandoned him!

***

The ray of light in this prison was your sudden voice. He thought he had lost his mind, he mean even more, but no, you were definitely here, the cameras didn't lie. He couldn't help but scare you a couple times, just for fun, understand the old man, he was so bored here! But he helps you get to him, genuinely happy to be able to socialize again. No, he hasn't become like those soft-spoken idiots in the factory, it's just nice to talk to a decent person, that's all.

You stay by his side survived by nothing short of a miracle when the Prototype himself visits the Doctor after the Hour of Joy. They need his mind, they need his intelligence and knowledge. All that, but not you.

Sawyer almost squeals, screaming that he will not help them under any circumstances if they touch such a marvelous specimen, he is uncompromising, unafraid of the threats of a huge creature that makes even your mouth dry up with a semblance of worry.

You're staying, alive again by a miracle. and under strict surveillance by everyone. No one here trusts you, nor will they. You don't expect them to be kind, though.

The Prototype has warned Sawyer that your feeding is only the Doctor's own responsibility and goes into the shadows. You are left alone with each other, simultaneously tongue clucking and hissing the same curse. Everyone here is such an asshole.

[ladyloveandjustice]

I'm all for Barbie and her trophy boyfriend Ken (obviously considering my most viral post) and everything, but people out here saying "the best relationship is a woman who can do anything and man who can't do shit", like y'all realize that's most sitcom couples, where the women is the hot babysitter to an average loser schlub, right? That's also the classic 'loser guy is the protagonist while the more competent female character is his babysitter and love interest" in action movies and other movies.

I agree this dynamic can be fun in the right flavor. The reason Barbie and Ken work in Life in the Dreamhouse is he's NOT a total loser who doesn't do anything for Barbie, he's a robotics whiz who built a house for Barbie, he was able to get a ton of jobs!... he just immediately dropped them to be with Barbie. He just loves his gf and is content with letting her be his priority at all times. I don't think Ken in the upcoming movie is going to have absolutely nothing going for him either or be a drain on Barbie's life (hopefully). He'll probably find something that allows him to be somewhat self-posessed.

So like, it can work, if the guy is always bragging about his gf, if she's not demoted to his babysitter, if she likes him because he's sweet or if he's actually good at nontraditionally "male' things like being a caretaker- but 'woman has to be on a pedestal, guy gets to be a loser' is just another way woman are pigeonholed in media. Girls don't often get to be the losers because they have to be great to be respected and 'loser girl' doesn't fit into the ideal straight male sexual fantasy. Hypercompetent guy with loser girlfriend is usually derogatory, in a way the opposite isn't, if there's a female character like that, she'll be arm candy everyone shits on and sexualizes and nothing else- it's very rare for the ditzy loser gf to have any focus much less be the protagonist- it shows up pretty rarely, and if it does, it's notably in works aimed at women like Sailor Moon.

[adorethedistance]

Baby Fever - Trevor Zegras x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing, smut adjacent content (post-sex interaction/make out), a joke about cheating, a joke about death, and semen... in that order...

Words: 2322

Requested: Can you please do a trevor blurb where him and y/n go to a pumpkin patch with their nephew and Trevor's playing with their nephew and y/n gets so much baby fever please

A/n: Hey y'all! I'm taking a break from the Jamie series of firsts with a requested fic. I kinda riffed on the request so there are some things you need to know beforehand: 1) they're not babysitting a nephew, they're babysitting Troy Terry's kid Greyson 2) I'm aware Greyson is currently an infant but in this fic he's a toddler 3) I understand you asked for a blurb but I'm ass at writing blurbs 4) therefore this is a part 1. (Part 2 coming soon ish?) Enjoy!

Troy Terry had sworn to never let Trevor Zegras supervise his son. Or at least, before I was in the picture anyway. I had befriended Dani over the course of several Ducks’ games after Trevor and I became official. We somehow managed to have the same schedules despite having vastly different lifestyles; at the time, she was a new mom adjusting to domestic bliss, and I was a senior at UC Irvine preparing for my post-grad plans. Now that I’m not overwhelmed with work as a student, she and I grew pretty close. More often than not, we found ourselves having several hangouts without our guys present. Naturally, I saw Greyson a lot, considering the fact that I would spend my time with Dani in the Terry residence.

Our latest hang out consisted of us gabbing about the latest drama with Greyson’s preschool over a glass of wine. In telling me that Greyson was between daycares right now, I offered to take him off her hands for a night so she and Troy could have a much needed date night. At first, Dani refused, not wanting to dump the responsibility on me, but I insisted. There were several pros: I love kids, Dani has done plenty of favors for me before, Greyson’s already comfortable with me, and they wouldn’t have to pay for a babysitter. Pleased with my argument, Dani agreed and the plans were set. 

This Friday, the team had a day off and rather than having the guys disappear onto the nearest golf course, Dani and Troy began planning their night off, as did Trevor and I.

“Hey, babe, I was thinking about how to spoil you and thought we could get a table at The Ranch tonight. What do you say?” Trevor asks, holding my hips and subtly pinning me against the kitchen counter.

“About that.”

“What’s up?” He asks, deviously dipping his head down. I don’t give in to whatever seduction game he’s playing, and quickly peck him on the lips.

“I kind of made evening plans.” He takes the kiss in stride and looks at me teasingly.

“Is your boyfriend back in town already?”

“Yeah, he wanted to go to The Ranch, too. I just can’t have my boyfriend and my side piece in one place, soooo.” 

“I’ve been demoted to ‘side piece’? Ouch,” Trevor laughs before sliding his hands along my waistband to clasp behind my lower back, and pull me into him so our hips touch. “Fuck. Now you’ll never pick me over him!”

“Oh, that was always the plan. Don’t get it twisted.” He laughs once more before asking,

“What’s going on tonight?” I open my mouth to answer and as I do, he slips his hand down to grab my ass, catching me by surprise.

“Hey!” Right as I scold him, Jamie walks into the kitchen to refill his water bottle. I try to bite back the smile that creeps across my features, flustered by Jamie’s newfound presence. 

“Hey Jamo,” Trevor says casually, to try and ease the awkwardness.

“You guys know I still live here, right?”

“Sorry, Jamie.”

“I’m going grocery shopping. Just try to keep it in your room, Z.” 

“Keep what in my room?” He asks, playing dumb, much to Jamie’s dismay. He merely shakes his head and leaves the kitchen. Watching Jamie leave, Trevor follows with his gaze, tracking Jamie’s movements to the opposite direction until he hears the front door open and close. After, he turns back to face me, “You were saying?”

“I told Dani I would watch Greyson.”

“What?!” I half expected Trevor to be upset, but he’s sporting the widest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, she and Troy were due for some alone time, so I offered to take him to the pumpkin patch tonight.”

“When?”

“They’re dropping him off around 5.”

“5. What time is it now?” Trevor leans away from me to look at the clock on the oven that reads 2:57. “Oh, we have time.” 

“Time for wha-” I cut myself off with a screech as Trevor picks me up and sits me on the open counterspace. He pushes my knees apart to stand between them, the dominant action in tandem with the cold countertop underneath me sends shivers down my spine. He then kisses me passionately, trailing his fingers up the length of my exposed thighs. His hands find the top of my waistband, running along the hem as he presses his hard on into my core. I hold either side of his face in my hands, squeaking once more as Trevor picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.

___________________________

Panting and still slightly sweaty, I check my phone to see the clock reads 4:43. “Shit.” 

“What?” Trevor asks curiously. He’s laying on top of the covers, fully nude and sprawled out, after having collapsed on the bed next to me.

“It’s 4:43,” I say between sticky breaths. He shuts his eyes and groans loudly,

“Give me, like, five minutes.” 

“Uh, no sir. You need to get me a towel so I can get up and pee.” Trevor’s eyes shoot open and he sits up. 

“Right. Boyfriend duties await.” His expression is humorous and I can’t help but notice the way his abs flex through the movement. If it weren’t too late, I’d have jumped him again, then and there. He rolls off the bed, sliding on the nearest pair of briefs he can find. Trevor then grabs the towel hanging on the doorknob, and walks over to where I am on the bed, propped up on my elbows. The gravity of holding myself up causes the beaded sweat to roll down my cleavage, and on to my stomach where Trevor had finished a few minutes prior. He doesn’t say anything but I clock the way his eyes are trained on my chest as he approaches me. I hold out my hand for the towel but he holds it out of reach. 

“What are you-?” 

“Lay down.” 

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!” I confusedly put my head back on his pillow and Trevor grabs both ends of the towel, opening it up to lay it over me. “I’m calling it. Time of death, 4:44 PM. Rest in peace, Y/n, I’ll miss you.”

“Oh my god,” I say from under the towel. Pulling it off my face, I sit back up to find Trevor snickering at his own joke. “Are you proud of yourself?”

“Very.” He leans down and places a sweet kiss on my lips. When he pulls away, my eyes flutter open and he gently lifts the towel to cover his hand, then wipes off the leftover fluid. I look up at him as he moves, a soft smile of adoration painting my features. Trevor looks down at me and widens his eyes teasingly before relaxing to smile at me again.

The sound of the front door opening echoes down the hall and from the entrance we hear Jamie call, “I’m back! Please tell me you’re clothed!”

“Don’t worry about it, Jamo!” Trevor calls back before wadding up the used towel and throwing it at me.

“Ew!” I should’ve known him being sweet wasn’t going to last. Sliding off the side of the bed, I pick up my clothes and walk into the bathroom to pee. After I’m dressed again, I come out to see Trevor had thrown on the outfit he was wearing earlier: a v-neck polo and board shorts. 

“You can’t wear that,” I say in disbelief.

“Why?” Trevor looks at me in confusion. Turning to the mirror that hangs on the back of the door, he takes in the fresh hickeys littered across his exposed chest. “Oh shit.” The revelation is perfectly timed with a knock on the door. Nudging Trevor out of the way, I exit his bedroom and leave him to change. Jamie is unloading groceries with his airpods in and I wave when I walk by to signal that we’re done and he can exist peacefully again. 

Answering the front door reveals Dani and Troy in the nicest casual clothing I’ve ever seen. The Terry’s smile upon seeing me and I look at Greyson who’s sitting on Dani’s left hip.

“Hi Grey!” I cheer and he immediately smiles. I then notice Troy holding what seems to be Greyson’s booster seat and as I go to reach for it, Trevor appears behind me. Greyson runs inside and begins punching Trevor’s leg with all the might his almost-four year old arms can manage. I laugh but Dani scolds,

“Greyson, we don’t hit people, remember?” He immediately stops, thinks for a moment, and then proceeds to throw punches at Trevor but without making contact. Dani sighs exhaustedly before saying, “Good enough.”

“How’s it going, man?” Trevor asks Troy, causing Dani and me to look at the guys incredulously.

“You saw each other yesterday,” I tease. Trevor shrugs as he takes the car seat from Troy. 

“Terry’s my boy though,” He responds somewhat jokingly. Greyson then speaks up,

“What about me?” The group laughs about the sweet question but Greyson isn’t amused. He looks around, confused, before stepping further into the apartment to scope it out. Greyson then yells, “I wanna go to the pumpkin patch!”

“Read you loud and clear, bud,” Trevor replies. Then, Dani asks practically,

“What time do you need him out of your hair?” To which I reply,

“Oh don’t worry about it, we can hang onto him for as long as y’all need.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, well, his bed time is eight, and that’s usually around when we get tired anyway, so we’ll be here around then?.”

“8 it is,” I say with a smile, leaning away to look at Greyson fully. He smiles shyly before hiding his face against Trevor’s leg. “Why are you being shy, Grey-Grey?” I ask, looking down at his level. 

“I think he has a little bit of a crush on you.”

“Really?” I ask with a tiny bit of a laugh. Troy chimes in,

“Yeah, he was super excited when she told him you were the one babysitting-” 

“He’s been looking forward to it all week.” Dani finishes Troy’s sentence before they look at one another and smile, “In fact, he told me he has something to tell you, right Grey?”

“You’re pretty, Y/n,” He admits before running away, which causes the four of us to laugh.

“I told you my boyfriend was back in town,” I tease, which then makes Trevor laugh heartily. Turning back to Dani and Troy, they both look confused and I feel my cheeks grow warm in embarrassment.

“Inside joke,” I reassure. They nod and offer a few goodbyes to me, Trevor, and Greyson, before heading out for good. 

Closing the door behind us, Trevor sets down the car seat and says,

“I gotta up my game now that I have competition.”

“Yeah, so behave!” Trevor touches his left hand to his heart, giving me a look that reads melodramatically offended, “You’re currently in the lead, though.”

“I better be,” he bites back, wrapping his arm around the back of my body, coming to rest his right hand on my hip. His thumb brushes the hem and I look up at him over my left shoulder, 

“You’re still turned on?” I whisper, in shock. Trevor doesn’t reply. His hand slinks down to my ass as he kisses my lips heatedly, before he goes to follow Greyson’s path. I follow close behind and see Greyson’s found Jamie in the kitchen.

“Can I have one?!” Greyson shrieks upon finding a box of fruit by the foot. Jamie laughs at his excitement before asking,

“Do your parents even let you have sugar?” The dry humor is lost on the young child but I snort a laugh. 

“I’ve had these before in my lunch!”

“...Okay, sure. Let me open it for you. I don’t trust you to not destroy the box.”

“Jame, can you keep an eye on him for a second so we can get shoes on?” Trevor asks.

“He just got here and you’re already pawning off your responsibility on me?” Jamie playfully accuses Trevor, who looks offended. I laugh, partially at Jamie’s joke, and partially at watching Trevor misunderstand his roommate in real time. Jamie looks at me and we laugh about the joke going over Trevor’s head. 

I then head for the bedroom to search for the shoes I was once wearing. Trevor enters a little after I do to pull a pair of white sneakers from his closet. He’s uncharacteristically quiet. I almost want to ask what for, but then I’m overcome with the desire to let him stew in the silence. If I wait long enough, he’ll have to speak. He always does. Or, at least, he usually does. 

“Do you want kids?” He works up the nerve to ask, quickly adding, “Someday?” in hopes of softening the blow of the genuine conversation topic.

“Probably someday,” I answer simply, which sends him back into an introspective silence for a moment.

“How many kids would you want?” I look over at him to see he’s staring at me, as if tearing his gaze away would shatter the moment. I continue putting on my shoes,

“I think two is a good number. That way they can have a sibling, but not so many that they would feel their needs went unmet. Why?”

“I could do two,” Trevor says assuredly, ignoring my question.

“Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but you’re about two rings short of trying to have a baby with me right now,” I assert in a teasing way, although I’m not joking. The tension of the conversation dissipates as Trevor laughs. 

“Fair point,” Trevor squints his eyes at me, “But we can still practice, right?” I laugh again before nodding,

“We can at least agree on that.”

***

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed that and stay tuned for part 2 that'll drop sometime this week or next. let me know if you have a request for either Trevor or Jamie bc I'm on a ducks kick rn! Sidenote: is anyone else absolutely obsessed with the fact that we can copy paste tags now?? saves so much time !!!

[mirensiart]

I love your pain sharing AU as much as the next guy (it's a lot, I love it a lot), but do you have any other projects you're working on you want an excuse to talk about? Doesn't even have to be Zelda

aah you’re so sweet 🥹💖 I do have a few original characters that I need to draw more of…..I’m gonna use your ask as a way to show them off a little bit hehe

I haven’t done a lot of world building, but the main characters are a knight named lady ira, an apothecary lady named flora (they’re in lesbians with each other), the bastard prince of the kingdom named ancel and once thief and outlaw but now reformed boy named lowen

✨ THE PLOT ✨

ancel is the youngest prince of the kingdom and also a bastard, the only reason why the king keeps him around is because ancel is the only one of the royal kids who’s adept at magic! this means the royal kids, the queen’s children, really despise him and constantly try to get rid of him (kidnapping/assassins)

Thanks to this, he is often assigned a body guard (babysitter) as a way to protect him of his half siblings and also cause ancel is a menace when it comes to magic and can’t really control it very well, so the guard is also to protect the general public from him lmao

Lady Ira used to be a high ranking knight until she fucked up and was demoted and assigned as ancel’s bodyguard, which she resents as first since she feels her talents are being wasted looking after the king’s bastard

She gets attached cause obviously lmao imagine the “old grumpy man gets attached and adopts a little girl” trope but it’s a lesbian and a little boy lmao

Lady Ira eventually meets Flora thanks to shenanigans involving ancel being poisoned, flora being an apothecary is able to save the boy’s life

Lady ira notices that flora has an X scar on her mouth, turns out flora is cursed! The scar prevents her from speaking, if she speaks the X scar opens up as a wound causing her unbearable pain, it closes back when she keeps silent (clearly someone didn’t want her to speak hehe)

Lady ira offers to help her find a cure for her curse as a way to thank her for saving ancel

So flora + lady ira go on a journey to find someone who can counter the curse, lady ira leaves ancel under the care of one of her trusted knight besties, but the kid is like chaos incarnate and escapes to join up with them since he also wants to help flora out

Lowen gets dragged into all of this, since like, he used to be a thief and a wanted man until lady ira pleaded for him and got him a job in the royal stables, lowen feels indebted to her and also thanks to this job, he found a best friend in ancel

Those two are like, the most chaotic duo ever since lowen enables ancel’s weird antics lmao anyway, ancel grabs his bestie to join in the ✨adventure✨and lowen agrees cause if it means helping lady ira he’s in

So yeah, it’s basically two lesbians and their weird chaotic kids find out flora’s curse is important and pivotal to a conspiracy going on in the kingdom

I do like the doomed yuri trope, so yeah it’s doomed yuri lol ANYWAY have art of the sad lesbians

and here they’re happy but not for long…!

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 4

Secrets Exchanged

Part 1 | Part 5 | Table of Contents | Read this on A03

Characters: Ace x reader WordCount: 9k (buckle up! this is a long one!) CW: alcohol mention

You just had to get through this strategy meeting, and then you could avoid Portgas D. Ace for the rest of the day. It wouldn’t be so hard. You had done this a thousand times, as the lead strategist over all the divisions. Ace being wouldn’t make that much of a difference. 

If you thought about it, the second division strategist was actually a demotion. It was significantly less intense. Two years ago, your job had been to review strategy plans and find flaws in them. Now, you just had to present plans and get them picked apart by the other divisions. 

You thought about going to wait for Marco at the commander’s common room, but you didn’t want to risk seeing Ace yet. So you walked to the strategy meeting alone, with a few minutes to spare. 

Only a few commanders and your father were in the room, but you found Marco there with an empty seat next to him, so you sat down beside him. 

“You should really sit with Ace,” Marco urged quietly. You began to steam at his suggestion, so he quickly added more. “Strategists sit with their commanders on the other side of the table. And the commanders who didn’t have strategists present sit over here.”

You ignored him, shuffling through your papers to find the list of names you’d be presenting. You were so nervous for this meeting. You had done this hundreds of times with much higher stakes, why were you nervous now?

“Y/N,” your father called from the head of the table. You paused your work, looking up at him to acknowledge that you were being spoken to. “I’d like to talk to you privately after this meeting.”

There was no trace of anger in his voice, but you were still concerned over the private meeting. You couldn’t let that show though, you had to keep a cool exterior. If anyone picked up on your anxiety, they would question you and your abilities. You couldn’t afford that, not now.   

You nodded once to signify you heard him, but you still didn’t speak to anyone. You simply looked back down at your paper and continued to give one last look over your report until the meeting began. You saw people trickle in, with an occasional double glance at your placement next to Marco. 

Eventually everyone had arrived. Everyone except your commander. 

“Damn Ace,” your father bellowed. “That boy is always late.” 

“Must be with someone,” Blamenco mumbled. “He’s been busy recently.”

“There was a lot of noise coming from his room last night,” Thatch noted.

“Noise?” someone questioned, but you didn’t see who. 

You were looking at your papers, but you could feel a few eyes shift over to you. You could feel your skin start to bubble, and you took a breath to keep your cool. It didn’t matter if Ace was sleeping with someone else. He could do whatever he wanted to. It shouldn’t bother you what, or who, he did in his free time. But it did. 

“I can go get him,” Marco groaned, finally rising from his seat. 

“No,” Whitebeard said, rather firmly. “His strategist can go.”

You were so focused on appearing to look normal, it took you a few seconds of silence to realize that your father was talking to you. You glanced around the table, and found all sets of eyes on you. 

“Me?” you asked, rather stupidly. 

“You are his strategist, aren’t you?” Your father asked, looking at you. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m his babysitter,” you mumbled. You heard a few snickers from around the table, which brought you a bit of pride. 

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice was dangerously close to anger, and you could see a few of the newer commanders tense. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” you grumbled, rising from your seat and slinking out the door. 

Every step towards Portgas D. Ace’s room felt harder than the last. You found yourself hoping you’d meet him in the hallway, or he got his dates mixed up and would be running to the meeting. But that wasn’t the way Ace did things, which you knew from experience. 

You stood in front of his door, hesitant to knock. You didn’t want to know who was on the other side of this door. You didn’t want to see Ace after he had been with someone else. Or worse, see someone else with him. Your stomach twisted into a thousand knots just thinking about the possibilities. 

But you had to do it. Perhaps it would be better to just get it over with. So you knocked. 

There was no answer. 

You knocked again. “Ace!” you shouted, banging on the door. 

The door swung open, Ace’s freckled face inches from yours. He looked rough, like he hadn’t slept at all in the past 24 hours. You wondered if this was how he looked yesterday, when all the commanders came and grabbed him as you hid under the covers. 

“Y/N.” Ace’s breath was warm on your face, and you took a step back. “Just the lady I wanted to see! Can I show you something?”

“We have a meeting. A strategy meeting,” you said. “The one I worked really hard for? That one. Do you remember?”

His eyes grew wide at your words, and it was clear he had lost track of time. “Shit,” he said. “Shit. Shit. Shit! I’m so sorry.”

“We need to go.” You started to turn around to walk down the hall. “Now.”

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you turned, and you almost burned him for touching you. Almost. 

“I want to show you something,” he begged. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

“I don’t want to see who-” but he yanked you into his room before you could finish your sentence. 

His room was empty. Well, empty in a sense that there was nobody else inside his cabin. But it was filled with woven strands and half made hats, and new shelves had appeared on his walls since yesterday morning. Whatever he was doing last night, it wasn’t a person. 

“What is this?” you asked. 

“Shelves. Hats. A little thing.”

You hadn’t even noticed the decor strewn across his floor. You were too consumed with the hats and the shelving. It was a garland of wooden flowers all strung up on a piece of long leather cord. Each of the wooden flowers had been hand cut and painted, and they were all unique. It was beautiful, you had to admit. 

“Why?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. 

You scoffed in disbelief. “You can always sleep.”

“I couldn’t last night. I-” he hesitated, looking at you for a moment before his eyes darted away. “I just couldn’t.”

“We need to go, Ace. Tell me about your weird midnight projects later.”

“Wait! Okay let me show you just really quick. Please.”

“Ace,” you hissed. A piece of you was curious, but you knew everyone was counting the moments until you were back. 

“The hats I’m making for Little Oars, right? I made him one, but it's starting to get old, so I need to make a new one, you know?”

“Ace-”

“And the shelves are for the shells. They’re everywhere, I know. I need to take better care of my stuff and organize things better, so…shelves.” He held his hands out, showcasing the shelves he built. 

“And the decorative thing was just…I dunno. For fun. For you.”

“For me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“You don’t have a lot of stuff in your bunk.”

“I prefer it that way,” you said. 

“But now you can have this too,” he explained. 

You wanted to take it. You could tell he put a lot of effort into it. But your own preservation was key. 

“I don’t like flowers,” you lied. 

“You do,” Ace argued. “I see you smell them every time you pass the garden.”

Your heart raced. “Ace-”

“I know. Creepy. Whatever. Commanders are supposed to give a personalized gift to their strategist when they join. This is my gift.”

Your cheeks flushed with pink. You were about to decline again, but he picked up the garland and shoved it into your hands. 

“No returns,” he said. “If you try to return them, I’m going to hang them up in your bunkhouse myself.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. You held them gingerly, not wanting to ruin his hard work. You looked over them, admiring all of the detail he had done. It was hard to believe he did this in one day. 

Ace watched you for a moment, and then gave a nervous laugh. “I think we should head out, or more people might come looking for us.”

“Shit!” you hissed. “The meeting!”

Both of you took off towards the command center. Luckily you had to pass by your bunkhouse, and you stopped in briefly to drop off your garland of flowers. You tucked them safely in your bedside drawer, to keep them away from lingering eyes and curious hands.

When you walked back into the command center with Ace, you saw that a few people had shifted around the table. Thatch had taken your seat next to Marco, leaving the only open seats next to one another. You scowled at Thatch, but you took your seat next to Ace without any argument. Your papers were at your new seat, at least that oversight hadn’t been missed. 

“Now that everyone is present,” Whitebeard said as soon as you and Ace took your seats. “Shall we begin with the strategy proposal?”

You nodded, passing out a copy of the division breakdowns and a rough outline of the plan as you began to explain. 

It went well. It barely lasted 20 minutes. There was no pushback from any commanders or the other strategists in the room. Everyone was in agreement that your strategy was airtight. It was clear that the commanders still trusted you completely, even though you had been away for two years. 

You ended the meeting with the promise to reevaluate the day before, when Namur got updated schematics, and the rest of the table agreed.

“Nice work,” Ace congratulated you, holding out his hand for a high five. “I’ve never had a meeting go that fast before.”

You grinned at his compliment, and gave him a high five in celebration.

“You slept practically the whole time,” you teased. 

“No! I was just resting my eyes!”

You giggled at his defensiveness as you gathered up your things. “Sure, whatever you say, commander.”

“I sense sarcasm,” he grumbled, which only made you laugh harder. You both stood to your feet and started to leave, when your father called out your name.  

“Right!” You stopped in your tracks, turning back around to face him. “Sorry, sorry. Coming!”

“Let’s go lover boy,” Marco mumbled to Ace, pulling him out the door. 

You hoped your cheeks weren’t red enough to give you away. Even though it was only your father left in the room, you didn’t want him knowing about whatever you and Ace had going on. Not that there was anything going on.

Your father stared at you for a long while, towering above you. You stared back, waiting for him to begin speaking. 

He chuckled to himself after a bit. “I see you're getting back into ship life again.”

You shrugged. “Some changes from being on land, but it’s been an easy transition.”

“How do you like being in the second division?”

He was watching you. Extremely close. Looking for any hint of a lie or nervous behavior from you. 

You chose to answer truthfully, crafting your answer with just the right language.  “Honestly? I haven’t don’t much with the division as a whole. But I’ve missed strategizing. It was kind of fun getting back into it.”

He squinted at you, aware of what you were doing. “And Ace?”

It felt like a careful game of chess. You couldn’t keep your face completely neutral; it would be obvious that you were hiding something. But you also couldn’t completely react to his words, or else it would show that something happened. 

You chose to scrunch your face in slight disapproval. “How honest do you want me to be?”

“Completely.”

“He seems like a good commander who can rally people when they need their spirits lifted. He cares about his family, that’s clear. But…”

You sighed, looking at your dad. “He’s pretty stupid. And he’s always falling asleep.”

Your dad bellowed out a fit of laughter at your comment, and you could feel the air lighten a bit. You had chosen to move the right piece in your chess game. 

“He is definitely a character, thats for sure,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes before he spoke more seriously. “But how do you feel about him?”

You gave him a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t act dumb. How do you personally feel about him as an individual?”

“Oh,” you said. You had to think quickly. Tell the truth, just not the whole truth. “He’s fine, I guess. I don’t know him very well.”

You saw a glint in your father’s eyes, and you knew that he had some kind of information which contradicted your statement. 

“I see,” he said, watching you closely. You resisted the urge to look away from him. If you did that, he would know for certain you were lying about something. 

“Are you happy with your position?” Your father asked you. 

You nodded. “I enjoy it.”

He hummed at your answer, thinking for a moment. “Do you prefer it to your old job?”

You had noticed that your old position hadn’t been filled. Marco seemed to have taken over as the lead strategist in a sense, but he wasn’t as thorough as you had once been. 

“It’s certainly less work,” you said, instead of an answer. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Are you offering me my old job back?” you countered skillfully. You hadn’t been the lead strategist for no reason. You could see what game he was playing. 

Your father sighed, refusing to play the game any further. “If you’d like it back, it’s yours.”

You wouldn’t belong to any division, just like before. Nobody would be in charge of you except your father. You’d be able to get away from Ace. It seemed like the perfect escape from all your troubles. 

And yet, you found yourself wanting to turn down the offer. You wanted to stay in division two. You had enjoyed the freedom you had gotten since your return. You had more time to enjoy yourself than before, even with a big mission coming up. 

“Can I think about it?”

Your father nodded. “I would be worried if you gave me an immediate answer. By sunrise tomorrow?”

“That works great. Thank you.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” he asked. 

“Your decision to wait for an appointment offer until after my first strategy proposal makes sense. If any commanders had concerns about favoritism, those are surely gone now. I do have one question, though.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. 

“What would you have done if I didn’t get appointed to second division strategist?”

Yoru father smirked and gave a light chuckle. “Listen, brat. You’re not the only one playing chess here. I wasn’t about to take away your promised position without giving you another one. Got it?”

An understanding passing between you both. “And you say you don’t play favorites.” You gave him a cheeky grin, the best way you knew how to genuinely say thank you. 

“Get out of my sight,” he groaned, but you could hear him laughing at your comment as you left. 

You skipped out of the room, happy with the knowledge you gained during your time with your father. He was always looking out for you, even if you didn’t feel like it. You had a big decision to make, and you needed to find Marco to talk about it all. He was always a good sounding board when you needed to make decisions. 

You were still skipping as you turned the corner, and ran straight into Portgas D. Ace. 

He grabbed your arm to steady you. “Hey there, smiley. What’s got you all excited?”

“Nothing,” you sang to him. Whitey still sat in the back of your mind, though her tears seemed more like a distant memory at this point. 

You gave him a boastful smile. “My father is offering me my old job back.”

“What?” his voice was sharp when he spoke, as if someone had stabbed him with a knife. 

His fingers dug into your arm. You weren’t expecting to see such devastation and panic in his eyes. It was so startling you took a step back, burning his fingers to make him let go of you. 

“As the lead strategist” you explained. “Just like before.”

“You can’t take that,” Ace’s voice was desperate. “You’re the second division strategist.”

“Well, yeah. But you can always get another one. You have plenty of great-”

“I don’t want another one,” he hissed. 

“I’ll still be looking over everything and offering up strategies, Ace.”

“It won’t be the same and you know that.” You got the sense that he was mad at you, though you weren’t entirely sure what you had done wrong. This was supposed to be good news.

“Why are you so angry with me?” you asked. “What were you expecting?”

“I was expecting you to stick to your word!” Ace answered, his voice rising with every syllable. 

You weren’t sure what facial expression you were wearing, but Ace seemed to realize his mistake in his tone and his words. 

“Sorry I reacted like that,” he apologized. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“Clearly.” You stepped to the side to continue walking down the hallway, but Ace blocked your path. 

“Did you tell him yes?” He asked. His widened eyes looked at you with a strange mixture of pain and hope. “Are you leaving the second division?”

You knew not to be the one to break eye contact with your opponent, but it was painful to continue to stare at him. So you did the one thing you had never done: you looked away first. 

“I told him I’d give him an answer tomorrow morning.”

His shoulders slumped in defeat, and his lonely eyes bored into your soul as he looked at you. “Is there anything I can do to make you stay?”

You wanted to collapse from the pain that blossomed in your heart. Portgas D. Ace was so easy to fall for. It made sense why everyone adored him, why everyone constantly spoke of him. He was someone who would make your heart grow three sizes, and then would drop it into the ocean the next day. 

“I just need to think about my options,” you admitted softly. 

“Got it.” His voice was full of sadness, and he stepped to the side to let you by. 

You didn’t want to walk past him. Every bone in your body told you to stay there. But you took one agonizing step after the other, and walked past him down the hallway. 

You wanted him to stop you. A part of you even wanted him to rush up to you and kiss your lips, like you had seen happen so many times during the plays in Wano. But he didn’t run to you, or call out your name. He didn’t even move. 

You had planned to go talk to Marco, but you weren’t interested in that now. You didn’t even want to have to make this decision anymore. You just wished someone else could make it for you. 

But yaybe someone could. Someone who wasn’t invested either way. Someone who would be able to help without judgment. 

You roamed the ship, searching for the sixteenth division commander, until you finally found him at the stern of the deck. He was surrounded by friends-ones you didn’t feel comfortable sharing this information with.  

“Izou, can I speak with you for a moment?” 

The man looked startled to see you addressing him, but he quickly regained his composure. 

“Of course,” he said smoothly, standing to his feet. “How private do we need to be?”

“More private than this,” you admitted as you both walked away from the group. “But less than a soundproof room.”

He smiled at your joke, probably one he often heard from your father as well. “If this is about yesterday morning-”

“It’s not!” you quickly said, your ears and cheeks tinting red at the mention of it. “I…need some advice.”

“Is this about your appointment to second division strategist?”

“Kind of…” You found an unoccupied portion of the deck and sat on the railing. “Pops offered me my old position back.”

“And you don’t know what to do now?”

“Right!” you exclaimed. The words came rushing out after that. “I really like being the second division strategist, and the workload is much easier to manage. Plus, I really like working with Ace-” Izou raised an eyebrow, but you rushed on before he had the chance to say anything. “-but it is kind of a demotion from where I was. And if i was lead strategist, nobody would be in charge of me, and I’d be right under Pops again. And I liked what I used to do. It was stressful, but I helped people and I was good at it.”

Izou hummed, looking out across the waves. “Can I ask you an insensitive question?”

You sighed. “Go ahead.”

“Do you only care about status?”

Your mouth dropped open at his question, but he stared at you waiting for an answer. 

“No.”

“Well,” Izou chuckled. “You could’ve fooled me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you hissed. You were regretting coming to him. 

“You seem much happier in the second division. You had nothing bad to say about it except for the status it put you at. If status is all you care about, then you should be the lead strategist.”

You frowned, trying to think of a rebuttal that didn’t give your feelings away. 

“It’s not just about status. There are other things at play.”

Izou raised an eyebrow at you. “You mean other people.”

“Have you always been this observant?” you grumbled, sulking at being read so easily. 

Izou only laughed and ruffled your hair. “Your secret is safe, kid. But you need to be honest with yourself in a decision like this.”

“We didn’t even sleep together.”

“I know,” Izou smiled. “I believe you.”

You were quiet for a long time, trying to work up the courage to ask Izou one last question.

“You’re observant with everyone on the ship, right?”

Izou sighed. “Just ask the question, kid.”

You stared out at the sea and took a deep breath. “Is he as bad as everyone says he is?”

“Ace?” Izou asked, and you nodded. He hummed, trying to think of the proper way to respond. “He used to be. But he’s calmed down in the past few months.”

You looked at Izou curiously. “What changed?”

Izou laughed. “You’ll have to find that out on your own. I’m not one for gossip. Only advice.”

Advice. Right. You had come here for advice on the strategist position. Ace was always distracting you, even when he wasn’t around. 

“The position. What would you do?”

Izou smirked. It was clear he had been waiting for you to ask that question. He pulled out a golden coin. 

“Heads, you move up to lead strategist. Tails, you stay at division strategist. You stick with whatever the coin tells you. Got it?”

“You’re going to let a coin decide?!” you yelled, but he already threw it up in the air. 

It fell into his hands, and he quickly flipped it onto his wrist, covering the result. Your gut twisted into a ball of nerves. 

Izou looked at you, but your eyes were fixated on his hand. “Show it,” you murmured. 

“Without thinking, answer one question for me.”

“Sure,” you said, still transfixed on what the result would be.

“What do you want it to be?”

“Division strategist,” you said softly. You hardly processed his question before you realized you already answered. 

Your eyes grew wide and you looked up at him in shock, but he was grinning back at you. He revealed the coin to show a shiny golden head. Lead Strategist. Your heart sank.

“You have your answer,” Izou said. “You should stay a division strategist.”

You gave him a confused look. That's not what the coin had chosen.

“The result of the coin doesn’t matter,” Izou explained. “What matters is the feeling you have when the coin is in the air. What matters is the side you hope for.”

He held out the coin for you, and you took it. You turned it over several times, but it was just an ordinary coin. You had seen thousand just like this, it wasn’t special.

“Keep it,” Izou said. “For when you need to make decisions.” He left you alone, Still staring at the coin. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, hearing his footseps recede. Could it really all be that easy? If you flipped the coin again, would you be disappointed with the same result?

You threw the coin in the air, and as it hung there, you still wished for the division strategist position. Even if it wasn’t the most logical choice, it was the one that would make you the happiest. That’s what you had to go off of now. 

Your stomach rumbled, and you realized you hadn’t eaten all day. With the meeting this morning, you had been too nervous to eat, and your mind had been so preoccupied since then, you almost missed lunch. There was only about 20 minutes left of lunch, so you went to the dining hall to find whatever scraps were left over. 

There wasn’t much, but you found enough to make a light meal. You prepared your plate, and found an empty table to sit at to eat your lunch. You had seen a few people you knew, but you weren’t up for chatting much at the moment, so you ate alone. 

After a few minutes, someone sat across from you. Blonde hair, and a tattoo across his chest. Marco. 

“You up for chatting?” he asked, looking up from his meal at you. He sounded tired.

“No,” you answered truthfully.

“Okay.”

That was all he said. The two of you ate together in silence, each in your own world while you mindlessly shoveled food into your mouth. 

It was moments like this when you appreciated Marco. He knew when you needed quiet, and you knew when he needed it. There was a comforting reassurance that you were both able to exist together in silence without there being any tension. 

You finished up your plate, and cleaned up your area. You were about to get up from the table when Marco finally spoke to you.  

“You okay?” Marco asked.

You nodded. “You?”

Marco sighed. “Long day.”

“Hard day in the clinic?” you asked. You hated small talk, but it was tolerable with Marco. 

Marco rolled his eyes. “Let's just say some guy cut off his hand.”

“His hand?!?” your voice carried through the dining hall, and a few people stopped to look at you. 

Marco shot you a look. “Try not to announce it to the whole ship next time.”

You giggled. “Sorry, sorry. Tell me more!”

“I don’t even know how he did it,” Marco groaned, covering his face. “Some accident in construction. I was able to reattach it, but it was exhausting.”

“Incredible,” you breathed out. 

“Miserable,” Marco replied. 

The door to the dining hall swung open, and you looked over to find Ace in the doorway. The coin in your pocket grew heavy. 

“I’m out,” you grumbled. 

You didn’t look back at Marco as you walked away from him. You were sure he was making some sort of face, but you weren’t interested in seeing it. 

You threw your dishes in the kitchen sink and headed out, trying your best to ignore Ace on your way. Now that you saw him, you realised you were still hurt by the way he had spoken to you this morning. 

“Y/N,” Ace called. He reached out for you, touching your arm just for a moment before he pulled away. “Can we talk?”

“No.” You kept walking. You had to get away from lingering eyes that were in the dining hall, especially Marco. 

He didn’t follow you. A part of you was a little disappointed, but you were mostly relieved. You didn’t want to talk, and you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. You had already made up your mind. He didn’t need to persuade you any further. And, though you would never admit it, the devious side of you wanted him to sweat a little bit longer. 

You walked into your father’s office, where he was having a meeting with many familiar members of the crew. You found Whitey in the crowd, and you smiled at her briefly before acknowledging your father. 

“Ah, Y/N,” Whitebeard’s voice boomed. “Back already?”

“I made a decision,” you said, walking over to stand beside him. 

“I see. Let’s go talk, then. Are you good here for a moment?”

A few of the members nodded, and you and your father went into his private office. 

“I’m going to stick with the second division for now,” you said as soon as the door was shut. 

Your father did his best to keep a neutral face, but you could see surprise flicker in his eyes. He hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“I see,” he said, pondering what to say next. “May I ask what led to your decision?”

“Honestly,” you sighed. “I’m happier being in the second division. It’s less work, I like the people, and I still feel like I can provide assistance and feedback to other division strategists in my current position. I’d be happy to take on the strategist duties that Marco took when I left, but I would like to remain in the second division while doing them.”

Your father watched you carefully, and you did your best not to show your hand. You knew he was aware of something extra you were hiding, he just wasn’t sure enough to ask. 

“Let me talk to Marco and see if he’s willing to give up those duties, but I don’t see a problem in your proposition. Thank you for giving me such a swift answer.”

“Of course. If I may-”

Your father nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

You nodded to Whitey as you left, praying that she never discovered what you had just done. 

You ate dinner alone, and went to bed early. It had been a long and draining day, and you simply didn’t feel like being conscious any longer. 

The bad thing about a bunkhouse is whenever someone comes into the room, the door creaks and the lights flick on, and you were always stirred from the edge of sleep every time. 

After the third time, you huffed in frustration and rose from your bed. You needed a night time walk to reset your body and your brain. You opened the door to find your commander standing outside of it. 

His eyes widened when he saw you. “Great, I really look like a creep now, huh?”

“Ace.” Your mind blanked on any other words. You couldn’t think of what else to even say to him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, his voice soft. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure.” You were trying hard to not let him know he had surprised you, but you could feel your ears starting to fry your hair. 

He led you out onto the deck and up to the crows nest, and you followed him quietly the entire way. It had been later than you expected; the moon was high in the sky and only a few people remained on deck. The night air whispered against your skin and caused goosebumps to rise. You thought about turning up your internal temperature, but the cool air made you feel more alive.

You got up the ladder, and you found several blankets and pillows strewn about the small area. It looked rather cozy, especially for such a chilly night. The area was so small, it was almost impossible for you to sit down without touching Ace in some way. You took a seat across from him and wrapped a blanket around yourself, enjoying its soft touch. 

“Sorry I had to bring you up here,” Ace said, handing you a bottle of sake and opening his own. “I had first watch tonight. I tried to make it as comfortable as I could.”

You nodded, but still couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You weren’t sure what to tell him. Should you yell at him for being so rude to you this morning, or ease his worries by telling him you were staying? You opened the bottle and took a swig, trying to think about what to do.  

“I want you to stay as the second division strategist,” Ace whispered. He was avoiding your eyes. He was dangerously close to touching you, but he made himself as small as he could so you could have your own space. You almost leaned into him, desperate for his warmth, but you refrained. 

“So do whatever you need to,” he continued to say. “Yell at me. Curse me. Ask me whatever you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. Please. Do whatever you need to ease your mind.”

You almost told him you had already made a decision. You opened your mouth to say it, but then you thought better. Now was your opportunity to get answers. 

“Why did you make me the division strategist?”

“I already-” Ace stopped himself, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I spent a year hearing all of these great things about you. And a few intimidating things. You intrigued me, and the moment I met you I knew I had to have you. On my team, I mean. I saw how calculated and effortless your movements were, and I knew the stories weren’t just stories.”

You hummed, still not satisfied with his answer. “So why are you trying to hold me back from helping everyone? That's what I would be doing as a lead strategist, isn’t it?”

Ace was silent for a minute, and you could see him trying to curate the right answer. 

You glared at him. “Honesty, Ace.”

He sighed in defeat, realizing he had been caught. He took a long drink before answering. 

“Because I’m selfish. And a little jealous. And Whitebeard entrusted you to me, so I would feel a bit like a failure if you left before we even went on one mission. I know you’ve only been here for a week or two, but it still would look bad to have you instantly transfer out of my division.”

You gave a dry chuckle. “Since when do you care about the way others see you?”

He smiled, and you could see sadness plainly across his face. He didn’t even try to hide it. “I’ve always cared. I just try not to show it.”

Your heart gave a painful ache at his words. You could relate to him in that sense. You always had to act like people’s snide comments about you being the captain’s daughter didn’t bother you. You knew you had gotten to your status by your own merits, but other people never seemed to see it that way. It always hurt, but you had to pretend you didn’t notice the sharpness of their words. 

You almost asked him more, or let him know you understood his pain. But you chose to move on, taking another drink from your bottle. “Why’d you join the crew? How’d your path cross with pops?”

Ace groaned at your question. “Anything but that question.”

“Nope,” you said stubbornly. His distress at the question intrigued you. “You said you’d answer any question.”

“I know.” he put his head into his hands to cover his face. “Just don’t hate me, okay?”

“No promises.”

He peeked up at you with a worried expression, and you laughed at him. He gave an uneasy smile, still unsure if you were being serious or not. 

“I had my own pirate crew, and I was making a name for myself on the Grand Line. So…I tried to kill him. Pops.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise at his words, and then you let out a fit of laughter. “You’re joking!” you said, gasping for air. “What made you think you could kill him?”

“I thought I was hot shit!” Ace said, trying to defend himself. “I thought if I killed him then everyone would take me seriously. I tried several times. Even after he brought me and my crew onboard.”

You were still howling with laughter, amused with the fact Ace thought he could ever do such a thing. You could feel your skin warm and glowing, your magma bubbling beneath the surface with your emotions. 

“I know,” Ace said, taking a drink of alcohol. “It’s so embarrassing looking back on it! He told me to join him, to be his son, and I tried to cut his head off! I obviously didn’t get very far.”

“God, Ace.” You were finally starting to calm down, wiping tears from your eyes. “You really are stupid.”

Ace laughed nervously. “In hindsight, it was pretty dumb. But I thought I was invincible.”

You giggled again, looking up at the sky. It still wasn’t an ideal night to stargaze, but the moon was starting to wane, which meant the perfect night was coming soon. 

You thought of the first night you laid with Ace on the deck and watched the stars, and the night he carried you back to his room. You thought of your father’s proposition, and how you had turned it down. And you thought of Whitey. What would she think, seeing you here like this. You took another long drink of alcohol. It burned going down, but you needed the courage. 

“Whitey,” you whispered. At some point yours and Ace’s legs had made contact with each other, and you felt him stiffen at her name. “What happened with you all?”

“Y/N, please.” Ace’s voice was pained. “Please not that.”

You both stayed quiet for a few minutes, staring at the sky. You knew it had nothing to do with your appointment or your position, but this might be the only time you would get it out of him. Still, it was quite cruel of you to put him in such a position. You were at a crossroads of whether or not to forget the question, when Ace spoke. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about my reputation on this ship,” Ace finally said, his voice barely a whisper. 

You nodded, still looking at the sky. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the freckled-face boy. You weren’t sure why. 

“Well it’s true. I slept around a lot. A few months ago, Whitey started giving me attention. And I gave it right back to her. The flirtation, the soft touches and little whispers, the looks when you think nobody is looking…it was fun for me. I enjoyed the chase more than the actual catch, if you know what I mean.”

You nodded again, though you didn’t really know what he meant. Your stomach churned with envy just hearing him talk about it. 

“She wanted something more. A real relationship. I just-I dunno. I wasn’t ready for that. I didn’t want that. I became a pirate to be free and to do whatever I wanted. Whoever I wanted. I liked sleeping around with a bunch of people. All different cultures, backgrounds, shapes and sizes.”

“Ace. Get to the point,” you said sharply. You felt like you were going to be sick hearing him talk about all of this. 

“She wanted a relationship, I didn’t. We both thought we could change eachother. But it never happened. Eventually the game got boring with…no reward So I moved on.”

Ace took a deep breath, and you could tell he was trying to figure out how to word the next part of the story. 

“She was devastated. The whole thing really hurt her, that was obvious. Not to sound too cocky, but it turned out she wasn’t the only one who fell in love with me. I just never noticed the trail of broken hearts I was leaving. I guess I’m just too irresistible.” He gave a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “But it made me realize my actions were hurting people, so I took a step back and limited the flirting and sleeping around. I never meant to hurt anybody. I just wanted to have fun.”

You finally pulled your gaze from the sky and looked at him. He was staring at the ground, wearing a look of deep shame. 

“I know she’s one of your closest friends, so I don’t blame you for hating me now that you know. But that’s the truth, I swear. If you don’t want to work in the second division, I won’t blame you. Whitey left too after it all came out.”

You pressed your leg against his, trying to get him to look at you. But his eyes stayed glued to the ground. 

You nudged him again, ignoring the pit that was forming in your stomach. “I don’t hate you,” you said softly. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Yeah.” He sounded miserable. Like he didn’t believe your words at all. He was picking at his skin, trying to calm his nerves.

You knew you should let it go. You had caused him enough painful reflection tonight. But the question was burning as strong as alcohol in the back of your throat.

“Do you regret it?” you asked, unable to contain your curiosity.  

“No." His answer was immediate. "It was what I needed at the moment. And Whitey was a wake up call. I’m glad it happened to me, even if it hurt other people in the process.” He snorted a laugh that held no humor behind it. “That’s kind of shitty to say out loud.”

“Maybe,” you agreed. “But I know what you mean.”

“Thanks.” He still refused to look at you. 

“Hey.” You nudged his leg again, but he didn’t respond. 

“Hey!” You bumped against his arm this time, leaning in closer to him in the process. “Will you look at me?”

He didn’t for a while, but his eyes finally moved up and landed on your face. 

You gave him a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t be mad with what you were about to say. “I told pops I was staying in the second division.”

His brows knitted together in confusion. “Staying?”

You took a drink. “I like it better than my old job.” You gave him another playful nudge. “Better people.”

“You’re joking,” he scoffed, but his eyes widened, and they looked much more hopeful than they had a moment ago.

“I turned him down right after lunch,” you admitted, a soft blush appearing across your cheeks. 

Ace’s mouth feel open in shock. “Lunch? But then-”

“Ace!?” A booming voice called from the bottom of the mast. “Is it safe to come up?”

“Shift change already?” Ace mumbled, looking up at the moon. “I’ll be damned. Rakuyo! You can come up!”

You heard the seventh division commander climbing the ladder, and your heart raced at the thought of him finding you here. What would he think? Would the rumors with Ace start up again because of you? You weren’t sure those rumors ever really died out, but you didn’t want to fuel the fire more. 

Rakuyo’s head popped up between you and Ace, and it was clear that he was startled to see you there. A sly smirk grew across his face. 

“Oh, darling.” His voice was full of mischief. “Ace, seriously? Up here?”

“We were just talking,” you rushed to say.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rakuyo said, waving you off as he stepped onto the crow’s nest lookout. “That’s what they all say.”

You looked at Ace, who’s eye twitched slightly, but he said nothing in his own defense. 

“Whatever,” you grumbled. You chugged the rest of your sake quickly, desperate to get out of the conversation. “I’m going to bed.” You lowered yourself into the hole and climbed down the ladder. 

“Can you throw my pillows down?” Ace asked his fellow commander, lowering himself down after you.

Rakuyo laughed. “You know the rule dude. Whatever stays up here, stays until morning.”

“Dude,” Ace whined. “Thats what I sleep with.”

“Should’ve taken the all-night shift then.”

Ace groaned. “Seriously?”

“Mmmm, so comfy. And alcohol!? Ace, you shouldn’t have!” Rakuyo jested, and Ace gave up on his endeavor of getting his sheets back. 

You and Ace walked back to the bunkhouses quietly. The walk back gave you a lot of contemplation, and a lot of time to work up your courage. He only spoke again when you were at your door. 

“So you’re really staying?” Ace asked as your hand was on the doorknob. 

“Wait here,” you whispered, and you opened the door just enough to slip inside. 

You snuck into your room quietly and grabbed your comforter and pillows from your bed. You hesitated for a moment, and then reached into your bedside table and shuffled around, looking for the bottle of wine you had stashed in there. You finally found the glass bottle, and slipped out the door with the comforter, pillows, and wine. 

You handed off the wine and pillows to Ace, and got a better grip on the comforter before you looked up at him. 

“What are you doing?” Ace asked, looking at the things you had handed off to him. 

“You don’t have bedsheets,” you said simply, your cheeks warm. “So we’re using mine.”

“I can’t take your bedsheets,” Ace said, looking around dumbfoundedly. 

“Relax,” you hummed, starting to walk towards the commander's chambers. “I’ll sleep with Whitey. It’s not a big deal. But we’ll finish that wine first. I have more questions to ask you.”

Ace groaned, but followed you through the halls. “I thought we were done with honesty hour.”

“No way! I have so much more to learn about you, Portgas D. Ace,” you giggled his name. It felt so sweet on your lips. “You’ve piqued my interest.”

“I get to ask questions too, then,” Ace argued. 

You chuckled. “Maybe. We’ll see how generous I’m feeling.”

Ace scowled at your response. You stuck your tongue out at him, which made his mood lighten a bit.

"You're really staying?" Ace asked again, eager for you to finally answer him.

"Yes, Ace!" you said, smiling at him. He seemed to carry himself higher after you answered his question, and the tense air between you two finally cleared.

You danced down the hallway with a newly found lightness, your comforter still in your hands. You felt comfortably warm, and just a little tipsy, though you weren’t sure if that feeling was coming from the alcohol or from Ace being so close to you. The only thing you truly knew was that you were throwing caution to the wind, and hoping that you weren’t as stupid as your best friend.

After a short walk, you reached his room and quietly slipped inside. As he dropped the pillows onto the mattress, you found a place to sit on his bed and wrapped your comforter around you. Ace sat down across from you, opening the bottle of wine and taking a long drink before handing it to you. 

“So,” he started, wiping the wine from his upper lip. “What else do you want to know?”

You weren’t really sure what else to ask him, so you looked around his room for inspiration. The half-made hats were still strewn around, but you already knew the answer to that mystery. 

“The shells,” you said, looking around. “Why do you have so many?”

“They’re from every island we visit,” Ace said, watching you look around the room. “I make sure to grab one every place we see.”

“Why?”

Ace shrugged. “I dunno,” he admitted. “Something that nobody else can get. It’s mine and it’s free. Every island has shells.”

“Even winter islands?” you questioned. 

“I’ll settle for stones too.” He pointed at a pile of rocks on his shelf.

They all looked like normal rocks. Just smooth stones that had been worn down by the current of the ocean. He could’ve gotten them from anywhere. Even the shells were mostly common ones you could find on any beach. Someone could easily swap them or steal one and he’d never be the wiser. But they were obviously important to him. 

“I’m going to show them to my little brother when I see him again,” Ace explained. He was staring at the shells, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. “I’m going to tell him all the stories that come with those shells over a nice bottle of sake.”

You liked this side of Ace. He was kind and gentle and sincere. He had a little brother and he loved shells and he wanted an adventure worth telling. 

You picked up a shell on his bedside table. “What’s the story with this one?”

He looked over and saw the small conch shell in your hand. He smiled fondly, and you felt yourself relaxing.

“Narrow Arrow Island,” he said. His hand reached for the shell, and he turned it over in his hands. 

“Me and Thatch had this big mission, but we totally misread the map to find the town we were going to. We ended up walking 5 miles in the wrong direction. We only found out we were going the wrong way because some bandits tried to rob us and ended up telling us!”

You giggled at his story. “How do you mess up five miles in the wrong direction?”

“The island was narrow as an arrow! It wasn’t named that for no reason!” he said defensively. “And we had the map upside down!”

“You’re lying!” you squealed out, nudging him playfully. 

“I swear.” Ace crossed his heart with his index finger, which only made you laugh harder. Ace couldn’t help but join you in laughing at the outlandish story. Even if he knew it was true, he understood your skepticism.

“Okay, okay,” you said, finally calming down. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Ace asked, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“Ask me anything,” you said, puffing your chest out and taking a long swig of wine. “I can take it.”

Ace thought for a moment, running through his options. He had so many questions, but one had bothered him for a while. 

“Why’d you leave?”

“Pops told me I could have the second commander position if I was stronger,” you said smoothly. It was an answer you gave so frequently, you almost believed it yourself. 

But Ace squinted at you in suspicion. “There’s more though, isn’t there? I imagine you could’ve gotten stronger on the ship if that was the only reason.”

He was good at reading people, you had to admit. Or at least good at reading you. You sighed, taking another drink. You’d need it for this answer. But you owed Ace honesty and vulnerability, since that’s what he had given you all night. 

“My entire life I was always Whitebeard’s Daughter. Everyone looked at me like I didn’t earn my place; like I only got there because of who my father is. Ever since I could remember, wherever I go, his name follows me. Which is fine, most of the time. I love my dad, and I know he loves me. But those looks from others…the hatred, the envy, sometimes a mix of both. I just got sick of it. I needed to know who I could be without him towering over me.”

After you finished, you glanced nervously at Ace to see his reaction. His face surprised you; his mouth was agape in shock, and his eyes seemed to glisten with understanding. He cut his eyes away from you after a moment, deep in thought. 

“I know what you mean,” he mumbled. 

You laughed at his statement. “You know what I mean? And how’s that?”

He glanced over at you nervously, opening his mouth again to say something. He seemed to change his mind though, and reached for the bottle in your hands instead. 

You handed it over him, contemplating on if you should push the question or not. You got the sense that Ace truly did know what you were feeling, but if you tried to open that door, it wouldn’t budge.

“Tell me about your brother,” you offered instead. 

Ace’s eyes lit up. His entire body jumped to attention at your question. He looked like a little kid in the candy store, thrilled to have an opportunity to talk about something he truly loved. 

“Luffy,” he said. “That’s his name. He should be setting out to sea any time now, actually. We made a pact when we were seventeen we’d become pirates. His seventeenth birthday is in a few months, so I’m sure I’ll see him soon. You’ll have to meet him! He’s like nobody else you’ve ever met before, I swear.”

He went on and on, telling you about Luffy’s straw hat and their adventures in the jungle together. They were raised by mountain bandits, which was surprising to you since Ace had such proper manners. He talked about his brother until you both finished the bottle of wine, and you found yourself smiling along at every story. 

“I look forward to meeting him one day,” you said, a sleepy smile on your face. 

“Oh crap,” Ace groaned. “I talked way too much about him, huh?”

“No! I really enjoyed it all, truthfully.” you sighed, rising to your feet. “But I think I do need to go to bed now. It’s pretty late.”

“You can stay, if you want,” Ace offered. His already rosy cheeks turned into a deep shade of red.

You wanted to stay. You really did. It would be so easy to slip back into bed and cuddle up against him. You wanted nothing more than to fall asleep against his warm, bare chest. 

But you couldn’t. He was your commanding officer, and while one night in his bed could be explained away as a fluke, two nights would become a slippery slope. Plus, your absence in the bunkhouse wouldn’t go unnoticed. Whitey was painfully aware of your movements, and the last thing you needed was to hurt her even more. 

“Not tonight,” you said, attempting to give him a smile. “Whitey’s waiting for me.”

He flinched slightly at the name, and you felt a tinge of remorse bringing her up. 

You started walking towards the door, trying to think of something else to say. 

You turned, smiling at him. “Let’s do it again soon though, okay?”

He perked up at that, nodded in agreement. “I’d like that.”

You opened the door and slipped out in the hallway. “Goodnight, Ace,” you whispered. 

“Night.”

You silently shut his door and headed back to your own bunkhouse, unaware of the eyes that were watching you go. 

tags! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog (if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

[paci-papa]

me again (the switch), tysm for your reply it made me feel a lot better☺️ i wanted to make a list of the benefits of being a switch (childish i know, but whatever :))

- i could be a Mama who cares after littles, supporting them on their journey of humiliation and regression

- i could be a Babysitter, who loves to tease littles, edging them soooo close to relief before denying them... again :)

- i could be a Big Sister, who tattles on her younger, diaper wearing 'sister' and even gets to have a boyfriend (Mr Snuggles)

- i could be a Toddler, who loves to play dress up and do finger painting

- i could be a Baby, padded 24/7, fed mushy num nums and off into bed by 7.30pm

- or i could be a Newborn, constantly swaddled and kept in a crib as a helpless wittle infant!

so many options make my brain fuzzy😵‍💫 (in the best way though)

again, tysm for being such a sweet Papa🩷

~🎮 (get it? nintendo switch? because... nvm😖)

(also sorry if this is too long...)

Oh, my silly little 🎮, I am so happy you're seeing the plus side of who you are!

As I hope I've made it clear, Papa loves everyone who is working to get closer to their real self!

Also, your cute little list inspired a wonderful little scenario for Papa:

You're Papa's new girlfriend, trying out to be the new Mommy in his nursery. At first, you seem sweet and wonderful, a perfect addition to the household. But, after a few dates, Papa finds you teasing his little cuties, and decides you aren't mature enough to be Mama material.

Still wanting you around, Papa hires you as a babysitter when he's out on other dates. However, when he comes home to review the security footage, he discovers a certain curious little troublemaker trying on and wetting a pullie.

Clearly, you aren't cut out for even babysitting duties. Papa uses the video clips to blackmail you into joining the nursery as a permanent resident.

You start out as the nursery's big sister. You rule the roost, bossing all of the other little babies around. But, when Papa comes home to find you humping Mr. Bear in a messy diaper without permission, you quickly find yourself demoted to the rank of toddler.

After that, your fall through the nursery happens quickly. All of Papa's other little ones, upset at how you treated them, work together to get you caught by Papa in more and more embarrassing positions.

It's not long before you're demoted to a crawler, only allowed to eat mushy baby food in your highchair, while your older siblings at least get cut up hotdogs and chicken nuggies.

The worst happens when, one day, you're tricked into standing up, an absolute no-no for you. Papa has had enough.

He demotes you to a newborn, swaddling you, and taking away your right to even crawl.

Your days are spent lying in your giant bassinet, babbling away nonsensically as the smiling faces of the littles who, mere months ago, you were breastfeeding after having wild sexual encounters with Papa, look down at you as they tease and mock the little baby for how fall you've fallen.

Wouldn't that be such a fun way to embrace your switchiness to the fullest, my adorable little 🎮!

[hheaven-sentt]

heaven is not fit

summary: what does it take to be loved? | bodyguard!leon x f!reader

word count: ~8.5k

warnings: mentions of violence, leon is kinda mean for like two seconds, strong language, mild trauma bonding (i guess??), not beta'd, incredibly mild angst (like fr you have to squint)

notes: this is sort of old and has already been posted to ao3 if you'd rather have a look there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t need a fucking babysitter,” you hiss. Your father’s face scrunches up.

“Language,” he mends, holding a hand up. “It’s just a precaution. He’ll be responsible for public spaces, taking you places, the like,”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dad, I’m an adult. I’m pretty sure I can take care of myself. The last thing I need is some stranger on my detail,”

Your father runs a hand over his worn features. He’s tired, you can tell. “I’m not making the same mistake twice,”

Ashley. She lives with her friends now, rather than alone, so there’s no real need to supervise her. Your heart twists with a twinge of guilt, but you hold your ground. “I’m not happy about this,”

“I didn’t expect you to be,” he says. “But, you’ll play by the rules, at least for me. For my sake, dove,”

You frown. “Fine,”

You meet him in a random conference room. He’s tall, with sharp features and blue eyes. He doesn’t seem friendly, which makes your mouth sour. He doesn’t speak through the introduction, just sort of stares straight ahead, like he’d rather be anywhere else. You don’t blame him. It’s not exactly a promotion he’s getting. You barely catch his name when he says it.

Leon.

It suits him, you think. You want to ask what his middle name is, if it’s as fitting as his first, but you don’t. Instead, you toe the carpet, listening to your father drone on about rules.

“Dovie, I’m serious,” he says, forcing you to look at him. “You don’t go anywhere alone, got it?”

“Got it,”

Despite your sickly sweet voice and feigned sincerity, you have no intention of keeping that promise. The ride to your apartment is silent. You notice that Leon drives with one hand, the other perched on the gear shift. When he stops outside your building, you hesitate for a moment before reaching for the handle, just in case he has something to say. As you shoulder the door, he grabs your elbow.

“Call if there’s an emergency,” he says. His voice is low timbred and honey sweetened, coating your nerves in warmth. You can only nod in response. He releases your arm, the tension from the area slipping away.

You hurry into your building, and you notice he waits until you’re through the door to drive off. It comforts you in a way. You make your way into your apartment. There’s a distinct heat on your neck when you enter, one that you hope disappears with a long shower. When it doesn’t, you find yourself staring at the phone. What would happen if you did call him? There wasn’t an emergency, unless you count this sudden bout of loneliness as an emergency. Would he show up? How is it any different than calling the police?

Six hours have passed since being demoted to babysat. You’ve been shuffled between rooms to meet with people, answer questions you don’t understand, and fight with your father. You find that being surrounded by people all day has made you exhausted. You take a breath, but jump when your phone vibrates.

“Hey, Ashley,” you say, sighing.

“Did you meet him?” she asks. You almost laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He doesn’t talk much,”

“No, he doesn’t,” she says. You can hear her friends laughing somewhere in the background. “You gotta get him to open up before he starts talking,”

“I can’t imagine that’ll be easy to do,” you huff. Ashley laughs. “He seems kinda stuck in his ways,”

“He is,” she agrees. “He’s…been through a lot. But, he’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him,”

You glance out the window at the rain. You wonder if it ever rained like this in Spain. “Well, if you trust him, so do I,”

…

You don’t see Leon for a week. You almost think he’s quit, but you know he doesn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. You consider calling him, just to see if he’d really show up, but you decide not to test it.

Instead, you go about your life normally. You go to work, you see friends, you buy groceries. You pretend you don’t have a babysitter.

On Monday, when you return home from work, you spot Leon’s car outside your building. Rolling your eyes, you prepare for the worst, and work your way into the building. Sure enough, he’s sitting on your couch when you enter your apartment.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, closing the door behind you. He doesn’t look at you.

“You haven’t called,” he says. You roll your eyes again.

“You said to call if there was an emergency,” you explain, cocking a brow. “There hasn’t been one,”

“You shouldn’t walk to work alone,” he continues. He turns his head finally, staring at you with the same stoic expression you first saw on him. You blink at him.

“How do you know I walk alone?” you ask. “Have you been following me?”

He nods. “It’s my job,”

You sigh, turning away. “Definitely not creepy,”

“Have you noticed anything weird?” he asks, standing to follow you into your kitchen.

“Other than you? No, I haven’t,” you say. He doesn’t laugh, not that you expected him to. “Seriously, I haven’t noticed anything amiss,”

He nods. “Good,”

He turns to leave, and you raise your eyebrows, surprised at the quickness of the interaction. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “That’s it,”

“You don’t want to, like, scope out the area?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Make sure no weirdos are lurking behind my curtains?”

“Do you think there are?” he asks, looking at you. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I mean, no,” you say.

“Then I won’t waste your time,” he says. “You’re an adult. I trust that you can take care of yourself,”

With that, he leaves. You’re taken aback at his cut and dry attitude. You would’ve thought he would be more hands on, given what you know about his time with Ashley. You choose to ignore it; you should be grateful he’s not up your ass. He said it himself, you’re an adult. You can take care of yourself. It’s not his fault–or yours–that no one else seemed to agree. He has plenty of other things he can spend his time doing besides watching your every move.

Which is why, the following morning, you’re surprised to see Leon waiting outside beside his car. You look around before crossing the street to him. Without a word, he opens the passenger door.

“I take it I’m not allowed to walk alone anymore?” you say, ignoring his gesture. He stares at you.

“Rules are rules,” he says. You roll your eyes, filing into the vehicle.

He joins you a moment later. You ignore the heat on your neck when he brushes his hand against your knee to reach for something in the glovebox.

“I’ve been walking this way for years,” you protest. “I don’t need a ride,”

“You don’t have a choice,” he says, cutting a glance at you. He almost makes a wrong turn before you correct him. “I make the rules, you follow them,”

“And rule number one is: don’t walk to work by myself?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone.

“Well, rule number one is actually to call me if something’s wrong,” he corrects. “But, this is rule number two,”

The rest of the ride is silent. Leon doesn’t so much as glance at you, which almost upsets you. He pulls up to the curb outside of your workplace, and throws the car into park.

“What time do you get off?” he asks, finally looking at you. There’s a gentle tone to his voice, one that throws you off guard.

“Four,” you say. “I’ll be off at four,”

“I’ll be outside,” he says. At this, you exit the car, rounding it before entering the building. He waits for you to get inside before driving off. You wonder what he’ll be doing for the next eight hours. If his job is to follow you around, that means he doesn’t have another job to get to, so what does he do? You wonder what he does when he’s at home.

“Since when did you have a chauffeur?” Marnie asks, jabbing your shoulder.

“Since now,” you say, still looking out the window.

Four o’clock rolls around sooner than you expect. You find yourself a little excited to sit in the car; it’s a nice change of pace. As expected, Leon’s waiting outside the building when you walk out. Again, he’s leaning against the car, waiting for you. When he sees you, you think he’s going to smile. Your shoulders deflate when he doesn’t. Instead, he jerks his head in a gesture to hurry up. You cross the street, and he rounds the car to the passenger side.

“I can open the door myself,” you say. He looks at you.

“I do it for show,” he bites. You swallow, stunned by the harshness of his tone. You allow him to open the door for you.

The ride is silent. Again, he doesn’t look at you. You can feel the tension about him, the way his shoulders are square and strong. His knuckles are almost white from the way he’s holding the steering wheel. You ignore the guilt that brews in your stomach.

“Call me if there’s an emergency,” he says. You nod, hurrying out of the car to avoid any further conversation. Again, he waits until you’re in the building to leave. You wonder if that’s a gentlemanly habit or a job habit.

…

It’s Friday night, and you’re going out with friends. You stare in the mirror, like you have for the last half hour, analyzing the intricacies of your outfit. You can’t decide if you like it or not. You tug at the shirt again, wondering if you should change. There’s a knock at the door. You huff, deciding that the outfit will have to do.

You’re not sure who you expect to be at the door, but it’s not Leon. He looks collected, jacket slung over his shoulders, hair framing his face. He looks normal, not like a man constantly working. He blinks at you.

“Where’re you going?” he asks. You sigh.

“Hello to you, too, Leon,” you say. “I’m going out with a few friends,”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to ask permission for things,”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. “You kind of do, actually. So I can be where I need to be,”

“Well, I don’t need you to be anywhere,” you bite. He frowns. “I can take care of myself,”

At this, you go to shut the door, but he stops it with his foot. He pushes his way into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Look,” he says, voice low and gentle. “I get it. But I have a job to do, and I’m not going to let your stubborn independence get in the way, alright?”

You stare at him. “Stop being such an asshole, and I’ll think about it,”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. “Sure, deal,”

Leon doesn’t follow you into the bar, and if he actually does, he makes it so that you can’t see him. You spend the evening laughing and enjoying yourself, which is relieving. You needed a break from everything. Your friends ask about the fact that you got a ride here, rather than walking.

“My feet have been killing me lately,” you lie. “And have you seen these shoes? I’d probably die ten feet from my building,”

When you’re sufficiently drunk, you call Leon. It’s the first time that you’ve actually called him, rather than just expecting him to show up. He’s kind enough to act like he’s not in the vicinity, and you pretend that he’s not. Instead, you lie to yourself and say that he drives very fast. He’s standing outside the bar, waiting for you again.

“My hero,” you say, voice flighty and gentle. “I shouldn’t have worn these shoes,”

He doesn’t answer, just helps you into the car. You ramble about your night on the drive home, not giving him the room to answer because you know he won’t. 

“Did you learn to drive on a manual?” you mumble, whirring your head away from the window to look at him. He glances at you.

“What?”

“A manual,” you say again. “Manual transmission. You drive with your hand on the shift, like you’ll need to use it at any given moment. In an automatic, you don’t need to do that, but in a manual you do. So, if you learned to drive on a manual, you would’ve picked up that habit,”

He doesn’t respond for a long while. His eyes are focused on the road ahead of him. Finally, he says, “Yeah, I did,”

You feel satisfied with yourself, surprised that you were able to figure that out. “You have a lot of habits like that,”

“Name some,” he says, cutting a glance at you.

You take in a breath. “You wait outside before leaving so you can make sure I get into my building safely. You bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking about something. You square your shoulders in public, like you’re prepared to shoot,”

“You’re observant,” he says. You grin.

“Gotta know who I’m spending time with,” you reply, grinning wildly and returning your focus to the window. 

You almost ask him to keep driving when your apartment building comes into view. There’s an air of understanding and comfort in the car, and you’re worried you’ll never see it again once you leave. You hope he doesn’t notice your disappointment when he pulls over.

“Do you need help getting in?” he asks. The gentle tone is back, and you pretend, for a moment, that he genuinely cares. You shake your head.

He watches you almost fall out of the car, stumbling on your tall heels and drunken legs. You right yourself, flashing him a smile. He returns it, then follows you out of the car.

“I can make it,” you say, balancing against his car. When you almost fall again, he’s there to catch you. His hands fall against your waist with ease, like they’re meant to be there. You feel heat flush your cheeks, and you almost move away. He steadies you, giving you a look to make sure you’re alright.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, still smiling faintly.

“I’ve never seen you smile before,” you say. “You should do it more, it’s nice,”

Leon looks beautiful in pink, cheeks reddened and round. When he releases you, you consider falling again just so he’ll return. Instead, you gesture for him to follow you into the building, which he does. Although the stairs are a tough bet, you manage to stumble up them. You swear you hear Leon huff a laugh behind you when you stagger.

At your door, you pat your pockets in order to find your key. Sensing your loss, Leon holds out the key he has. You accept it gratefully, turning the knob to make sure it’s actually locked.

Your heart sinks to find it unlocked.

“Did you forget to lock it?” he asks, voice hushed. You turn to him, fear evident on your face, and shake your head. He steps between you and the door, and holds a hand out to tell you to stay put. You find yourself willing to listen.

He enters the apartment slowly, quietly. You pretend there isn’t a gun in his hand. He rounds the corner into the kitchen, and you catch his frame again when he crosses the room to the bedroom. He returns in a few minutes.

“It’s clear,” he says. He pushes the door open more to allow you to enter. You feel uneasy, suddenly sober.

“I never forget to lock my door,” you promise. “Ever. Is…is the window open or something?”

He shakes his head. “You must’ve forgotten this time,”

“No, no I don’t do that,” you say. You wander to the window, finding it closed. Your head hurts. You feel on edge, like there’s someone watching you.

With a sigh, you sit on the couch.

“There’s no one here,” Leon promises, sitting beside you. You look at him. “Trust me, I checked,”

“But what if someone was here?” you say, looking at him. “I don’t…I don’t want them to come back,”

He reaches out for a moment, then decides to return his hand to his side. “No one’s coming back. I’ll make sure of it, okay?”

You can feel your hands shaking. “Will you stay?”

He softens when he looks at you. He can see the fear in your eyes. You think of your sister, stolen from somewhere she felt safe. You feel safe in your home, as anyone might. You don’t want to face the same fate. You know Leon knows that.

“Yeah,” he says. “Go change, I’ll be out here,”

You nod, rising to your feet. You wander past the window again, double checking that it’s closed. You find your clothes in the dark, not caring too much about what you put on. A shower sounds nice. You’re afraid to be alone for that long, though. Instead, you wash your face in the sink, then throw on your clothes, a loose t-shirt from a far off ex-boyfriend and sweatpants. You feel vaguely comforted by the thought of Leon sitting right outside the door.

“I’m going to try to sleep,” you call from the door. You want nothing more than to curl up in your bed.

“I’ll be right here,” Leon returns. “I’ll keep watch,”

You shuffle into bed easily. You feel safer knowing he’s outside, waiting for any potential threats. You feel especially safe knowing his reputation precedes him. There’s no doubt in your mind that he would protect you. It makes it easier to sleep.

You wake sometime later to a creak beside your bed. Your eyes shoot open to find a figure looming over you. You move to scream, but your eye catches the glint of moonlight against the barrel of a gun. You swallow whatever scream you had left, and rise to your feet. You’re moving without much thought, just doing whatever instinct tells you to. The figure says nothing, just motions to the window. You run through your options. If you shout, you’ll be dead before Leon even makes it into the room. You can’t fight him off, you’re definitely not strong enough. If you leave with him, you’ll be dead before Leon notices you’re gone. 

You turn to face your attacker, who seems to grow frustrated with you. He, again, gestures to the open window. You take a breath.

Follow your gut.

In a fluid motion that surprises you, your fingers wrap around the barrel of the gun, shoving it towards the ceiling. You feel lucky; just as it’s pointed away from you, it’s fired. You knee the attacker in the stomach, and you’re out the door before he rises from the ground. 

“What’s going on?” Leon shouts, assessing you for injuries quickly before entering the room.

You’re crying now, fat tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them. Your hand screams with pain, seared flesh crying out angry and red. You feel stupid, weak, small. You collapse onto the couch while Leon takes care of things.

The next two hours are a blur of police and your father. You answer questions vacantly, absent from the situation. Leon sits beside you, dressing the wound on your hand. 

��Dovie,” your father says, holding your face in his hands. You begin to cry again. He pulls you into a hug, holding you as close as he can. You grip the back of his shirt, and sob into his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you say. It’s true. You’re alive, breathing, hugging him. “I’m okay,”

When the crowd shuffles out, they take you and Leon with them. You vaguely hear them discussing where you’re supposed to stay, Lord knows you can’t stay here. You feel sick.

“She can stay with me,” Leon volunteers. You somehow feel worse. “Makes sense,”

You follow him to the car. You stare out the window. The sun is coming up on the horizon, a new day. You can’t help but think about how just 24 hours ago, you were in this passenger seat, on your way to work. Now, though, you’re swollen and hurting and scared. Your hand feels like it might just burn away.

“I didn’t know what to do,” you say by way of explanation. Leon doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I just grabbed it. I didn’t know it would burn me,”

“You’re lucky nothing is broken,” he says calmly. “Your fingers’ll be stiff for the next few days,”

You look down at them. They’re swollen for sure, round and angry red around the knuckles. There’s a strip of gauze against the burn on your palm now, courtesy of Leon’s deft and gentle hands. You graze it with your opposite hand. It aches beneath the dressing, a painful reminder of your night.

“I’m just up here,” Leon says quietly. You nod absently.

He lives in an apartment, same as you. He resides on the third floor, which is much nicer a walk than your seventh story apartment. His apartment is small, quaint, but you aren’t surprised by the lack of decoration. Blank white walls wrap the room. There’s a few pieces of furniture, but only the necessities like a couch, a few tables, a dining area, and a coat rack. He doesn’t even have a TV, which surprises you. He ushers you into the space, gently pushing against your back to get you to move.

“Go lie down,” he says. You turn to look at him. His gaze is softer now, full of sympathy. “You deserve peaceful, uninterrupted sleep,”

You don’t move. “You saved me,” you say. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there,”

“You handled yourself pretty well,” he says, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. You can feel tears resting in your eyes, begging to spill over. “I was there, and now you’re here. Nothing else to it. You’re safe with me,”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know,”

Without thinking, you wrap your arms around him. His embrace is comforting. His arms encircle your waist, holding you in an almost practiced way. He’s strong, holds you up where you can’t stand on your own. You can feel yourself beginning to cry again, relief washing over you as you recognize that you’re truly safe. You’re mostly uninjured, save for the burn on your hand, and you’re alive. You sob gently into Leon’s shoulder, and he holds you. He lets you cry. You half expect him to mock you, or to reject your plea for comfort, but he doesn’t. He holds you, gently and carefully, cradling you as you fall apart. And you know, in that moment, that he won’t hold it against you later.

…

You spend the next week off work, curled away in the safety of Leon’s apartment. He goes out, although rarely, for groceries and other things to entertain you. He even buys a TV. He claims that he’s been meaning to get one, but you know that he did that so you didn’t die of boredom. Initially, you were concerned about the sleeping arrangements. However, Leon is generous and lets you sleep in his bed while he shacks up on the couch.

“When can I go home?” you ask over Chinese takeout and an episode of Wheel of Fortune. Leon smiles at you.

“Getting tired of me already?” he teases.

Spending actual time with Leon has made you realize that he’s funny and playful. He’s not always stoic and unforgiving. He teases, he jokes, he smiles. You didn’t think the latter was possible. You just assumed that he was always unhappy.

“No,” you say honestly. “I just don’t want you to sleep on the couch anymore,”

He waves a hand at you. “It’s pretty comfortable,” he says, reaching down to pat the cushions. “I’ve slept in worse places,”

“This is your home, though,” you say. He wordlessly passes you an eggroll. “You should sleep in your own bed in your own home,”

He shrugs, which makes you frown. “As long as you’re safe and comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,”

“Damn it, Leon,” you laugh. He grins wider. “For the love of God, sleep in your own bed tonight,”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you don’t get to sleep on the couch either, just so you know,”

Heat creeps up your neck, blushing against your cheeks and nose. You’re still smiling, but it’s more flustered now, shy and sweet.

Leon notices, and begins to flush himself. “That’s…that’s not what I meant,”

“I mean,” you begin, turning your eyes back to your food. “We can both sleep comfortably and not worry. I trust you,”

He lets out a barely audible breath. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we can,”

That night, as you’re getting ready for bed, you notice Leon shifting nervously. You try to ignore it, pretend like nothing’s wrong. It’s easier to pretend. He keeps a decent distance between you on the bed; another person could easily fit between you. You’re suddenly self conscious, aware of each and every movement, how much blanket you take up, where your feet are laying. 

“You never answered my question,” you say when he flips the lamp off. The room is flooded in darkness. You feel a little more confident now that you can’t see his face.

“What question?”

“About when I can go home,” you answer. He shifts beside you, almost like he’s about to get up.

“Not for a little while,” he says. You sigh. “It’s not safe for you at the apartment. Your dad doesn’t even want you going to work, but I worked something out so that you can. You can…you can stay here as long as you want,”

“Okay,” is all you say. You feel a little far away, removed from the world. In just under a month, you’ve lost all sense of independence, something you valued greatly, and have been reduced to someone that needs to be looked after like a child. You hate it.

“We can find a temporary apartment, too, if you think that’d be better,” Leon amends. “I just thought…you might be more comfortable here,”

You smile at that. You can hear the insecurity in his voice, something you find sweet. “I’d like to stay here,”

“Okay,” he says. You can almost hear the smile. It makes your heart flutter.

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s still lying on his back, watching the ceiling as if it’s going to collapse. He glances at you. “If we’re going to be living together, we should get to know each other,”

He laughs. It’s a real laugh, not just a huff of air through the nose. “And what do you want to know?”

You think for a moment, tongue poking between your lips. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Don’t have one,” he replies easily. You snort.

“Everyone has a favorite color,” you say. He looks at you with a smile resting on his cheeks. It’s not compulsory; it’s genuine. 

“What’s yours then?” he asks, voice low and gentle. You feel like you might melt away under his gaze.

“Blue,” you say. You almost tell him that his eyes have become your favorite shade of it, but you refrain. “Like the ocean,”

His smile widens. “Then that’s mine, too,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“No way,” you tease. “What is Leon Kennedy’s favorite color? And give me a real answer,”

He laughs. “Green,”

“Like, Kermit the Frog green or forest green?” you ask. He shrugs.

“Just…green,”

“So if I were to paint the apartment bright green you wouldn’t have a problem with it?” you ask. His expression sours. “So you don’t like every green, then,”

“I like dark greens,” he says finally, still smiling. “Like pine trees,”

“I never thought I would get an honest answer out of you,” you joke, but there’s truth to it. You don’t imagine him as someone who likes to share.

“To be fair,” he says. “It wasn’t like I was withholding information, I’ve just never thought about my favorite color,”

“Well, now you have,” you say. He grins at you, and you feel like the entire city lights up a little more.

He’s quiet for a moment. The moonlight casts over his face in a way that somehow makes him prettier. “If you could only bring one thing to a deserted island, what would it be?”

“God, your questions are so lame,” you tease. He rolls his eyes.

“Just answer it,” he says.

“I’d bring you,” you say honestly. “Knowing you, we wouldn’t get stuck there, and I’d be home in a few days,”

“I wouldn’t get stuck in the first place,” he says. You shake your head. “Honestly, I’d probably bring something to listen to music on,”

“Then you better hope it doesn’t die,” you say. “Good to know the sentiment is equally held, by the way,”

“Would you be able to get us off the island?” he asks, poking your shoulder. You shake your head. “Exactly,”

“I’d keep you company while you got us off the island,” you say. He laughs. Your heart seizes for a moment at the sound.

“What would I do without your terrible jokes?”

“My jokes aren’t terrible!”

“Totally terrible,” he promises, turning over to his other side, facing away from you. “Some of the worst I’ve ever heard,”

You laugh. “Yeah, well, yours are pretty bad, too, y’know?”

“You wound me,”

You fall asleep easily beside Leon. The safety his presence brings is immeasurable, and you’re coaxed into sleep without a second thought. When you wake, your head is on his shoulder, arms wrapped around one of his own. You cling to him like he’s keeping you alive. His breathing is slow, giving away the fact that he’s still sleeping, so you steal a glance at him. His other arm is slung over his face to block out the sunlight peering through the window. Feeling strange, you roll onto your other side. Almost as if he senses you moving, he follows you, caging you into his arms. You feel like your heart stops when he pulls you in, sighing into your hair. His breath wafts down your neck, pulling up goosebumps in its wake. Your heart hammers against your chest.

…

It becomes routine. Until your father deems it safe to return to your own apartment, you shack up with Leon, spending your nights watching television and lying beside him. If he ever notices that you cling to each other, he doesn’t mention it, which you silently thank him for. He goes about life as normal, as if he hasn’t changed the way you look at him.

There’s menial touches exchanged. The grab of a hand during a movie, a palm to your lower back as he passes, the brush of hands when you pass him something. And although you welcome these bits of contact, they often leave you a blushing mess that struggles to even get words out.

He drives you to work still, which you’re becoming accustomed to. He’s there when you finish up. He’s the person you split groceries with–which he only let you start doing after you argued with him for days about it. He’s slowly consumed every part of your life. It’s nice, you think. He looks so domesticated in these instances, like he’s your friend rather than someone to look after you. You like it. You like that he sometimes steals your shampoo when he runs out. You like that he learned what foods you like. You like that he made you a key.

You like him. And that is a scary thought.

It makes you freeze up around him, stumbling between words until you find something to say. It makes you stare at him in awe because you can’t believe you get to be around him all the time. It makes you blush any time he meets your eyes. You feel childish because it makes you that way.

“Gonna tell me what’s up with you, or do I have to interrogate you?” he asks one night over pizza. You’ve been sitting with the plate in your lap for ten minutes.

“Nothing’s up,” you say, lying through your teeth. You’re a bad liar, and he knows it. When you look at him, he’s watching you, analyzing your body language. You know you’re on edge, but you can’t help it. It feels like a sin to want him.

He looks pretty like this, you think. He looks comfortable, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, no weapons stuck to him. Your hand twitches with the desire to reach out to him.

“So you’ve been acting weird the last few days for fun?” he asks. You nod. “You’re such a shitty liar, sweet girl,”

His voice is gentle; it warms you up. “Really, Leon, I’m alright,”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, I won’t pry. But, I’m here to listen,”

You force yourself to eat, to be normal. You can’t even look at him because you’re afraid of what you might say if you do. He wouldn’t mock you for it, and that’s somehow worse. You almost want him to belittle you, to call you stupid, because that would make pushing him away much easier. If he doesn’t, then who are you to cut him off?

“I can practically hear the gears turning, doll,” Leon calls from the kitchen. You sigh. “If you’re not going to share, don’t be so loud about it, huh?”

You know it’s meant to be a joke, but it makes your mouth sour. He can’t help the curiosity, you know that, but you wish he would back off. It would make your life so much easier if he pretended that you didn’t exist.

“I don’t have to tell you everything about me,” you say. It comes out harsh even though it wasn’t supposed to. “I’m entitled to my own thoughts. Or is that another thing you’re paid to infiltrate?”

He stands in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at you. “I don’t think I’m infiltrating anything,” he says. His voice is even, but you can hear the hurt in the words.

“Then keep it that way,” you say. He inhales deeply, beginning to gnaw on his cheek. You feel guilt wrapping around your throat. You turn your gaze back to the television, feigning interest in the commercial that clogs the speakers. He disappears back into the kitchen.

You’re almost thankful when your phone rings. You don’t get many calls, so when you see it’s your father, you’re less than surprised.

“Hey, Dad,” you say breathily.

“Hey, Dovie,” he returns. “Getting all packed?”

You pause, glancing toward the archway into the kitchen. “Packed?”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“Tell me what?” you ask, sitting up on the couch. You can hear Leon shuffle in the other room. “What do I need to be told?”

“We’re moving you,” your father says, plain as day. “We’ll be finding someone else to watch over you, too,”

“Huh,” is all you say. There’s less guilt around your shoulders now, replaced by anger and humiliation. “Well, if that’s how it goes,”

“I’ll get back to you later, okay, Dovie?” he says. “Get to packing, I’ll tell you more when I can,”

You bid your father goodbye, staring back at the phone screen long after it goes black. You feel your shoulders deflate, allowing the melancholy to consume you a little bit further. You stand, return to Leon’s room, and pull open the dresser drawers where your clothes have resided for the last few weeks. Slowly, almost on autopilot, you begin pulling them out one by one. A shirt, pants, sweatpants, a lone sock; they fall onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. You go until the drawer is empty, the contents piled up on the floor beside your feet.

“I was going to tell you,” comes from the bedroom door. You take a breath. “I didn’t know how,”

“I assume it would’ve been pretty easy,” you say, turning to look him in the eye. He stiffens at the cruelty lacing your tone. “All you had to do was let me know you were done with me. Not like you were in all that deep anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything. You cross the room to the small closet that holds your suitcase. You begin to haphazardly stuff it with your clothes.

“I didn’t want to disappoint you, sweet girl,” Leon says softly, taking a step forward.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty fucking disappointed right now,” you spit, glancing at him. “Would’ve liked to have known my life was getting upended days ago. Would’ve liked to have known that I was wasting my fucking time,”

“Wasting your time?” he asks, catching your wrist as you push down the top of the suitcase.

“I tried so hard to get to know you, Leon,” you say. He winces. “And to think, that for a fraction of a second, I thought you liked me? I feel stupid. You never cared. It’s not in your nature. You go in, do the job, and get out. When’s the last time you talked to Ashley, huh? Or is that something else you like to keep boxed away?”

He releases your wrist. You continue packing your things, and he leaves the room. He returns a moment later with your nearly empty bottle of shampoo.

“Don’t forget this when you leave,” he says coldly. You ignore the ache it leaves in your bones.

“Might as well keep it,” you say. “You’ve used most of it anyway,”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Isn’t that one hell of a metaphor?” you say before you can stop yourself. “I gave and gave, and you just took. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. And what do I know about you? Your favorite color is green. And even then, it was like pulling fucking teeth to get it out of you. Just keep it. I don’t want it anyway. Can’t put the shampoo back in the bottle, right?”

“I get that you’re angry,” he mumbles. “I understand,”

“No, you don’t,” you say, turning to him finally. He’s staring at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t place. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now,”

“You’re right,” he says. You falter for a moment. “I never once said that I did. I just…understand. I can follow the logic between you and your emotion,”

You roll your eyes, choosing not to respond. Your suitcase finally zips closed, and you haul it off the bed, nearly knocking yourself down. He drives you back to your apartment. He doesn’t say anything the entire ride, not even when you finally get out of the car. You leave the key to his place on the center console.

…

His smell permeates everything around you. Even in your new apartment with new furniture, you can’t wash away his cologne. Everything smells of cedar and smoke with a hint of citrus. You washed your clothes three times when you moved in, a feeble attempt at ridding yourself of him. You bought new shampoo.

You feel ridiculous. Your heart aches, and for what? A man who never showed interest? You ignore the acrid taste in your mouth that seems to never go away. You ignore the yearning in your bones. You ignore the burning in your chest. It’s easier that way.

He tries calling. You ignore those, too. You pretend he’s a telemarketer, or a prank calling kid, or an old man with the wrong number. You pretend you don’t recognize the number, and that the messages he leaves on your machine are empty. You find that pretending makes the hurting stop for a while, even if it creeps back up when you’re staring at the ceiling at night because you can’t sleep alone anymore.

You cook breakfast more often now, finding that it takes up the empty time in the morning before you go to work. The new guy is nice. He talks about his wife a lot, which you find sweet. You like that there’s no unresolved tension when you get into his car. You just wish you could remember his name.

“Do you know him?” he asks, pointing across the parking lot. Leon leans against his car, watching you pull in. You sigh.

“Yeah,” you say. “He’s friendly,”

“Doesn’t look like it,”

“Well,” you say. “He’s not actually friendly. But he’s not a threat,”

He lets you leave. You can almost see the way Leon stretches back up when you approach. You set your jaw.

“You haven’t been answering my calls,” he says. You raise your brows at him.

“I don’t have to,” you say. “You lost that privilege.”

He shakes his head. “I’d still like to know if you’re okay,”

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say. He nods. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,”

You feel like a fool the second you invite him upstairs. You can’t help it. You want to be around him. You feel safe around him, regardless of the anger. You know he’d protect you regardless.

You feel insecure about the state of your new apartment. You haven’t gotten around to breaking it in, so to speak, so the walls are bleak and empty, there’s a loveseat and nothing else, and a single lamp lights up the room. You wring your hands together.

“Missing a few things,” he says. “Where’s all your stuff?”

“Haven’t gotten around to putting it up,” you lie. It’s more like you haven’t wanted to put anything up. You don’t want this place to feel like a home because it isn’t. This is temporary—as long as you keep telling yourself that, it feels true.

“I’ll get you a rug,” he says, meeting your eyes. It almost feels like a peace offering.

“I don’t need a rug,” you say. You see his shoulders slump. “I prefer socks anyway,”

“Right, yeah,”

He’s silent for a while, just watches you as you set up for the night. He sits rigid against the cushions of your couch, hands clasped in his lap. You grab a frozen pizza from the freezer for dinner. His eyes don’t leave you. You don’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze, it’s almost comforting.

“I owe you an explanation,” he says finally. You almost laugh.

“I don’t need an explanation, Leon,” you say. “I get it. Your job makes you move around a lot. You were never intended to be permanent,”

“I resigned,” he says. At this, you turn to face him. He’s searching your features for a reaction, and you fight to keep them neutral, but you know he can see the discomposure. Heat creeps up your neck, threatens to swallow you whole.

“You resigned?” you repeat, far quieter in order to conceal the stutter in your breath.

He nods. “I did what I thought I was supposed to,”

“And that was leaving me?” you say. He averts his eyes. “How on Earth is that what you were supposed to do? You were being paid to be around me, and you thought you were supposed to leave?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, returning his gaze to you. “You have to know that that’s not what I meant,”

“Leon,” you say, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know a thing about you. I don’t know if what you’ve told me about is even fucking true!”

“My middle name is Scott,” he says. You blink at him. “My favorite color is green, that was true. I slept with a baby blanket until I was thirteen years old. I lost my parents when I was young. I used to be a cop,”

He unloads. For the first time since you met him, he lets you into his head a little bit. You take in a breath.

“I don’t…” he begins, then shuts his mouth again. He gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I don’t know how to be…like this anymore. Vulnerable,”

You join him on the couch. He watches you carefully. “That’s okay,”

“It’s something I’m working on,” he says, smiling slightly. You can’t fight one of your own. “I think you make it easier,”

“I’ll be here to listen,” you say quietly. “You know you’re always welcome,”

He grins then. “Whether you want me here or not, right?”

You laugh. “I always want you here,”

There’s something left unsaid between you, but he’s looking at you and laughing at your jokes, and you feel like the world begins to spin again. You feel like the sun shines a little brighter outside, and the colors are clearer, and songs sound like music. 

…

You find out that his name is Ryan. He’s more like a personal chauffeur than his intended job, but you like him well enough. Leon spends most of his time on your couch. Things are normal again. He offers to cook dinner most nights, which you appreciate. He does end up buying you a rug–he claims it’s because his feet get too cold without it.

“If you do that one more time, I’m kicking you out,” you scold, swatting Leon’s hand away for the millionth time. He laughs loudly, widely, and it breathes a new air into your lungs.

“I swear to God, sweet girl,” he says between laughter. “There’s something on your face,”

“Then just get it!” you say, wiping your hand aggressively against your cheek. “It doesn’t take a thousand pokes to get something off my face,”

“Hey, I keep missing because you keep moving,” he says, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. You roll your eyes. “C’mere,” 

You lean in a bit more, and he swipes his hand against your cheek. For a moment too long, it remains, delicately holding you as if you might break under increased pressure. He clears his throat and retracts his hand. You feel heat creep up in its place.

“You staying tonight?” you ask. He shrugs. “You know the couch will miss you if you don’t,”

He laughs at this. Your heart swells at the sound. “You just like using me as your personal alarm clock,”

“Not true,” you gasp, clutching your heart in feigned offense. “My couch grows increasingly lonely at night,”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure,”

It occurs to you, in that moment, just how much you want him to kiss you. It would certainly make things a lot easier if he did. You’re almost desperate for him to kiss you. The feeling you have for him is akin to idolatry, an offshoot of worship. He’s magnetic, pulls you in in a way you can’t describe. You can see the entire world in his eyes. He is divinity in its most basic form. Whatever religion he’s created, you would gladly follow it until your last breath.

Want consumes you. An insurmountable degree of yearning swallows you, floods your senses, makes you unstable. 

“Why did you resign?” you ask. His expression falters for a moment. “You never explained it to me,”

He doesn’t answer, just swallows thickly. You take in a breath like it might be your last.

You wring your hands. “I’m owed at least that,”

“I thought it would make things easier,” he says. The answer is vague, like you’d expected. It doesn’t answer your questions.

“That’s not an answer, Leon,” you say, frowning. “Can you give me a straight answer, just this once? I don’t care if you lie to me for the rest of my life, but, please, just give me this,”

He stares at you, as if he’s trying to get one last look at you. “I wanted to start over,”

Your brows knit together as you watch him. He’s stiff against the arm of the couch he leans on. His shoulders are square, jaw set, eyes forward. It’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut, you notice.

“Start over?” you repeat.

“With you,” he says, staring into the wall behind you. “I wanted you to know me…differently,”

Your heart hammers against your chest. You hope you’re reading this the right way, because if you’re not, you might just die where you sit. “How did you want me to know you?”

“As a person,” he says, meeting your eyes again. “I wanted you to…like me. Not just see me as a guy that follows you around,”

You smile. “I liked you anyway, Leon,” you say. He flushes.

“I mean,” he stutters. “I mean that…I wanted to be right,”

You don’t know when, but he’s leaned in. You can feel his breath on your lips, floating back against your ears. He’s looking at you through his lashes, all starry eyed and vulnerable. His cheeks are pink, rosy and soft. You want him to kiss you. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like if he did. Goosebumps surface across your skin at the thought, shivering against the flesh like you’d stepped into the cold. You want him to kiss you.

With a shaking breath, you ask, “Right about what?”

He brushes a strand of hair away from your face with a trembling hand. It slots against the curve of your jaw, just below your ear. You notice that his hands are freezing, but it’s a welcome change in temperature given the heat that resides in your cheeks. You wonder if he can feel the beat of your pulse, hammer strong and rapid against the muscle. You wonder if his would feel the same.

“Leon?” you breathe. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you going to kiss me?”

His breath is shaky. “Do you want me to?”

“Please,”

He indulges. He’s soft against you, sugary sweet and easygoing. He breathes you in like he’ll never get the chance to again. Your hands wind into the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, an attempt to fuse into one. It’s a crescendo at the end of a symphony, harmonies and melodies colliding into one final note. Your ears are ringing. It’s a soft collision of warmth and intimacy, lips and hums that finally get to meet. 

A cold hand slips beneath your shirt, soft and delicate against the red hot skin of your waist. You shiver against it. Devotion makes you dizzy as you pull away, breathing like you’ve nearly drowned. You steel yourself against his shoulders. He looks pretty like this, you think, lips kiss swollen and pulling in a grin around his teeth, face reddened with flush and excitement, hair falling into his eyes.

“I resigned,” he says, panting. “So I could do that,”

You laugh. “You could’ve done that anyway,” you say. He grins.

“Felt wrong,” he says. “I wanted to do it right,”

[27dragons]

Countdown to 2025: Dec 22

Angels & Devils AU / Marvel - Winteriron / Lights

Tony watched the planet spin below them. Without even thinking about it, he could see the small, twinkling lights that would lead him to his charges. If he concentrated, he could see them, too -- what they were doing, their state of mind, the path they were walking. It would take the merest flick of his wings to be at their side.

“There you are,” Bucky said, materializing at his side. “You missed dinner.”

“I’m not an Avenger anymore,” Tony said dully. For millennia, he’d been an avenging angel, wielding righteous fury against those who abused their power. And then suddenly -- pfft! -- he’d been demoted to guardian.

“You’ll always be one of us,” Bucky protested.

Tony snorted. “Look at me,” he challenged. His fierce and terrible armor had been traded for a goddamn robe. “I’m a glorified babysitter. I’d look like an idiot sitting with the rest of you.” He sighed. “I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

Bucky’s arms wound around him, and against his will, Tony leaned into it. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said firmly. “You weren’t pulled off the Avengers as a punishment. They tapped you for this because those kids--” He pointed down at the planet, where Tony’s charges still twinkled like Christmas lights. “--need the kind of guidance and protection that only you can give them.”

He gripped Tony’s shoulders and turned him away. It didn’t block Tony’s ability to see his charges, but it did force him to look at Bucky’s earnest expression. “Any one of us could’ve stood protection detail,” he said softly. “But none of the rest of us would be able to really reach them, to keep them on the right path. And you’re so good with them, I can tell already.”

Tony searched Bucky’s face for any hint of untruth. Bucky had never lied to him before, but might, to try to spare Tony’s feelings. But there was nothing duplicitous there. Only love and concern and a tiny spark of... fear? “What do you know that I don’t?” His wings flared, unbidden, and his inner eyes flicked from one brilliant light to the next: Peter, Harley, Kamala, Morgan. Tommy and Billy and Teddy. Kate. Cassie. America.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know anything, not really. Just something I overheard. Those kids, they’re gonna be important. They can’t be lost to the Darkness. That’s why it has to be you, doll. An’ me and the rest of the Avengers, we’ll back you up. Whatever you need, whenever you need us.”

His charges were safe. For now. Tony’s wings mantled, pulling each of the lights close to him. He didn’t know what their destinies were, but they were his, and whatever the costume, he was still an avenging angel at heart. He would fight all the forces of Darkness, if he had to, in this fucking robe, to protect them.

He didn’t know if he’d said that aloud or if Bucky was doing what Bucky always did, reading his thoughts from the shift of his features. “And I’ll be right there at your side,” he promised. “We all will.”

[best-nun-tournament]

Round 2, Match 11

Percy Jackson and Polyphemus (Percy Jackson) vs Mercer and Gage (The Silt Verses) vs Cleopatra VII and Ptolemy XIII (Egyptian history)

(Mercer and Gage art by @thedoublepp)

Propaganda under break. Spoilers for the Alexandrian War (47BC).

Percy Jackson and Polyphemus

Points to the part in Sea of Monsters where Polyphemus threatens to snitch to Poseidon like he did with Odysseus and Percy’s like good luck buddy I’m dad’s favorite

Mercer and Gage

Mercer and Gage are two fairly young people who have been failed by the systems in place. They’re a pair of orphans who have been working to birth a god and are attempting that through their hunting. They get hired by a politician to kill a few other gods, which results in them spending several months traveling up and down the countryside, razing entire towns and killing worshipers of whatever god they are hunting at the time, going so far that the politician who hired them asks them to chill out a bit because now they’re just killing voters. Over time, Gage grows to hate the hunt and longs to do something more with their life, while Mercer grows angry that their sibling is drawing away from her. She tries to push Gage to keep going, and reluctantly they do. When the politician instructs them to stop hunting the god they’re currently after, Gage tries to tell Mercer to stop, but Mercer refuses because she believes that after they finish hunting this god, their goal will be accomplished. Seeing that Mercer will never stop and Gage will never be free of her, Gage decides to kill her.

Poll Runner's Note: I also really liked this drawing by @caimitos. The detail of Gage having the dog's jaw at the bottom of their hood is really cool!

Cleopatra VII and Ptolemy XIII

You know

Poll Runner's Note: I sure do, and now I'm going to tell everyone about it! Ptolemy XII, their father, had five children: Berenice, Cleopatra, Arsinoë, Ptolemy XIII, and Ptolemy XIV. Berenice had usurped Ptolemy XII's rule and was executed when he regained power, making Cleopatra his eldest living child. In his will, he declared that when he died Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIII should get married and reign as co-rulers of Egypt.

Ptolemy XII died when Cleopatra was about 18 and Ptolemy XIII was 11, and right from the start she was not interested in this co-ruler business. She started leaving his name off documents, leaving his face off the coins, and generally acting like she's the only ruler in Egypt. Unfortunately for her, Ptolemy's guardians weren't keen on being demoted from "power behind the throne" to "glorified babysitter", and they deposed Cleopatra and forced her to flee to Syria, where she raised an army and started a war against her brother. It didn't go well for her, and things were looking bad for her until Julius Caesar showed up with his army.

Caesar was 1) Already mad at Ptolemy's advisors for killing Pompey who he'd wanted to spare and 2) famously a huge slut so Cleopatra was pretty easily able to convince him to restore her to power.

It's at this point Arsinoë shows up with her army. She joins forces with Ptolemy XIII, declares herself Queen Arsinoë IV, and beseiges Cleopatra and Caesar in the palace complex. For five brutal months, they battled through the city. The fires are said to be how the Library of Alexandria was lost, which is probably a legend but it was still devastating. Ceasar himself almost drowned while fleeing Arsinoë's forces at the Battle of Pharos Island.

Finally Caesar's allies show up with their armies, and Ptolemy drowned trying to flee across the Nile while Arsinoë was taken prisoner. She was brought back to Rome as part of Caesar's triumph, but her life was spared and she lived out the rest of her days at the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus. This was about five years because Cleopatra later persuaded Mark Antony to have her murdered right there in the temple.

Cleopatra married her youngest brother Ptolemy XIV, before finally poisoning him so she could make her son Caesarion the new Pharaoh.

Cleopatra was at least partially responsible for the deaths of all her siblings except the one her father killed, and the struggles between them were devastating for Egypt and caused a lot of suffering. These are some legitimately awful siblings.

[the-smallest-star]

His first royal ball... well as a guest anyway. His claws were idly tapping away at the champagne glass he'd been given, standing off to the side. Patch wasn't in his usual party mood... not when his brother wasn't coming.

"Ey, Baron." Patch almost jumped, looking up to see the King of Greed himself, "If you're just going to mope you may as well go home. Your brother is fine, drink, talk, dance, whatever. You're royalty now." He prodded the imp in the forehead, "Make a good impression. Or did Lucifer make a bad choice?"

Patch scowled at the sin, but for once Mammon was right. Gritt would want him to have fun. So he moved from the wall to mingle.

Psh... demoted to imp babysitter, the things he did for Lucifer. Welp, he'd find the buffet and keep an eye on the Baron.

@qveenofgluttony

[nannychloecatalog]

18 Short Stories of Diaper Domination: A Collection of Naughty ABDL Stories and Erotic Diaper Essays (New Short Story Collection!)

In this jam-packed collection of 18 different diaper domination tales and essays, your wildest diaper fantasies—and darkest domination nightmares—will come to life.

In addition to over a dozen captivating ABDL short stories, this collection also features several entries of Nanny’s Notes—erotic essays written from an ABDL domme's perspective, giving tips, tricks, and day-in-the-life accounts of diaper domination.

Buy now on Amazon, Lulu, or Google Play!

Full List of Included Stories:

Accidents and Diapers at Granny’s

Length: Medium | Tags: Diaper Girl, Granny, Wet, Omorashi, Diaper Change

An adult teenage girl’s summer at her grandmother's house takes a humiliating turn after she begins to suffer from an overactive bladder and its consequences.

Forced to Face my Dirty Diapers

Length: Short | Tags: Diaper Boy, Mommy, Wet, Bedwetting, Punishment

An adult diaper-boy is subjected to a very unique, degrading punishment by his Mommy for his bedwetting.

A Bedwetter’s Naughty Secret

Length: Medium | Tags: Diaper Boy, Nanny, Wet, Messy, Bedwetting

An adult bedwetter finds a very unexpected way to embrace the humiliating adult-sized pampers his nanny now makes him wear to sleep at night.

*Dylan’s Messy Daycare Bottom

Length: Short | Tags: Diaper Boy, Auntie, Wet, Messy, Public Humiliation

Dylan has an embarrassing moment in the corner of the adult-baby daycare.

*Changing Little Bobby’s Humiliating Poopy Diaper

Length: Short | Tags: Diaper Boy, Mommy, Wet, Messy, Regression, Diaper Change, Suppositories, Breastfeeding

An ABDL Mommy shares a story about just how much she loves changing her adult little one’s messy diapers.

*Kelly’s Potty-Training Mouth-Soaping Punishment

Length: Long | Tags: Diaper Girl, Nanny, Wet, Messy, Punishment, Regression, Diaper Change, Restraints, Public Humiliation

Adult teenager Kelly fails to live up to her Nanny’s strict potty-training regimen and pays a very steep, deeply humiliating price.

Tina’s New Stroller

Length: Medium | Tags: Diaper Girl, Mommy, Wet, Restraints, Omorashi, Diaper Change, Public Humiliation

Adult-baby Tina is mortified when her Mommy surprises her with a very special new stroller.

Daisy’s Wet Spanking

Length: Medium | Tags: Diaper Girl, Babysitter, Wet, Punishment, Underwear Accidents, Spanking, Public Humiliation

When Daisy gets caught making fun of her neighbor Stevie for wetting the bed, her babysitter teaches her a visceral lesson in empathy over her knee.

Mommy’s Little Pilot

Length: Short | Tags: Diaper Boy, Mommy, Wet, Messy, Diaper Change, Regression

A loving mommy shares the story of her special little adult-baby ‘pilot’.

From Girlfriend to Dommy-Mommy: A Boyfriend’s Painful Demotion to Babyhood

Length: Long | Tags: Diaper Boy, Mommy, Wet, Messy, Punishment, Regression, Diaper Change, Spanking, Sexual

When a young man’s older girlfriend grows tired of his refusal to embrace adult responsibilities, she takes control of his life as his new dommy-mommy, forcefully regressing him into a humiliating, diapered existence out of his worst nightmares.

A Cozy Visit to Nanna Lynn’s

Length: Medium | Tags: Diaper Boy, Sissy, Grandma, Wet, Bedwetting, Cloth Diapers, Enemas

A loving ABDL Grandma tells you everything she’s going to do to take extra good care of you during your visit to Nanna’s house.

The ‘Breaking-in’ Punishment

Length: Long | Tags: Diaper Boy, Mommy, Wet, Messy, Punishment, Restraints, Spanking, Public Humiliation, Enemas, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual

After officially committing himself to his new mommy, an adult diaper boy is subjected to an unforgettable dose of real diaper punishment for the first time, causing him to question whether he made the best, or worst, decision of his life.

The Diaper Treatment

Length: Long | Tags: Diaper Boy, Mommy, Wet, Messy, Regression, Bedwetting, Diaper Change, Spanking, Sexual, Medical

When a young man's wetting accidents worsen, his mother persuades him to undergo an experimental incontinence treatment—one that, ironically, requires him to become 24/7 diaper dependent.

Essays:

Nanny’s Notes: Turning You Into My Diaper Slave

*Nanny’s Notes: Littles & Their Messy Diapers

Nanny’s Notes: Diaper Domination Accessory Corner — Baby Bibs!

*Nanny’s Notes: The ‘Clothespin Method’ — A Diaper Punishment Technique

Special Addition: Introducing Hugglez BigKidz Snug-Lock Diaper Footy Pajamas!

*Denotes story previously published to Tumblr

___________

Buy now to read this novel-length (250+ pages) collection of essays and short stories!

Buy on Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DH6JWHCK

Buy on Lulu:

https://www.lulu.com/shop/nanny-chloe/18-short-stories-of-diaper-domination-a-collection-of-naughty-abdl-stories-and-erotic-diaper-essays/ebook/product-jezqz87.html

Buy on Google Play:

https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=n5ohEQAAQBAJ

Don't forget to also view my full collection of other naughty ABDL books at:

www.nannychloetales.com

[orochimaruanon]

Orochi-sama, if you have kids, would Kabuto act as their big brother? Their weird uncle? Or perhaps he would be demoted to babysitter?

He would be on diaper duty so that entails all of the above. Kabuto is a genius with kids, as is evident from his time with team 7 and the chunin exams.