#it's 2 am and i slept like four hours

[ratlesshonret]

i frequently find myself wishing i could do art. like, everyone around me can do such cool art. and they can like. draw what they have in their head? why can't i do that.

really i just wanna draw my OCs.

[invinciblerodent]

i am never fucking moving to an apartment that's not on the top floor of a building again

[sleepyjim]

first night without taking benadryl to sleep and Uh its bad again what the fuck man context and also giant rant in da tags

[mrs-weasley-reid]

DOCTORS ACROSS THE HALL

Spencer Reid x psychiatrist!reader

Synopsis: Sleep-deprived and traumatized, Spencer Reid attempts to pin the blame on his innocent new neighbor (he can't). Word Count: 2k+ Warning: meet cute-ish(?) fluff(?) i'm not sure anymore, lol. light mentions of death and trauma. a few curses. not proofread !!!! A/N: inspired by S2 x E14 & 15, we all know what i mean hehe

Spencer Reid's eyes are dry.

Each blink is a terrifying journey. Afraid that he'll go back in the past—in that hut—in between the millisecond of closing his eyes.

He's seeing nothing but blurry darkness, and yet he can still feel Tobias Hankel's shaky palms across the skin of his arm.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

The same four words ring in Spencer's ears, encouraging pain—paranoia.

"It helps."

"Trust me."

With every breath Spencer takes, they hitch in the middle of his throat. Forever stuck and dies there with no trace of hope for the next generation of traveling air.

Hope that he'll be able to breathe without tugging aches all over his chest is long gone.

No man would ever be the same had they been in the situation he went through. He can't help but feel weak. And it's eating Spencer alive to the point of deliberate insomnia.

He doesn't remember the last time he'd ever slept like a normal person.

"It helps."

Knock, knock.

"Trust me."

Knock, knock, knock.

Spencer opens his eyes. He's not sure when slumber took over his mind or if he even participated in sleep at all. Chances are he was too dissociated from reality that he's left his body frozen for a while. Nonetheless, in the little time he spent in serene blankness, only one emotion brews in him.

Anger.

Who in their right minds would go out knocking at—Spencer glances at the clock on his nightstand—2 AM?

Knock, knock, KNOCK—

It stops.

A creak echoes in the hall as muffled voices scratch Spencer's ears. He can't make out the words, only the wave of the softest and gentlest whispers he's ever heard.

On a different day, he may have let it go. Hell, a different him would have let it go.

The Spencer from one week ago would have let it go.

The Spencer who never felt so nauseous at the sight of his own blood along the canvas of his temple. The Spencer with an awkward grin without the baggage of Tobias Hankel's torture over his shoulders.

The Spencer he used to be.

But despite everyone's loving support. Despite the bragging rights he gained for surviving a serial killer. No one can loosen the throttling chokehold of trauma around his neck. Not even him.

Spencer catches himself clenching his fists too tight. Crescent indentations sting on his palm—nostalgic and unsettling. He only grits his jaw at the thought. And comes in the invigorating vibrations all over his chest.

There it is again.

The useless anger.

A loaded gun with no target.

The man is dead. Tobias Hankel is dead.

Spencer wonders about the use of his boiling anger when the person he loathes is already rotting in his grave.

Without any other outlet to unleash the colossal mass of suppressed rage brewing inside of him, Spencer makes good use of one of the most common defense mechanisms: displacement.

Maybe screaming at someone will deflate the tightness across his chest and clear his mind a bit in the form of self-loathing after he realizes the grave immaturity of his plan.

He lifts his body off his mattress, swinging his legs on the side of his bed as he methodically rubs his eyes against the lamp's brightness. Strands of his hair go array around the vertical circumference of his head like an electric halo.

A huff pulses off his lips. He swallows a lump of thick air as he weighs his next moves.

Part of Spencer died in that cemetery. What difference does it make if he screams at the world? If he screams at—

His brows furrow, eyes narrow, and ears perk.

It's different this time.

Irritating knocks. Opening door. Muffled whispering. Closing door. Then quiet for an hour.

That has been a constant for the past five days. A constant routine that he felt indifferent about but somehow grew annoyed by.

But it's different this time.

The door across the hall didn't close.

And it's been five minutes.

Before Spencer knows it, his hand turns the knob and swings the door open.

Two women across from him. They are in the middle of what seems to be a tight hug before one bids her goodbye and lightly runs down the stairs.

Spencer watches as the other disappears down the lower level. Anger morphs into confusion.

"Did we bother you?"

He jolts back, snapping his gaze to the woman across. "What?"

You smile apologetically, "I'm sorry about the noise—"

"Dr. Spencer Reid," He spits. Spencer's forehead creases. He wonders what prompted his mouth to openly provide his full name to a stranger, specifically when the information was not asked for.

"Oh," You blink, lightly jumping on your toes. An unseen glint sparks in your eyes. You introduce yourself as a response, a lot less threatening than he did but equally awkward. You smile again. Sweetly, this time. Like you're looking at a puppy.

Spencer's brows bounce over his forehead as the hand over his doorknob loosens. "You're a doctor?" He inquires.

You nod, "Mhm, what are the odds, right?" You chuckle. The sound echoes around the quiet hall.

"11.76%."

"What?"

"The odds—" Spencer scratches the back of his neck, "—it's 11.76%. There are fourteen tenants in this building, including you. We both found out we're doctors, and I know none of our neighbors are. Most of the neighbors are living alone besides the old couple on the first floor, but I know none of them are doctors. That's two in fifteen people. So 11.76%. But now I realize you weren't being literal about it..." Heat rushes against the skin of his face.

Silence hovers between the two of you. He feels more awake than he was minutes ago for an entirely different reason—embarrassment. Spencer wishes that some sort of earthquake would open up the floor and swallow him.

"Interesting," You finally speak, changing the leg where you placed your weight. "I tried calculating it myself and got the same result. You were right."

His mouth falls agape. A surge of warmth strikes his chest. "You were calculating?" Spencer squints, rubbing an eye out of habit due to his current predicament and baffled by your antic all the same.

You nod again, "Just cause you're my neighbor doesn't mean I'll just take your word for it, you know. But I have to admit, it was cool that you figured that out in a second. You have my respect." You flash a playful smile, hugging your chest at the sudden draft.

"Ahh," Spencer steps back into his apartment. The tinge of giddiness is quickly replaced by sleep deprivation and anxiety. A hand throws itself into the cavity of his eye socket, pushing it close to remove the pain that's settling in.

Flashes of bright light blind him in the dark shade of his eyelids. Frustration swiftly creeps over his shoulders. Like he's drowning above water, tied down, and has no air to gasp for. Panic begins to paralyze him. All seems lost, and darkness slowly—

"Would you like some tea?"

Spencer blinks, lifting his gaze back at you as your soft smile slowly adjusts his sight.

"I have a new brand of tea I've been dying to open. Would you like some?" You repeat, tilting your head a bit as you await a response. When you don't get one, you add, "I promise I don't bite." And your heart flutters at the little twitch at the ends of his lips.

He concludes you're roughly two weeks fresh from moving in. Here you are, inviting a stranger in the middle of the night to enjoy tea inside your home.

Seems reckless.

Idiotic.

But Spencer doesn't say no.

He walks towards you like he's leaving a world to explore another. Anxiety slowly dissipates with each step he takes. A contrast of what he feels each second that passes while he lies awake.

You step aside to give him way. "Grab a seat—" you gesture towards the kitchen -island-slash-dining-table, "—The girl you saw usually stays longer, so I already heat some water. Is chamomile okay?" You talk as you maneuver around your small kitchen.

Spencer finds a seat closest to the door. For all he knows, you're the serial killer on your end of the skeptical assumptions in his head.

"Nice apartment," He says out of the obligatory guest etiquette. Spencer takes in every bit of your reflection in your home.

It's inviting. Warm and cozy. The hint of oat and lavender whiffs past his nose. Your place is adorned with small, warm lights, brightening each corner with sunset tones.

Your chuckle brings his attention back to you. "Don't be shy, Dr. Reid," You glance at him over your shoulder. "It's messy. You can say it."

"If a couple of books on your table is messy to you, you should see my side of the building."

Spencer straightens up as confusion spreads over his face.

How do you do that?

Make him feel comfortable with words and a gentle voice. Everyone on his team has been doing the same exact thing, but somehow, you get something out of him without further prompting.

The image of your coffee table pops in his head. Cultural Psychology. Learning Psychotherapy. Trauma and Dreams. And a few more books that clocks his interest in you further down the rabbit hole.

"You're a psychologist," He announces into the air.

"Psychiatrist, actually," You place a mug in front of Spencer, finding a seat across from him. "But what gave it away? The tea or the messy apartment?" You ask into your mug that says 'you're purrfect' in pink lowercase and has a cat’s paw under the lettering. A playful smile is curving your lips.

Spencer accepts the blue mug, brows rising at the police box outlined image over the blue stain. He wouldn’t have expected you as a fan of Doctor Who, but who’s he to judge? A part of him wants to discuss common interests, but he doesn’t feel comfortable enough to change the subject.

"T-the books." He says hesitantly, uncertain whether the art of observation has marked him a creep right at that moment.

You hum, "Thought I would've been more mysterious than that." You chuckle, pulling a leg against your chest. "And you?" You inquire back.

"I have three PhDs," Spencer shares shyly, breaking eye contact masked as drinking your quite tasteful tea. He notes to ask the brand you're so enthusiastic about later on.

"Three?" Your eyes glisten under the warm light.

He nods.

"Let me guess, 190."

"190?"

"Your IQ," You lean back against the table, "My guess is you graduated young. Went to high school, college, and graduate school as a puppy." You add, amping with adoration over the new information.

"A puppy is a strong word, but yes," Spencer blushes now, hoping the small lighting leans in his favor to hide the red tint over every bit of his skin. “And just 187, not that big of a deal.”

"Just 187? You're just being humble, right?" You giggle, "I bet some prestigious agency hired you at a young age, and you're called the genius kid." You jest, genuinely interested in him more than ever.

More like the boy genius. But can’t possibly expose himself more than you already did out of sheer lucky guesses. Spencer avoids meeting your eyes like it's the plague. "You awfully guess a lot..."

You gasp, placing your mug on the table, "Shut up! I was close, was I? Oh my gosh!" You're laughing now, utterly comfortable to show quirks that people you just met shouldn't see yet. "I'm good at this. I think I'll be okay later, then." You say to yourself, nodding in satisfaction.

"For what?" Spencer chimes, troubles slipping away to the back of his mind and the sound of your hush laughter lulling him. It might be the tea or the possibility that you'd drugged him, but his body felt light for the first time in weeks. He doesn't have any complaints.

"I moved here for a job," You start attentively, making sure that you don't share too much. "But I have people. They'll search for me in case you turn out to be a serial killer."

His brows jump, "How do I know you're not the serial killer? Women can be one, too. And statistically, women who are serial killers are attractive."

"Are you saying I'm attractive, Dr. Reid?"

"I—" Spencer freezes, heat flowing to his ears. "I-I was making a point—" He cuts himself off. He wonders when the earthquake he's wished for earlier is coming to save him from embarrassment.

You stay silent, reveling in his stuttering voice.

"Is that coffee? I thought you made tea." He changes the subject—poorly.

You don't mind it one bit, indulging at the sight of his pinkish ears covered by his unruly hair. "I invited you for tea. I didn't say I'll drink one with you." You take a sip of the caffeine, rubbing the idea on his face.

Spencer responds with a subtle roll of his eyes that makes you chuckle more than intended. "Why coffee at three in the morning?" He asks gently, not wanting to step over any boundaries.

"I'm supposed to start my job later. I heard my patients need a lot of assistance, so I need to study and make sure I give them the right help."

"That sounds noble," He yawns, the first of many.

Spencer never thought your smile could get any sweeter, "I haven't officially met them yet. So, I really wish it goes well."

It might be the chamomile tea with a hint of honey finally working in his veins, but Spencer thinks you're beaming like an angel descending from the skies.

He yawns, and you giggle once more, "I think you should go to sleep, Dr. Reid."

“Yeah, yeah, I should,” Spencer’s eyebrows collide at the sadness in his chest. His body feels comfortable in his seat. Getting out of it feels like torture. 

You both stand from your seats, walking him towards the door. 

Spencer turns around before he closes his, a sleepy smile on his face. "Thanks for the tea," He yawns, a hand covering his mouth.

“You’re— hold on, give me one second,” You turn around and back inside your apartment. He can’t see you but can hear your light footsteps on the floorboards as you run to your coffee table and back inside the frame of your front door. 

Spencer patiently waits as you walk to his end of the hall, take his hand out, and hand him a heart lollipop. 

“Take this. They help with the bad craving,” You advertise as you walk backward. Before he completely shuts the door, you call for him, "Oh, and Dr. Reid."

Spencer swings the door open back wider, "Yes?"

"I think you're attractive too."

reid masterlist | masterlist

[missfrustration]

to teach a captain - part 3 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: “You want to kiss, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you. You could only respond with one thing: "So, what if I do?"

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, kissing, luffy is a curious guy, reader is a member of the straw hat crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, no spoilers, no use of y/n

A/n: the ao3 crowd waited half a year for me to post this part, so parts after this will chug along slowly, just wanted to warn you ahead of time! hopefully the length of this helps. posted on ao3 here

words: 8.1k (very long, whoops)

--------------------------

The rest of the night went as follows.

Chopper finally catches up to you after the crew settles into the Sunny. His chipperness never faltered when you tell him you feel better than earlier. Still, he insisted on a late-night check-up. Other than an elevated heartbeat, he gave you a clean bill of health and sent you on your way. 

You took a peak in the small bag Robin gave you, largely ignoring Nami’s. You softly grimace, seeing the new bottle of lube lying on top of the other shopping list of things you ask her to get beforehand.

You couldn't go to sleep for the better half of the night. Every time you thought of what transpired only a few hours ago, your breathing started getting heavy, your mind was racing, and you just felt like squealing. 

It was half past four when you finally went to sleep. You don’t particularly enjoy sleeping in, but when you woke up this morning and saw the time read past 11 am, you welcomed it…

…Up until you realized why exactly you slept in so late.

After a fresh change of clothes, you reluctantly get on deck. As you feel the smooth wooden planks of the Sunny under your feet, you’re overcome with an increasing perplexion. 

The Sunny is still at the dock of Tashini. If we had followed Nami’s schedule she set yesterday, we would’ve left in the early morning. Tashini would’ve been a small dot across the horizon at this point. 

You feel an even deeper pit of your stomach spiral when you see no sign of life, which means everybody’s gathered in the kitchen and dining room, currently having lunch. Alongside your crewmates, smack dab in the middle, will be Luffy.

Your heart thumps as you reach the door to the dining room, swinging it open like usual. The Straw Hat crew sits around the table, collectively turning to the archway when they see you. All have a smile on their face and a greeting on their tongue. Sanji, once setting a big platter of shrimp scampi in the middle of the crowded table, frolics over to you and sings your name.

“Ahh angel, you’re awake,” he sings. “Just in time for lunch.”

You greet him like usual, running your eyes over Nakama until your body erupts in butterflies again.

Your eyes meet Luffy’s, feeling your heart crack against your chest at the immediate eye contact. He gives you a toothy grin. 

“Good morning!” Luffy says. Before you can stutter out a response, Ussop pipes up.

“Hey, now.” Nami points at you. “You’re not wearing any of the new stuff I gave you.” She gives you a playful frown.

“Ah, sorry about that, it was a long night last night,” You sigh, purposefully trying to divert Luffy’s eyes. “Chopper, said I’m fine at least. Speaking of which, why are we still at dock?”

“Well, I may have a surprise waiting for everybody, I was just waiting for the last person to join us.”

You nod, going to take a seat. Brook tells you to sit down next to him and Chopper, playfully tapping an empty spot at the table. Chopper smiles at you, glad you look better than last night. 

“Aaand with that, everybody’s here!” Nami says, paper in hand. “Time to announce the next island and lookout parties for tonight…”

While Nami is talking off the paper she has in her hands, you settle down and join in on digging into the beautiful array of dishes. There’s fluffy white rice, shrimp scampi with a fragrant green sauce, lovely cut fruits that Sanji got from Tashini, and more meat to compliment Luffy’s hungry appetite. White rice is the first thing you go for, feeling the squishy texture as soon as you dig into it. 

“That means our next destination will be Dracon. Now,–”

“Dracon?” The word comes out before you have the chance to think about it. You pause, letting your fork drop some rice you just dished out. You try to clean up the mess without anyone noticing.

Nami, including the others, turn to you. “Yes, do you know it?” The navigator asks.

“Oh, ah.” You search your brain, trying to come up with an explanation for your reaction. “I’m not sure, it’s been a while since… working for my home country.”

“From what you’ve told us, you used to be a diplomat before, yes?” Robin asks from across the table. You nod.

“I had to travel a lot, and there are islands I remember going to, but I don’t quite recall visiting Dracon. I’m not sure—at least, I have no memories of the name in terms of my diplomatic work,” You shrug unassuredly.

“I’ll keep note of that,” Nami states, scribbling something down.

Nami moves on to some unrelated housekeeping items, though something feels so familiar that you can’t shrug it off. You feel off about the whole thing, yet not enough to notify the crew.

Now, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the table. They’re soft in their demeanor, yet concerned in your sudden tenseness. You look over to them, to see Luffy with his head slightly tilted. He’s looking straight back at you while shoving a slab of meat in his mouth. You can’t find it in yourself to look away at his calming face, but all you remember is Luffy panting, pleading with you as his hand found purchase on your shoulder, face so close to yours as he moaned–

“Uhh, excuse me…” Brook nudges your arm, making you snap forward and see Nami leaning over the table, waving her hand in front of your face. 

“Hey, are you listening?” She asks.

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, uh…” You cringe, “what was that again?”

Nami sighs, slapping your head with the rolled-up paper from across the table.

“You and Luffy will be on watch for the first shift tonight. Make sure to wake up Zoro and Sanji for the shift after, okay?”

“R-right, got it.” You nod, hoping the heat from your face isn’t noticeable.

“You got that, Luffy?” Nami turns to Luffy now, chunks of ham disappearing from his hand into his mouth. Luffy manages to say a jumbled yup between food scarfs.

“I can’t believe you paired me up with brow-for-brains, Nami.” Zoro scoffs, digging into his next bite. You all look to Sanji, or well, where he used to be. He’s now standing over Zoro with a menacing figure.

“Shut it, mosshead. Don’t blame Nami for your incompetence.”

“Huh?!” 

Ussop makes a point to sigh loudly, muttering something about “some weaklings will never learn,” whatever that means in Ussop-speak.

Before a fight breaks out at the dinner table, Nami gives a threatening scowl that separates the two.

“I will reiterate this as I did with a few of you earlier: As you know, we were meant to set sail this morning to the next island. How ever,” Nami says with a smirk, “I thought it would be a nice change of pace for all of us to go to a theater tonight, and then set sail after.”

“A theater? What’s that, a game?” Zoro raises an eyebrow. 

From the other side of the room, Sanji loudly sighs “ Idiot ,” causing the pair to grit their teeth at each other like wild animals. At this point, they are too caught up with each other to pay attention to the conversation.

“I’ve heard of that,” Franky says, “Isn’t that where people perform a story on a stage?” 

Robin nods. “It’s not something you see around the sea often.”

“How inspiring,” Brook gleams next to you. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about.”

“I’m guessing we’ll have immunity there?” Jimbei asks.

Nami nods, “With a bit of persuasion, I was able to get a personal booth at the top of the theater with a promise that we’ll be protected as long as we don’t do anything.

“Her ‘persuasion’ was swooning the staff that we ran into while shopping last night.” Robin chimes in, causing Nami to smirk in triumph. 

“Hey, a cheap meal and show is a steal.” Nami counters. “I spent a quarter of what I spent on our girl’s new wardrobe on this opportunity, and that’s even with the bargaining I had to do.”

You choke on your glass of water hearing Nami’s words.

“How much did you spend on me?!”

“As long as you wear them, you don’t need to know,” Nami assures you with a sly grin. “Giving you a good sense of fashion is payment enough.”

A guttural groan comes out of you as you shake your head.

“I will, I will. Just— please don’t charge me this time.” You say to Nami, who seems to grant you mercy with a nod.

The crew laughs at your exchange. Ussop is yakking it up to Jinbei and Franky about how he used to be a “connoisseur of theater” in his day. At the end of the table, Luffy waves his hand to flag Sanji.

“More please!”

–

Nami instructed everyone to dress accordingly for the play. To be honest, you didn’t know what to wear until after looking in the clothing bag she gave you. Maybe you shouldn’t have, because you find a dress inside that works almost too well for tonight. 

“Perfect, it’s the one I picked,” Nami says when you shimmy it on. She and Robin have already gotten ready, Robin has now gone to join the others on deck.

“You planned this?” You’re surprised as you look at her through the girls’ mirror. You had just finished zipping up the deep rouge silk dress. There was ruching in the bodice that gave your silhouette more form than you’re used to seeing, hem peaking right above your knees. 

She makes her way to the dresser where you’re sitting. “You should appreciate a good dress more than once in a while. We always have plenty of days besides celebrations to wear them, after all.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You think about it. Robin and Nami always outdo you in style, probably because they treat every day like a fashion statement.

“You look sexy in a shirt and pants anyway.” Nami makes a dumb kissy face as you giggle and push her off. She beckons you to the door. “C’mon, everybody’s waiting.”

When you leave the girls’ dorm, you can see everybody has cleaned up rather nicely. Sanji his usual suave attire, Robin and Nami are dressed to the nines, and each of the others has a flare of fashion. 

Thump. Thump.

Luffy was no different. He wears a black tie and crisp red dress shirt tucked into belted slacks. The dress shirt was slightly pulled up because of his goofing off with Ussop and Chopper. Chopper is on his head doing birdarms as Luffy runs around the dock. Ussop chimes in with an airy bird call that dies out pretty quickly.

Everybody turns around to you and Nami when she closes the door behind her. You hear an ‘ooooo’ around some of the crew as Ussop wolf-whistles.

“You ladies look so lovely!” Sanji cries.

“Ah, my, you’re a charmer,” Brook says to you, bowing deeply. “It would be such an honor to see your p–” Yup, you’re tuning that out.

“Hah! I think the girls super outdid us again.” Franky laughs as he poses. Jinbei seems to nod in agreement.

You blush at their compliments, seeing Chopper and Luffy now turn to look at you. Luffy is the only one not smiling, mouth agape and it makes you a little sad to see. If you wanted anyone to smile, you would’ve wanted it to be him.

“Our girl finally gets to dress, am I right? Now, I think that’s everyone!” Nami comments to the group, “Let’s head out!”

You arrive at a large building bustling with people under a tall hall archway. The whole inside seems illuminated in a soft yellow glow, with torches decorating the exterior walls. Nami and Robin led the pack to a side door, where a group of staff were waiting for you all. You’re briskly taken to a private entrance. It leads to a modest open room with a wide U-shaped booth that spans to either side of the wall, a large tray full of decadent foods in the middle, and an open window that showcases the lowered, grand stage a hundred feet away.

Everybody seems pleased to sit down and get situated, especially Luffy. He takes the part of the booth closer to the open space, objectively a great view, as the rest of you file in. He digs into the trays of complimentary food before you even think to sit.

You end up sitting next to Zoro and Jinbei on either side of you, pleased to be within arms reach of some fresh fruit on the tray. It doesn’t take long for the stage lights to dim and for the show to start. 

It ends up being a fairly detailed story about a knight and his quest to save the heroine, a fellow knight, after they got separated in a battle between countries. There is plenty of humor that the audience and the crew laugh along to. At one point, the knight has to dress as a stuffy aristocrat to pass into the country that captured her and prepare for her execution. Usopp had cheered especially at this as everybody laughed it up. Just before she was scheduled to be beheaded, the hero stepped in and acted as a country nobleman turned war veteran, using his many past achievements of slaying warlocks and beasts to convince the guardsmen to release her. They end up running away on horseback to the country they fought for. Once unsaddled, the heroine finally confronts him.

“You… you came to save me?” The heroine asks, tears laddled in her eyes, almost in disbelief at the hero, her friend’s, bravery. “Why would you do something so risky?”

“I can’t be on the battlefield without you.” The hero falls to the ground to kneel in front of her, taking her hands into his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Won’t you be mine, my knightess?”

“You stupid man. Is that even a question?” She cries out, running into his arms.

They lovingly embrace after the crowd cheers, many of the Straw Hats whooping in celebration. You’re almost thankful you didn’t sit near Franky, as you could practically hear him sob out into a snotty, rather tear-packed mess. You almost feel bad to see Chopper is in his range of fire.

When they finally pull away from each other, the hero steps towards the heroine once more, taking her head in her hands and kissing her passionately. Her arms wrapped around him after a moment of surprise at the gesture, letting him dip her into a warm, lingering hold. Your heart flits at the sight as you join the audience’s cheers and awes. 

Amidst the loud celebration, you realize the scene before you feel reminiscent. As the pair kiss on stage, you think of how you were in a similar position with Luffy not long ago, tasting his lips. Though, the fashion you two were in was more… sensual. Your face flares up. 

You turn to the other side of the room. Luffy’s shadow is clear in the illumination of theater lights, and you see his figure shift as he raises his arm. He lifts his fingers up to his face in what you could only think of as… a yawn? Maybe boredom?

No. He touches his lips softly, grazing them along the skin before looking down at them with curiosity.

You turn away quickly when you notice his head swivel, spinning around the crew members until he stops at you. A pair of eyes is now settled in your direction as you feel your heart pick up speed. You felt him stare at you between the food platters now littered with bones and stems, before the crew joined the audience in a standing ovation. You tuck yourself away from Luffy’s averting eyes as you stand behind Jinbei, shortly overshadowed by every pair of hands now erupting in applause. You clap extra loud, hooked onto the stage to watch the start of the curtain call. When you finally feel the courage to look amongst the crew, you feel the absence of a few eyes that turn back to the stage.

The crew ends the night as normal with a round of drinks before slowly filing out of the theater and towards the ship. You pace alongside Franky, Robin, and Nami. Franky has his robust arm around Robin, laughing along while Nami and you talk about the wonderful experience. Before your mind filters out the thoughts of earlier, a pair of rubbery arms snaps behind you all before Luffy’s figure catapults to the ship at the dock.

–

Nervous blood bubbles in your veins when you’re on your watch shift. 

From the crow's nest at the top of the mast. The saltiness of the ocean breeze isn’t as apparent on the shoreline, but you still smell the tanginess of ocean algae mixed with the earthy scents of the sandy dock. 

You’ve been glancing every so often towards the rear of the ship, wondering when you’ll be able to spot Luffy’s black, messy hair walking along the deck under the moonlight. Maybe he’s tucked at the rear, but it’s hard to tell from the top of the mast without craning your head. You’re not brave enough to check in detail at this point. 

While you think about your watch shift partner that gets more and more late, you think about what else was said around that dinner table.

Earlier, Nami announced the next stop is Dracon, an island that sounds too familiar to be a coincidence. You’ve been to a lot of places in your life before joining the Strawhats, but it’s been so long since that you're not exactly sure. If your home country had any notable affairs with them, surely you would’ve remembered dealing with it. The question was, was it positive affairs, or would you have trouble soon? You don’t have a good feeling about that name, even if you wish for the former. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

Turning around, you’re met with your smiley captain, his grin upturned ear-to-ear. You look to the moon, and judging from the position, it seems that…

“An hour late, Luffy. And you didn’t change out of those clothes.”

Luffy smiles in response. His tie is undone, hanging around his neck as one side threatens to slip off. The deep red button-up shirt is now completely untucked, hanging loosely past his hips. Some of the top buttons are now undone and loosely shifting under the chilled breeze. His hat is hanging by the string around his neck, resting quietly on his back.

“Sorry.” He doesn't look that sorry.

“It’s fine,” you waved him off, “nothing suspicious happened out here.” Unsurprisingly, not many people dare to approach the infamous Thousand Sunny. Certainly, no one is strong enough to succeed in plunder, anyway.

You look at him again after a moment, heart thumping when you see he’s not moving to climb out of the crow's nest.

“You can go to your lookout now.” When you try to casually say that, your nervous shift practically blows your cover, though you're not sure if it’s noticed.

Luffy hums a noncommittal sound as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I wanna stay.”

“Why?” 

He shrugs, pouting his lip a little at the question. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Fine,” You conceded. It wouldn't be the first time Luffy would bend the rules during watch. “Let’s at least watch the nest to cover ground.”

Luffy nods, following your step as you start walking around the edge of the nest by each window, looking out for any activity. Your partner, unsurprisingly, doesn’t care to watch, walking with you as you make small circles in the nest. At one point, Luffy jumps on the seats lined against the walls, matching your pace as he whistles quite brashly. You carry on like that for a while, watching all parts of the horizon and shoreline of Tashini. You’re not surprised to see any signs of life at this time of night. 

After a few times of Luffy almost losing his balance, he joins your side, loudly stomping his sandals on the dock as he kicks his feet forward.

“Man, I liked that Theodore a lot!” Luffy says. 

Your face scrunches up in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means until you can only deduce one thing.

“You mean… theater?”

“Teeter?”

“ Theater.”

“Oh, tea-eater!”

“Yeah, that.” You couldn't help but giggle at him. “What did you like about it?”

He chuckles, reaching back to the straw hat and swiftly squashing it on top of his black hair.

“Man, it was great! There was so much yummy food to eat, and it was funny when the knight guy made all those silly faces to sneak around!”

His hands are behind his hand as he throws his head back into it, looking wherever as he talks about all the different aspects he likes. Luffy talks about the color of the clothes he liked and the way he laughed at the things that had the audience roaring. You idly listen, agreeing to his list, not paying attention to your watch shift duties anymore.

“I think the girl knight who got captured was kinda stupid. She didn’t scream or kick when she was locked up!” Luffy says.

“Would you have kicked and screamed instead?” 

“I would’ve never gotten caught!” Luffy laughs out. “But if I did, I would at least fight back. She could’ve easily saved herself from the guards if she did that!”

“I think her being the helpless lady in need of saving was a part of the story, it made it more dramatic. For the knight, it made saving her more high stakes.” You think out loud.

“If she’s a knight, she’s strong enough to fight back and get out by herself.” He turns to you. “Right?” 

That makes sense to you, but what doesn’t is the way Luffy looks at you. He’s looked at you with that cheerful expression thousands of times before, but now you feel a hammer from your heartbeat. His chest muscles barely peek out in the moonlight under that silky button-up, and his tie is so, so close to slipping now.

You reach out before thinking, stepping up to Luffy and catching the end of the tie right before it falls off of his narrow shoulders. You promptly adjust the tie so it's balanced around his neck, no longer threatening to fall off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You surmise. Honestly, Luffy makes sense. In his scarce moments of clarity, he always speaks with an astounding factuality. 

His smile fades as he looks into both of your eyes. The proximity of you two is now very apparent, but you're struggling to find yourself creating distance, struggling to keep your hands off of the edges of his tie.

“I–”

“I want to learn how to kiss!” Luffy announces loudly.

You sucked in a breath that catches in your throat, rather badly, and feel a cough fumble out of your mouth. You try to save face but find yourself awkwardly grasping onto your shirt and in the air for some stability. 

“I’m sorry, I’m surprised you know what it’s called,” you say after gaining enough breath.

Luffy gives you a frown and crosses his arms. “I know what kissing is. I’m not dumb.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I just…” You kick yourself in your mind. “What brought this up?”

Luffy shrugs, looking out the nest’s windows onto the oceanline. The moonlight illuminates his face crisply through one of the windows, but you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking.

“Was it the theater?” You ask him.

He looks back at you without moving his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“They did what we did. I wanna know how to do that.” 

“With… me?” You blink.

“Yup!”

You feel the thrumming of your heart in your veins, beating at his words. “It's pretty simple, you should know based on the first time we did,” you say. You try to stuff down your elation as best as possible, but you know your face is warming just like it did last night. 

“I wasn’t paying attention!”

“You should have been! You were there, you know-?!”

“You want to, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you.

“So, what if I do?” You say, a bit annoyed at his correct assumption. “You already know what to do, plus, we have to be on watch right now!” You gesture with your arms held out open in a reminder of why you’re both here. 

“I have Haki!” Luffy says with a childish pout. “If anyone comes I’ll know. I’ll beat them up.”

You frown at him, again seeing how easily your captain can push to get his way. It feels even redundant for you to be on watch if Luffy has enough Observation Haki to detect anything suspicious.

“Just one.” He grumbles. “I just want one.”

You know this feeling. The cocoons that were once hibernating in your stomach have hatched into butterflies, now violently beating against your gut. The small crush you had has transpired into an infatuation. An annoying infatuation. The current predicament you’re in is…

Tricky.

Luffy doesn’t seem to be interested in you like that. You know he just wants a lesson again—for his own purposes. But, can you find it in you to deny him of something that you’ve been thinking about, even before last night?

“Okay,” You sigh, hand waving up and down. “Stand up, then.”

Luffy stands up straight like a spring, smiling brightly at another victory. He is giddy from excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, yet he waits for your next words of wisdom.

“I guess the best way to describe it is… there’s not any set rules for this. To kiss, at least one person is needed, you put your lips together like this,” you make a small pout, “and lean into the object of affection that you want to kiss.” 

You demonstrate by taking the back of your hand, looking at Luffy when you pout your lips, and gently placing them on the back of your hand. When you purse your lips and pull away, the contact makes a small smooch noise.

“Here,” you raise the back of your hand you kissed, holding it up to Luffy. “Try it.”

Luffy looks at your hand curiously before he leans in and he pouts his lips like you did. He presses his lips to your hand with the pressure of a feather until he briefly, brashly presses it down and lifts his head. It reminded you of the peck of a bird, almost. In the process, he opens his mouth to make a small smack.  

“Like that, got it? …why are you frowning?”

“That’s not what I want,” Luffy says. “I want to kiss like they did.” 

Why are you not shocked a hand kiss would be enough.

“To do that, both parties usually lean in for a kiss together. If it’s something that both people want to do, the rest should come naturally.”

“And they did this,” Luffy says, holding his arms and shaking them around to poorly mimic the embrace the two on stage did. 

“C’mere.” 

You take the ends of his tie, pulling him a step towards you until your bodies are inches away, the straw hat barely grazing the top of your forehead. Luffy lets you easily, watching you with gentle focus. You guide his hands around your middle. You lightly rest your hands on top of his shoulders. You hear a soft swallow. 

“When you want, you lean in. Once our lips touch, you close your eyes. Ready?” You ask. He nods. 

“Okay, just follow me.”

You lean in halfway, slowly, softly pursuing your lips together as your eyes flutter shut, nervousness bubbling up your body until your head feels light. You let it try and fizzle, try to let the stupid pounding of your heart quiet down in your eardrums, but it’s slowly replaced to wonder when your lips stay untouched by Luffy. 

…and, still nothing?

When you open your eyes, Luffy is staring at you, face reddened like a cherry with his mouth agape. His eyes are fixed in awe, flicking between your eyes and lips.

“Sorry, I,” Luffy stutters. “‘S weird. My body… it’s not moving.”

The weird feeling in your stomach has bubbled up again. His flustered cheeks and sheepish smile are quickly blocked from your vision as he mumbles into the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know. It’s like, l-like I don’t deserve it, or somethin’. Haha…”

Overcome with affection for the blushing captain, you quickly close the gap. You want to steal away his anxieties, steal away that flustered nervousness you couldn’t bare to see on him. It takes him only a second to process it before his muscles relax against you. 

Your lips touch his gently. His hands rest on your waist, his straw hat lifting oh-so-slightly by your forehead as you press into him. Those narrow lips of his feel so plush against yours, perfectly slotted together that you feel light and airy. It lasts just as long as last night’s chaste kiss.

When you slowly pull away with a small smooch noise, his face doesn’t look as cherried, save for a light pink tinge across the apples of his cheeks. 

“Cool!” Luffy says, “Let me try!”

“Hold on, I said only once–”

He gains the courage this time to lean wholly, trapping your lips between his thinner ones, feeling the smile etched on his face the whole time. When you pull away, he seems almost back to normal. The lingering worry on his face is gone now.

Smooch!

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Luffy said. “It’s really good. Again. Let’s do it again.”

You both lean in this time, lifting the brim of his straw hat again. His hands naturally graze down to your waist while your hands lay on his chest. His lips aren’t as chapped as you thought they would be. For a guy, they seem very soft. Not in the way that regular skin should be, but more pliable. It squishes against your lips but seems to spring back to form each time you pull back. 

Smooch!

“Again.” 

You both lean in again, as your hands explore past the partially unbuttoned shirt to his chest. Your suspicions of rubbery skin are confirmed as you feel the softness, malleable, that bounces back when you release the pressure of your fingertips. 

Smooch!

“Again.”

After slotting your lips back on his, you swallow down a whine, busying yourself with the feeling of his body against yours, his hands so subtly stroking the small of your spine just above your ass. This time, the straw hat slips off of his head and falls to his back.

A noise of frustration escapes him as he squirms.

“Do what you did last time,” he whines. “Your hands. Like you did yesterday.”

“So you were paying attention, liar.” You grimace. He smiles in response, just like a guilty captain would.

Yet, you have no qualms threading our fingers in his hair, grabbing the tufts together a little too excitedly. You dive back to his mouth to claim his lips. This time, his eyes close in tandem with yours as he slips his hands up and down your torso, kneading the flesh, leaning his body against yours. You absentmindedly feel the fluffy, soft black hair under your fingertips, running your hands through the scalp as Luffy presses his lip to yours. 

“I think,” Luffy breaks the kiss, speaking so close his lips are still grazing yours, “you have magic fingers.”

“Yeah?” You giggle for the first since you’ve started kissing him, making his face light up.

You turn his head slightly to give him a small peck on the cheek, he tries to copy you by stretching his head to yours and planting a quick, hard kiss.

“And you smell familiar.” He says softly. So unnaturally soft for the rubber man that it makes your face burn.

“What do I smell like?” You whisper.

“Like a cabin.”

You giggle. “Okay? Any cabin in particular?”

“Makino’s cabin. Back where I grew up.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Luffy thinks about it. After a moment, he gives you a big nod as if sealing the thought in his mind. 

“Yes,” he smiles.

“That’s nice of you to say, Luffy.” 

He seems to like that compliment. To which he smiles very brightly, now kissing you with a newfound passion that you find attractive.

Okay, like, really fucking hot. 

Luffy smushes your face between his palms and plants kisses any place he can think of. From the lids of your eyes to your temples, to the bow of your nose, and all the parts of your cheeks that squish into his lips when he puts extra pressure. Each time he leaves a small, wet smooch behind, a sound he seems captivated by the more he kisses you. 

“It’s really good.” He murmurs into your skin. 

His arms reach out and grip the back of your neck, almost pulling you closer despite the fact your chest couldn’t press farther. His heavy-handed presence causes you to shuffle a little. 

“Luffy…” You sigh out. You really can’t take it without needing more. You pull away from him; something he doesn’t seem happy about, illustrated by the childish pout he has on his face.

“There’s one more type of kiss we can do.” You whisper breathlessly. 

“Really, what’s that?” Luffy asks. You brush over his lips, noses lightly connected as you whisper to him.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

You lean into him once more, but now slowly opening up your mouth to have your tongue slip out. You run it over Luffy’s thin lips before running against the entrance. After a moment, Luffy opens his mouth, tongue slowly peaking out past his lips to meet yours. 

You swear there is electricity in the air when it happens because he moans again. Whimpers from the sensation as his hands jolt around the caressed skin. 

Your tongues dance together in shared bliss, Luffy shudders against you at the feeling, grabbing your body like he’s surprised by the feeling. 

Luffy knew how bad you wanted to do this—he said himself—but, he must not know the extent, really. 

Because with every kiss, it just leads to more wanton in you. With every graze of his tongue against yours, feeling the wet muscle that tastes of meat, it makes your breath feel like magma. The noises coming from sucking and tasting his tongue slicks into the dead of night. It’s the only noise ringing in your ears save for the small whimpers and sighs coming from both of you. He despreately brushes his fingers against the sides of your face as his chest tightens, and grows still.

“Breathe through your nose.” You tell him after Luffy starts to turn blue in the face. His breath to hitch, the air exhaled back down your throat hot and wet.  He instantly returns to color, now with a revived energy. 

You can’t take it, him exploring and prodding the inside of your mouth, him gripping and almost vibrating against you as your upper bodies press together. You wrap your arms over his shoulder, permanently sewing your finger pads with that soft hair.

“Ah…” A small moan comes out of Luffy’s mouth when you tug on his hair to tilt his head up and off of yours. You dive in with false expertise as you give wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, consuming the skin until you’ve covered it all. You move to his neck, making him grunt as you pull his head back to expose it in full. Your tongue slowly sweeps down and over until it lands on his jugular, sweetly sucking it now as he gasps. The breathiness turns into a grunt of what sounds like frustration and he riggles against the feeling. 

“I think something’s wrong again,” Luffy says, face knit together. You pull off of him in concern.

“Do you need me to stop–”

“No!” He says, grabbing both sides of your head. His eyes fire wide as he grabs in panic. 

In his expression, he shoves you forward so hard you lose your footing, tumbling down with him onto the planks. You both fall into each other before he scrambles on top of you. 

“What’s wrong, Luffy?” You say, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” He says, “But… every time I try to think about it, this happens!” His hand dives in between the two of you before hastily grabbing onto the hem of his shirt and pulling it so high his whole chest shows. When your eyes travel down, you see his problem. 

“It’s why I was late! I couldn’t make it go away even when I touched it like you showed me to!”

“Oh.” 

A breath catches in your throat as your eyes adjust under the moonlight. With his other hand, he points crudely to a large bulge now prominent under his pants. 

“Can you show me what I did wrong?” He breathlessly whispers. 

“Y-you did it like last night?” You prop yourself by your arms as he kneels over you. 

“Yeah. It didn’t feel as good, though. Used half of some bottle in the kitchen.”

Luffy shuffles a hand into the underside of his pants, rustling into his boxers until he grips the erection trapped inside. You swallow as he takes his dick, quickly slipping it out.

“You sneaked into the pantry?” And he’s still slick from it. The tip of his penis glistens from the lubricant, as well as the pre-cum now leaking from it. You should be upset on Sanji's behalf that he allegedly used half the bottle of what youf guess is oil from the kitchen, but the view of his dick was too appealing for you to care.

“It kinda hurt without it,” Luffy said. You don’t blame him, mostly thankful for its convenience.

“I can show you then, Luffy,” you whisper, “you can start when you want.”

He beams, bright and contagious, as he grabs onto the head. Without any guidance, he begins to pump himself with an arm propping himself over you. You don’t dare to mention the intimate space he's invading for fear he’ll back off of you. With proximity, you get to see more of his movements, his facial features, and the heat behind his breath.

His face scrunches up in his first initial strokes before easing into a steady rhythm, similar to the brisk pace he kept last night. His hand lingers on the base and shaft, quickly running over the head each time. You could hear the light, moist squelching of oil rubbing against his cock.

“Ah, this is familiar,” Luffy says. 

“Better than earlier?”

“I did this earlier, but it didn’t feel this good.” 

“You did it the same way?” You ask in confusion. 

“I guess.” He shrugs. “I think you help me. This is really fun,” Luffy huffs out.

Luffy’s confession astonishes you. To know you can help him, to know that you and you only have made Luffy experience this, it makes you burn up in lust. 

“Shit, Luffy, you sound so good saying that.” 

You want to reach up and touch him, graze down his body with wonderful kisses, and feel the heat against each inch of skin. You feel your hand inch in front of you to reach up to his face, but when you lift it, Luffy jerks into himself so sporadically that your fingers are caught in the crossfire. 

He’s loud when your hand suddenly fumbles onto his shaft. The feeling of surprise is mutual as you look deeply into one another. His mouth opened, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Please,” Luffy doesn’t need to say anything else, his fingers hastily interlocking with yours as he lowers them. 

“Touch me like this.”

Your face feels on fire, his hands feel steady and laced with yours as you both grasp his shaft together. He whimpers in delight, satisfied with the new warmth of your hand wrapped with his.

It’s so erotic, so sensual, his shaft feels so hot with the slick of oily lubricant and pre-cum meshing in the crevices of both of your fingers now when you start fisting him. He shudders into you in pleasure, head lulling back and forth like a wave, chasing his highs and mellowing into lows. A wrinkle in between his eyebrows shapes off and on when he bucks out. The moistness of his lips attracts you again, how could you deny the savory taste of Luffy in front of you?

Your lips latch onto him, licking up the saliva awaiting from his drooling mouth. Teeth click together from the intensity you both kiss each other. It’s wild, and uncoordinated, you try to follow the beat of his pace while he desperately chases your tongue after each moan. 

His mouth in combination with his erection, hand, his fingers squeezing into yours as you stroke him. His dick felt firm in your grip, textured with small veins illuminated by the moon. Every time his hand slipped past his shaft, you would help guide him back as quickly as possible, and every time he would thrust his hips forward to compensate. 

“You look so needy like this, but you can’t help it, can you? Such a gorgeous look on your face, so sweet and filthy, hm?” You coo. Something in you adds a little more pressure to his dick stoking down the base. Something that Luffy finds quite enjoyable. It gives you so much gratification to see that lustful, desperate face, that you try something sinful.

“Why don’t you tell me how this feels?” With your one hand interlocked with his, you take your other and dive past Luffy’s leaking erection. You cup his ballsack, feeling the thin skin molding into your hand until you rub up against it.

“Ah!” His head bucks forward into the crook of your shoulder. He’s shaking from the pleasure of it. “So good. So good, I—ahhn!”

You fondle his balls under the breakneck pace of strokes into his cock. The smooth flesh is nothing like his pulsing, steel penis. You inch lower down to the underside of the sack and slowly stroke under until Luffy reduces to nothing but animalistic husks.

“Be as loud as you need to, Luffy.” You rasp. “You can do that for me, can’t you? A good boy like you can do it.”

And just like that, your words seem to coax something in him, because he grips your fingers harder with his, pumping himself into a devious pace, and moaning wildly in between his pants.

Puffs of warmth exhale from his lips, the heat between you two can’t be penetrated by any icy chill of the night air. You feel enveloped in him, in your lust and passion, you can hear his every bit of pleasure, every pump of his dick, and the way the sound of his pants is magnetized with his head tucked to your ear. 

My God, he’s drooling in ecstasy down your neck. You feel the wetness trail like sweat down your flesh.

“Nnn, ahh, ‘s coming out. I can feel it.” Luffy whimpers into your skin. His voice sounds rasped from his panting

“Why don’t you cum then, my captain?” You take the liberty to nip on the skin of his neck. It’s something small, but one that causes his whole body to jolt.

“Mmmph!”

That look. He’s so close to release that he’s completely hunched over you. There’s barely any space for you to stroke his pulsing dick, but you continue regardless. His voice is the only thing you can hear on the ear he’s crushed up against. 

But you don’t get that liberty of him cumming onto you again, however. In your other ear, you hear something alert enough for you to slow your strokes down.

You hear a faint shout from the deck of the Sunny as a familiar voice calls out the two of your names. Your body freezes.

“Luffy, shit, Luffy!”

“Hm?” Dazed and sublime, Luffy has half a mind to hear the panic in your tone. 

“Oiiii!” Says the voice, one that sounds so quiet, but it’s loud enough for you to tell who it is.

With a push you’ll soon regret, you shove him off of you onto his butt, scurrying to sit up.

“It’s the next shift!”

“Ah… so?”

“Get up,” You squeak, pulling Luffy's pants back up, much to his dismay. “Put it away!”

“What?! Why?”

“I told you why yesterday, just do it!” You zip his pants but up against the now trapped erection, and Luffy groans out.

Both of you try to get up at once—Luffy in agitation, you in alarm that his button-up is falling down his shoulder and he looked fucked out of his mind—but you bash your heads together. The clunk is so solid that you double down on the floor. You yelp out in pain, looking up from the corner of your eye to see Luffy’s standing up just fine. 

Of course. Of course he doesn’t feel how hard you collided into each other, the fucking rubber man. 

Quitely, you hear someone. 

“Oiiii, you never woke us up. Is everything okay?” That voice gets louder with each rung of the ladder of the crow’s nest until the latch is lifted. 

Coming from the opening is a mop of blonde hair followed by a mossy green. You freeze, whipping your head to see the state of Luffy. His face is slate, like nothing was happening, and…

What the fuck?

There’s no more bulge in his pants. 

You can’t think of it too hard, with the throbbing pain seeping into your head as your adrenaline creeps down.

“Oi,” Zoro gets up, looking back and forth between you two. “The hell happened here.”

“Ah! My angel, you’re hurt?” Sanji yelped in alarm, “You had me so worried. We were calling out for some time and didn’t hear anything back. And you’re sweating bad…” He kneels to your form glued to the ground, pointing to your neck ladened with Luffy’s drool, looking back at Luffy who was awkwardly standing close with no motion. “Hey, shithead, the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothin’, she was just showing me something.”

You don’t know if those two believe him. With the horrid poker face Luffy typically has in a lie, you can’t bare to look up and confirm it. You rub your head on the ground. 

“I just… bumped my head.” You groan.

He looks back at Luffy, then at you.

“Oh, dear, please go back down and sleep as much as you need, me and moss shit can take care of the rest, okay?”

“Who the hell are you calling moss shit, kitchen boy?”

Yeah, you’re getting the hell out of here before dumbbells are thrown.

Once you get the bearings to look up from the pain, you see the lemon-lime pirates gnawing their teeth at each other. From a glimpse, a straw hat dips down below the crow’s nest latch and disappears. 

You feel a small force compelling you to chase that hat, the man attached to it, that you ignore the masculine catfight beside you and follow it. 

You climb down the mast to the deck of the Sunny and hear your feet knock onto the deck. 

You see Luffy leaning against the dock next to the boys’ dorm, looking out for a moment before latching his eyes on you. You’re glad to see him. He doesn’t seem to be frustrated at the abrupt stop you put things.

“Hey,” Luffy calls, followed by your name.

“Hey,” you softly smile back at him. Maybe it was a little awkward. Maybe you’re distracted by the way the collar of his unbuttoned shirt is still hanging off of one shoulder, or that the shirt tie that laid around his shoulders is gone at this point. You hope it didn’t look weird to the two who came in.

Luffy rustles with the top of his straw hat. The ties of it dangle with the wind of the night.

“Thanks for that! It means a lot.” He says.

And just like that, he retreats to the boys' dorm, leaving you alone again as you make your way to your own bed. You snuggle back in bed with the girls, harboring a hardship that bounced in your head:

Damn. There’s always Nakama somewhere to walk in on you.

[raeathnos]

.

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so. 

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore. 

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder. 

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.” 

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch. 

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.” 

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence. 

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint. 

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still. 

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard. 

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

————— 

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there. 

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely. 

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore. 

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken. 

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.” 

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin. 

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not. 

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either. 

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

------------------

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside. 

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?” 

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.” 

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

[echobx]

Everyone has a Price (part 2) - Rafe × virgin!fem!reader

summary: y/n gets to know about who Rafe is and they get closer as things start to feel a lot more confusing for both of them

word count: 2.2k

warnings: light miscommunication, tiny tiny bit of angst (maybe), fluff

author's note: see when I said "things would pick up pace" I meant after this one, my bad.

kinktober masterlist ✘ series masterlist

   “What's this?” you ask as Rafe drops a stack of papers on your still empty breakfast plate. First he makes you dress up and drive up to the main house to be allowed to eat, and then he gives you homework?

   “A file. My file,” he says, walking behind you before leaning down over your shoulder, nose brushing past your ear. “You don't like talking about me, but you still gotta know it all to understand why. So, do your work. Build me a case. Impress me,” he rasps, and you wish you weren't turned on by it; by him believing in your potential; by his body so close to your own; by his low voice whispering in your ear. 

   “How much time do I have?” you ask, and he leans back up, but not before letting his fingertips ghost over the skin on your neck, leaving behind a soft trace of goosebumps.

   “Until dinner. I'd like to hear it after in the company of a good glass of Cabernet Sauvignon,” Rafe says while walking along the table and taking his seat. “Then we'll see.” 

   After a fulfilling breakfast, with pancakes and coffee and fruits in abundance, you decide to retreat to his library to work on the little project he gave you. The hours seem to flow as you work through the file and research everything you need to know to build your case, his case. 

   “Dinner is ready, Miss,” someone says from behind you, but you don't even register it, too indulged in your work as if you will be graded on it. But from all you know about Rafe now, that might as well be the case. 

   “If you don't come to dinner, I'm gonna have to bring dinner to you,” Rafe speaks up, putting a plate down on your notes, and you finally lift your head to look up at him. Your hair is messy, and you probably look like you haven't slept in days, although it's only been a few- it's been 14 hours since you had breakfast, but it felt like only four of them had actually passed. 

   “I'm so sorry, I didn't see how late it is,” you apologize and start scrambling your papers together. 

   “Am I that interesting?” he chuckles, as if he doesn't know the answer to that already. His case is far more complex than you expected when he gave you the task. 

   “My mind likes to focus on details. This was complicated. Things don't add up,” you tell him shyly, after all you had just found out you are a lot more weary of him. 

   “Maybe I can shed light on it,” Rafe smiles, taking the papers from your hands and walking over to the fireplace to throw them into the flames. 

   “Hey!” you cry out, jumping to your feet and trying to stop him. 

   “You don't need those anymore,” he stops you from getting to the fire and using the fire poker to save a few yet unburnt pages out of the growing flames. His hands are tight around your wrists, pushing you back as your body keeps pushing forward. 

   “You can't do that! I spent all day on those notes!” you hiss, angry and annoyed and so very mad at this man who is basically holding you hostage if you think about the contract you signed. 

   “My house, my rules,” Rafe smirks, he likes to see you fight and as soon as you notice you stop, unwinding your hands from his loosened grip and taking a step back. “Good. Will you eat now?” 

   You snort disapprovingly, but walk back towards the sofa and take your seat anyway. The turkey sandwich tastes incredible, and you hate everything about it. You hate the fact that you can't be sure how dangerous the man across from you really is. You hate the fact that, even now, you are still incredibly turned on by him. You hate the fact that you don't actually feel that bad about losing all the work, hell, people pulled worse pranks on you in school before. 

   “You don't need to drink it, but it's expensive and one of my favorites,” Rafe says while swirling the red liquid in the bulky glass. 

   “I don't really drink wine,” you say, but take your glass up anyway. Mirroring his movement, you swirl it a bit, take a long whiff and then a small taste of the liquid. 

   “That's blackberry in the head and a bit of vanilla and spices in the back,” Rafe explains the taste that you would rather describe as “not drinkable.”

   “Uh-huh,” you nod, sitting the glass down and pulling your legs up on the sofa. The clock above the fireplace reads 1:27am, usually you'd be asleep for at least two hours at this point. 

   “Am I guilty?” Rafe asks after a few minutes of silence had settled between you two. 

   “That depends on what the charges are,” you say calmly, looking at him just like you would at a client you got assigned in a practice trial once. 

   “What would you say are the charges?” The smile on Rafe's lips is imperceptible.

   “Complicity in one, if not two or more, murders. Drug abuse,” I said, and he smiled into his glass while taking another sip. 

   “And your verdict on those?” 

   “Well, you grew up rich with little to no consequences for your actions I presume, considering you were probably just like the guys at school who still act like that- I'd say the drug abuse might be rightfully there. I don't know what's your style, but I'm gonna guess either coke or pills, but definitely one of those. Seems like you got clean though a few years back, so I award you that. Most people don't get clean and stay clean,” you say, and he nods, but doesn't say a thing. 

   “The murder thing is tricky, because there is evidence suggesting you were more than just there when it happened, but the statement of the official murderer contradicts this clear evidence. So, unless the evidence is foolproof and one can prove that your dad didn't do it, you'd be guilty of at least one murder.” You finish, and he nods again, but his hand is grasping the glass harsher, his jaw is clenched and there's a dangerous glare in his eyes that almost makes you want to run away from him. Almost.

   “What do you believe?” he says after a few minutes. 

   You take a moment to think, evaluating your situation and the knowledge you have of the case, of him. “If I was your lawyer, I would advise you to plead the 5th unless the question aimed at you will definitely make you seem more innocent. I would tell you to not tell me if you did it, unless you are telling the truth that you didn't, because I don't wanna be prosecuted for lying in court. I would find a way to prove your innocence, even if it means dragging down the rest of your family. Even if you are secretly guilty.” 

   “Why?” he asks, genuinely surprised by your answer. 

   “Because I'm going to be a good lawyer. A lawyer who does her job and serves her clients. I can't afford to be nice and 100% lawful. If I have to play dirty, I have to play dirty. I can still be a good person later, once I have my own firm and enough money to not care,” you tell him about what you had always planned for your future. Usually people are disgusted by the way you view the world, but Rafe doesn't. He looks even more intrigued by you than the night before. 

   “Well, then you should get your degree asap,” he smiles, getting up from his seat and walking over to you. “May I?” he asks, and you nod before he sits down by your side.

   “Are you scared?” he asks, eyes raking over you as you sit there, hands placed on your knees and staring out front. 

   “No,” you lie, and he chuckles. 

   “I don't like when you lie to me, but I understand. I would be scared too.”

   “What are you going to do now?” you ask and turn your head to look at him. 

   “I need you to know that I will never hurt you, not unless you ask for it,” Rafe whispers, brushing your hair away from your face. “So, there's really no need to be scared about that part.” 

   “I understand,” you nod, looking down at the glimpse of chest that is poking through the buttoned gaps of his shirt. 

   “And I think I would love to replace my lawyer with you as soon as you're done,” he says, and your eyes go wide. 

   “Uhhhh- What?” 

   “You heard me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. “I need someone I can trust, someone who will do what I say unless they know better. You don't like being told what to do.” Rafe's smile is intoxicating, drawing you in like a trap. It's like he's dangling a delicious piece of Gruyère in front of your face and your tiny mouse brain cannot do anything but grasp for it. 

   That's why you don't mind when he leans in to kiss you, tentatively letting you know that he will keep you safe no matter what it takes. And against better judgment, you believe it. You taste the wine and a hint of his dinner on his tongue, a different one than the one you had. Yet, you can't help but feel like he is holding back to not overwhelm you. His hands never leave your neck, and yours never travel from your seat to his chest to pull him in, even though you wish for it. Deliberation seems to be your and his virtue that night when he pauses and lets you catch your breath before standing up and telling you goodnight. 

   Grayson talks about the stars while driving you back to the pool house, but your mind is occupied with what happened. You spend most of the night lying in bed, throwing yourself from left to right trying to find sleep, while your mind won't stop reminiscing over how it felt to kiss him. 

   When you started corresponding with Rafe, you thought it would be easy. You thought he would invite you, take your virginity and send you back home with a bag full of cash. What you definitely w

could've never expected, is to lie awake imagining being with him based on a simple kiss. The last time this happened to you, you were 17 and in high school, after your first kiss with Tyler D. from Biology class, but nothing had come of that, because if it had, you wouldn't be here now. 

   It's 4am when the landline phone on your nightstand rings. 

   “I can't sleep,” Rafe says quietly, and you don't know if you are dreaming or not. 

   “Me neither,” you whisper into the mouthpiece. It's exactly how your 16-year-old self had imagined Tyler to be, just that Rafe Cameron is nearly 30 and you are still in college. 

   “This isn't going like I had planned it,” he laughs softly, and you feel your cheeks heat. 

   “How so?” You gnaw at your lip as you listen to him, your eyes closed and picturing him by your side instead of on the other side of the phone. 

   “Well, I thought I was just saving you from a horrible experience with a guy I know, and maybe, if you wanted to, and only then to actually do something. But you are more intriguing than initially expected.” 

   “I didn't even say much,” you giggle. 

   “That's the worst part,” Rafe sighs. “You should talk more.” 

   “I talk when I find it necessary,” you say and turn to lie on your stomach, twirling some of your hair between your fingers. 

   “You never tried the set on,” Rafe rasps, and you stay quiet for a moment, debating what the right move would be. “I would come down there right now and make you wear it, but we're not there, yet, I'm afraid,” he says, and you take a deep breath before getting up and stepping towards the dresser that still had the box on top of it. 

   “How expensive was this?” you ask, the phone is wedged between your shoulder and chin as you push the lid of the box back and pull the underwear out. 

   “You would want me to return it if you knew,” Rafe chuckles. “Will you put it on?” 

   “Will you show me around tomorrow?” you counter and he laughs. 

   “Sure. I'll show you around.” 

   “Good. Maybe I'll put it on then. Not now,” you grin when you hear him groan, falling back into his pillows with a loud thud, while you put the underwear on the bench at the end of the bed. 

   “You're killing me,” Rafe sighs. 

   “Says the killer,” you joke, but he goes quiet for a while. “It was a joke, Rafe,” you apologize, but a moment later the line disconnects and no matter how often you try to call him back, he won't pick up. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @hoe4sunarin @m2m2m2 @mochimms @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi @jjmaybankssurfergf @because-i-like-toxic-men @rafeeekam @carolinaxvz

[beetlejuicyy]

Untouched

Part one • Part two

Bebe Gang AU

Pairing: Gang member! Bada x reader

Synopsis: makeup sex after the fight in part one

Warnings: smut

Note: hope you'll enjoy this one as much as part one!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Bada was lying on the bed, patiently waiting for you to finish putting on your outfit. She was completely naked, one hand playing with a long strand of mixed black and blonde hair. The room was rather cold but she was feeling hot with anticipation. When you finally walked in the bedroom she licked her lips and bit at her lower one, looking at you from head to toe. You were wearing a skimpy police uniform. Uniform was an understatement. You had a navy blue lingerie on. A pleated mini skirt was barely covering your ass, exposing your panties whenever you walked. A harness hugged the curves of your bare body around your waist and thighs, a toy gun on each side of your hips. The top you were wearing was mostly the sleeves of a baby blue shirt, cut right above your chest. Bada’s eyes rested on your boobs for a while after looking up at your face. The cherry on top was the cap on your head with the police badge embroidered on it.

You walked towards the bed and she sat up, supporting her upper body on her forearms, ready to welcome you. She loved your body. But more than seeing it she loved to touch it. You got in the bed on all fours, crawling on top of her. You pushed her lightly back on the mattress and she gladly obliged. You were so beautiful. If only you had sat a bit lower, so that your weight could press against her aching cunt.

Dangling at your waist was also a pair of handcuffs. You took them and pulled her hands above her head, leaning down over her, your breasts in her face, almost touching her nose.

“Oh no, I’ve been arrested.” She said mockingly.

“You’ve been such a bad girl.” You said as you stood back, the warmth of your chest gone away from her. She looked at your face but she couldn’t really see it because of the cap. A hand touched Bada’s cheek in a gentle gesture. “I know everything you’ve done.” You continued. Her heart started to beat faster, panicked.

You weren’t on top of her anymore. She was at the police station and you were there too, a few feet away, talking to that guy from the other day. He said something and you laughed. She wanted to beat the shit out of him. Bada tried walking to you but other people stopped her. She was arrested. You kept leaning over the front desk, looking at that guy like you wanted to sleep with him.

Bada woke up in cold sweat. Her heart was beating rapidly and her sheets were a mess, as she had been moving in her sleep quite a lot. It was pitch dark outside. The clock read 2:32 AM when she checked it. Damn, she barely slept over an hour.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water and try to calm down. Her heart was beating almost ready to get out of her chest. She went back to bed, trying to fall asleep again but your face kept haunting her every time she would close her eyes.

It had been a week. More than a week since you had fought, more than a week since Bada hadn’t heard from you. Not that she reached out to you anyway. You were mad at her and, on the first few days, she thought she was giving you space. But seeing that you never reached back to her she started doubting herself.

Did you break up that day? Did you hate her? Millions of scenarios started running in her head. She had several attempts at writing you. But every time she would write a message she would end up deleting it. It sounded pathetic. Embarrassing. Clingy. She didn’t even know what to say. All she could come up with was “I love you” but that didn’t answer any of your questions. Bada had to expose herself, let you see the ugly parts of her too. She didn’t know if she was ready.

Realizing it was impossible to fall asleep, she decided to stay up and find something to watch. Maybe she would get tired and go to sleep eventually. Or maybe when the sun would rise she would find it easier. She only had evening dance classes that day so she could sleep as late as she wanted.

***

Bada had asked you multiple times to go to one of her dance classes. You never found the right day, as you schedules didn’t really match that well but today you decided to go. It was sad, that you only found time for it after an ugly fight and more than a week of not talking to each other. You girlfriend was stubborn. You didn’t expect her to come at your door begging. After all, you had your fair share of wrongdoings in the relationship. But it still hurt that she didn’t check up on you all those days. Not that you did, either.

You missed her. You missed her really bad. You missed her good morning and good night texts. You missed her random selfies. You missed her face, that pretty face you could stare at forever and not get bored. You missed her teasing you, taking care of you, loving you. You missed her touch terribly. Her voice cheering you up everyday. You didn’t know what to say and frankly a text would sound stupid no matter what you wrote her. So you decided to show up at the academy she usually had classes at. You only needed to see her.

The girl at the reception told you she had indeed classes that day, but you had to wait for another hour. You happily agreed. You weren’t there for class and it was fully booked anyway. As you waited in the lobby, people started coming one by one and you couldn’t help but hear some of their conversations. You knew Bada was popular, but hearing all those girls gush over her was making you a bit jealous. Some of the people there weren’t even that interested in dancing, they only wanted to see her. All that talk affected you that much especially because your relationship was in a very uncertain state. The fleeting thought of her replacing you easily – because she could have almost anyone she wanted – only contributed to your jealousy. You pushed it away, telling yourself you were there to see your girlfriend, even if those people had no idea.

You finally saw a familiar face when Tatter walked in, making direct eye contact with you. You greeted her with a gesture and she nodded in your direction, surprised. She seemed to be in a rush, the class would start soon. She almost dashed to the door. She stopped in her tracks with her hand on the door handle, unsure what to do. After a few moments of pondering, she turned around on her heels and walked back to you.

“Look, I know this is none of my business.” She said, sitting down next to you on the couch. You looked at her surprised. “But I feel like it would be unfair for you not to know, and I’m sure Bada unnie is too proud to tell you.”

“What… is it?” All the bad scenarios possible crossed your mind in a flash.

“A lot of people told her she should break up with you ever since you started dating.” Tatter told you. “They… don’t really think you should be around.” It was obvious she was trying her best to phrase things as gentle as possible. “She was asked to choose between us and you and she didn’t even want to hear it.” You had guessed a long time ago that not all of her friends liked you. “I don’t know if what I’m saying makes sense but she really cares about you. Maybe you don’t know but she fought with people for your sake so please fight for her too this time.”

Pretending that Tatter’s words didn’t make you happy would have been a big fat lie. You knew how much she cared about Bada and you were ready to ask her about how your girlfriend had been doing those days.

“What are you two doing here?” You were too concentrated on Tatter to notice that Bada had walked in. You looked up at her, feeling your heart skip a beat. She was wearing a white tight crop top that hugged her body and her long hair was falling down on her shoulders and over her chest.

“Y/n unnie was asking me about the bleaching process.” Tatter said cheerfully and you appreciated her composure because you were still at a loss of words. Your girlfriend looked so gorgeous in reality, you almost forgot.

“Hurry up, it’s late already.” She replied, obviously not buying her friend’s lies. Tatter stood up in a flash, waving shortly at you before leaving. Bada looked down at you under the black visor of her cap. “You can come too.” She said. It took all the strength you had not to hug her tightly.

“I’m here just to talk, I don’t want to disturb your class.” You said. It seemed like an eternity, the few moments you spent looking into each other’s eyes. Her presence right in front of you gave you that sense of serenity that you hadn’t felt in a while. “It’s ok, I’ll wait.” You smiled at her and she only nodded.

***

You waited for everyone to leave before you met Tatter who only gestured for you to go in the practice room, whispering some words of encouragement as she left.

Bada was indeed the only person left. She was sitting on the floor, back resting against the mirror. She seemed lost in thought because she didn’t even look at you when you came in but you knew that she was waiting. You walked up to her and sat down next to her awkwardly. You had fought before but never like this. You looked at her from up close, her beautiful side profile making your heart beat faster. She only side eyed you, grinning.

“You’re not very subtle.” She said.

“I missed your face.” You answered honestly.

“You could have called.” It was a simple observation with no trace of blame in her voice.

“You could have called.” You said it back and she smiled gently, acknowledging you were right as well.

“I don’t deal drugs, in case Tatter didn’t tell you yet.” Bada said. You raised your eyebrows, surprised how open she was.

“We talked about her new hair.”

“Sure.” She said. She put out her hand, palm extended in front of you. You took her hand, intertwining your fingers. It was a simple touch, but it made you feel butterflies in your stomach. “My problems with the police are mostly related to violence. Fights. Putting some people in the hospital. Disturbing the public order. I was also charged with illegal gun and cold weapon possession. I still have them at home though.” Her thumb started caressing your hand and you felt like you were melting under her touch. You leaned your head against her shoulder. You could smell her perfume mixed with sweat. Her lips got close to your ear as she whispered so only you could hear. “That’s what we actually deal with.” Your eyes widened in shock. You knew it wasn’t the place to be talking about this type of things so openly. “Do my friends deal drugs? Some, yeah. But I don’t get involved in that shit. Those fuckers framed me so easily because of that.”

“How did they do it?” You asked. Both of you slowly moved closer to each other, your bodies pulled together like magnets.

“They lied about wanting to forget the past, leave the area to us. Asked some of our guys to go out drinking. Of course a lot of us went, it was safer. I think they slipped some drugs when I wasn’t paying attention then called the cops.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked. She chuckled.

“You deserve more than a delinquent as a girlfriend.”

“But that’s hot.”

“Yeah, the concept might sound hot.” She rolled her eyes. “But it’s not something I want to involve you in. If those beasts see a pretty girl like you around they’ll go insane.”

You looked up at her, a hand pulling her face gently to look back at you.

“I thought you know how to fight.” She leaned down to press her lips against yours in a slow but hungry motion. You moaned quietly and she smiled against your lips. You missed the feeling of her lips kissing you so bad. You were touch starved, and she seemed to be just the same, judging by the way she was grabbing you by the waist and pulling you on her lap. “Baby… not here.” You managed to breathe out when you felt her slender fingers slip under your shirt.

“My place is closer.” She said.

***

You didn’t know how Bada managed to unlock the front door while her hands were all over your body. You pulled her by the hand and got in, taking off your shoes in a hurry. She found your lips soon enough, and you put your arms around her neck. One of your knees made its way between her legs, brushing against her core. She grabbed you but the thighs instead and pulled you up against the wall. Your legs held on to her waist as her lips moved from your mouth to your earlobe, biting and sucking at it. You moaned her name and she let out a hot breath that tickled at your neck.

“Did you say… you had cold weapons?” You managed to finish your question between whimpers as she bit and sucked at your neck.

“Mhm.” She hummed, too busy leaving marks on your neck.

“And do you know how to use them?” You continued, your hands were playing with her hair, as you wrapped it around your wrist.

“Mhm.” Her answer was the same, as if she didn’t hear your question. She didn’t pay much attention to it. She only played along , thinking it was just another one of your ways of using dirty talk to get yourself off. You pulled her by the hair, her head falling back, lips away from the warm skin of your neck. She looked at you with darkened eyes, almost annoyed that you ruined her fun. Her lips were swollen and pink.

“Do you?” You asked again.

“Are you into stabbing?” She asked sarcastically.

“Use them safely, I mean.” You said, looking away. This is how you always told her about your kinks. When you said you’d like her to slap you. Or spit in your mouth. Or choke you. Or tie you up. On a sheepish tone, looking away from her, as if you weren’t going to be a slut for her in the next five minutes. A cocky smile was plastered on Bada’s face.

“Come, let me show you.”

She carefully put you back on your feet and you followed her to her bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and, pushing away the clothes on the hangers, lightly kicked her foot against the fake floor. You watched carefully as she kneeled down and took away the lid with a creak. Under her clothes was hidden an array of guns, machetes and knives. Your eyes were stuck on a small but sharp knife with an intricate pattern on the handle.

“I knew you’d like that one.” She said and picked it up for you. You couldn’t help but notice how naturally she held it in her hands.

When she stood up you were suddenly very aware of her height and the fact that she was towering over you. She played with the knife in her hand a bit before putting its cold blade under your chin, lifting it and forcing you to look in her eyes.

“I hope you’re not too fond of the clothes you’re wearing.” She said and you bit at your lower lip, knowing exactly what she had in mind. She made a few steps forward, making you walk backwards towards the bed. You were breathing heavily in anticipation, fear building up inside you. “Sit.” She said when you took your last step and felt the edge of the bed touch your calves. You obeyed and sat down on the bed. She was still standing in front of you, even taller. The knife at your chin travelled down to your chest. You felt it scratch against your skin.

Bada took a moment to think about what she was going to do to you. You waited anxiously, not being able to read anything in her eyes. She suddenly pushed you against the mattress and climbed on top of you. The sudden move made your heartbeat fasten. The next moment she was cutting the top you were wearing with the knife, pulling at the edges so she could discard it faster. You whimpered when, instead of the cold blade, you felt her warm hand caress the skin on your chest down between your breasts and towards your abdomen where her palm pressed flat against your belly.

She looked extremely hot with the knife in her hand. You closed you eyes, melting under her touch. Soon enough you felt the coldness of the blade on your inner thighs. You were wearing a skirt and very thin tights underneath. The sharp blade slowly scratched down along your thigh easily ripping the already thin material covering them. The sound of ripping material filled the room as your girlfriend grabbed at your tights roughly and cut them along your legs, pulling them from under your skirt and discarding of them as well. You gasped, not expecting the change of pace in her actions.

You opened your eyes to look at her. While her hand was skillfully handling the cold knife over your arms and collarbone, your eyes were glued to hers, trusting her completely. She could see your pupils dilating and lips parting in a silent whimper whenever you felt the blade scratch slightly on your skin. The knife was now under your bra, between your breasts. With a sharp and powerful pull Bada cut your bra in half, your boobs freed from its support. As much as you liked what she was doing to you, you started wishing that instead of the cold knife it was her hot lips on your skin.

She seemed to be feeling the same way because her movements started to lack the precision and thoughtfulness they had before. She clumsily went down on your body, under your skirt and pressed the blade against the sensitive skin of your thighs before grabbing at your panties and ripping them off as well. You moaned her name, feeling her hot breath hit your sensitive cunt.

She dropped the knife on the floor and climbed back on top of you, kissing you roughly. Your arms welcomed her, grabbing at her T-shirt pulling her as close as possible. The pace shifted dramatically, as both of you were touching each other desperately. You grabbed her T-shirt and took it off and she followed, taking her bra off on her own before continuing to leave wet kisses down your body. You craved her naked body so your hands searched for the waistband of her pants. They were off in a moment and soon both your bared bodies were pressing against each other. You still had your skirt on though and when you tried to take it off on your own she grabbed your hand and put it away, not allowing you to.

She was messy. She was starved. It was obvious from the way she was sucking on your nipple. From the way she groaned when you pulled her by the hair and forced her to move down on you. From the way she had you pinned down every time you tried to take control or roll over so you could love her body in return. You didn’t mind it. On the contrary, you had been feeling so untouched all those days without her that now nothing seemed enough.

You got even more excited when she had you ride her strap, your skirt still on. She kept encouraging and praising you, as her hands gripped at your hips and boobs whenever she could. She told you how amazing you looked on top of her. How good you were doing. You could touch her freely now and she enjoyed it too much when you choked her, eyes rolling as both of your moans filled the room.

When Bada had enough of your show on top of her she did what she knew you liked best. She pushed your head against the pillows as her hands run over your back, slapping your ass maybe a bit too hard. You moaned loudly, arching your back even more as she fucked you from the back. She enjoyed spanking you as much as you did. Maybe even more. By the time she grabbed you by the hair and pulled you up, your back against her chest, you were a mess. She grabbed your face and covered your mouth with her palm, the strength and speed of her thrusts inside you getting more violent. You were still very much loud, even with her hand covering your mouth. Your lips hungrily parted when her thumb pressed against them and you sucked on her finger while feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer. Her other arm was keeping you tightly pressed against her, as her fingers were rubbing circles against your clit. Her grunts and hot breaths against your ear praising you were all that you needed to reach your climax.

You started shaking violently in her arms, feeling overstimulated. She let you go and you fell on the bed, breathing heavily, pressing your thighs together. She looked at you proudly as if she were an artist and you were her biggest masterpiece. After all, only she could create such a beautiful mess out of you.

When you managed to catch your breath you rolled on your back, looking at her eyes still drunk on sex.

“Take that off and sit on my face.” You said. She didn’t seem to expect it but you wouldn’t leave her unfinished. She climbed on top of you and your hands gently caressed her thighs making her shiver. “Don’t hover. Sit.” For someone who had been fucking you senseless only minutes before she was surely acting shy. It was always like this when she was on the receiving end. When Bada was in charge she was cool and rough but she could also be soft and spoiled when you pleased her.

Her hand found your hair and gripped it when your lips barely touched her core in a sweet kiss. She was so sensitive.

“Don’t tease me.” She moaned as the tip of your tongue ghosted over her folds. You weren’t going to. Soon she started moaning loudly as your tongue moved skillfully around her clit. Her hips moved naturally against your face and you moaned along with her, the sound vibrating inside her. She moaned your name and you let her ride your face as she pleased, helping her reach her orgasm in no time, feeling her thighs clench around your face.

She laid down next to you, her whole body feeling like jelly. She whined like a baby when you wanted to sit up and leave the bed.

“I’ll get us cleaned up.” You said. She grabbed you by the hand, protesting still. You couldn’t resist. Bada was always a big baby after sex. She quickly found her place in your arms, her face buried in your chest as you held her. “I told you having a delinquent as a girlfriend is hot.” You said and her nose nuzzled against your skin.

“You still have a lot to hear.” She mumbled, the feeling of you playing with her hair making her feel like home. “What did Tatter tell you?” She asked.

“That you’re hopelessly in love with me.”

“She’s right.”

____

tags: @lil-elliesgf @maraudersmyloves @thatonewh0r3

[occatorcreator]

Second Chances

Links - 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

1 - Family Lost

Purple and his mother receive a grim diagnosis, and Purple struggles to find a cure to save his only living family member.

Content Warnings: Disease and Major Character Death

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Purple stared up at the clock that punctuated the silent waiting room with its ticking. 

10:15 am. His morning elective class was close to wrapping up. He distantly thought that he should care about what he’ll miss at school, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than the hammering of the clock and how long he waited for a response.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

He looked from the clock to the door, waiting for a nurse to come and summon him. Right now, he had been in the hospital for over two hours and there hadn’t been any updates on his mother’s current condition.

If I had slept in, Purple thought, tapping his foot with anxious energy in time with the clock, would she not have made it?

The thing was, he almost had. He had almost shut his blaring alarm off and gone back to sleep. He really hadn’t been in the mood to go to school this morning; he was sure there was a test in math, and he wasn’t ready for it. School was… well, it had become more unpleasant since the divorce. Despite it being a year since Navy left, thoughts of the divorce sent his mind into a negative tailspin. All those times Navy ragged on him to wake up “bright and early” every day for routine exercise, and all those times he got annoyed by Purple’s fussing made him resent the idea of getting up at all.

He debated sleeping in to spite Navy, but what was the point of that? Not like Navy would show up to witness the spite. All that would come of sleeping in would be the omelets mom prepared growing cold. She was the only parent he had left now; he couldn’t let her down by being a brat about school.

And now he faced the possibility of having no parents… he found his mother fallen to the kitchen floor, unconscious, with the omelets burning.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Every second not knowing if Orchid was alright or dead drove Purple mad. He had driven as quickly as he could to the hospital and made enough of a scene in the emergency room to get her wheeled in right away. The doctors had escorted him to a nearby waiting room after they took Orchid to treatment, offering reassurance and describing some procedure they’re doing.

Knowing that barely worked to calm him down. Purple was no longer actively panicking, but he was fretting. He hated sitting. It was the inability to do anything but wait, unsure what the response would be, unable to take his mind off of anything but his prayers that things will be alright.

Tick tock. Tick- creak.

The door grabbed Purple’s attention. He stood up preemptively, ready to meet the nurse, only to blanch back as a giant orange stick figure ducked his way through the door frame. Clutching at his massive hand was a golden child, about four or five years old. He looked nervously around the room, sticking close to the orange stick’s leg.

“Just have a seat, Mr. Tango,” the nurse said. “We’ll call you when they’re done.”

The stick figure nodded at the nurse with a sour expression.

“Will Second be okay?” the child asked the nurse.

“Your older sibling will be fixed up,” the nurse said, smiling softly. “It’s just a minor fracture.”

And what about my mother? Purple wanted to ask. Is she going to be okay? 

The question died on his tongue as Mr. Tango passed by him to take a seat. Purple instantly stepped back from the towering figure. By the time he and his child found a place to sit, the nurse had already left, shutting the door.

Great, still nothing, Purple thought, returning to his seat. He missed the prior solitude of the waiting room. With other stick figures around, he felt self conscious of his worrying. Not to mention, one of them was a small child. Purple wasn’t ready for the annoyance that would follow when that small child inevitably got bored and started wandering around, looking for things to do.

“Hello,” the child waved at Purple.

Purple took a deep breath, counted mentally to two, and looked at the child standing before him with what he hoped was a neutral expression.

“Hi,” he greeted half-heartedly.

The child tapped his hands together nervously, eyes looking down at Purple’s feet upon the less-than warm response. Somehow his sour mood didn’t send the kid crawling to his parent, which made Purple raise an eyebrow.

“What do you want?” Purple asked, baring his teeth in a false grin.

“Um, can I have that?” The child asked, pointing at the table filled with magazines.

Purple waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not using it, and you don’t need to ask. Just take it.”

The child brightened and grabbed a magazine. He retreated back to sit by his father, who’s cold gaze regarded Purple in a way that made Purple’s skin crawl. The giant’s gaze reminded him of Navy’s.

Specifically, the day Navy left. He could never forget that cold and guarded stare despite Orchid’s best attempts to shield them from him.

“I guess this is it, then,” Navy said, “I’m leaving.”

Don’t think about him, Purple mentally scolded, closing his eyes to refocus on the present.

With nothing else to get his mind off of the past and present situation, he watched as the child flipped through the magazine. It didn’t take long for the child to realize that magazines were mostly advertisements and boring articles he couldn’t read before he placed it to the side. He caught that Purple was looking at him, and Purple failed to look away in time.

“My sibby broke their thumb.”

Sibby? Purple didn’t know how to comment on that odd shorthand for sibling. 

“Ah…How did that happen?” It took Purple a full second before he found his voice. He got the feeling the kid was a bit of a chatterbox, how unfortunate. Purple had no desire to talk, but he felt like he couldn’t stay silent either.

Maybe this could get his mind off of things...

“My dad had a day off, took me and Second in the park,” the child said, “We did lots of fun stuff and it was really nice out. We were playing truth or dare, and I dared Second to punch a tree!”

He looked expectantly, waiting for Purple to supply a question. Yet when Purple only bothered with a raised eyebrow, Mr. Tango cleared his throat. 

“You two didn’t answer why you did that in the first place, Gold,” Mr. Tango said.

The child — Gold — looked down at his dangling legs, ashamed. “It’s cuz Second’s as strong as you, dad.” Gold said, “I wanted to see if they could punch a hole in the tree.”

Punch a hole in a tree? Ridiculous. Purple scoffed.

“Still. Punching things without the proper technique can be dangerous,” Mr. Tango said. “I hope you two don’t do that again in the future.”

“We won’t, dad,” Gold said.

Again, Mr. Tango reminded Purple of Navy. That comment was a straight-out warning he said during sparring lessons. His father drilled in many basics on keeping yourself from breaking your arm while fighting. Having that reminder of his father again, combined with the ludicrousness of the child’s story, and the fact they were in the hospital over something so stupid made Purple surly. 

“Let me guess,” Purple said, “your sibling was dumb enough to tuck their thumb in their fist while punching?” 

That was harsh. Now both father and son were glaring at Purple. Purple could feel his heart hammering, desire to cower and apologize strong, but not strong enough to overcome anger brought on from constant fatigue and stress.

“Second’s not dumb!” Gold snapped. “They just didn’t know they needed to do that.”

Purple shrugged. “Sounds like the definition of dumb to me,” Purple said, “I mean tucking your thumb in is unnatural and uncomfortable, so why do that?”

“Not everyone comes into the world knowing everything there is to know,” Mr. Tango warned, “and I don’t care much for you insulting someone you hardly know.”

Mr. Tango said it with a threatening, low tone that made Purple reconsider and apologize for his meanness. 

Almost. He might have, had Gold kept his mouth shut.

“They managed to knock the tree down in one hit even when doing it wrong!” Gold bragged. “I bet you can’t do that!”

Inadvertently, Gold managed to hit a sore point for Purple. Orchid and Navy both were prolific fighters in their prime, strong and agile enough to break wood and cinder blocks with a well placed hit. Purple knew it could be done, but he was never strong enough, never fast enough to do it. All he got was painful bruising and a sprain so awful he gave up trying.

And given today, Purple’s fuse was short.

“You little liar,” Purple snapped, “no one can do that.”

“I’m not!” Gold balked, and he tugged on Mr. Tango’s arm. “Dad, you saw it too! Tell him! Second did punch a tree down!”

But there was a split second of hesitation in Mr. Tango’s gaze, that moment of doubt and skepticism. Before he had the chance to defend his son, Purple pounced.

“If your dad claims that, then he’s helping a liar,” Purple said, “I thought preschool taught you better than to make up stories for attention.”

“I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!” Gold yelled, and Purple saw that the child was so worked up that tears were forming in his eyes. “I’m not a liar!”

“What is your problem?” Mr. Tango snapped, standing up tall to get between Gold and Purple. He didn’t yell like Purple did, but clearly didn’t hide his anger. “You have no right to talk to my son like that.”

“Maybe if you didn’t want me to yell at your liar of a kid,” Purple snapped, “then you should have parented better.”

“Excuse me?”

Purple stood up. He was a pipsqueak to the massive stick figure before him, his limbs shaking from fear and rage both. 

“I’m just saying, a kid who broke his wrist punching trees and one that makes up tall tales to strangers reflects poorly on you.” Purple said, “My parents wouldn’t hear me spouting such nonsense.”

“Where are they?” Mr. Tango asked, grinning without any joy. “I would like to talk with them about their parenting skills if they could raise someone who’d yell at children for little reason.”

To that Purple had no response.

Oh creator, what would mom think of me right now? Purple thought, visibly deflating and stared at the ground in shame.

Now the only sound there was the clocks ticking and Gold crying. Seeing no fight left in Purple, Mr. Tango sat down and started to console his child. Gold buried his head in his father’s chest, weeping and insisting he wasn’t a liar.

Creak

“Purple?” A nurse came in with a clipboard. 

“Yes?” Purple straightened himself up. “Is she ready?”

“She is,” the nurse nodded, his expression appearing grim despite his smile. “She wants to talk to you.”

Oh, good she’s awake, Purple thought, but still… the dread in his stomach grew. Why is the nurse looking at me like that if she’s awake?

“Okay. Take me to her.”

He followed the nurse out, ignoring the pressing glares of Mr. Tango and Gold following him out.

=

“Rapid aging syndrome?”

Purple sat by Orchid’s beside, holding her hand. Orchid was looking rather pale and frail, but she was alive. The doctors managed to stabilize her.

But only stabilize;  there was no cure for this condition.

“Yes,” Orchid said, “Explains a lot of things, like why I didn’t have the same stamina as your father even though we’re the same age.”

She said it with light airiness that nearly made Purple cry.

“But, this is a glitch in your programming, right?” Purple said, clearing his throat, “couldn’t they patch you?”

To that Orchid let out a shaky sigh and patted Purple’s hand. Purple noticed the faint tremor in her hands.

“They found out that they can’t,” Orchid said, plainly.

“Why not,” Purple asked, voice rising. “They’re doctors! Expert coders! They have to fix you! What sort of doctors would they be if they couldn’t?”

“It’s not that simple, honey,” Orchid hushed, “They discovered that my code’s corrupted. The fact they could stabilize me without losing my memories was a miracle in it of itself.”

“Surely, there’s a way around corruption,” Purple begged, “You mean to tell me they can’t stop you from just… aging to death?”

Orchid didn’t say anything at first. She looked up at the ceiling with an inscrutable expression. In that moment, Purple wondered how well she was taking the news that she was given a terrible death sentence, aging at an insanely rapid rate until she shriveled up to a husk. Looking at her now, all the marks Purple blamed on exhaustion or loss of appetite were the tell-tale signs of becoming an elder.

“The doctors gave me two choices,” Orchid said after a moment, “Either I would have 5 months left to live, or they would reset me.” She then turned to Purple. “And reset means full reset. My age, all of my memories… I would be as I was created, as my 18 year old self. I wouldn’t even recognize you as my son anymore. Even with that, I could still be… lost to a reset. There is no guarantee to save me.” Her expression turned pained. “You know which one I had to choose.”

“That’s so f-messed up,” Purple caught himself. But he wished he could swear. How could anyone sugarcoat that?

“The doctors will want to discuss care options in light of my condition,” Orchid said, “having nurses to care for me at home, or placing me in hospice care.”

“But we don’t have the money for a live-in nurse,” Purple pointed out quietly. 

Orchid hummed in agreement. “And I don’t want to be moved to hospice care if I can still stand and walk.” 

“I could care for you,” Purple offered. “Take off school for a bit-“

“I don’t want to place you in that position,” Orchid waved her hand, “and your education would suffer for it.“

“Mom, I’ll be blunt, my education has already suffered from… Navy leaving.” Purple couldn’t even say the divorce to her, “I won’t be able to focus on shoring up what’s left of my education knowing that your… that you're going to…”

He couldn’t say that either. He shan’t say it, or else he made it true. He didn’t want it to be true.

“Fair point…” Orchid muttered. She placed her hand on her chin and hummed. “There is always my creator,” Orchid paused, “I still have her email address, and I occasionally send her updates. We could stay with her for a while.”

“An actual human? With a desktop?” Purple asked. “Is it even possible for us to go there?”

Orchid nodded. “I’m certain something can be arranged once I reach out to my lawyer and get my affairs in order.”

“Don’t say that, mom,” Purple shook his head.

“I’m afraid we don’t have many options,” Orchid said, “Plus, it would be nice to take you to our childhood home.”

Our?  Purple thought, You mean, dad also grew up on that computer?

Purple wasn’t sure about going on a human’s computer with all the risks, but like Orchid said, it wasn’t like there was any better options they could take.

I’ll find something to save you from this fate, mom, he thought, I promise.

Purple kept this vow deep in his heart as the doctors returned.

=

Her name was Alana, and, despite his mom promising to take him to her childhood home, she clearly owned the latest Apple Macintosh. Alana was nice, nicer than what Purple expected of a human from his history class, and she welcomed Orchid and Purple upon their arrival through her email. They had to write out words on the email in order to communicate with her, but Purple learned he didn’t need to talk with Alana often. She was present for the first two days to ensure they settled on the desktop, before just disappearing and leaving them to their own devices for days on end.

Orchid explained most of the situation to Alana. She wasn’t fully candid about her diagnosis, but she shared that Purple was her and Navy’s son, and that they needed a place to stay in the meantime.

Alana asked only one question. “What happened to Navy?”

The awkward silence and body language from both Orchid and Purple told enough for Alana to discern something happened, but she didn’t feel the need to press.

Living on a desktop was a new experience, one Orchid was happy to guide Purple on.

“Ah, they updated so many things!” Orchid said in awe, “You’re getting a better experience than I did. The desktop is so lovely!”

She leaned down to press a button. It was the finder, and it opened up a series of apps. However, she let out a groan of pain as she struggled to stand back up.

“Careful!” Purple said, lifting her up, “you know you can’t move like you used to.”

Orchid looked forlornly at what she opened, rubbing her back. Stacks of icons stretched above her without any easy way to traverse them.

“Right. Climbing would be your strong suit, you have to do that a lot on a desktop,” she said, half muttering as the advice she gave came with a realization of her condition. That her body was too old to navigate something that she had done in her youth.

Purple had to watch her as that condition worsened overtime.

Not that Purple was idle during this time. He set to work making the desktop space more accommodating for an elder. He found Flash and constructed a crude house with the pencil tool. The linework wasn’t the neatest, but it was convenient, light enough for him to pick up the house and set it down, but sturdy enough that a punch wouldn’t knock it down.

He tried looking around for Orchid and Navy’s files. After all, if they were made, then that means there had to be backup copies somewhere around. Surely, Alana transferred their files to the new computer, there had to be something to counter the apparent corruption.

“Purple, please don’t be going into Alana’s files,” Orchid warned.

Purple nearly fell off the top of the directory, not expecting to hear her voice. It started to croak with age, a tremor of strain she didn’t use to have. She leaned on a crude cane Purple drew to help support herself. He hastily went down so she didn’t have to call him.

“I’m not doing anything shady,” Purple insisted, “I was hoping to find… something.”

Orchid gave him a look. A look he knew too well when she suspected Purple was up to one of his antics. He received that look a lot whenever the school called about his moments of less-than-stellar behavior. 

But as quickly as it appeared, it fell. “Look, I’m just warning you, if you poke around in her files and break it, she will be incredibly upset and hurt by that,” she chuckled lightly, “I’m speaking from experience here. Navy and I regretted how we clowned around back in the day.”

You? A trouble maker? Purple couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of Orchid, roughly around his age, causing trouble for her creator. But the smirk faded when that image contrasted the frail stick figure before him. 

“Why did Alana… make the both of you?” Purple asked.

Orchid blinked, not expecting the question. She fiddled with her cane, nails gently scraping against its side.

“I don’t know. Flash animation was new and there was a genre of animation that featured fighting stick figures beginning to form. I supposed Alana wanted to add a battle couple, but I couldn’t be certain.” 

Purple’s face curled at the thought. “Like she made you two to be a couple?”

“Not like that, she made us to be a team,” Orchid’s smile looked forlorn and she looked elsewhere, “the love came later.”

Purple shuffled awkwardly, knowing how that “love” ended for them all. “Why did you two leave the computer?”

“Stick City was new, and we both wanted to strike it on our own,” Orchid explained, “we wanted to be famous, and we didn’t feel like we could if we stayed on a desktop.” She let out a huff. “How funny that I ended up back here after all this time.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, Purple, I’d rather you not go poking around and getting into trouble.” Orchid placed her hand on Purple’s shoulder. “Come. I can show you some games on the Mac you can play in the meantime.”

“Games?”

“Yes, I know I can’t play the ones that are more active, but I don’t want that to stop you from experiencing the fun you can have on a desktop,” she said, “it’s way more immersive.”

Purple opened his mouth to argue something, before closing it and nodding.

I really can’t go against her wishes now, Purple thought, besides, there are healing items in games, maybe I can find something to fix her?

“What do you recommend I try, mom?” he asked.

Time moved too quickly for Purple’s liking. He did as much as he could in his investigation of the games on Alana’s computer. Some of the games were fun, but ultimately useless to his main goal. Others had healing items he had to buy from a vendor or could collect in chests. He gave these to Orchid, yet the most they did was ease her aching joints.

He found Minecraft through his investigation and it, too, had healing items that didn’t work. Yet, the game was fun, intriguing enough for even Orchid to join in on the fun. He found himself simply just building things with Orchid out of the simple blocks provided in creative mode. They began to build a foundation of a castle, but in time, only Purple was able to build the castle. When that happened, he abandoned construction to refocus his efforts in finding a cure.

Orchid was visibly getting older and weaker every passing day. She walked slower, leaned on her cane more often, and complained of pain in her bones. Vision and hearing were going, and Purple had to draw her glasses and hearing aides to help her.

Nothing was working. He tried experimenting with healing items he found: mixing it into her food, combining it with other mechanics, and even breaking into a game’s code to see if there was anything he could pull. All his efforts did was ease the burdens of aging. He could not cure nor save Orchid from her fate.

Eventually, Orchid became too weak to even leave her bed. Purple was torn between wanting to stay by her side and care for her or leaving to find something he possibly overlooked. He settled for spawning a villager from an egg to be her nurse while he stepped away. But walking away was difficult; he felt every hour he was away was the hour he came back to find her…

He came crawling back with nothing to show for it.

“Is there anything in your game that can stop this?” Purple asked the villager, one night after he returned. “To stop her from dying?”

The villager looked around, unsure if Purple was genuinely engaging with them or speaking out loud to himself. When Purple remained silent, the villager felt like they needed to respond.

 “I don’t know,” they admitted, “I haven’t heard of anything like that.”

“You do realize you don’t age, right?” Purple continued. “You and every video game character are just frozen, as you are. You don’t have to worry about growing old, leaving your kids and loved ones behind...”

“That’s not…” the villager trailed off when he met Purple’s cold stare. “It’s not that simple..”

“Seems pretty simple to me. You, a computer program, live on, while us stick figures, also computer programs, grow old and die. How unfair is that?” Purple muttered. “I ask again. Is there anything in this stupid game that can make her ageless like you?”

The villager shook his head and took a step back. Something was in Purple’s voice that deeply frightened the sniveling NPC. And for a moment, Purple thought of pulling out his sword and stabbing the villager for his unhelpfulness. 

After all they were only ageless, not immortal. Weak.

He walked away from the villager, but those horrid thoughts followed him. 

=

“What’s happening to Orchid?”

Alana logged on to find her desktop disheveled: a half finished castle from Minecraft, a crude house with a crude bed where Orchid lay in it. She must look so bad that even a human could see it on the screen.

Purple stayed by her side, unable to sleep, and stared blankly at the writing above him. He dared not grab the pen he used to write, he didn’t want to get up and leave his mother’s side.

It had been five months. Her time was almost up, and all his efforts to stop it amounted to nothing. 

The cursor moved down and Purple placed himself between it and his mother.

“Don’t!” he said, splaying his hand out. He knew Alana couldn’t hear, but he spoke anyway. “She’s very fragile.”

“Is that Alana?” Orchid croaked.

Her feeble, weak voice broke Purple’s heart to hear. Her glasses were off to the side, but she didn’t reach for them. 

“Yes, it’s her.” 

“Ah, I'm glad,” Orchid said, “I worried… I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye.”

“No, no mom, you don’t have to,” Purple said, clinging to her hands. “There- I’m still searching for a cure- I can-“

“Shh,” Orchid placed her hand on his cheek, stilling him. “No, Purple, honey. My time is up. And I don’t want to see you wasting your time searching for a cure that doesn’t exist.”

“But I can’t give up, not now,” Purple shook his head. Her face began to blur and hot tears streaked down his face. “I don’t want you to leave me. Stay here. Please.”

“I don’t want to go, either,” Orchid coughed, “I want to be with you… but I don’t want you to suffer for my sake.”

She wiped his tears with her shaking, wrinkled hands. A pointless endeavor, for Purple could not stop sobbing.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Purple choked, holding her hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Purple,” Orchid said. Her hand slackened to her side and eyes closed. “Promise me something, Purple?”

“What?” Purple leaned in. “What do you need me to do?”

There was a beat of silence, just the raspy rise and fall of her chest.

“Promise me that you'll…” Orchid whispered so faintly, every word laborious. “Promise me you’ll… take good care of yourself… that you’ll find someone-” She broke off into coughing.

“Hush, hush. Of course, of course I will.” Purple said and hugged Orchid. “I promise.”

Orchid didn’t return the hug, too weak to do so.

“I love you,” she wheezed.

Then, she let out a shuddering gasp and fell limp within his arms. 

“Mom?” Purple pried away, staring at her gaunt face, eyes closed. He saw that she was becoming translucent, fading away like a spirit.

 “Mom? Please…”

Then there was nothing, just him clinging to the blankets. All that Orchid was became nothing now. Not a trace of her was left, except her scent and his memories.

And with that he wept openly into the empty bed while Alana wordlessly hovered above.

[angeljeonjk97]

BodyWork || Bell #3

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol

Jeon Jungkook isn't the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways that one.

"You already know how I like it baby"

The light shines through your closed eyes, causing your pitch-black vision to turn a shade of orange. Your eyelids slowly separate as you blink to adjust to the bright sunshine emitting through your opened curtains.

'Open curtains?' Your tired face scrunches up in confusion as you think to yourself, eyes still flickering, 'I swear I closed them before I left last night?'

You brush it off, assuming that you just didn't close them after all. Blurry memories corrupt your thoughts when a painstaking throbbing pain arises in your skull. You did what you said you weren't going to do, get drunk.

You huff, sitting up straight in your bed, glancing at the time. It was...

'3 PM?!' you exclaim in your head, your eyes widening. I mean it's a Saturday so you have no classes all day today and tomorrow. Still, you were surprised you slept in this late.

Cutting off your train of thought, your white wooden bedroom door creaks open, revealing a tall, dark-haired man, entering the room cautiously.

You snap your head towards the sound as you live alone and always react to the slightest of noises.

"You're awake!" He exclaims in a hushed tone, knowing not to be too loud as he assumes you have a raging hangover. The tall man, wearing a white oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts walks towards your propped-up body, carrying a packet of what you guess is painkillers and a bottle of water.

You rub your eyes, not sure if you're seeing this right.

"Why are you here?" You ask, visible confusion plastered on your face as Jungkook chuckles, flashing his bunny-like smile, and crinkling up his eyes and nose.

"You don't remember last night at all do you?" He places himself down on the bed, sitting by your outstretched legs under the sheets.

When you start drinking, it rarely ever stops at just one drink. Most of the time you end up blacked out and wake up in your room, not remembering how you got there until a lot later into the day when it all starts to come back to you.

Jungkook's words make you recall most of the events from the previous night.

You and Kiri were dancing with each other, rejecting every weird dude who tried to get involved the whole night, going back and forth from the bar, back to the dance floor, to the bar, dance floor, bar, dance floor, the same cycle until it hit about 2 am. You and Kiri had been in the club for a good four hours now, all the good effects of the alcohol began wearing off and you were then in the club bathrooms trying not to throw up on your new, red satin dress.

Kiri doesn't get drunk as fast as you do, so she was a little bit more sober than you at the time, even though she was struggling to hold herself up.

"Yeah no we're ok babe, just not feeling amazing" Kiri giggled nervously, her words slightly slurred as she spoke to her boyfriend over the phone, who was on his way to pick the both of you up.

She looked at you and sat up against the toilet cubicle wall, knees up and your head buried into them as you focused on not being sick or passing out.

"Kiriiiiii" You whined, swinging your head back, making it hit the thin barrier behind you, with your eyes closed and eyebrows pinched.

"Girl I know you're fucked up, so am I. Hoseoks on his way" Kiri strokes the back of your head, trying to comfort you.

"I wanna see JKaaaayy" Your muffled, sloppy words made Kiri laugh as she got off the phone with her boyfriend, singing off with an "I love you" before tapping the red hang-up button. She reached for your purse, which rested on your feet in front of you, to pull your phone out.

The next thing you could hear is your phone dialling, causing your head to shoot up and look down at your phone, lying in Kiri's palm.

Jungkook shifted in his sleep, his ringtone bellowed in his lonesome apartment. He reached his arm out lazily, dragging his bright phone screen in front of him. With squinting eyes, your name glowed at the top of his screen.

"Y/n?"

Your eyes widened at the familiar voice that bounced off the wine-red tiled walls, leaning down at your phone, to take it from Kiri.

"Jungkooooook, I miss you" You pouted, as you spoke into your phone microphone.

He lazily chuckled, already knowing that you were drunk from your voice.

"I miss you too, are you okay?"

You whined again, "No, I wanna go home"

He sighed in defeat, already getting up out of bed.

"What club are you at? Do you want me to pick you up?" Concern laced in his croaky voice.

Jungkook is usually the person you call when you get like this. He doesn't mind it at all though, he likes making sure you get home safe after a night out. He doesn't trust other people, especially knowing how disgusting some men can be.

"Hoseok's coming it's alright Jungkook" Kiri almost shouted so she was heard over the phone.

Jungkook's face frowned, not recognising the sudden voice that was certainly not yours.

"Kiri?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, just checking it was you, I wasn't sure then. You okay as well?" His face relaxed, still plastered with concern for both of them.

"I'm okay, drunk but not as bad as y/n" She nervously chuckled whilst looking up at your squished-up face rested on your left knee, your right hand holding your phone, floating mid-air between the two of you.

Jungkook scoffed, a smirk growing on his face, knowing how you are when you're drunk and what he is about to face.

After a few more words were passed between each other and a mutual agreement (he insisted) that he'd come and pick you up instead, that you were too drunk to focus on, Kiri patted your back telling you to say goodbye to Jungkook, to which you responded with a pouty groan and a small "hurry up please".

"Alright I'm on my way now, I'll see you two in a bit" Jungkook let out a loud sigh once he had hung up the phone and slid it into the pocket of his lazy grey joggers he threw on as they were the first thing he had seen, lying on the floor. After he had tucked his laces into his shoes, in too much of a rush to tie them, he had one last good look at himself in the mirror above his shoe rack. He can't leave the house without looking in the mirror to check if he looks presentable, doesn't matter the situation. After a few seconds of fluffing his hair in the mirror and adjusting his shirt, he set off out the door, jogging to his drive that contained a sleek, black Mercedes Benz parked up and a 2020 Harley Davidson Streetfighter. Unlocking his Mercedes he revved the car, reversing his way out on his way to you.

"Is Hoseok not coming anymore?" You lazily asked, still not lifting your head from its current position.

"He's still coming, but Jungkooks coming to look after you. I'm going home with Hobi."

You sighed in response, trying not to fall asleep.

Jungkook eventually made his way into the club, pulling his mask back over his face and adjusting his cap, making sure he was not recognisable. As he walked towards the bathrooms, he saw Hoseok's colourful hair tips emerge from around the corner, with you being held up by him as Kiri trailed behind you both, making sure you didn't fall backwards or fall on top of Hoseok. He gently guides you to the sofa that sits around the corner from the bathrooms. Jungkook picked up his speed at the scene in front of him.

"I'm here" Jungkook exclaimed, out of breath slightly, from the rush he had just been in to get to you as quickly as possible.

"Kooook" You whined at the familiar, warm voice. You extended your arms out in front of you, as Jungkook leaned down to embrace you in a hug.

You melted into the hug, allowing JK to get a hold of you properly to stand you up.

"You guys gonna be okay?" Hoseok chuckled at the sight as Kiri wrapped herself around his bicep.

" Yeah yeah, she'll be okay once she's home" He answered back, still holding you up by the waist as your arms remained around his neck. That didn't last long though before you removed one arm and swung around next to him, his left arm still around your waist.

"Alright I'll see you around then, drive safe" Hoseok smiled at you both before he and Kiri set off.

"Text me when she's home" Kiri reminds Jungkook before being too far away to hear him, to which he responded with a small "will do."

You close your eyes and sigh in annoyance after the memories all come flooding back.

Jungkook laughs at your current expression before basically shoving the pills and bottle of water in your face, causing the box to make a rattling noise. Your eyes open in reaction to the sudden sound, finding their way to Jungkook's, his face painted with a small smile full of care and adoration. You lazily retrieve the items out of Jungkook's hands, basically clawing your way into the box as your headache begins throbbing even harder than earlier.

You realise for a moment that you're not in the clothes that you left the house in. With scrunched brows, you look up from the box, in Jungkook's direction, and your fingers stop fidgeting, as you see him already with his wide back to you walking out of the room.

"You changed yourself, don't worry" as if he read your mind with his faded response as he was already out of the room by the time the words left his mouth, "I'm making breakfast so get your ass out of bed soon"

<-prev-index-next->

--------------------------------

a/n: Apologies for this chapter taking a while. I've been caught up in a lot of work recently and haven't really had that much time to write, hope you all enjoy though &lt;;33

Taglist- @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @tatamicc @idkjustlovingbts @00frenchfries00 @yoonbicoolest

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader // Phone Sex

A.N: Very smutty. Anonymous requested phone sex, there it is.

Plot: As Callum starts the shooting of a new feature film, he feels very horny. His girlfriend too. Phones might be the key to their problem.

Callum had just finished packing his suitcase when Posy, his pug, entered the room. As usual, the dog smelled that he would be leaving for long enough for her to miss him. She lay her pink nose on his thigh as he had kneeled on the floor to pet her. Y/N was witnessing the scene while folding the clothes that had not fit in the suitcase. She too was starting to feel the weight of the departure on her shoulders. 

Y/N and Callum had been dating for four years and were engaged for three months but it still was harsh to see him leave, even after all those sets and award shows he would attend by himself, sometimes on another hemisphere. Once Posy had had her share of hugs and pats on the head, Callum turned to his girlfriend. He reached out for her, grasped her hips to bring her closer to his chest and lifted her chin as she was looking at the floor with a tear by the corner of her eye. He placed a kiss on her lips as gently as a dove landing while whispering in her ear: “You’re the love of my life. I’ll be home soon, darling!”

Though the distance between the two of them for the upcoming weeks was shorter than usual as Callum was going to Belfast and Y/N was staying in London for her own job, the couple felt terrible about it. Y/N accompanied Callum to Heathrow and watched him check-in. He waved goodbye at her behind the high wall of glass and was soon nowhere to be found.

***

“I’ve arrived sweetheart and I already miss u xx”, Callum texted as he landed at Belfast airport.

Y/N read that text over and over again, as she was preparing some Earl grey. She muffled herself in some blankets that still smelled like her lover and played some TV show on Netflix. She had no idea what the plot or the title to that show were as she was focusing mostly on her dog and phone. 

Y/N had always needed some time to accommodate to Callum being away. She knew that in a few days, she would be able to socialise with her friends again and going for drinks with her colleagues after work but as for tonight, she felt no energy and fell asleep rather quickly after.

When she woke up the next day, she emerged with some notifications on her phone. Along with spams on her mailbox, she had received two texts from Callum:

// 07.23 am - Callum // Hi darling, hope you’re ok. I feel like shit, missing u like crazy

// 07.31 am - Callum // Forgot to tell u just how much I adore u

His first text was an understatement. In fact, Callum had not slept much the night before as he had kept on thinking of Y/N for most of the night. He missed her habit of making up (terrible) jokes in all situations, her Earl grey which was like a drug to him, and also the intimacy the two were sharing. 

Usually, Callum was dealing well with the lack of sex his job could come with. Usually, he was fine with onanism and some sexting with his girlfriend. But ever since the two of them had gotten engaged, and for a reason he ignored, the sex had become amazing. It was incredible before the engagement but now it was out of this world. And they had not been separated ever since the engagement party. 

Needless to say, Callum was getting very much horny just thinking about her girlfriend being naked or touching his chest. By 2 pm, he took a break to go get a lunch and enjoyed that time to text Y/N. 

// 02.08 pm - Callum // I miss you and your body

When Y/N read that, she was relieved that she was not the only thinking that as she had this thought and this thought only on her mind. She caught herself daydreaming of making love to Callum during a meeting in the morning and she could not help but to imagine what it would be like to have him. The two of them had had sex before going to the airport, so only a few hours prior but it was difficult not to imagine something else.

// 02.54 pm - Y/N // I wish I could be yours too

// 04.11 pm - Callum // How about I call you tonight to get it settled?

Callum had never imagined suggesting something as crude as that. They had never thought of having phone sex but desperate situations call for drastic remedies, he thought.

// 04.48 pm - Y/N // I dare you!

Y/N could not quite believe what she had just read as Callum was not the resourceful when it came to sex. His education had made him rather shy to talk about the subject, even more so to initiate it. But Y/N was willing to give it a try.

// 05.02 pm - Callum // Is 10 tonight fine by you?

// 05.07 pm - Y/N // Yes! Can’t wait!

Y/N was feeling a sexual tension growing as she was imagining the call and she was glad she could clock out from her dayshift and go back home to make herself comfortable. As soon as she arrived, she rushed to her closet to pick fancy underwear. She knew exactly which ones were driving Callum absolutely crazy and gazed in the mirror at the beauty she had in front of her. Red truly was her colour, she thought. 

After running some errands and making her some food, she felt as though she could start the session on her own and started moving her hands below her trousers but then she received a call from Callum.

// 09.56 pm - Call entering: Callum //

“Hi darling, I’ve waited so long for this…”

“Hey Cal, getting horny much?”

“You have no idea. It was tough concentrating on my script with you on my mind”

Y/N lay in their bed, her eyes facing the ceiling and one hand on her chest, actively searching for her breasts. By doing that, she got the camera rolling and asked for FaceTime to get started. 

“Ooh, I see you put on that naughty bodysuit I got you, huh? You know it drives me insane to see you wearing it”

“Take a wild guess as to why I put it on then”

“Good, I see you’re as excited as I am”

“You have no idea what went through my mind all afternoon. All the indecent stuff I was thinking of that got me blushing”

“Hmmm”, Callum slightly moaned through the phone.

“What would you do to me if you were in London right now?”, Y/N asked as candidly as possible while she ran her other hand on her thigh.

“I would bite your lips with my teeth and then I would lick your tits, making them as red as your gown”

“Would you allow me to touch your chest back?”

“Oh darling, I would allow you to do everything”

“Touch your chest then”, Y/N ordered.

“We’ve got the right to order stuff now? If so, play with your tits. Show me how red they’re getting”

Y/N obliged as Callum slid his hands under his shirt.

“Take your shirt off. I want to see it too”

“Commanding, much?”

“I thought I had the right to ask you anything”

“Hmm, sure. Anything for you”

“Touch your thighs with your other hand so we’re equal”

“You’ve been touching yourself, haven’t you, huh? Couldn’t wait for me”

“Didn’t make myself come though. I can’t wait for you to do that to me”, Y/N replied.

“That bodysuit is fine but you know what I’d love to see even more?”

“Let me guess”, Y/N said while taking off one strap of the discussed piece of clothing. 

“That’s right, take it off so I can admire your gorgeous body. God! You’re fucking hot like that too”

“Get higher with your hands. Show me how hard you got, pretty boy!”

Callum took off his trousers and a bulge could be seen from his underwear.

“I would do anything to play with it right now. But for now, you’ll have to do it for me. Stroke it slowly”

“I like that bossy tone of yours. Do you want me to remove my boxers for you?”

“Huh-huh. Let me see what my cunt is missing”

Callum took off his underwear, unveiling a boner that he had had for a good amount of his day. He gently began touching the length, imitating the back and forth movement of penetrating Y/N. 

Y/N could feel her loins getting wet by the second she noticed his movements and mostly when Callum got to moaning unintelligibly words that sounded like pleas. She reached for her labias and grazed the surface, with Callum’s cock as sole thing on her mind.

Callum sensed some pre-cum on his fingers as he was getting close to the edge. He asked between two moans “I want to see you getting wet for me. I want to imagine myself fucking you”

Y/N approached the phone to her thighs and showed him how her fingers were taking care of the pond between her legs.

“God, Y/N! You’re so fucking hot! I wish I could come inside you”

Y/N moaned at the suggestion. She too was wishing for that. To have her pussy circling his cock so tight that she would feel every drop dripping out of it.

“Keep playing with yourself. I’m gonna fucking come”, Callum warned as the veins of his cock were showing on screen. 

Callum stroked harder and harder, feeling a near release as he grabbed a pillow near him to press something. 

“Y/N, fuck!”, he moaned as his cock emptied on a towel. He gasped for air as he came back from his ejaculation.

Seeing that, Y/N wanted her share to and asked Callum to talk to her.

“When I come home, I’m gonna lick every part of you and fuck you so hard that I’ll make you moan the way you just made me come. Think of your fingers as though they were mine. Play with yourself, baby. I love that sight”, Callum could not stop talking as he felt his cock wanting a second round by just looking at Y/N touching herself.

Y/N put her fingers as instructed by Callum, playing with her pussy with a rapid pace. Though she could not comprehend most of what was happening, she sensed her breathing growing heavy. A few moans escaped her mouth before she ultimately cried out “You’re gonna make me come, Cal”

“Good. Carry on, I want to hear you moan louder”

“I’m…”, Y/N hardly found a way to express herself as she hit a spot Callum knew by heart would make her flail.

“You’re so hot when you come for me”, Callum snickered as Y/N was done with exhaling after having come. 

“I’m still waiting for the live version of that. But I guess we could do it every day before you’re coming back”

“I wouldn’t mind”, Callum commented.

[superhaught]

Incurable Cravings (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: none really, just angsty

Word Count: 2200, Part 4/?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Continuation of Incurable Cravings series!

Little author's note: I made a small edit to Chapter 2 to fix a plot hole that I created for myself. Regina and Leighton have been living in separate homes for five years as opposed to the original ten.

Regina and reader begin to navigate their first day at school in light of their newfound relationship. Reader learns more about the history between Janis, Regina and Leighton.

Regina’s family was complex. 

You knew that Ms. George used to be married to Regina’s father. Together, they had twin daughters, Regina and Leighton. You were all around 13 years old when they divorced. The resulting custody arrangement was unusual. Ms. George kept Regina and the house, while Leighton went with their dad and moved to the east coast. You vaguely knew that the father, Henry, got remarried to his college sweetheart, who had an older son from her previous marriage. Ms. George kept her maiden name and changed Regina’s last name to match, and has since also remarried and had Regina’s half-sister, Kylie. Regina’s stepdad, from what you knew, was a high-ranking military official. He didn’t see combat, but he was almost never home. All of them seemed to prefer it that way. 

Regina and her stepdad famously did not get along well, so his frequent absence was appreciated by her. And Ms. George enjoyed being able to maintain her independence. She often referred to herself as a single mom, even though she, objectively, was married.

You hadn’t seen Leighton since she moved away, and based on what Regina had said, she had rarely seen her twin either. You were positive that the distance must be hard on them both. Regina and Leighton had always been each other's' best friend when you were younger. They were practically joined at the hip. You remember that when Leighton moved away, Regina didn’t come to school for almost two weeks and she wouldn’t see anyone.

The divorce, and your small friend group falling apart, all happened within the span of a year. And now, as Regina slept peacefully in your arms, you wondered just how much pain she had been carrying.

It broke your heart. 

In spite of your racing thoughts, you eventually gave in to sleep yourself and were able to get a few hours shuteye before Regina’s alarm was going off and waking you for school. Regina groaned and snoozed the alarm once before turning over and curling up against your chest.

You giggled at how cute she was being and took to kissing her head and playing with her hair for those ten extra minutes. You felt her press a few soft kisses onto your neck and then the alarm went off again.

You reached over her and turned the alarm off and then rubbed your palm over her upper arm. 

The blonde smiled and whispered, “good morning…”

“Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling this morning?”

Regina yawned and stretched her arms out a little before responding, “better than I’ve felt in a while.”

“Good.”

She met your eyes, “am I remembering last night correctly?”

“What do you remember?”

She hesitated for a moment, examining your expression, maybe considering dropping it, “I remember you saying that you love me…”

You nodded your head, “I did, Gina,” you tucked some hair behind her ear, “I said ‘I love you.’”

She nodded back and bit down on her bottom lip. You could see the anxiety mounting in her through her tensing muscles and rapid eye movements.

“I…” she began.

“Shhh…” you leaned in and captured her lips in a kiss. 

She melted at the contact and let her hand travel over your shoulder and up the back of your neck to hold you close. Regina held you in that kiss for a long while and then just silently nodded again as she pulled away.

“Thank you…” she whispered. 

And thus, only a fraction of your conversation actually  took place out loud. You never really imagined having a bond like that with someone, not after the years you had lost of growing with Regina and Janis as your closest friends. But right here, in this moment, Regina knew without a shadow of a doubt that you had meant what you said. And you knew that she felt the same way about you in return. 

You both took a minute more to play with each other’s fingers as you held hands in the bed. 

The blonde kissed your hand and whispered, “I wish we had time to enjoy more of each other instead of going to school…” 

“I do too, trust me.” 

“I just want this gorgeous body of yours all to myself, all the time…” 

You smirked, “you are such a temptress… but don’t worry, Gina. I’m all yours.” You kissed her cheek and then her lips again, obliging her when she grazed your lip with her tongue to deepen the kiss. You shared a few more kisses like this before Regina finally forced herself to sit up. 

She looked sore and stiff in her movements. You reached out to gently touch her back after she sat up and you asked, “do you want help getting up?” 

“No, no… I’ll be okay. Thank you baby.” 

You got ready for the day together. Regina happily let you borrow some of her clothes that she reserved for wearing only around the house. No one would likely be able to tell that they were hers, not that it mattered to you. 

Ms. George had fixed you both a quick breakfast and offered you free reign of the pantry to make yourself a lunch. 

Regina, with a little bit of encouragement from you, managed to eat a cup of yogurt with granola. 

“I’m gonna go start the car, you coming?” Regina asked you when she finished eating. 

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll be right out.” 

Regina nodded and left through the front door of her house. You heard the engine of her Jeep start and you turned to Ms. George, who was scrolling Facebook on her phone while eating her own bowl of yogurt. 

“Ms. George?” 

She looked up at you, “what’s up, sugar?” 

“Do you have Leighton’s phone number?” 

Regina held your hand the whole car ride to school and walked inside with you, only dropping your hand once you were in the presence of others. 

Regina saw Gretchen and Karen waiting for her at her locker so she turned to you and gave you a sweet goodbye with a quick, stolen kiss to your cheek before she split off from you and resumed her normal. 

You realized that the two of you hadn’t discussed this part. You didn’t know how long it would be this secret between the two of you, but you hoped not long. 

But you were greeted with your own smack in the face from reality when you walked up to your locker. Janis stood there, waiting for you. 

You took a deep breath, “hey.” 

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, “hey. I want to try this again.” 

She stepped out of your way as you opened up your locker and she continued when you didn’t really say anything in response, “yesterday, I know I approached you about Regina in the wrong way, and I’m sorry.” 

You grabbed one of your textbooks, “thank you. I forgive you.” 

“But… I’d really like to talk to you about this. I saw you leave that storage closet with her. And I saw you go home with her after school yesterday. And, oh my god, you’re wearing her sweatshirt.” 

Shit. Of course Janis would recognize it.

“And? What exactly do you want to know?” 

“I… well, like what are you guys doing together? Are you hanging out again?” 

“I guess we are… yeah. We’re hanging out.” 

“Why?! Why would you do that?” 

“Janis…” your voice betrayed your sadness and frustration. 

“No seriously, come on! You’re one of the only people who knows the truth about what Regina has put me through! I thought you would be on my side!” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose and inhaled, “Janis, it’s more complicated than sides… and, and I don’t know that I do know the truth!” 

“What do you mean? You were at that party! You were there!” 

“I mean, why does Regina think that something happened between you and Leighton?” 

Janis’ jaw dropped, “what?” 

“What happened between you and Leighton?” 

“What did Regina say?” 

“She didn’t say anything specific, only that you hurt Leighton somehow.” 

“I…” Janis clenched her hands into fists, “that has nothing to do with me and Regina! I don’t even… you knew how I felt about Regina… you don’t really think I deserved what she did, do you?” 

“Janis, no. I don’t think you deserved it. I don’t think any of us deserved anything that happened, Regina included. I think we were kids with a lot of complicated feelings.”

Janis stared at you incredulously. 

“Didn’t you guys make up at the dance last year?” 

“No. We didn’t. She was high on pain medication. She didn’t forgive me and I didn’t forgive her.” 

You sighed, “Look, right now, I know that Regina wants me around and I’m okay with putting things behind me so that I can be there for her. But you don’t have to do that. Just don’t get mad at me for trying.”

She stared at you again. 

You closed your locker door, “you weren’t the only one of us who was in love with her, Janis. You weren’t the only one who lost her, okay?” 

You walked away from Janis for the second time, once again, unsure whether you were making the right choices in navigating this whole thing. You couldn’t exactly tell Janis the whole truth about your relationship, not without consulting Regina about it first. But you knew it wasn’t fair to leave Janis completely in the dark either. 

You sat through your math class unable to pay attention to a single word out of Mrs. Norbury’s mouth because you were so caught up in how complicated this all was. 

On your way out, Mrs. Norbury called you up to her desk and you obliged. 

“Hey, you doing okay?” 

You nodded, “yeah, I’m just having a weird week. I’m sorry for spacing out.” 

She gave you a half smile, “look, I know your grades are going to be fine, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just want to make sure you’re alright.” 

“It’s just friend stuff.” 

“Alright, well, just remember that graduation is right around the corner. You need to make sure that you’re thinking about what you want.” She smiled at you as if what she said wasn’t annoyingly vague. 

“Have you told anyone else about your acceptance letter yet?” She continued. 

“No… still only you and my parents know. I’m not ready to tell anyone else yet.” 

“It’s been a few months now, you’ll have to start telling people eventually.” 

“I know… I just…” 

Mrs. Norbury waited patiently for you to finish. 

“It hasn’t really sunk in for me yet.” 

She raised an eyebrow. You knew she was suspicious of your answer but she let it go, “okay. Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” 

You nodded and left her classroom. Your heart was pounding. 

Until yesterday, there was no one that you were overly concerned to talk to about your college acceptance. But now… you’d have to find a way to tell Regina that in just a few short months, you’d be moving to Boston for college. 

You hustled to your next class and pulled your phone out as you sat down in your seat. You quickly started a new message to the number that Ms. George gave you. 

When you left that class, you checked your phone first thing and you had a text back. 

“Is Regina okay?”

You typed your response as you walked, “Regina is okay, but there’s a lot going on right now and I could use your help. I’m sorry to text you out of the blue like this. Your mom gave me your number.”

“So, you and Regina are friends again?”

“Yes.”

“Janis, too?”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about… what happened? If you don't mind me asking…”

It took a minute for Leighton to respond. You watched the little bubble that indicated she was typing until her message back finally came through. 

Leighton wrote, “honestly? Looking back, it’s stupid and I’m p sure Regina overreacted.”

Leighton tells you that when you were all kids, Janis confided in her that she had a crush on Regina. Janis begged Leighton not to tell Regina, and Leighton agreed, not seeing any reason to hurt Janis and ruin the friendship between the girls. But sometime later, Regina came to know the truth and talked to Janis and turned her down kindly. Janis was still mortified, but beyond that, she was pissed. Janis assumed that Leighton told Regina and wanted to get back at her for it. Janis knew that Leighton had a big class presentation coming up and she came to school wearing a beautifully pressed, matching white suit jacket and skirt. Janis loaded up her lunch tray with everything that the cafeteria had to offer that would stain and then “bumped” right into Leighton, dumping her entire tray onto Leighton. 

It was petty. It was stupid. It was misinformed. But it made Leighton cry in the bathroom, and that was something Regina couldn’t abide. Regina planned her revenge, and that’s how the spin-the-bottle party happened. Janis embarrassed Leighton, so Regina embarrassed Janis with the best ammo she had in her arsenal.

Next Chapter

[cafecourage]

Speaking of sleepy, caring for sleepy Chain

-Softie

We worked on this on stream long ago. I also made this also one bed. Part 1 has Time, Twilight, and Warriors

_____________

There was a common issue among some of the chain where most all of them have the fatal flaw of not being able to sleep. Some had issues waking up like Sky, Wind, Four and Wild. You quickly found that Legend was among that group but given the incident he went into the latter issue. Which was annoying when dealing with. It was completely opposite problems.

Time:

It was always hard to tell if the Old man was tired as he seemed to be always absolutely exhausted. Which was fair enough since he was dubbed the dad friend in the group thus making him the main person to go to for everything. It’s a wonder how he hasn’t just slept for 7 more years yet.

Still the Hero of Time was probably 3 days in without sleep and thats what you observed. Granted you should have stopped him by day 2. But you weren’t sure if he slept on the days you seen him take first shift and wake up with him being on last shift.

The other boy’s notice it too and while they all appreciate the extra sleep it’s unfair for Time. Warriors is typically the only one that speaks up about it since he isn’t phased by the Older Link’s tough exterior. While it would be embarrassing in hindsight you had to drag Warriors aside to push for you and Time to be in the same room. “I have a plan” is what you tell the captain not letting him know that you in fact, dont have a plan.

Truly the plan is fist fight the old man until he actually sleeps, or lecture him whatever you feel like. At least you will be here in town for a few days to gather supplies and information. So you can at least fix Time’s sleep schedule.

You’re plotting came to an extreme halt as you step into a room with one bed. “This can work.” You say out loud as you dropped your stuff in a corner of the room. “We can share the bed.” It’s not even up for debate at this point.

“Can we?” Time asks as he closes the door “wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?” That wouldn’t be the word you would use. “Nah. Unless it makes you uncomfortable. Then I can take the floor.”

The hero gives you a look, one to even dare you to say that again. “If you don’t mind, then I don’t see why fight over it.”

“It I am being real.” You stand up and stretched “you do need it more.” It has been decided. You are lecturing him. “When is the last time you slept a full 8 hours? Heck 6 hours I would accept.”

An eyebrow was raised as he heads inside “I have been fine with the sleep I’ve been getting.” He takes his armor off putting each piece down carefully before finally sitting on the bed. He pats the spot next to him.

You follow his lead as you prepare a long argument. “Ah, yes the zero hou- Ack!” What you didn’t expect was Time to drag you into his lap and lay down.

Your face exploded in a blush as you were now basically his teddy bear. “Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you also have trouble sleeping.” He whispered as he was already in the process of wrapping the both of you in the blankets. “Let’s take a nap for now…”

Well… This backfired successfully.

Twilight:

Twilight was one of these Links which, made sense but also didn’t when you found this out. He tries to older brother everyone, he makes sure everyone is asleep before he does. Which takes forever to do and your patience for this man is thinning.

After stopping in a town from a long trek. The group decides to go to the Inn to set up shop. You were already on Twilight to take a nap before dinner. “No. We are going to eat in like 30 minutes.”

Ok.

No.

He isn’t getting out of this and you don’t care you’re in the middle of the lobby. There was something that the chain has yet to learn about you.

You might be short.

But you are strong.

So you marched up to Twilight and despite his struggling you throw the hero over your shoulder and went directly to the room angrily. “Let me down!” Twilight demands of you. However you couldn’t care about it as you open the door kick it close and threw him on the bed. “That was unnecessary.” He said getting up.

“It was very necessary!” You argued back crossing your arms. “When is the last time you properly slept?”

Twilight stays quiet and looks away. He looked like a kicked puppy. “I get enough.”

“According to who? Because everyone else can make an argument that you’re barely getting any to function.” You let out a huff as you should probably be more lenient with him because it’s not really like he is doing something bad. You know from experience that the body could function with little sleep if it’s used to it but it’s not healthy! You didn’t go through classes with a clear mind but you should have! “We are just worried about you.”

The Hero stays quiet but sighs “ok. I understand.” He seems to give up at this point. But he reaches out to take your hand finally letting himself looked exhausted “but… can you stay with me?”

Your eyes soften as he seemed to be more tired than you thought. “Of course I will. Someone has to make sure you stay put.” He teases you.

Warriors: 

After a long day of traveling an inn was a welcoming sight. Since there were ten of you now each room had to have 2 people. Which was sometimes unfortunate for some, but for you in this current moment?

You couldn’t ask for a better opportunity since you (forcably) asked to be Warrior’s pair, only to have there only be one bed. 

Perfect.

Wonderful.

Amazing.

It was instant that you had grabbed Warriors tunic and almost thrown him on to the bed. “Didn’t know you wanted me on the bed that badly, doll.” He was laughing. This man was laughing and he looked like hell. Probably felt like it too as the ever polished captain was showing dark circles under his eyes. His smile was sluggish and his eyes weren’t as sharp as they normally were.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes as you headed towards him again to help him out of his armor. “You should take better care of yourself. 3 days of barely any sleep? What were you thinking?!”

“That the other boys need some sleep.” There was no hesitation as the stubborn man is proud of himself for killing his sleep schedule. “It’s fine.” “It is not fine.” You didn’t mean to throw his shoulder plate on the carpet. “You better take your chainmail off before I do it for you.”

“What if I rather you do it for me?” The captain fire back without missing a beat. Instantly his face paled “wait-“

“Nope to late come here.” You take his tunic and just… thew it off of him. “Do you want to continue?” This was a threat.

“no…” Warriors voice was silent as he finally got out of what armor he had left. “I should sleep on the floo-“ that suggestion was instantly silent as you glared at him.

Finally when both of you were ready for bed you had put your self on top of him. Cuddling but also if he was going to escape he will have to wake you up first. “this is so you don’t escape.” You said.

“I wont. I wont.” Warriors was a bit hesitant to wrap his arms around you “Thank you.” He whispered as he finally started to relaxed.

“Don’t rely on me to fix your sleep habits.” You said poking his cheek “good night Captain.”

“Good Night Sweetheart.”

[shelyue99]

You see the three musketeers sit around the table here shooting the bull, so while it rolls on I'll see if I can make any sense out of this. The three are Irishmen-one Capt. Nixon, and Lt. Welsh and last of all the Major. Now Capt. Nixon is the biggest drunk I've ever seen, known, or hope to see. He's worth a small fortune, never'll have to work a lick in his life, but absolutely the most reliable man I've ever known. Welsh is as bullheaded as you'd expect an Irishman to be.

—May 16, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

At the present time we're (Nixon and I) ribbing Lt. Welsh about marrying an Irish girl by the name of Kitty Grogan. He hopes to be married inside of four months. We're carefully explaining that some 4F will grab her off before that. If he does manage to get married, we promise to steal the bride for the balance of his leave unless he hires us to protect him from others who may have the same intentions. Price is 1 qt. of scotch for Nixon and 1 qt. of ice cream for myself. He doesn't take us seriously.

—May 30, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

I've mentioned Capt. Nixon I believe, of Nixon, N.J. [W]ell I've got him writing his first letter since last Nov. to his wife. Quite a guy, he's having one hell of a time getting organized and down to work. Claims he hasn't anything to say to her, just to his dog. He has a baby boy that he's never seen, but he won't talk about his son, it's always his dog. Knowing you, why I know you could spend an enjoyable two or three hours talking about how awful he is-if you knew him. However I'll tell you he's idealistic. I've known him three years and lived and slept aside and fought with him for two. This guy loves one thing right at this stage of life: a bottle of spirits or a fight. He's OK in a fight, but Jesus, outside of that he's absolutely the most undependable man you'd ever want to find.

Since we've been overseas he's only run around with one girl. An English girl and she was anything but beautiful. However she was a good listener and companion. In fact I am not too sure but this guy might end up staying over here in England. Ah yes, things are really snafu-and don't ask me what that means.

Now here we have Welsh & Nixon mixing Vodka, rum & vermouth-oh boy it won't be long now.

—June 2, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

(Writing about the job offer at Nixon Nitration Works) “I don't count on a thing until I have it," Dick confessed, "but it sounds good."

—September 2,  1945, Letter to DeEtta

Do you know what this new regimental C.O. has gone and done? Declared me essential. Why? Well you know all those nice things one can say at a time like that. Me, with 100 points as of V-E Day, and about the only officer in the regiment who has enough points to get out, and who doesn't want any part of the army, stuck until the division goes home. Which won't be this year. Boy, do you smell smoke? Don't worry, it's just me.

Capt. Nixon left this week, which makes everything just dandy. I am about as lonesome as a lovesick swab who married a Wave on an eight hour pass.

—September 16, 1945, Letter to DeEtta

From “Hang Tough: The WWII Letters and Artifacts of Major Dick Winters”

[honeybeefae]

Forgotten Ties (Eris Vanserra x Reader) PT. 2

Summary// After seeing Eris and subsequently running away, you make sure to board up your entire house as soon as you arrive. You didn’t want him, didn’t need him, wandering around. However, when did fate ever listen to what you wanted?

(PART TWO IS HEREEEE!! I am literally BLOWN AWAY at how much you guys wanted a part two and I hope you enjoy it! And be on the lookout for a possible part three?))

Part One / Part Three / Part Four

Playlist for Story

WARNINGS: Angst, Talks of Trauma & Abandonment, if you like drama this is GIVING it

You had never been more grateful to be home than you were now. Helena was still chattering up a storm, watching as you deadbolted the door and shut all the curtains to the windows. It felt like your entire world, this safe haven you had built for the two of you, was shattering and you couldn’t stop it.

“Mama?” She said softly, watching as you tried to take in deep breaths. “Mama, are you okay?”

“I’m, I’m fine.” You said between pants, a hand over your heart as you angrily wiped away the tears threatening to fall with the back of your hand. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“Who was that man? I liked his hair!” Helena giggled, running her fingers through her own. “It was like mine!”

Her comment had you stopping in your tracks to look at her. Your poor, sweet innocent child. She had no idea the gravity of the words she spoke nor the importance of the man with the red hair. You squatted down to her level, holding her hands gently as if she were made of china.

“He did, didn’t he?” You smiled brokenly. “Just like yours. The prettiest head of curls in all of Prythian.”

Helena grinned with all her teeth, a dimple popping out on the left side of her cheek as she threw her arms around your neck and snuggled into you. You squeezed her just as tight, lifting her into your arms. 

“I love you, mama. I had so much fun today.” She whispered into your ear. You felt your heart mend at her words. 

“I love you too, darling. Let’s go get a bath and bed, hm?” You pull her back so you could kiss her cheek, leading her into the bathroom to start your nightly routine.

If there was one thing you could thank the Mother for was how easily Helena slept. She had been a great sleeper since she was born. You had late nights and early mornings, of course, but overall she was perfect. The bath had been quick as you kept having to look over your shoulder, still not feeling completely safe, and the bedtime story had been the same.

As you reached the door of her bedroom she called your name, asking about the red-headed man once more. You knew she was only curious. She had seen maybe a handful of people with red hair like hers in her entire life, so it was only natural that she wanted to meet him. Especially since he was with Rhys and Feyre, two people she knew well.

However, you didn’t want to entertain the thought. He was going to know nothing of her or of you. You weren’t going to put her in harm's way and meeting Eris was one of the most dangerous situations you could put her in. 

You had brushed off the question with a promise to go out again tomorrow, shutting the door quietly and leaning against it with a heavy sigh. The living room and house were dark, the moonlight barely peeking through the covered windows. Fire danced on your fingertips as you lit the lanterns scattered around the room, gathering a pillow and a blanket and making a place for you to sleep on the floor.

It had been a couple of hours since your run in but you knew him and you didn’t trust him. You sat there, staring at the door while drowning in your thoughts, and struggled to stay awake. 

A quiet knock woke you up, making you bang your head on the table as your hand slipped from underneath your head. You glanced toward the clock, noting you had only been asleep for a few minutes before the interruption. 

Another knock followed after you didn’t answer and your heart dropped into your stomach. It was Eris, you could smell the scent of embers and leaves, and you knew he could smell you as well. You looked towards your daughter’s door and squared your shoulders. 

Whatever happened, you weren’t going to let him hurt her. You would kill him before he had a chance.

Your steps were quiet as you approached the door, standing up on your tiptoes to peek out the peephole. Eris was standing there, his face clouded with some unknown emotion as he raised his hand up to knock again.

“I am only going to say this once before I physically remove you myself. Leave me alone.” You ordered with your fists clenched tightly by your side. “You have no business here.”

“You and I both know that is not true, Y/N,” Eris replied softly. He was speaking slowly like one would do when talking to a cornered animal. “I will not harm you. I give you my word. I just want to talk.”

A low, unamused snort came out of your nose. “What good is your word to me? It means nothing. Get the hell out of here.”

The air moved around you as you felt a soft breeze, your mouth snarling in anger when you realized he had winnowed into your fucking house. You move quickly, grabbing a blade from the cabinet beside the door, and lunging at the shadow a few feet away from you.

Eris easily caught your wrist, the dagger inches away from slicing his throat. “You haven’t changed a bit, little fox.” He hummed, the corner of his lip tugging up in a smirk. 

“Then you should remember I always strike twice.” You grunt and raise your knee up as high as you could, nailing your target between his legs. He immediately let go of your wrists and stumbled, groaning low in his throat.

You took advantage and pressed your foot onto his chest, pinning him as he stared up at you in equal parts awe and fear. “I told you to get the hell out of here.” You growled, holding your weapon so tight that your knuckles were now white. “You’ve got one more chance before I bury this down your throat.”

“Y/N, please,” Eris pleaded, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. “I need to talk to you about what happened, about our daught-”

The heel of your foot pressed painfully hard into his rib, making him wince as you narrowed your eyes. “She is not yours. Do not even dare speak of her, do you understand me?”

Before you could react Eris had conjured a rope of fire, wrapping it around your leg and pulling until you fell flat on your ass. He used another to seize your wrists which made you drop the blade. Whatever upper hand you thought you had was disappearing quickly as he made quick work of tying you up until you were immobilized. 

“Gods, you are so fucking stubborn.” Eris snapped, his amber eyes turning molten with anger. You watched him, pain blooming in your heart at the look on his face. It was the same way he had looked at you the day he had left when he had cast you aside in front of his brothers.  

“It seems you haven’t changed either.” You murmur, frowning.

Eris paused, his shoulders rising and falling as he caught his breath. He studied you for a few moments before his face softened ever so slightly, the bonds around your wrists and legs burning just a little less.

“I’ve been looking for you.” He said quietly, kneeling before you. “Ever since I became High Lord, the very same day, I sent out men to find you.”

You roll your eyes, not believing any lies coming from his mouth. “I’m sure you did. And probably every other whore you’ve fucked along the way.” You sneered. “Tell me, is this some grand plan for a concubine? Is there a home being made for all the women you’ve bedded to stay in? How sweet though I must decline. I’m not in the habit of fucking leftovers.”

“It was only you, Y/N!” Eris snapped. “Ever since the mountain, ever since I met you, it has only been you. I wanted, needed, to fix things and find you. I’ve spared no expense, no time in trying to get to you.”

“And I find you of all places here, in the fucking Night Court, with a child,” He stops suddenly, looking around until his eyes land on a door covered with various stickers and crayon markings. “My child. My daughter.”

The air was still as he clenched his jaw, letting the fiery bonds around your body fizzle out. You gingerly rise to your feet, your gaze never leaving his body as he stood as well. 

“Don’t take her from me, Eris.” You beg softly. “Don’t hurt her.”

“Hurt her?” He repeated, astonished. “Do you truly think that I would harm a child? An innocent soul?”

All of the anger, hurt, resentment, heartbreak, and sadness that you had squashed down since under the mountain came surging forward like a tsunami. It had you seeing red. 

Who was this man that suddenly cared about you? About your child? What sick, twisted game was he playing that you weren’t catching on to? You couldn’t take it anymore.

“You did hurt an innocent soul, you fucking bastard!” You shouted, shoving him backward with all of your might. Tears ran down your face as a sob broke through your screams of fury. “You left me. You hurt me. I worshipped the ground you walked on, I built novels out of what little words of love you gave me, I loved you.”

Eris stood there, feeling like he was two feet tall as you unloaded on him.

“The mountain was brutal to us all. It left us all with scars and you made sure that mine would never heal. Do you remember what you said to me when I came to find you after Feyre freed us? How you treated me in front of your brothers?” You asked, nostrils flaring as you angrily wiped away your tears. “Fucking say something!”

“I couldn’t let them know who you were, what you meant to me. Y/N if they knew-” He tried to explain but you laughed incredulously and threw your hands up in the air. 

“I don’t even know why I’m listening to you at this point, Eris.” You run a hand through your hair, shaking your head in disbelief. “I tell you how you hurt me, what you did, and all you can do is make excuses?”

“I’m not trying to make excuses, I’m not.” Eris defended, frown lines appearing atop his forehead. “I know how much I hurt you. Do you not think I’ve lived with that regret every single day since? I told you I cared about you.”

“You’ve got a real fucked up way of showing it, High Lord.” You snarked, crossing your arms. “This is why Helena will never know who you are. I won’t let you break her heart too. She’s too good, too pure for this world already and I won’t have you destroying her-”

However, all of your threats seemed to go over his head as he blinked slowly, glancing towards the door once more.

“You named her Helena?”

You paused in your ranting, watching him. “I did.”

“I remember you saying that that’s what you’ve always wanted to name your daughter,” Eris murmured, looking down at his feet. “You said you had it picked out since you were a child.”

“It felt right.” You replied, some of your anger fizzling out. “And it still does.”

“Y/N I know what I’ve done to you, the things I’ve put you through, I can never make up for it.” He spoke urgently, his voice sincere. “But I did things for a reason, I had to protect you. And now that they’re gone…”

“I didn’t need protecting from them, Eris.” You sighed. “I needed protecting from you. You are the one who did this to me, who made me who I am. How do you expect me to just forgive and forget that?”

“Pretty words and apologies aren’t enough to sway me. I don’t want to be burned by you again. I barely survived it the first time.” 

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me. I’m not asking you to come live with me. I just want you to give me time, give me a second chance, let me be your-” He began but stopped as the door to Helena’s room slowly creaked open.

The two of you shared the same shocked expression as she blearily walked out in her nightgown, clutching her stuffed fox close to her chest. “Mama? You woke me up…”

You bent down and scooped her into your arms, hiding her away from Eris as you shushed her and kissed her head. “I’m so sorry, my love. I was just talking with someone. How about we go tuck you in, hm?”

“Who were you talking to?” She asked, trying to peer over your shoulder while you desperately tried to keep her still. However, she was too quick for you, wriggling around until she was out of your arms and staring at Eris.

Her eyes widened and a bright grin graced her face as she looked at him, pointing towards his hair. “It’s you! The man with the red hair!” 

He gave her a genuine smile, bowing slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Helena.”

“What’s your name?” She asked but you shut him down before he could answer, shaking your head. 

“Helena it’s very late and we have a busy day tomorrow, remember? We’re gonna go for a walk and ice cream? Let’s leave the man alone.” You tried to gain her attention back though it was impossible now. She was entirely fixated on him.

“But-” Helena tried to argue and you gave her a pointed look, giving the same one to Eris as she sighed and started walking towards her room. 

You let out a breath of relief, pointing angrily toward the door and giving him a look that said, ‘If you don’t leave by the time I’m done I will finish what I started.’ He rolled his eyes and turned around only to pause when he heard Helena call for him.

“Do you wanna come with us tomorrow, sir?” She smiled, cocking her head to the side. “It’s just me and Mama but you can come to! Mama can buy you ice cream!”

“I really don’t think he-” You began only to glare when Eris interrupted.

“I would love to join you tomorrow, Helena.”

She squealed in delight and immediately ran back to her room, blowing you a kiss before shutting the door and bouncing back to bed. You waited a minute to make sure she was tucked in before spinning around on your heel and raising your finger at him. “Eris, I swear to the Gods-”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” He smiled, vanishing into thin air and leaving you dumbstruck in the living room.

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