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punkypiscesell-writes · 30 days ago

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when it comes without a warning - ch. 1

chapter 1 - previous chapter

Javier Peña x plus size f! reader

summary: You meet a stranger at a New Years Eve party, not knowing where that chance encounter might lead.

warnings (updated after each chapter): fake dating AU, strangers to lovers, romcom, 90’s vibes, angst, small town dynamics, slow burn, pining, insecurities, drinking, smoking, food related descriptions, family mentions, mention of pregnancy, cynicism about love. The picture in the header is just for the visual and isn't an indication of the reader's skin color. Not beta read. If you see any broken Spanish, please let me know!!

word count: 9.4k

notes: Here we go, chapter 1! I hope you enjoy it <3 I will be updating this story each month, the final chapter coming out in July. The next update will be on Valentine’s Day.

dividers by cafekitsune

When you were a child, you watched a movie every Saturday evening with your mom. They made you think your life would follow a specific path. Go to school, graduate, you’d find a boyfriend who you’d someday marry and have kids with.

You’d buy a house somewhere quiet with a big garden and a picket fence. The kids would grow up and you’d watch them become their own people while knowing you’d always have your first love with you. You’d look at pictures that would span years until those would turn into decades, with the same people in them getting greyer and wrinkles all over their faces. It would be perfect.

What you didn’t understand back then, was how life doesn’t usually go like in those picture perfect stories. Rarely it’s wrapped neatly with shiny paper and finished off with a flawless bow.

You watched your friends find their first loves while you became a wallflower. You didn’t know what to do in life while others were making decisions about their futures. One by one your old friends moved away to chase their dreams, forgetting the people and memories back home. With the need to get out of the town where you grew up in, like your friends had, you realized you could turn your hobby into a job.

Chasing a dream makes people optimistic and the possibility of having your own story unfold like in one of those movies you used to watch with your mom seemed possible again. You kept your eyes open, even dared to step out of your wallflower persona, full of hope and enthusiasm. When your story still kept you waiting, you understood how chasing love doesn’t always mean chasing romantic love.

In the glimmer of a big city, you found new friends. Abigail, Eileen and Mary were actually interested in talking with you and getting to know who you are outside of being just someone’s friend. They already knew each other having grown up in the same town, but you fit in with them like the last pea in a pod.

“What’s holding you back, you can move anywhere!” Mary drunkenly encouraged on the night of your graduation, while the humidity of Austin bathed you in sweat.

“Yeah, you can start a bakery anywhere!” Abigail offered you her glass to pour more tequila into. How she said it, like it was the simplest thing in the world, made you laugh, and you thought she was joking until you realized she wasn’t. She was far from it.

“And then what? Just rot in some dying town until the end of my days?”

The seed was already planted though. They had a point. You could start a bakery anywhere if you wanted to and you could find help with the business side of things, especially in the beginning.

When you sobered up and you were sitting on an uncomfortable bar stool leaning your elbows against the kitchen island in your small, hole in the wall kitchen. You started to plan it. The more you planned, the more convinced you were you could make it work.

The movies you watched while growing up rarely had people move into a small town with a population of only a few thousand when they could move into a big city and keep those big dreams alive.

You bought a small space for your bakery from a building that used to have a restaurant. Mrs. Sánchez has a flower shop next door, and she has always been supportive of you, even when for a while you were the “new girl” in town. The whispers around you and your business were excessive, but eventually the whispering turned into actual conversations with you, rather than about you.

You had your best friends being part of their family businesses. Your bakery started to bloom. You were in control of the strings in your hands and all the puzzle pieces were clearly laid out, all of them locking into place.

“We want you to clear your schedules next July,” Noah begins with his soft voice, his calmness the complete opposite to Abigail who is hanging from his arm.

“We’re getting married y’all!” Abigail yells and pulls her hand from her fiancé, flashing a big, shiny ring for the guests to see. Your face drops as an excited shock washes through the room of Noah’s family’s luxurious farmhouse that they’ve had since forever. The high ceilings echo the eruption of cheering and clapping with the sound of glasses tinkling together in toast. You raise yours and smile, your feet rooted against the floor.

Your best friends. You look at them fawning over the ring, the smiling couple surrounded by their closest friends.

“Finally, everyone knows!”

“Now we don’t have to hide it any longer!” Eileen and Mary laugh. Your smile doesn’t falter, it doesn’t even flinch. But it’s like a cold shower that runs down from the back of your neck to the bottom of your spine. Abigail’s eyes flash to you after the women have said the words out loud.

You used to be a part of that group of best friends. In the last couple of years they’ve turned into people you sometimes hang out with. The frequent dinners and game nights at each other’s places first turned into occasions that happened once a month, then into once every six months when schedules and life got in the way.

First it was Mary, who announced she had reconnected with her high school sweetheart. Then it was Eileen who found her boyfriend through Mary’s boyfriend. For a while it was just you and Abigail, the two of you against the world. You were bridesmaids to Mary, then to Eileen, then Mary got pregnant and Eileen right after her. You and Abigail held the fort as the only single women in your group.

And then suddenly it was only you. Their lives are different now, as is yours. You’re not in your early twenties anymore, naively finding your way in this world. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve chosen the right place for you, but you’ve also understood that you might not want the future with the house and a picket fence, a husband and kids and the pictures on a mantelpiece. Your best friends want that while you’ve chosen another path.

Then, before you can delve too deep into other existential questions, you remember a cake order that has to be filled next week or how you have to make one more batch of the new malted wheat sourdough bread because your customers are emptying your shelves before 8 am.

“So, what do you think?” Abigail catches up to you after you’ve congratulated the pair. She reaches her left hand towards you and wiggles her hand.

You hold her fingers and twist them gently. The rock sparkles in the champagne hued light of the farmhouse. “It’s beautiful,” you smile.

“Noah chose it himself, with the help from my mom. I can’t believe he managed to do all that and I had no idea!” Abigail sighs and pulls her hand back to marvel at the jewel around her ring finger.

You sip from your drink, the alcohol almost a welcomed friend in the full house. The atmosphere is electric from the unexpected news. The music is turned even louder than it already was. The New Year is only a few hours away and you don’t see the party dying down anytime soon.

A little quiet wouldn’t do you any harm, especially as someone keeps bumping against your back, and pushes you to give them more room.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Abigail pulls you to the side, somehow managing to find a corner that isn’t occupied.

“I’d love to ask you a favor.” You’ve always been impressed by her ability to make her eyes so innocently big, pleading in a way that is caring and can make even the coldest person believe whatever she says is their own idea.

Abigail lifts her hands to your forearms and squeezes with a smile that reminds you of a child you saw at your shop yesterday after he had seen the experimental chocolate and peanut cupcakes you had made. After seeing his face, you might bring them back when you have an overstock of the ingredients, just to see that same kind of enthusiasm again.

“Remember that cake you baked for my 27th birthday?” Abigail asks. She doesn’t have to remind you. It was an elaborate white chocolate vanilla cake with raspberry compote filling. You topped it with handmade chocolate decorations that you created after work, the hours stretching closer to 20 spent in your bakery that day. Your back ached and you were stressed because you wanted the cake to be perfect. It was all worth it.

You nod. “I’d love it if you could make our wedding cake. We’ll of course pay, unless…” Abigail smiles with her lips tightly shut, the apples of her cheeks glowing.

“Unless you want me to give you a wedding cake as a wedding gift?” You fill in for her, the idea cracking your smile.

“Yes! Oh my God, it would be perfect! I’d be so incredibly lucky to have your creation at our wedding. It would be so special!” She grabs at you and pulls you into a tight hug that crackles against your tight shoulder where the muscle has been burning for the past week.

“I think we could make it work.” You swallow, defeated by your inability to say no to Abigail. One wedding cake. It’ll only be one wedding cake, among the other wedding cake orders that flow in during the busiest season of people tying the knot.

“I also have one other thing in mind.” You immediately prepare mentally for whatever she’s going to ask from you next.

“At my wedding, I’d love for you to bring a plus one.” Your mind goes blank.

“What?”

“The wedding is still six months away, so you have plenty of time. I just don’t want to see you alone there!” Abigail laughs and rubs at your arms. It has been a while since you wore anything else than your comfy clothes at home or your work uniform that consists of soft cotton T-shirts all in creamy white, tucked in your jeans and under an apron. Your friend running her hands up and down against the fabric on your arms, the blouse is suddenly coarse and too hot.

“I don’t have time for dating,” you remind her.

“You never have time for dating! I think that’s not true, you’re just afraid of finding someone and falling in love. That’s okay,” Abigail’s tone is encouraging, but her words sting. She’s not wrong. Of course you’re scared, you’ve never really dated anyone. The only dates you’ve been to were either pity dates set up by your high school friends or a few failed first meetings with guys who had been your customers at the bakery and who now only visit when they have to get something special for their girlfriends and wives.

“Fear not, you’re meeting someone tonight,” your friend’s eyes glimmer mischievously.

“What?” You hiss immediately.

“Noah has a friend who’s single. We think you’ll like him a lot.” Each of Abigail’s words is emphasized by a nod of her head or a poor attempt at a wink.

“We?”

“Eileen, me and Mary of course, silly,” she whacks at your arm playfully. Her cheeks blush while your stomach is heavy with dread.

“I really don’t think it’s a great idea. Also, I don’t need a date, it’s a wedding, it’ll be fun no matter if I have a date or not.”

“Bullsh–,” Abigail shushes herself and makes sure no one heard her. Her eyes soften to the level of pity. “It’s okay for you to find someone special, we all have. You’ll love it when someone takes care of you and pampers you and you won’t have to be alone anymore. You want to get married, you want a family! You’ve said it yourself, remember?” She laughs and tilts her head.

“Yeah!” You hope she doesn’t hear the doubt in your voice.

“We’re making sure you’re not going to end up alone.”

“What do you have in mind then?” Abigail turns immediately from you and leaves you standing next to the huge Christmas tree still fully decked and deeply green. You see her long, blonde hair swinging as she makes her way through the crowd. The curls at the ends are perfect. You smile at an older couple and wish them a happy New Near under your breath as they pass you by, a suspicious look in their eye while you try to keep track of Abigail.

You don’t have to wait for long. You see her first, then a tall man in a crisp white button down shirt behind her. He eyes you up and down immediately, his eyes blue and hard. You can’t read the look he’s giving you, but it’s not pleasant. He makes you nervous.

“Here’s John,” Abigail announces with a smile, and a hand that she waves down from his shoulder to midriff. You’re cornered between Abigail, John and the Christmas tree. The man nods his head and keeps his eyes locked on you while you notice the drink in his hand, a glass too gentle to be held in a death grip like his.

“Noah always calls him Johnny,” She proudly pats him on the shoulder and pushes John closer to you. The wall bumps against your back.

“He doesn’t,” John argues. His face twists in confusion, while his words are drowned by Abigail’s enthusiasm.

“Noah always tells good stories about John, how they’ve known for years, and how reliable he is. And you’re both into…” Abigail smiles, her eyes a little empty. She looks at you and massages John’s shoulder with her bejeweled hand. The engagement ring sparkles in the soft lighting of the family home. “You’re both into business! You’re entrepreneurs! I think you might have interesting conversations in the horizon,” Abigail chirps and finishes the last note with a smile that reveals her perfectly white teeth. Something catches her attention. Her eyes get larger, and her cheeks burn bright red. Noah stands close by with some of his friends, deep in conversation.

“Oh, excuse me, I have somewhere to be,” she points somewhere towards the crowd of people and disappears into it with a wave of her hand, in the opposite direction from Noah.

You stand awkwardly next to just as awkward John. He smells like aftershave from 30 years ago. It’s not completely unpleasant, only something you can imagine he got as a regifted present on Christmas. It’s warm, a little spicy, and a little too musty. He might like it, or then he wore it to keep unpleasant people away. You sip at your drink and try to take a step back without John noticing. The wall is in your way.

“We should sit down,” he tells you. You stare at his back when he leaves you standing alone, and only turns around to check if you’re following when he has found a couch end for you both to sit on.

He sits on the sofa with his legs spread wide. His face is smug, borderline conceited, when you make space for yourself next to him. How did Abigail, Mary and Eileen ever think you’d be into this guy? You try to relax, sip on your drink and smile at John. He smiles back. Maybe he’s not as bad as you’re making him out to be in your head. You don’t know him. Maybe your friends have a valid reason to believe you two could hit it off.

John pushes his leg against yours, seeking physical contact. You pull back from him immediately and lock your inner thighs together to keep yourself as small as you can. Your jeans aren’t tight but the way you’re sitting makes them dig into your skin.

“So…” John begins and drinks from his glass.

“So…” You repeat awkwardly, waiting for his next move.

“You want to hear how much money I make? I know women like to hear that. You don’t seem like an exception.” Your smile tightens, it’s a mask. The contents of your glass would be perfect on this guy, maybe he’s even begging for it.

“Like Abigail said, I’m an entrepreneur…” he talks in a monotone voice, reading off an invisible script. You don’t really even care if the mask on your face slips, not when John drones on and on about his savings, his investments and how he wants a stay-at-home wife to take care of the kids and home while he’s working.

“My business will become massive in the next ten years. Yes, I plan ten years in advance. I recommend it to everyone who…” you drown John’s voice into the different voices around you. He’s like the perfect candidate for people watching.

Abigail and Noah’s parents are standing in one corner of the room, with lighthearted looks on their faces. Noah’s brother is leaning against a wall, looking bored as ever as he snacks on something from the snack table. Mary and Eileen are swaying to the music, pointing out different people from the party goers.

Abigail is with a man who you don’t know. She has her hand on his bicep, then she lifts it to his shoulder. Up and down she moves it, while trying to step closer to him. The man in a dark blue button up, his hair combed to the back with a few fly aways sticking out on his temple, a well-groomed mustache moves over his top lip, knows when to take a step back and shake her hand off him without seeming rude. Is she drunk? Abigail straightens the man’s collar. Her hand lingers on it, her fingertips touch his neck before she pulls her hand back.

You’ve seen the man before. You’ve caught him staring at the pastries and bread in the bakery window a few times but he hasn’t come in.

“… You do for work?” The question is already fading. John’s tone is cool, almost as uninterested as you are. The distant look in his eyes isn’t helping to get you more invested in his monologue.

“I have my own business.” You answer, even to you in a too formal tone.

“Oh, what kind?” John leans forward, a spark of interest on his face.

“I have a bakery downtown.”

“Ah.” John scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head. “That’s a risky business endeavor. Have you thought about something else when this one bites the dust?”

You grind your teeth together behind the smile that you try to keep even remotely kind looking. You have to get out of here. You spot Abigail mingling with the guests, now with Mary and Eileen, who all turn towards you. Abigail draws a heart in the air with her index fingers and points to John. Miserably you turn back to him, who is still talking about different options for you.

“You could sell your business, cut your losses before they’re too overwhelming for you to handle.” Mary’s thumbs up don’t cover the murderous snarl you give them, your mouth twisted when you shake your head “no”. They’re back on the move, finding a quieter spot while laughing. You can hear it over the steady buzzing of conversations.

John has moved on from your imaginary bankruptcy to talking about his newest investments.

“Who handles them for you”

“Hmm?”

“Your investments, who handles them for you?”

“I haven’t really looked into it.” The bottom off your glass stares back at you, the rest of the alcohol now going down your throat.

“You should! Having a fickle business like yours isn’t going to keep you afloat for too long. Especially in a place like this. I could give you some recommendations on how to maximize your profits.” Your skin crawls. How satisfying it would be to yell at this man to shut the fuck up.

You don’t. You see the people around you, your customers. They have their usual orders, some have something else on a specific day, and some stick to the same baked goods day after day. You know them by name. You remember the stories they’ve told you, how something you made was shared with a loved one and new memories were made. John doesn’t seem like a person who would understand the value of memories since they’re not monetary.

Your friends clearly don’t have any idea what kind of a man you’d want to be with. To be fair, neither do you. But John? Setting you up with someone who is as interesting as the worn-out, uncared-for leather of his shoes, at least you can say who isn’t your type.

Sitting next to him, his knee still bumping against you, making your skin itch, even when you try to keep distance to him, listening to him ramble on about investing and profits, your friends would be bored out of their minds in your place as well. Maybe they haven’t spoken with John. Maybe they haven’t even met him before. Your fingers find your gold chain against your chest. Its dainty links run between your thumb and forefinger, the familiar trail soothing you.

“If you’re free tomorrow, I could give you some tips on finding–“

“Look, John,” you cut him off with the drop of your necklace back against your skin. “You’re… clearly knowledgeable about money, and someone might be very interested in hearing about all of this. But that’s not me.”

“What are you saying then?” He’s genuinely surprised.

“I don’t think we should explore anything further.” You let him down gently and give him an apologetic look.

“Okay,” he tilts his head with deep creases across his forehead. “I’m a bit surprised. There’s not many, if any, people paying any attention on you here. I’m a catch looking for someone to carry his children who will become the next president or congressman some day and you’re just a bakery keeper who clearly has let herself go. But whatever, I’ll respect your honesty.” He says it all with a smile on his face, the insult somehow meant to sound like a compliment. His brows rise and fall after every other word, like they’re part of the conversation too. You stare at him, your mind blank, your mouth with a life of its own.

“What a small man,” you say to him and stand up with a laugh. He says something more, but you don’t stay to listen. There’s nothing more you’d want in this moment than get away from this man and to refill your glass with the punch served here.

It splashes against the edges of your glass when you make your way to the balcony. You want to hide from the people inside the party. From John. He can think whatever he wants, you’re not fazed by his rudeness, by anyone’s rudeness for that matter. It doesn’t mean what he said didn’t hurt you.

The dusky balcony is the place to be, away from the golden lights, the music and people who apparently don’t even see you. An unreasonable fear rises from the back of your mind with an image of John chasing after you onto the balcony, telling you how great he is and how generous he is for even agreeing on a blind date with you. You’d need to understand how this night wouldn’t change his life, but it would still change yours.

There’s a lonely chair behind the corner, away from direct eyeline of the celebrations. There’s barely any light here, only a small lantern next to a flower arrangement on a small table next to the chair. You sit down and relax. The drink feels good, comforting, on your over stimulated nerves. Muffled music and people talking, laughing, puts a rift between you and whatever is happening inside.

There haven’t been many moments when you are truly alone and when you are, you usually invite it with open arms. What follows that alone time is usually a guest you rarely want to invite along. Being alone is almost easy, being lonely always chips away at your heart. At the belief that maybe there’s someone out there somewhere for you as well.

You’ve accomplished so much in the last few years. You can be proud of so many things you’ve made happen by yourself. At the same time, you have to admit that it has all happened because you’ve been ready to sacrifice something.

You go with the flow, but you’re looking in at your own life rather than living it. You’re waiting for something without knowing what that could be. Apathy follows the gentle buzz of the alcohol in your system. You breathe deep against the coolness of the night. At least your skin isn’t pouring sweat while wondering which turn you forgot to take at some point in life to find a missing, nameless puzzle piece.

A clink and a soft scratch of glass. You’re ready to tell John to leave you alone. Instead, your eyes meet the deepest of ambers, sitting on the other side of the little table next to you where the lantern and flowers have been arranged. Someone laughs inside in a way that reminds you of a breathless donkey.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry,” he says while pushing his glass further from the edge of the table, his voice deep, soft like a cloud.

“I didn’t know someone was here.” You’re ready to stand up, find another hiding place and leave this man alone.

“I should’ve said something.” You nod at his words, unsure of what to do. Maybe he wants to be left alone…

“You know the couple?” He asks, cutting your plans to leave short.

“I’m friends with Abigail.” He smiles, acknowledges your words and presses his hand against his chest.

“I’m one of the groomsmen.” You smile a tentative smile back and hear the conversation between you two die down.

Even when you’re not talking, you find yourself glued to your seat. His presence is overwhelming. It draws you in, makes you nervous with curiosity. He’s looking out into the vast darkness facing the farmhouse, forcing the building to become a lighthouse in the quiet. Your left side, his side, is vibrating from his nearness. The little hairs on your arm stand up, reaching for him. There’s electricity in the air, zinging gently, a hum in your ear as you listen to it. Listen to him take a deep breath in and push it out with slow force.

He's the one Abigail spoke with earlier. The one with the mustache and dark blue button up. The one who you’ve seen stop in front of your bakery but never come in. The town gossip train would help you recognize who he is, but you’ve tuned that station off.

You hear about some things regardless, while some other things aren’t for your ears, you’ve decided. Maybe that decision would be different if you had grown up in a small town like this, your life filled with people knowing what is happening in other people’s lives.

“Do you mind?” His question is hushed. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, and a question in the quirk of his brow. You shake your head and watch him pull out a lighter. It flickers a golden glow against his face when he has the cigarette hanging between his lips. The embers light up and then go to rest when he takes a drag, the smoke in his lungs until he breathes it out slowly. The cloud hangs in the air and drifts towards you. You inhale the rich aroma mixed with burning sweetness.

“I’m quitting in the New Year,” he tilts his head towards you, his eyes like black embers fixated on you through his lashes, in the lowlight of the candle and whatever light streams from the window.

“And this is your last one?” Your voice tunes itself to the quiet smokiness of his tone without you trying.

“Last, or second to last, I haven’t decided yet.” He rolls the butt against his fingers and flicks it. The burning flecks distinguish in the air. There’s loud cheering inside, rattling against the calm atmosphere outside.

The man looks inside, his focus on the noise as well. “Why aren’t you with them?”

“Abigail had set me up with Noah’s godawful friend, I had to take a break. Apparently, I need a plus one for the wedding.”

“With who?” Another drag from the cigarette.

“John?” He nods at your answer, and blows out the smoke to the opposite direction from you.

“They’re not close, not really even friends,” the man muses and turns his eyes on you.

Like an electric shock, you have to turn away from him and stare out towards the dark. This man is intense, demanding in a gentle way, his attention on you and only you. He’s not filling a silence with useless noise, but with observing. You run your necklace between your fingers again, twist it around one and draw a line against your skin over and over.

“I think she just wanted me to find someone.” Wish that someone wasn’t a self-important dickhead.

“The wedding isn’t in months.”

“My friends know I need time to think, and to take it slow.” The man inhales from his cigarette again and raises his brows in what could only mean silent disbelief.

“What?”

“Just wondering why Abigail wanted to set you up with an asshole like John, everyone knows he’s a player.” His words pour on you like ice. The more you repeat the last part in your head, the more convinced you are it wasn’t a serious setup, but a foolish prank.

Maybe listening to the grapevine would’ve been a good thing at least once. You take a big sip of your drink and let it burn in your throat as you swallow it down slowly.

There’s more cheering and clapping coming from inside, pulling you to look in at the party as well. Abigail is standing in front of the guests, Mary and Eileen next to her. Abigail has a pouch in her hand, where Eileen is digging something from.

“And why aren’t you apart of that?” The man’s low voice rumbles slowly against your eardrums.

Mary and Eileen open something in their hands, small pieces of paper, and show them to the other guests. People, mostly women, erupt into gleeful joy. Bridesmaid and maid of honor. “I don’t know.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Why aren’t you in there celebrating?” You turn the question to him with a determined smile tugging against your cheeks. You should’ve known you won’t be part of the wedding party, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It shouldn’t hurt. You cover it with the smile and hope it will ease the sting.

The man notices your attempt at directing the focus away from yourself. He takes one last drag and then stubs the cigarette against an ashtray on the floor. He blows the smoke from his lungs and manages to turn more towards you.

He spreads his legs in the rickety garden chair, but his point isn’t to establish dominance like John, but to slide down and relax in the too small chair in his snuggly fitting dark jeans.

“I had to take a break,” he repeats your answer back to you. From his mouth it’s vague, words that hold some other meaning that he’s debating sharing with you. “Abigail is busy playing matchmaker in there.” He tilts his head to lean his temple against his fingers, his elbow perfectly perched on the arm of the chair.

Him facing you, his chin lifted, the amber of his eyes flickering in the candlelight, draws heat to the surface of your skin. Your chest, the back of your neck, your cheeks. It’s annoying that this stranger can cause a reaction like it.

You want to defy it and push back. You face him as well, stare him right in the eyes. Lava splashes on you from your head to your toes. Your palms sweat and you swallow, still with a calm smile on your face. It has become your safety blanket that you can hide behind. No matter if it’s a true kindness or you’re killing someone with it, the smile is familiar to you now.

“She found someone for you as well?”

“She suggested it, but I turned her down.”

“And that’s why you had to take a break?”

“No, it was because of the other guests.” He looks away. A small victory you didn’t think you’d get. His answer stirs the win into confusion.

“Why?” A question you have no right to ask, out of your mouth before you even consider asking it.

He lifts his eyes back to you, the look in them warm but laced with a warning. It’s not your place to know. It’s a question too complicated in its simplicity, the answer even simpler, yet more complicated.

Two can play this game. Who hides better behind a mask? Who stays calm when someone tries to crawl under the other’s skin? He’s a master at it, catching you off guard, letting you think you had won him in the game he has perfected over the years.

You’re knocked off the number one spot and he figures it out immediately, when your smile cracks and you have to hide behind the excuse of taking a sip from your glass. There’s only a little left, one more mouthful and you’re done. You don’t want to see his victory, but you also don’t want to seem scared.

The look on his face isn’t victory. Instead, you’re met with a man who is deep in thought. His brows are lightly pulled together, defining the two small lines between them. His eyes are veiled, only a slight shine from the candle still reaching them. Yes, he won.

“Well, I think it’s my time to go.” He snaps out of his thoughts. The watch on his wrist flashes with the reflection of light hitting the glass face.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” He sounds almost alarmed.

You circle the drink in your glass a couple of times and see his glass on the table. You stand up, lean over the table and smile more to the empty glass than to him. “Happy New Year,” you say out loud and clink your glasses together. The sweet and sour taste is soothing and if you were alone, you probably would drink a few more to ring in the special evening.

“I’ll see you around,” you tell the man who follows your every move. He watches your hand as you place your glass next to his. He watches you wipe at the backside of your jeans to make sure there’s no dust on them from the chair. His eyes are burning against your back as you leave him sitting on the old, weathered chair.

Someone opens the door to the balcony and sticks their head out. Noah.

“Hey, have you seen Javi?” his voice is a little hoarse, joy on the corners of his eyes.

“Who?”

“Javier, dark shirt, jeans, brown hair…” the man’s presence appears on your back, lifting all the hairs of your skin again, heat coursing through you.

“I’m here,” his voice is like the stickiest and sweetest honey. It’s also much closer than you anticipated. You look over your shoulder. Javier is right behind you, his chest almost against your back. Noah’s face lights up, clearly pleased he found his friend.

“Is Abigail somewhere? I’m going to be heading out, I just want to congratulate her once more.” Javier stands still and manages to shake your voice only by being close to you.

“But it’s not even midnight yet, you should stay a bit longer,” Noah pleads, a relaxed slurring in his speech.

“I think I’m done for the night, just too tired to keep on partying. Thank you for inviting me and congratulations once more.” You hug Noah, genuinely happy for him. His tan skin glows with pure excitement.

“Can you believe her, leaving before midnight on New Year’s Eve.” Noah points his thumb at you, the jokey question directed at Javier.

“I know, almost like tonight doesn’t change anything.” His sarcasm makes you snort, and Noah fake a laugh.

“Abi is downstairs. Thanks for coming, and thank you for the gift,” he winks at you, the promised wedding cake now apparently confirmed.

Abigail entertains some older people, talking with them, sharing moments from how she met Noah and how he proposed. You barely get a word in and her answer to you leaving is: “Okay, I’ll call you.” before she’s back to talking with the people who have made her their center of attention.

Luckily Mrs. Sánchez is on her way out with her husband, taking you to town. You have one neighbor, living in the apartment on the other side of the corridor from you on top of the carpenter shop. You’ve met him plenty of times since you moved in six years ago, but you can’t for the life of you remember his name.

You’re already sleeping, groggy and confused when you hear your neighbor counting down from 10 with his guests, the cheering overwhelming even through your wall. Auld Lang Syne starts to play, and you lay in bed, staring at the blank surface of your ceiling. Not even the streetlights can light your apartment enough.

Maybe this year you’ll push yourself to enjoy your life rather than watch it pass you by. You make the resolution before you fall back asleep, barely remembering it the next morning.

Time ticks on even after midnight and the days after don’t create a limbo effect anymore when you go to work. It’s darkest when you wake up at 3.15 and head to the bakery thirty minutes later. The morning rises as you’re tipping proofed loafs from their baskets onto the floured wooden table for scoring. You’re trying a new leaf design, lashing the surface with a sharp blade that glides against the dough like butter.

When you’ve pushed the loaves into the oven you take the next trolley of bread from the walk-in fridge and under the zippered hoods you uncover what you made yesterday in preparation for today, buttery wheat loaves in their neat little rectangle pans. One trolley after the other you solve the walk-in fridge puzzle, pulling out hooded trolleys. Yellow hoods for sweet products, blue for savory.

“Morning!” Lili, your bakery assistant, greets as she walks in from the small locker room. Unlike you, who stayed up too late writing down ideas for Abigail and Noah’s wedding cake, her under eyes are bright and her voice clear after a well-rested night.

“Good morning,” you croak and clear your throat right after. Your shoulder complains as you fill in the vanilla tartlets, row after row of neat custardy pies waiting for a couple of slices of syrupy lemons Lili has prepared for them.

As the shop fills with the fresh loaves, rolls and biscuits, the last sweet things are baking in the ovens, filling the bakery and shop with a sugary, toasty smell. Butter, nuts, fruits, spices and chocolate, are like a dessert after the early morning savory baking.

You’re filling cream puffs when the doors open and the first customer walks in. You have the bakery door open but can’t see the shop from your sturdy work table. You can only listen to the sounds that indicate your work paying off.

The bell above the door tinkles constantly, people walking in and out with fresh goods in paper bags and bakery carton boxes, careful not to shake or mush anything that is even a little more fragile than the thick crusted breads.

Lili’s enthusiastic voice answers questions with a constant smile. “Yes, these have a hazelnut and chocolate filling.” “There is ginger and clove in the cookie dough.” “It’s the freshest today, but you can use the rest for bread pudding or French toast in the next few days.” “Sadly, that was our December limited edition cupcake, but we’re planning something for Easter.”

If she’s not answering questions, then she’s taking down orders and repeating every detail to get everything right. The free spots in your calendar for orders are filling out fast. You’re counting each one in your head after Lili repeats them, checking off the orders list you remember by heart. Someone asks for a wedding cake order for July, one already taken by Abigail and Noah.

“Mr. Peña is here,” Lili sticks her head into the bakery, pulling you from weighing ingredients for sticky cinnamon rolls. It’s eleven in the morning, you’re about thirty minutes early from your work schedule. The radio in the corner plays an older song softly, the words flowing from your mouth in a quiet hum. You wash your hands and check your face, wiping the remaining moisture from your temples as the ovens are finally cooling down. You take the small bakery box full of pistachio cream puffs from the fridge and take it to the register.

Seeing the shop full is always overwhelming, almost intimidating, especially when most look at you as they see you walking out of the bakery.

“Morning everyone,” you greet with easiness, the words wiping away your nerves. Mr. Peña is third in line, standing with someone who is looking at the small packets of chocolate confections that were leftover from your New Year’s specials.

You take one of the raisin and cashew loafs from the shelf and push it into a brown paper bag, and wheat knot rolls into another bag.

“Mr. Peña, what can I get for you?” Lili asks, her voice a little higher and squeakier than normal.

“Those ham and cheese muffins are looking fine today,” his voice rumbles. You smile to yourself as you pack a few lemon and poppyseed cookies into a box.

“¿Quieres algo dulce?” He asks his companion just as you turn with all the baked goods in your arms. You lay them on the table next to the register, Lili taping the muffin box closed and getting to work typing the prices as zero dollars.

“What’s this?” Mr. Peña asks under his brown, wide brimmed cowboy hat.

“You gave me the tip about Arnold’s shop, and he came to fix the oven right before New Year’s. It’s as good as new now. He also checked the other one, to see if it has the same problem with the wiring. This is the least I can give you as a thank you.” If you had ordered someone to come in from further, you would’ve paid a pretty penny for a simple fix that was done in fifteen minutes. You couldn’t be more grateful for Mr. Peña suggesting someone who he trusts.

“That was nothing, Sam is an old friend, he would miss his own funeral just to fix appliances,” he laughs and gives room for his companion to step next to him. Javier’s eyes bore into yours, a soft smile in them. He lays the little confection box on the table next to the breads and sweets.

“This is my son, Javier.” He pushes his aviator sunglasses into the neckline of his pink button up t-shirt.

“We met at Noah’s party a few days ago,” Javier says, making you nod along with his words.

“Oh! Well, then you need to know this little lady makes the best cream puffs in town,” Mr. Peña directs his attention to you. The smile lines get deep right by his eyes when the corners of his mouth turn up.

Javier hums in recognition, patiently watching you try to gather your thoughts. The two men look the same as they stand next to each other, the generation the only thing setting them apart. Javier seems to tower over his dad, his back straight and his shoulders wider with age pressing them forward for his dad.

“That’s a bit over exaggerated isn’t it, since there’s no other bakeries in town,” you turn the compliment into a joke, and your focus back to Javier’s dad to get yourself to calm down. Javier’s presence makes perspiration prickle at the small of your back.

“That’s why I said the best in town,” Mr. Peña jokes back.

“Exactly!” The shared laugh eases your discomfort. Why Javier makes you nervous, you haven’t decided yet.

“So, how much do I have to pay for these?”

“Nothing. Like I said, it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

“No, of course I pay, this is too much.”

“Mr. Peña, you helped me when you didn’t have to. These are on the house.” The people behind Javier and his dad are starting to get curious about what you’re giving away for free.

“Please, call me Chucho, I come here often enough for us to be in first name basis. And I already know your name, have known it longer than you’ve known there is a ‘Mister Peña’,” he tries to mimic your voice but only makes it sound like a mockery of you. He mumbles “sorry,” under his breath, all forgiven with a smile you give him back.

“What about these?” Lili asks with a quieter voice, the confections in her hand.

“I’ll pay for those,”

“And that’s Javier, you can call him by his first name as well.” His dad says pointedly. In a way he reminds you of your grandpa and how warmly he too always spoke even when to teach you about something more serious, like how to ask nicely, or when you needed help with your homework, and he checked where you had gone wrong.

“Chucho,” you nod your head towards him, “Javier,” you say his name and it tickles against your tongue. The other side of his mouth rises.

“Javier will pay for the candy, and I want a couple of those lemon things over there,” Chucho points in the display. The vanilla tartlets you worked on just a couple of hours earlier.

“Yo los pago, papá,” Javier mutters when you pick up a carton and fold it into a box, placing two tartlets into it. Lili is already ringing him up when you place the box next to her.

“Have you changed the products?” Chucho asks, looking at the display more carefully.

“There are a couple new things, like these blueberry swirl cupcakes and these hazelnut cookies.” You point them out for him and notice Javier checking out the items as well. “Don’t worry, I’m not taking out the favorites,” you nod towards the pistachio cream puffs that have become Chucho’s regular order. He winks at you, like a secret has been exchanged between you two. Lili packs all the goods into a paper bag and hands it over to Javier.

“Thank you,” Chucho tips his hat and drops money into the tip jar.

“Thank you,” Lili yells after checking how much he gave. You greet the next customers while leaving to go back to work, watching the pair as they walk out the door and to Chucho’s truck.

As the day goes on, the bell above the door tinkles less. The noises from people talking quiets down and Lili’s answers and order taking slows until there’s no more questions or orders to be made.

“Only a couple of cupcakes, cookies, and rolls left,” she informs as she joins you to help with dough mixing and making products for the next day. You work like a well-oiled machine that has been in use for a hundred years. You turn the radio a little louder and the both of you sing along to songs that you both know either from your childhoods or ones that have been playing nonstop since they came out in the last year.

“Can you make the puff pastry, I’ll make inventory and clean up the front.” You massage your shoulder, the pain burning under your shoulder blade.

The day is warm, warmer than usual, people wearing shorter sleeved shirts as they pass the shop. The air is humid, yet still dust settles on surfaces. You write in your notebook all the products sold, keeping note of the ones that have leftovers, before packing them in discount packets to get them sold before closing.

The industrial dishwasher rumbles on the other side of the wall as you’re wiping down the display cases. The door opens and the bell jingles, followed by footsteps that stop at the door. You look over your shoulder, the pink shirt on Javier like an alarm for your system.

“Hi,” you straighten your back and finish cleaning the glass.

“I hope I’m not interrupting?” He takes his sunglasses off and hangs them off his shirt again.

“No, no, we’re still open. Did you forget something? Or maybe Mr. Peña wanted something more? I’m sorry we sold out everything you got, tomorrow I’ll be selling more again.” Javier breathes out a silent laugh listening to you ramble nervously, his eyes landing on the empty shelves.

“I’m sure he’d buy more if there was some left, and you can call him Chucho.” You bend your head down when his eyes meet yours. “That’s not why I’m here for.” He walks over to the register with you on the other side. He places his hand on the table, curiously taking in the empty shop.

“What can I get for you then?”

“Have you had any luck finding a date for the wedding?”

“Oh,” his question surprises you. “I haven’t even thought about that. I can guarantee it’s not going to be John. Why?” He nods, watching your lips as they move around the words. He presses his hand into a fist, opening his mouth once, then closing it, contemplating whatever he has on his mind.

“I was wondering…” He stops, his lashes dark against the tops of his cheeks as he has trouble looking at you in the eye. Until he does and forces you to swallow against the sandpaper in your mouth.

“Noah said something… And I remembered what you said about Abigail wanting you to have a date… Being single at a wedding can be…” The broken sentences raise your pulse. “What if we’d go to the wedding together?” Your pulse pauses for a second until it picks up like a storm.

“You make it sound like someone’s going to pair you up with someone more awful unless you do something about it first?” You’re surprised how even your voice sounds even though pins and needles run up and down your skin and your insides are in a turmoil.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come off that way.” Javier shakes his head fast, his eyes flashing to you in fear that you’d understand him wrong. “My old man has been eager to know if he needs to know a name before the wedding. It’s a hassle if I won’t deal with that in time.” He almost manages to calm the tempest. You join his chuckling, imagining Chucho pressing his son about finding a plus one for a wedding where his friends are already paired off.

“Look,” you begin, forcing yourself to calm down and think clearly. “It’s a nice offer, but I’m not looking for anything, I don’t have time for it. Abigail setting me up at the party was weird and I’m not concerned about finding a date. I honestly don’t care what people say or think. She just wants me to have someone and not end up alone when she’s busy having brunches and dinners with her married friends.” Javier’s eyes narrow the longer you speak, your last words like icing on a cake for someone who observes as closely as Javier does. You realize how you make yourself sound pathetic and Abigail like an asshole immediately after.

“I’m not looking for anything either, I was thinking it more as an arrangement of sorts.”

“An arrangement?”

“Yeah. I have a lot of groomsmen, ah…” he looks for the words, “whatever wedding things coming up and I know I’ll be put between a rock and a hard place unless I have a date. We could go together, avoid the awkward blind dates and we’d let people know we’re each other’s dates.” What he means with him being between two undesirable options confuses you, but the possibility of Abigail setting you up with someone like John again is high enough for you to get interested in Javier’s suggestion.

“So, you mean we’d fake dating each other?”

He’s unblinking for a moment, until he inhales and pushes the breath out with a “I guess so.”

“Sounds like you’ve read too many romance books.” The lighthearted joke makes him laugh. “Don’t you think it’d be awkward?”

“If we’re okay with it, no, I don’t think so. We could get to know the basics of each other and that would be it. You don’t have to spend your time with me any more than you have to.” He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and places it on the table. “Think about it.” He pushes the paper towards you. You take it, and it’s still warm. He has written his number on it neatly, Javier with a swoopy J on top.

A couple walks in. The bell startles you both. Javier steps back and takes his sunglasses from his shirt.

“Let me know, okay?” He raises his brows in question, and you answer with a nod. The couple beelines for the leftovers, talking in hushed tones, while the bell dings and Javier leaves without a second look back.

“I knew we should’ve come sooner,” the woman hisses and huffs.

“We’re open tomorrow, if you’re looking for something specific,” you try to get back into the moment, but end up following Javier push his sunglasses up his nose and jog across the street to his truck before a car crawls past.

Never would you have thought a piece of paper could be heavy but here you are, aware of its existence in your jeans pocket under your apron. The offer is appealing, you can’t deny that. The thought of having someone steady by your side, people not asking if you have a date, mainly Abigail, and not needing to think about the whole date thing, would be a weight off your shoulders. You could focus on the more pressing matters.

The couple buys the bread rolls, one more tick for you to write into your notebook. You finish preparing everything with Lili and when you turn the lights off a the end of the day, your brain is fried from thinking what to do with Javier’s suggestion.

The hot shower at home is heaven against your shoulder, loosening the tense muscle. It doesn’t wash away Javier’s suggestion though. You dry yourself, and you wouldn’t have to think about a plus one anymore. You warm up leftovers from yesterday, and you wonder how you could relax around Javier who has the ability to get your thoughts and blood roiling. You sit on the couch and get hurt once more thinking about John and if it was all a joke for Abigail to set you up with him.

You dig the pockets of your jeans and find the paper, still folded in half, his handwriting against your fingertips.

“Peña,” you hear Chucho answer. His joyful laughter after you say who’s calling makes you smile as well.

“Don’t say you’re giving us more bread and pastries. I’ll pay for them the next time.” There’s rustling on his end before you have a chance to answer, Javier’s voice muttering something to his dad.

“Hello,” his voice is softer, less deep as his father’s yet still deep enough for you to have it rattle your spine.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, I got a new number a couple of weeks ago and I’m not used to using it yet, gave you the house number by accident.” If you knew him any better, you’d say Javier is nervous.

“That’s okay. I wanted to call and ask if you’re really up for it, fake dating?” he chuckles quietly, almost like he wouldn’t want to make his dad question why you’re calling his son in the evening.

“I’d still call it just an arrangement, but yeah. That’s why I asked you.” You grind your teeth together, nervous about what you’re getting yourself into.

“Okay, let’s do it then.”

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sinofwriting · 1 year ago

Text

Wine - Oscar Piastri (lover verse)

Words: 977 Summary: Oscar (and Apples) go on the screaming meals podcast after everyone finds out about their marriage. Note(s): This part of the lover verse and I recommend you read the first part before this one so it makes sense. Read lover here

Masterlist | Support Me! | lover verse

“We have an Aussie on the pod today.” James says. “Indeed we do. The wonder boy himself, Oscar Piastri!” Clement continues and the three guys clap while Oscar looks behind the camera where his wife is feeling a little awkward. “Thank you for coming, Oscar. Was a bit of bitch to get you on though.” Oscar chuckles, nodding. “Just a bit. I’m glad I could make it though. I’ve been watching since the first episode.” “That’s right.” Marcus says. “I remember you texting me about it.”

“Ladies, Gentleman, you may notice we have five glasses on the table in front of us. And that is because Oscar’s wife is here as well.” “Hello!” She greets from behind the camera, sending a smile James’ way. She and the insurance broker had spent a fair amount of time together when Oscar was in F2. “She also brought the wine for today.” Clem chimes in, picking the bottle up. “Really, Apples is just trying to prove that she is the best guest to have.” He lets out a laugh seeing the label. “Ah, a bit of DR3 wine. I haven’t actually had this yet. Is it good?” He turns his head a bit to ask her, knowing that between her and Oscar she’s the one who likes wine more. She nods. “My mom loves it as well and you know her, bit of a wine snob. I also brought another one though if we get through that one a bit too quickly.” Clem makes a small noise, hand coming over his heart and he looks back at Oscar. “Mate, I might have to steal your wife.” Oscar shakes his head at the Frenchman but chuckles. He hadn’t expected the friendship between her and Clem, but it had started from their shared interest in wine and had only grown.

“Do you mind if we actually talk about you, Apples?” James asks, as Marcus takes the wine from Clem to open it. Easily passing the cork over to Clem to smell. “Not at all.” She says, reaching somewhat into frame to take the glass of wine from Marcus, giving him a quick squeeze to the hand in silent thanks after.

“So the Australian Grand Prix.” Marcus starts, handing the next glass over to Oscar, who immediately groans at the words. “I mean, what a home race.” The younger man makes a face, shifting in place as he clutches the glass of wine. “It was something.” He allows. “It was a clusterfuck, mate.” James chuckles, taking the next glass of wine from Marcus. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I mean truly.” Marcus says, passing Clem a glass who gives a silent cheer to him, before finally pouring himself a glass. “I mean, the media ran fucking wild and it was nuts.” “I was there with Clem for the F2 race and oh yeah, the media was something.” “I mean,” Oscar huffs, running a hand over his face. It had been months but still he was bothered over this. “It wasn’t like a secret y’know? Everyone in F3 and F2 knew about it. I mean obviously.” He waves a hand at three guys. “So I’m just amazed at the press and social media just not knowing it.” Clem wags a finger at the camera. “And you call yourself a journalist. Couldn’t even do basic research.” “Seriously.” Oscar says, and Marcus can’t help but laugh at how bothered Oscar is. It was a change from the usual unflappable or unbothered way he was.

“I also found out from Mrs. Piastri herself that the drivers didn’t know?” James asks. “They didn’t.” She confirms. “Well, Logan obviously did.” Marcus says, remembering how Logan had taken a weird older brother role to the Aussie couple. “But the rest didn’t? Not even Ocon? Or Alonso?” Oscar looks over at her, raising an eyebrow and she gives a shrug. “Ocon didn’t, Alonso, I mean maybe? He congratulated me after the news broke when he saw me next, but I mean it’s Alonso, who ever knows with him.” “Fair point.” James chuckles, lifting his glass a bit.

Apples watches from behind the camera for the rest of the podcast, only coming into frame once more for a refill on her glass of wine. Though she occasionally says something, fake chiding one of the boys or urging Oscar to open up a bit more, her husband still a bit too aware of the camera on him. Makes her wish she had taken that shot that Clem offered her before they started rolling, knowing that Oscar would have also had one if she had.

When they finish up, Oscar goes to move, switch to the other couch so Clem and James can sit with Marcus to film yeah g’day mate, but Marcus stills him and waves her over. She raises an eyebrow aware of the still rolling cameras but she goes over, easily sitting on the arm of the couch that Oscar is pressed against. As soon as she sits the other two are also piling onto the couch, Clem diving in between Oscar and Marcus, elbowing the Kiwi as James tries to grab the back of the French’s shirt, just barely managing to pull him up off the couch.

“Sit on the arm mate. You’re tiny enough. And budge over, Marcus.” “Why do I have to move?” Marcus asks, but slides over, knocking his and Oscar’s elbows together. “Because you're small enough to be in the middle. It’ll look weird with me.”

As the three start to bicker, Oscar leans his head against her and she runs her fingers through his hair, smiling down at him as he tilts his head backwards to look up at her. “You alright, Os?” She murmurs, Marcus’ squawk of protest surely prevents the mic from picking up her question. He nods, flashing her a smile.

@cixrosie @gemofthenight @copper-boom @boiohboii @iloveyou3000morgan @Benstormy @peachiicherries @topguncultleader @lpab

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #lover verse #sins fics

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thethreeeyed-raven · 5 months ago

Note

Pookie u said u wanted Zoro reqs and I’m here to help

So maybe Buggy’s sis?? Like apart of his lil clown posse thing and her and Zoro meet and yeah idk im dumb u can do whatever w this 🤷‍♀️

-🦈

thank you, goodnight

navigation | a/n : i changed it a bit and made the reader someone who was imprisoned by buggy instead, i haven’t written x reader in a while so this is a bit rusty, i’ve been working on something atla related which wont be coming out any time soon with the pace i’m going at😭, tysm to my bestie who helped me with this i was struggling😭 | warnings : minor injuries, weapons, implied feelings, sanji smirks a lot | tags : @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom , @knight-of-flowerss

music :

(it gives me zoro vibes)

You had joined the Straw Hats after their scuffle with your captor Buggy the clown.

Buggy decided that you were going to be apart of his circus when he 'conquered' your village, Until the Straw Hats freed you and your people.

Their Captain, Monkey D. Luffy, must have saw some potential in you as he offered you a place in the crew.

You just couldn't say no and so now you were apart of their crew.

You and Zoro were like two peas in a pod. Wherever he went, you followed, wherever you went, he followed. You couldn't stay away from one another.

You assumed he was impressed with your skills with a whip and your fists as you were with his swordsmanship. (You also fancied him a bit.)

For weeks and weeks you had pestered Zoro to teach you his admirable techniques but he refused every time.

Catching his eye from across the deck, you skipped your way over to his slouching form, slinging your arm over his broad shoulder.

"So, about those sword lessons..." You pretended to inspect your nails. You could practically hear his eye roll.

"No." He replied just as a smirking Sanji walked past.

"Sword lessons?" The cook asked with a hint of amusement, okay, maybe a lot. The both of you gave him a deadpan look. Sanji raised his hands as if to surrender. "Okay, okay."

Once Sanji left, you turned to look back at Zoro, putting on your best 'puppy dog' eyes.

Finally, Zoro turned to you. He zoned out for a moment before coming back to himself. "Fine. But only if you show me how to work that whip."

You cheered and clapped victoriously. "We'll start tonight."

The both of you got to work once everyone was settled and the stars twinkled in the night sky. Zoro decided you would be training with his swords first, a whip seemed hard to control.

"You need to hold it like this." Zoro placed his hand on top of yours where you held the handle of the sword. "Relax your hold, you're holding it too tight you will restrict movement."

You nodded in silent concentration, the moss head couldn't help but steal a glance at your overly focused face.

"Don't watch the sword, I'll let you off for now since this is only practise." Zoro let go of your hand and stood back to observe your stance. He put a foot in between your legs and shifted one of them wider. "With these types of swords you don't need two hands to hold them."

You nodded again. "Okay."

Hours had passed since your lessons began and it was almost the start of a new day. Many injuries were acquired. You fetched the first aid kit that Sanji kept from the kitchen.

Zoro had a tiny cut on his cheek and various other little wounds from your sharp whip. The injuries didn't bother him of course, but Sanji would kill you if they got infected.

"There." You placed a tiny band aid on the cut. "It's a good job you didn't seriously hurt, Luffy would have my head." The both of you chuckled.

Zoro shook his head, still chuckling a bit. "Luffy's too nice, he'd probably cry at you instead."

You stifled another laugh, but couldn't deny you still felt a little bad for the wounds inflicted on Zoro by your weapon.

"You okay?" Zoro commented, noticing your moment of silence.

"Oh, yeah don't worry." You lifted a hand as if to physically brush off the man's worry. He gave you a pointed look before thanking you and standing.

Just as Zoro was about to return to his cabin to get cleaned up, your words halted his steps.

"I never thanked you."

He looked over his shoulder at you, brow furrowed in confusion. "For what?"

Whenever you thought of that day, your eyes would glass over and the overwhelming feeling of relief would wash over you. "For taking me away that day, it was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me in my life."

"All of that was Luffy." Zoro denied.

Yet, you shook your head. "It was a group decision. Thank you anyway."

You stood and walked towards Zoro, cupping his cheek, then leaned in to gently press a kiss to the other.

"Goodnight."

The next morning, Zoro was greeted with the smirking face of Sanji.

"Fuck off."

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anemonelovesfiction · 1 year ago

Text

I Don’t Hate You

Ao’nung x Fem! Human! Reader

Warnings ⚠️ : Oral (fem receiving), cussing, MDNI 🔞

Thank you to whoever requested this, this is for you ❤️

I didn’t proof read as I am my own beta reader and I’m at work, sorry if its not too smutty for you, if it was actual smut it would have been too long!! As always English is stricken through

Translation Station

Tawtute: Sky Person (human)

Marui: Home (in Metkayina)

Ma’ite: my daughter

Innui- (ee-new-ee): made up name for Ronals youngest child

Tsahik: Spiritual healter; Shaman

Vrrtep: Demon

Sa’nok: Mother

Tsmuke: Sister

Iknimaya: Rite of Passage

Tsurak: Warriors mount

Syulang: Flower

Tewng: Loincloth

Word count 2.8k

I was only acting in the way everyone else had expected me to. Given the predicament I was in- a tawtute won the hearts of not one but both my parents, leading to a ritual in which the three of them were mated- I would say what I had currently just said to my newest sibling was up to par with what anyone else in the village believed I would say. Something hurtful about her extra digit, something about her looks, something about her size, how much of an inconvenience she was; and I’d said all of them. She was a shy thing and often spoke to Tsireya in a hushed voice, my sister had welcomed her and her mother in with open arms, but I was yet to be won over, but I was truly happy for my parents for having found their missing piece, I just wish she weren’t a tawtute, or that her daughter was unbelievably beautiful.

Her lips thin in an attempt to stop herself from crying but the fat tears in her eyes were a dead giveaway that what I had said had hurt her, and even though this was the last thing I wanted to do to the beauty that stood before me, I knew it was expected of me to hate her, so I acted like I did. My ears flicker and become downcast as I hear her sniffle, once more attempting to keep in her tears before they spilt on her cheeks, and she managed to look as beautiful as the day I first saw her.

Without another word she turns briskly and starts running in the direction she had come from, my heart hurts as I notice she picks up her hand to wipe what I assume are her tears, her sniffle causing my ears to perk up in an attempt to continue listening to her, I sigh. I want to chase after her and apologize but there were people watching.

_________

“Thats why I don’t talk to him, mama, I can’t keep-“ I stop as soon as the marui pod’s curtain was drawn back and Ronal -my stepmother- walks in, I don’t bother continuing the conversation and force myself to look away from her stare, one look and I’m sure I’d spill everything I’d just told my mom.

I make an effort to speak in English to my mom in order to prevent anyone from eavesdropping, but she had started teaching Ronal and Tonowari the language so they understand what the humans who drop supplies off say and they’re picking up on it very well. I’m starting to feel as though no one is on my side anymore.

“Ma’ite-“ She coos as she runs her thumb on my cheek gently, I only pout at her response, knowing she’d switched to Na’Vi so Ronal would understand clearly.

“What is wrong, you look bothered, are the village boys being mean to you again?” Ronal asks as she settles the newest addition to the family down, I only avoid my mothers gaze and watch as the baby starts crawling around curiously checking everything out before smiling widely and crawling faster toward where my mother and I stood. She worked quickly to make her way toward me and wobbly stood herself by using my thighs as support, she reached the length of my mid thigh in full height and she was only nine months old.

“Forget it.” I mumble before gently shifting Innui to support herself on my mother, making sure she was stable before walking out of the marui without sparing a glance toward the tsahik.

I don’t bother lifting my head off the knitted walkway as I’ve slipped on it and ended up with one foot through the hole one too many times, a bad habit I’d created as I walked on the beach, looking at the sand seep through my toes with every step I took, not bothering to check my surroundings. Although if I’m honest I would have thought that I wouldn’t be bothered since it was almost dinner time and a majority of people were starting to wash up to prepare food.

“Hey little freak, what are you doing out here alone?” My back stiffens and my head is immediately snapping up at the sound of his voice, a shiver runs through my body as I slowly turn my head and coming face to face with one of Ao’nungs lacky’s, the one I stupidly mistaken for Rotxo when I first met him, but he was so unoriginal I didn’t bother learning his name.

“I’m not a freak.” I responded while still keeping my back to him.

“I’m sure your fourth finger would beg to differ, you’re so weird, yet so interesting.” He stated clearly and I could feel my face growing hot at his words. He always has to find a way to torment me and I thought I’d escaped it until tomorrow but I was wrong. I could feel my body tensing in anger and I’d rather not blow up and give him another reason to hate me, so I turn around to finally face him.

“Four fingers or not-“ I lifted my hand to show him my fingers and wiggling them for added effect “-I am not weird.” I managed to get through without stuttering.

“With the way you act I’d think the reason you torment me is because you like me.” I roll my eyes as I cross my hands at my chest and notice his hairless brows furrowing, giving me an angered expression, he sneers and gets close to my face, causing me to back up.

“I would never like someone as worthless and useless as you. Get that through your thick tawtute head, you are undesirable and it is unclear how your vrrtep sa’nok managed to sneak her way into our clan leaders home.” He places a finger on my chest and pushes me rather harshly, causing me to fall on my bum.

“What is going on.” An angered voice spoke from behind me, the unmistakable sound of my step-brothers voice ringing through the air, I furrow my brows in confusion before turning to look at him, seeing the water droplets falling from his skin and hair, he must have gone for a swim before dinner.

“Your vrrtep tsmuke was mouthing off to me-“ He begins with his lies to justify why he’d pushed me but I scoff at his words before feeling Ao’nung reaching down to lift me up, I’d never felt his skin before and even though he’d just stepped out of the water it was warm.

“She is not a vrrtep, she is family, you do not go around pushing Tsireya like this, do you?” Ao’nung is quick with his words and doesn’t let his act of lifting me up deter his staring contest with Great Value Rotxo- Rotxo from wish? I try not to giggle at my thoughts.

“I am only treating her how you do. Is it only okay for you?” He asks with a slight snarl.

“Leave her alone.” He stated in an authoritative voice and my knees almost buck, he almost sounded like his father, I would be lying if I didn’t find my step father attractive, but I couldn’t bring myself to think of him that way.

Wish Rotxo shifts his eyes down to my blank expression, before they dart up above my head at what I could only assume was my step-brother, his face showing annoyance and anger before turning around and walking away without another word.

“Stop getting into trouble, you always need my help-“

“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t ask for your help, you just came up here flaunting your-“ I stop myself as he looks at me the way his mother stared at mine after yelling in English, understanding of the action but not the language. I roll my eyes and squeeze them shut before taking a calming breath, letting a sigh roll off my body as I pinched the bridge of my nose, and looking up at my step brother.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” I stated in Na’Vi “I had the situation under control.”

“That is what you call ‘under control’, getting harassed by a man and being pushed by the mere strength of his finger?” He scoffs as he crosses his arms.

“How is that any different than what you do? You hate me just as much as he does. I didn’t know you wanted to be the only one who tortures me.” I roll my eyes and deliver the same amount of sass back to him.

“I don’t hate you.” He stares directly through my soul as he says these words and a shiver runs up my spine.

“You only say the mean things you’ve said to me if you hate someone, so do not lie to me and pretend you don’t-“

“I do not hate you.” He moved closer in a matter of a millisecond, his face close enough to touch mine, but he’s being serious.

“Ao’nung, stop lying, you don’t treat Tsireya the way you treat me.” I huff and cross my arms once more.

“Thats because I’m not in love with her.” He stated matter-of-factly and I open my mouth to yell at him for how he’s treated me some more but the sudden confession hits me like a ton of bricks.

“You-“ I stare at him as he nods slightly “-Me?” I ask as I point to myself and see him nod once more.

“But I-“ I stop as I attempt to analyze the situation.

“-and you!” I use my hand to signal to him and stop from speaking once more, lowering myself to the sand as I attempt to process it, yet am unable to. I can see he’s also sunken down to squat near me, paying close attention to me.

“Why?” I finally ask. His hand reached out to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“Because of who you are.” He shrugs.

“You’re kind to everyone in my family even when I wasn’t kind to you. You’re quick to learn a lot of things especially when it came to helping our parents spend some tome together by taking care of Innui. You’re adorable when you hold my baby sister in your tiny hands, especially when you make that face.” He points at me as I listen to him.

“Oh I get it, this is a joke.” I slap his finger away with the back of my hand and start to laugh.

_________

Her head tilted back and the melodious sound of her laughter made me angry at first, but the angle at which she held her head was perfect in showcasing the tattoo on her neck, the design she’s carefully chosen after passing her iknimaya- even as a tawtute she managed to bond with a tsurak, making me hopeful in her ability to bond with a mate. And not just any mate, me.

Some feeling must have overtaken me as my fingertips dance around the flesh of her neck, following the tattoo down toward her collar bones where they stop, her laughter had died down as soon as I’d touched her and my ears perk up at the slightest gasp mixed with a moan, my eyes darken as she backs up quickly, my first instinct was to grasp her by her neck, scooting closer to her.

“What are you-“

“Shh,” I shush her as my other hand carefully slides down the length of her arm and allowing myself to divulge in the smooth feeling of her soft skin. I finally take her small hand in mind and gently bring it up to my lips, eyes staring at hers, and kissing her knuckles gently.

“I. Do. Not. Hate. You.” I enunciate my words while using my thumb to caress the tattoo on her neck.

“Okay,” she mutters breathily, seemingly in a daze.

“Do you believe me now?” I ask as I get close to her face and watch her dazed stare, I can feel her breath quicken and grow heavier, her mouth slightly agape.

“Please-“ she stops herself from speaking and y hand instinctively presses on her neck, urging the words to slip out of them.

“Tell me syulang, please what?”

“Kiss me,” her eyes only focus on mine as I lean in and touch my lips toward hers, her the softness of her mouth on my lips had me feeling as if Eywa had taken me up to live with her, my entire being felt complete with this little tawtute.

I push my knees on the sand below, letting go of her neck and allowing my hand to wanter up her delicate cheek, my other hand pulling her waist closer toward me.

She nips at my lower lip and I back off immediately, wondering if the reason for her doing that was because I’d somehow been too rough or hurt her in any way, just to see her smiling shyly instead. Reaching her hands out to grasp my face, pulling me closer and looking into my eyes before leaning in and kissing me again.

I run my fingers along the rest of her body just wanting to feel all of her, feeling how her skin raises under my fingers and prickling a bit, making an effort to run my hands against her back and feeling her wriggle in my grasp.

“Fuck,” The foreign word escapes her mouth, drunk off her scent I continue kissing down her neck where her tattoo sat and hearing her beautiful moans.

“Wait, ‘Nung-“ She gasps as I gently nip at the skin on her neck and shivers at the feeling.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask in a serious tone.

“N-no,” She murmurs.

“Then why wait?” I ask as my arm snakes around her waist again.

“The water-“ She turns her head to point at the tide and I feel the heat rise up in my chest. Whenever we choose to mate we usually do so in the water, and the fact that she remembered that made me feel happy, this was definitely the woman I wanted to mate with.

“Come.” I stand and gently tug on her arm as I walk toward the water.

_________

My tewng was pushed to the side, his mouth was working on my pussy, his tongue swished along the side of my clit, his hands were playing with my nipples, and my back was up against the rock of the retaining wall. I was furiously bucking my hips and attempting to keep my moans to a minimum in case other Na’Vi were nearby.

I could see the cook fires in the distance but they didn’t matter when my pussy was being devoured skillfully by the man who tore up my feelings, now he’s just tearing me up, and I loved it. I squeeze my thighs around his head as his tongue slides against a particularly sensitive area pf my clit, making me his tongue continue to slide over that same area, my nipples are being squeezed and I can feel myself losing control.

“I’m coming, ‘Nung-“ I gasp as I let go, the explosive feeling making my hips buck on their own accord and the waves of the ocean lapping up over my already sensitive stiffened nipples added another sense of euphoria. His hands had abandoned them and taken place to hold my thighs close to him as I came down from my high until I went lax in his hold.

He pops his head out from under the water with a smirk on his face, his first breath in wasn’t even that deep and made my cheeks sting at his previous words before he’d sunken under.

“Let me show you just how long I can hold my breath,”

“Wipe that smirk off your face.” I roll my eyes tiredly, I was just happy I’d already given him a hand job and half a blowjob before he’d gone down on me.

“I’m good.” He doesn’t even bother making it sound like a question at this point.

“Practice makes perfect I guess.” I joke and he can tell my underlying comment meant I knew he’d done this with other girls before.

“Yet none have ever tasted as sweet as you, syulang.”

“Sure,” I mumble as I reach over to grab my top, expertly putting it on my body in a quick fashion.

“Are you upset with me?” He asks as he places a gentle hand on my arm.

“No you big doofus, we need to go to dinner before ur parents think we’re out murdering each other,” I laugh lightly and his smile returns.

“I like seeing your smile.” I mutter almost too quiet, but his ears flicker when I say that, his cheeks turning a purplish color.

“I like seeing you.” He smiles sheepishly, something I’d never see him do before.

“I see you,” I mutter.

“I see you as well.”

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water smut #afab reader #human reader #avatar the way of water #aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x reader smut

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howthemoonweeps · 14 days ago

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would you spare me your voice if i called?

part 2 of my lance-centric post-canon klance fic - part one can be found here on tumblr and here on ao3 <3

word count: 1606

The next morning, Lance wakes up.

He gets out of bed and trudges downstairs, greeting his family who had all gathered for the New Year’s festivities. Lance snags a plate of breakfast, grins and laughs and takes part in all the fun, and generally tries not to burst into ugly tears over the state of his declining well-being.

The day passes by as all days do, but in the evening, when his smile starts to slip, he feels his mom’s eyes watching him.

Muttering a quiet excuse to whoever’s listening, Lance slips out the back door.

(He can’t bear to turn back and acknowledge her, not yet. He doesn’t deserve to face her worry and concern over his melodramatic misery.)

Outside, he strides through the fields of juniberry flowers, heading straight to the barn where his favorite cow resides. Once upon a time he would’ve paused to bask in the dusk light, picking flowers for those who would never come. Once upon a time he would’ve believed there was still meaning to the actions.

Lance arrives, spotting Kaltenecker curled up in her pen and munching on some grass. He smiles fondly. The old cow had always made herself right at home wherever she went, even adjusting quickly to Earth despite spending so long out in space.

At least one of them is enjoying the retired life, Lance muses.

Crouching down, he pats her on the flank and earns a disgruntled moo. “Happy New Year’s, girl,” he tells her, laughing at the unimpressed look he gets in return.

For just a few moments, Lance lets himself lean against her, knowing that sooner or later he’ll have to go back inside and face the music. He loves his family with all of his heart and then some, but it’s been getting harder and harder to pretend that he’s not miserable on the farm. He’d hate to ruin their celebration with his troubles.

Lance sighs, and nudges Kaltenecker. “Do you ever miss space?” He asks her genuinely.

“Moo,” she responds, flicking an ear. Lance snorts.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He gets up and stretches, the one-sided conversation having fulfilled its purpose of lightening his mood, and he heads to the door. “See you later, Kaltenecker.”

Before he can step outside, however, the barn’s walls tremble.

Lance freezes, knowing that it can only mean one thing: a visitor from space. While he knows that Earth’s safety measures would prevent a hostile ship from ever getting near, while he knows that the Coalition and the Blade of Marmora have made sweeping strides toward universal peace, adrenaline starts to course through his veins at the unexpected guest.

He peeks out the door at the approaching pod, telling Kaltenecker, “Be on your guard.” The cow whips her tail, which Lance likes to think is an affirmative. He sees his family gathering on the porch as well, their expressions confused and surprised, and his gaze hardens. Whoever this was, they’d need to get through him if they wanted to ruin the celebrations.

The door opens, creating a ramp onto the fields, and …

“Keith?!”

Lance flings the barn door open and runs out to where Keith Kogane is walking down the ramp. The Marmorite – who is supposed to be out in space, what the hell – immediately locks eyes with him, and the resulting grin is enough to make Lance stop in his tracks.

Keith looks so unabashedly happy to see him, of all people. Lance is almost tempted to turn around and see if there’s someone else he’s looking at, but then Keith’s striding over and pulling him into a hug.

“Happy New Year’s, Lance,” he murmurs, dangerously close to Lance’s ear. Lance can only hug him back and hope his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“What are you doing here?” He chokes out, still overwhelmed by the fact that Keith had just seen fit to drop in unannounced when– “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, helping people? Spreading universal peace?” At Keith’s raised eyebrow, Lance quickly backtracks, “Not that I’m not happy to see you too! Happy New Year’s, and all that. But seriously, what’s up?”

“I was in the area and wanted to see you,” he explains, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Keith’s tender expression is almost too much to bear, and it’s made doubly worse when Lance realizes that they’ve been hugging for a good minute. He can hear his family murmuring behind him, no doubt preparing to tease him to hell and back for his surprise visitor, but honestly?

He tightens his hold around Keith and tries not to tear up when he’s squeezed in return. Soon enough, Keith will see how stagnant Lance has grown, but for now he’ll take as much comfort as he can from this much-needed embrace.

“Yeah, it’s been too long,” he mumbles. Then, with an internal struggle akin to getting out of bed in the morning, he disentangles himself from Keith. Before he can linger in their proximity, or do something humiliating like drop his head onto Keith’s shoulder, Lance takes a step back and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Now that you’re here, why don’t you enjoy some dinner cooked up by my mom?”

___

Lance’s family welcomes Keith with open arms, which delights Lance but totally flusters Keith, if his awkward smile and general tension had anything to say about it.

“Honestly, dude, I don’t know what you expected,” Lance says through a mouthful of tamales. “Were you just gonna land your giant spaceship, say hi, and then leave?”

“If I say no, will your nephew and niece let me go?” Instead of being able to enjoy the food he was promised, Keith stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room while Nadia and Silvio use him as a jungle gym. Lance totally isn’t marveling at Keith’s ability to carry both of the troublemakers with ease, despite them being perfectly healthy eight- and nine-year-olds. It’s not impressive at all.

Lance shovels more tamales into his mouth, so he doesn’t have a repeat of the “grizzled” incident.

Belatedly, he realizes that he didn’t answer Keith’s question, but the other seems to have solved it on his own when he finally drops down next to Lance.

“Your family’s a handful,” Keith chuckles, reaching for a plate. “If I hadn’t promised a storytime later about their uncle Lance they never would’ve let me eat.”

Lance waves a hand in dismissal. “Nadia and Silvio are just energetic–they’re still the youngest of the family and they take full advantage of it. But if you ask me,” he grins, leaning in close to whisper, “I’m the key to their hearts.”

“Is that so?” Keith raises an eyebrow, mouth curling into a smile, and suddenly Lance feels like he’s treading in uncharted waters. “Guess I’ll have to work harder, then.”

Lance coughs and leans back, the moment lost. He opens his mouth to respond, ready to fire off a quip to distract from his reddening face, but thankfully his mom swoops in to rescue him.

“So, Keith, what else are you planning to do while on Earth?” she asks, collecting their empty plates. “Have you seen your own family yet?”

Keith brushes a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve already visited Shiro and Curtis and wished them a happy New Year’s–after this I have nothing else to do except go back to the base and get back to work.”

Oh boy. Keith has no idea what Lance’s mom is like if he thinks he can just leave after dinner. She opens her mouth, and Lance preemptively winces. “That won’t do at all! You must stay the night, at least. Here, Lance can show you to a spare room.”

Futilely, both Lance and Keith protest. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” Keith splutters, while Lance objects, “Do we even have a spare room?”

Lance’s mom pats his cheek lovingly. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

___

To Lance’s dread, the Mcclain household did not, in fact, have a spare room.

“I can still leave.” Keith stands still in the doorway next to Lance, gazing forlornly at their only bedding option. “My pod is literally right outside–I can just fly back to the base and then you won’t have to share your room with me for the night.”

Lance is already shaking his head. This arrangement is going to be the death of him, but he’d rather die in his sleep than face a mom angry at his lack of hospitality. “It’s fine, dude, you can just take the bed and I’ll get cozy on the floor.” To emphasize his point, Lance fashions some sheets and pillows into a makeshift mattress, and plops to the ground.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed!” Keith exclaims, eyes widening in horror. Unfortunately, he doesn’t paint the most intimidating picture with his Hot Topic Shadow the Hedgehog pajamas. Lance has to stifle a snort. Seriously, when did he even get those?

“I’m telling you, it’s fine.” Before Keith can protest further, Lance wraps a pillow around his ears and makes himself comfortable. “La la la, can’t hear you over how nice and soft it is down here. Doesn’t it just make you want to go to bed and not argue anymore?”

Now it’s Keith’s turn to snort, but Lance can still feel how his movements are still measured and tentative as he climbs into Lance’s bed. His hand wavers near the light switch. “Good night, Lance,” he hears Keith whisper.

In the darkness, Lance allows himself one soft smile before sleep overtakes him. “Good night, Keith.”

#klance #voltron legendary defender #vld #voltron fanfiction #keith kogane #lance mcclain #fanfiction #zel's fics #ao3 #archive of our own #langst #angst #klance fanfiction

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inubaki · 2 months ago

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The Exchange (Chocolate)

Part 4

“What’s that?” Adam gave a collected sigh while bidding for his last ounce of patience. “Dad! Dad! What is it?” Cain tugged persistently at the end of Adam’s furs, whining when he failed to get a response.

Adam had long given up on attempting to pry him off his leg. Or correct him on his usage of the loose term ‘father’; Eve’s reinvented label towards Adam dispute all obvious falsehoods. But he had endured it for the children. Settling for their laughter and smiles while he threw himself to provide and protect. Never to abandon them like his creator’s had. Until recent revelations. “Cacao beans…” Adam mutters while trying to recall the plant’s attributes. He didn’t want to extend to much effort into something that couldn’t fill a gut or settle some bodily grievance. The recent heat wave had withered most of the season’s foliage leaving opinions limited to the family’s reserves. The crops had failed and Eve’s ‘easy solutions’ had Adam divided between rage and defeat.

Ideally he rolled the pod between his hands, testing its weight while checking for any contaminating punctures. Cain hugged his leg as he retrieved the knife from his belt- The same knife Eve had plunged repeatedly into his back. -rapping it against the pod’s shell to startle any critters. Cain reached up and slap it with a cubby hand before Adam pulled it out of reach. The child quickly growing disinterested and tugged again for Adam’s attention. “Daddy—-“

“Surely you jest? Forgetting about one of MY plants, Adam?” Adam gave a knee jerk reaction; missing the pod and nicking his own thumb with the tip of the blade. “Fuck—-!” “Ohhhh! Is that a new swear?” “SHUT UP!!”

“Daddy…?” Cain’s small voice pulled Adam back to focus. The man attempted to turn away and play ignorant when his hand was abruptly seized. Adam didn’t dare watch as something long and wet engulfed his bleeding thumb. Provoking familiar shivers to travel down the length of his spine. “Cain—“ Adam’s throat tightened, trying to fight through erratic hammering of his own heart. His body still a vibrating echo of his last lingering whispers.

He sobered only upon seeing the frightened look of Cain’s eyes. Wet pools of familiar violet, strikingly confused and helpless compared to their predecessor. Cain’s attention flickered back and forth between Adam and his suspended hand left aloft. Like Eve, they never seemed to see what Adam could see, but always seemed to just know. “Of course…”

The phantom purred like a cat against Adam’s palm. Burning lips tracing from the wound as they slowly migrated up to the delicate skin of Adam’s wrist. Scaring and calluses seeming only to entice him further with the introduction of pointed teeth. “I only allow you to see me..”

“Cain…. Take the knife and head home, okay?”

What was the difference if his body were to pay for ‘blessings’ now compared to later? At least this felt more of his choice. Before there had been the spear. Then the knife. And now there was only himself.

“Nooo—! Daddy—-“ Cain shock his head, his hands returning to cling to his furred belt. His bottom lip quivering not to cry while Adam’s heart steeply sank. But the fractures Eve’s revelations had left behind had embittered him enough to sharpen his stance. “I knew you’d be a good father-“

“Do as I say Cain. Everything we’ve collected, take it back to your mom”.

“But da—“

Adam cut off the child off as he yanked the male-shift satchel from around his shoulders. The light weight to their scavenging only added to his resolve as he shoved it into Cain’s arms. All expect for the cocoa beans.

“Like most things, these are only for us…”.

The intricate scarring along Adam’s back flared up into a sensation just short of burning. Like the arms that circled his neck and the presence of lips that taunted his senses dispute Adam’s repeated diversion.

“I told you, Adam; you should worry more about yourself~”

Cain took the knife from Adam though both knew it would do little. Reluctantly accepting the his orders if only to tamper Adam’s nerves. Both welcoming the illusion of comfort as a father nudged his son back from which they came.

From the infringing tree line, another tall silhouette could be vaguely seen. Pale and encompassing as she waited patiently. The purrs only grew louder in Adam’s ears while the human fought the compulsion to scream.

“I don’t know why you keep rejecting to having more children. You know our deal would extend to them too”

Adam couldn’t stand to watch that ‘woman’ take Cain’s hand. Only now turning his eyes to narrow upon his grinning companion. As helpless to them as he was to the land that seemed determined to kill them. The idea of dragging more children to suffer the wastes seemed beyond mere cruelty. He scoffed. “You-” he nearly bite his tongue with a laugh. “YOU would like Eve and I to breed—-“

“Absolutely-ducking not!”

The reply was as instant as it was vicious. Causing Adam actually to actually flinch away from the inhuman display of bleeding eyes and lengthening teeth. The width of his shoulders baring the pricking of sharpened claws, drawing just a hinting of blood. But, with a blink of the eye, the moment passed as Lucifer strike a loud kiss over Adam’s cheek. Laughing merrily as he slide off the taller man’s back, all the while tossing the pod sealed beans between his hands.

“You’re right! You’re right!”

Adam continued to say nothing and Lucifer filled the eery space with a laugh. Twirling on a hoof theatrically as he began tossing the pod in a circular motion above his head.

“I should have been more specific in our dealings. Let me make it up to you old friend…”

Violently ripping off its shelled casting with inhuman ease. The gleeful man emanated a boundless strength with every soundless dancing step. The earth rested around him, quiet, submissive and unmoving as though holding its breath. The devil fingered the real seedlings nestled within the shell. Smiling rather proudly as he retrieved one to hold aloof overhead. “Even bitter things can be sweet… let me show you—“

——

pervs:

I finished this doodle story out of spite. I know it’s bad. But I finished it. So HIGH FIVE!!

#adamsapple advent #adamsapple #guitarduck #traditional art #hazbin hotel #adam x lucifer #lucifer x adam #my art #my attempt at writing #Eve is the first witch #adamsappleadvent #adam is trying #Me too #human adam

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the-far-bright-center · 1 year ago

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'I had a mother who loved me'

(aka, the Jedi Order is NOT Anakin's family)

This is a topic that I've seen discussed elsewhere and I felt compelled to add my own thoughts. I've seen some takes I vehemently disagree with, especially regarding Shmi and Little Ani in TPM, and Anakin's 'decision' to leave with Qui-Gon. It's crazy how some people will blame little Ani for 'wanting' to be a Jedi, yet apparently Luke in ANH is allowed to want this, even though Luke likewise barely knows anything about what being a Jedi entails, and even though it's much more risky (and, frankly, far more unrealistic) to dream of becoming a Jedi in the Dark Times era?? As if a nine-year-old slave-boy wanting to take part in his new-found freedom by learning to be something he associates with heroism means he somehow 'should have known' he wasn’t going to be a ‘good fit’ for the Order. My argument is that there was nothing wrong with Anakin, and there was in fact no legitimate reason for him or ANYONE ELSE to believe he'd not be good at using the Force to help others (which is what the Jedi are supposed to do), especially when he had literally just done so in the pod-race. The whole reason Qui-Gon noticed Anakin was because of how strong in the Force he already was, even untrained. Qui-Gon has faith in him, it's just the Jedi Council that doubts him. Because, unlike Qui-Gon who perceives Anakin's positive qualities and potential, Yoda and the Jedi Council are afraid of him. Because Anakin is basically an 'unknown' (read: uncontrollable) entity suddenly in their midst.

While the Prequels film-canon stands on its own in this regard, we can also look to the novelizations for even more emphasis on this topic. In the TPM novelization, several things are noteable: first of all, even before Qui-Gon arrives, Anakin has had prophetic dreams about becoming a Jedi. And since Shmi is aware that Ani's dreams and visions do often come to pass, when Qui-Gon appears and offers to take him away to be trained, why wouldn't she think that maybe this was somehow Force (or Fate) ordained? And that therefore it was the right thing to do to let him go? And the second thing, is while it's also clear that Little Ani (like Luke!) has a romanticised view of what being a Jedi might be like, his actual motivation for becoming a Jedi is not simply because he 'selfishly' wants to embark on some fun adventure without his mom. On the contrary, every. single. time. little Ani thinks about the possibility of becoming a Jedi or leaving Tatooine, it's directly in relation to eventually returning to FREE his mother and the rest of the slaves:

He was several things in the course of his dreams. Once he was a Jedi Knight, fighting against things so dark and insubstantial he could not identify them. Once he was a pilot of a star cruiser, taking the ship into hyperspace, spanning whole star systems on his voyage. Once he was a great and feared commander of an army, and he came back to Tatooine with ships and troops at his command to free the planet’s slaves. His mother was waiting for him, smiling, arms outstretched.

and

He gazed skyward, his mother's hand resting lightly on his arm, and thought about what it would be like to be out there, flying battle cruisers and fighters, traveling to far worlds and strange places. He didn't care what Wald said, he wouldn't be a slave all his life. Just as he wouldn't always be a boy. He would find a way to leave Tatooine. He would find a way to take his mother with him. His dreams whirled through his head as he watched the stars, a kaleidoscope of bright images. He imagined how it would be. He saw it clearly in his mind, and it made him smile.

Anakin wants to escape slavery and train as a Jedi so he can come back and continue helping his friends and family on Tatooine. So he can return to free the slaves. Little does he know that he won't be allowed to do that... :'(

It's important to note as well that at this point, Anakin *also* has no idea that, as a Jedi, he won't be allowed to get married and have a family. Even though he is already naively imagining himself someday marrying Padme. So he doesn't know that not only will he not be permitted to return for his mother as he'd always hoped, but he will also technically not be allowed to even have a family of his own even when he's old enough to do so.

And what of Shmi's thoughts on Anakin becoming a Jedi? At the start of the AotC novelization, she is trying to be happy with the thought of it, but ONLY because she believes he must be living his best life as a Jedi. She has no idea that he had to go through rejection first before being accepted into the Order. The AotC novelization shows that as Shmi is being held captive and tortured by the Tusken Raiders, she tries to comfort herself by holding onto her imagination of what Anakin's time as Jedi is like:

All those times staring up at the night sky, she had thought of him, had imagined him soaring across the galaxy, rescuing the downtrodden, saving planets from ravaging monsters and evil tyrants. But she had always expected to see [Ani] again, had always expected him to walk onto the moisture farm one day, that impish smile of his, the one that could light up a room, greeting her as if they had never been apart.

Heartbreakingly, as Shmi is being brutalised to death, she clings to the hope that her beloved Ani's life is now better than it was before, and that it was worth saying farewell to him all those years ago, even while simultaneously desperately longing to see him again.

As an aside, it aggravates me to no end that *cough* certain parts of this fandom perpetuate the idea that Shmi is just some blank, wholly selfless entity with no wants or desires of her own. That she's the ‘perfect’ example of a Jedi with no 'attachments' (aka an Old Order Jedi), and that somehow Anakin is a just a 'failure' compared to her. Yes, it could be argued that Shmi is shown to be a better or truer 'Jedi' than most of the other Jedi in the story (aside from Luke in RotJ), but guess what that would mean in that case? (Hint: it has to do with love and family.) Because first and foremost, Shmi is a MOTHER who is trying to do the best for her son, even though a piece of her heart is always missing while he is gone. The AotC novelization shows repeatedly that she tries to assure herself that she did the right thing by letting Ani go, but the human mother side of herself also cries out for him and misses him desperately. She might have let him go in TPM, but in AoTC she wants to see him again. In fact, she believes strongly that she will see him again (because she loves him and he’s her hero because she’s his mom and she trusts he will eventually come back to find her), which is the only thing keeping her holding on until he arrives. How can Shmi be a perfect example of an Old Order Jedi when the motivating factor for even her most selfless actions is her personal FAMILIAL attachment to and unconditional LOVE for Anakin?? Also, how insulting is it to claim that Anakin is a 'failure' in comparison to his 'wonderful, perfect mother', and then proceed to place all the blame on him for being said 'failure'....when he was shown on-screen to be doing just fine in taking after his mother prior to his time in the Jedi Order????

As another poster noted elsewhere, Shmi Skywalker is the only person responsible for the truly good person Anakin Skywalker was.

This is the heart of the entire saga. Anakin's True Self is good because of his mother. Because of how she raised him (to be selfless and to want to help others) and because of the unconditional LOVE she had for him. It was the Jedi Order that failed to provide that for Anakin, and Sidious who manipulated the situation to his advantage.

(And if Shmi was the only person who truly solidified Anakin's inner goodness, then Qui-Gon was the only Jedi who was presented as being equipped to bring out the best in Anakin when Shmi wasn't around. The only one who was prepared to act as an openly warm and compassionate parental figure to Anakin, the only one who could have properly mentored Anakin and helped him navigate both his Force powers as well as the Jedi Code, and the only one who was shown to be willing to stand up to the Council on Anakin's behalf. The tragedy is not that Qui-Gon found Anakin or even that he offered to take him to train in the Force. Rather, the tragedy is that Qui-Gon is slain in the Duel of the Fates, which leaves Anakin without a true protector and advocate in the Order, and allows Sidious an 'in'.)

So the idea that the Jedi Order is Anakin's ‘replacement family' is simply not true—certainly not in the way the story actually pans out. It's telling that, in the original Prequels-era EU, Anakin ran away from the Jedi Temple multiple times. That is NOT the behaviour of a happy child. (It is, however, typical behaviour for children who are struggling in institutionalised care.)

And indeed, the very first paragraph of the AotC novelization opens with Anakin dreaming that he is part of a warm, loving family:

His mind absorbed the scene before him, so quiet and calm and...normal. It was the life he had always wanted, a gathering of family and friends—he knew that they were just that, though the only one he recognized was his dear mother. This was the way it was supposed to be. The warmth and the love, the laughter and the quiet times. This was how he had always dreamed it would be, how he had always prayed it would be. The warm, inviting smiles. The pleasant conversation. The gentle pats on the shoulders. But most of all there was the smile of his beloved mother, so happy now, no more a slave. When she looked at him, he saw all of that and more, saw how proud she was him, how joyful her life had become.

Why would Anakin be dreaming longingly of being part of an openly loving, happy family if he already had that at the Jedi Temple? (Tellingly, he notes that this seems like something normal, as if he's aware that it ought to be commonplace despite the fact that it's currently missing from his own life.)

And later on, when he's visiting Padme's parents' house for dinner, he sees this exact type of scene he's been longing for play out right in front of him, and he wishes that his mother could be there to enjoy it, too:

Anakin took a good helping of several different dishes. The food was all unfamiliar, but the smells told him that he wouldn’t be disappointed. He sat quietly as he ate, listening with half an ear to the chatter all about him. He was thinking of his mom again, of how he wished he could bring her here, a free woman, to live the life she so deserved.

Note that Anakin is thinking about his mother, and putting her first in his mind. He can barely enjoy the meal while he believes his mother could be out there, suffering.

Later on as he and Padme are heading to Tatooine to search for Shmi, they bond over the fact that both their mothers told them the same nursery rhyme ('home again to rest'). It means a lot to Anakin that he can bond with Padme over this similar childhood memory. (No doubt something he would not have had in common with his peers in the Temple, since their only childhood memories would have been within the Jedi Order, rather than in a true home. And certainly not with a mother.)

Finally, we get to the RotS novelization. Yes, THAT one. The one in which we see that Anakin was perfectly willing to walk away from the Order the minute he returned from the war and discovered Padme was pregnant. Willing to walk away to start their FAMILY together. But then his nightmares began, and he reluctantly stayed just a little longer, thinking the Jedi (whom he originally joined with the express intent of wanting to help his loved ones) could offer him some solution to the horror his nightmares were showing him:

If not for his dreams, he’d withdraw from the Order today. Now. ...Let the scandal come; it wouldn’t destroy their lives. Not their real lives. It would destroy only the lives they’d had before each other: those separate years that now meant nothing at all.

To drive the point home, we also have the pivotal scene where Obi-Wan—speaking on the Council's behalf—tries to convince Anakin to spy on the Chancellor. Their exchange says it all:

"He's my friend, Obi-Wan." "I know." "If he asked me to spy on you, do you think I would do it? You know how kind he's been to me. You now how he's looked after me, how he's done everything he could to help me. He's like family." "The Jedi are your family." "No. No, the Jedi are your family. The only one you've ever known. I had a mother who loved me."

Anakin's story breaks my heart because all he wants—all he has ever wanted—is a family. Not to just to 'have' one in a vague sense, but to be PART OF ONE. He wants this, because even when he was slave living an unfree life, at least he had his mother. At least he could feel his mother's love, and could openly demonstrate his love to her in return. For Anakin Skywalker, being a Jedi was never the goal in and of itself. In his mind, it was always primarily a means to save those he loved. To save his family. This is simultaneously the most tragic and the most beautiful thing about his character. It is both his fall AND his redemption.

And those who insist on ignoring Anakin’s deep-seated longing for a family and want to act as though he should just be content with the Jedi Order instead are willfully missing the entire point of his story.

#Anakin Skywalker #Shmi Skywalker #mother and son #the jedi order #jedi discourse #the prequels #tpm novelization #aotc novelization #rots novelization #the skywalkers #skywalker family #the skywalker saga #the real skywalker saga #love and family #love can ignite the stars #the barest flicker of persistent light

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localfanbaselurker · 7 months ago

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I’m watching Voltron: Legendary Defender for the first time and here is what I have had to say per each season (this is 1-2) (3-4) (5-6) (7) (8)

Pre-Watch Knowledge

->big transformers type robot

->pretty alien girl that looks like princess yue from A:tLA

->they are the epitome of color-coded characters

->space??

->there was crazy people in the fanbase that sent cupcakes laced with something to the creators

->queer baiting (this one in particular got me)

->klance.

->^honestly I only knew that because people were comparing it to zukka and I wanted to check it out

->my friend really likes it

Post S1 thoughts-

->that cliffhanger was crazy imagine they weren’t renewed for a s2

-> i went on tumblr after and youre telling me they made that show IN TWO YEARS?? EIGHT SEASONS. IN TWO MF YEARS?? that is insane. props to the writers bro they fr must of known what they were doing.

->all of these characters already scream “doomed by the narrative”

->my fav characters are pidge and lance

->I definitely did NOT expect yue Allura to be British

->bonding moment.

->^like yeah okay i get it now

-> the healing pods are a very interesting concept. Like, what if you get some ailment that it doesn’t recognize?? Do you just die??

-> genuinely felt so bad for Not Yue. Allura. Allura when they had to remove her father’s memory thing. Like yeah I know the castle was corrupted or wtv but bro imagine. Your entire race is dead. your mom, who you previously knew alive is now most likely dead. You already had to go through losing your father once, and now you have to lose him again. Any sliver of hope you had of staying connected with him is gone, because the entirety of his essence is now gone. She’s stronger than me, I would have never given him up so easily. I admire that about her.

->I also made the horrible mistake of going on ao3 after

yk for gits and shiggles… and when I go to a new fandom I always search by hits to see the classics first yk

…

WHY are you guys so 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂… I genuinely shed a tear what. I was flabbergasted to say the least.

On that note the top 23 were about redguy/blueguy getting smoochy-smoochy with each other so I guess that should be a hint as to what you guys like

->the description of the show says the robot (voltron) is operated by “five teenagers” but that shiro guy has to be AT LEAST 25. He is pushing 30 you can’t convince me otherwise.

->for now it’s kinda giving atla except the war is intergalactic and lasted 10,000 years instead of 100.

->all the other characters seem to have a pretty clear background, but we haven’t yet heard about Keith’s backstory, so I want to know (I know now, this was my initial thought)

->shiros backstory/ptsd is very interesting, lots of angst possibilities i see

-> I had an inkling that pidge was…genderly different. (At first I thought she was transmasc)

Post S2

-> WHERE is my man. Where did he go.

-> Pookie please come back. Now. It’s not a suggestion.

->KEITH BACKSTORY I PREDICTED THEY WERE GONNA SHOW US YAY I LOVE BEING RIGHT

-> he’s galra! Soooo much whump opportunity

-> the whole “Allura doesn’t hate you she’s just a little upset to find out ur part of the race that killed off her entire peoples and family and okay maybe she does hate you” scene with keith and hunk is really giving that scene in atla: the southern raiders where zuko thinks katara hates him and sokka reassures him (badly) while he was just trying to get laid w suki.

->^ that’s gay

-> the aliens they met are going to be very important, aren’t they?

->^ oohhh so this is where the “langst” stuff comes from? he’s just kinda insecure i think, but it can’t possibly just be this episode that has that tag so high, unless flanderization is just really popular with you guys, but already suspect that unfortunately

->^Allura high key ate with this

->the “Blade of Marmora” people are definitely gonna be important later

-> the mall episode was soooo fun! fav s2 episode for sure!

->^gay. It’s literally giving “two bros chillin in a hot tub. five feet apart cus they’re not gay”

-> I know of 2 ships now. klance and allurance. I only see the former though, the latter seems more like a running gag/unrequited crush thing (for now i suppose)

-> Coran is an icon. I love that whimsical man. he’s beekeeping age per say.

-> I need pidge to find her brother and father man I feel so bad for her PLEASE DOBT TELL ME THEYRE DEAD ILL LITERALLY DIE.

-> pidge is sooooo cool i love her so much she’s literally the pookiest of the pookies

-> Who tf is gonna be the black paladin now. Keith sure as hell isn’t ready for that. maybe Allura?? Cus yk she kinda already leads them a little bit

These are thoughts I had compiled over a while now. I am on S5E3 as of now (07/03/24) but I wanted to document my thoughts either way. I will post on the tag “laura’s first vld”

#laura’s first vld #vld #first voltron watch #first time watch #I try to skip spoilers as much as I can but there’s only so much you can do when ur constantly yapping about ur hyperfixation to your phone #the healing pods are a very interesting thing tho #I’ll never let go of that. what if idfk ur appendix burst or something? do alteans have appendixes?? this actually raises more questions #alien anatomy is really interesting #even now i still don’t understand what ‘quinntessence’ is #“oh it’s like a life fuel/the essence of life” yeah no still confused. is it carbon?? cus that’s what makes organic life?? crazy #there’s a lot of hypotheticals regarding this shows scientific element #Voltron #voltron legendary defender

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gloryhrs · 2 years ago

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⟡ 𝓒𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝓢𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ━━ 「 Shinji Hirako. 」

✿.*･｡ ꒰ black male reader, high school au!, reader & shinji are both 18/3rd years in highschool, delinquent! shinji (he smokes weed & is a lil mean lol), shinji & hiyori are related, smut (?) at the end idk, shinji is also extremely obsessed w/the reader (real), ah this took me so long (∩´﹏`∩) i don’t know if i’m going to keep it up for long, click 4 art creds! ꒱

ʚɞ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ SHINJI Hirako, 10, wiped the imaginary sweat from his brow. Today is the day he confesses to his best friend, Y/n L/n. His mother and yours had been good friends since high school, which explained why you and he were like two peas in a pod, having known each other since infancy. Shinji couldn't have asked for a better best friend than you; you both slept over at each other's houses daily, played video games, watched horror movies, and snacked on sweets all weekend. When you spent time with him, his heart began to race, his palms sweated, and his cheeks turned a vivid shade of crimson, indicating that he had strange feelings for you. Because of your kindness and the way you care for him, his affection for you grew stronger by the day. His younger sister, Hiyori, used to mock him and label him a coward for not being able to express himself to you, but that will change today!

When he spotted you walking out of the classroom with Kensei and Love, aka your bodyguards, he tightened his grip on the small box of chocolate and flowers. Instead of standing in the center of the hallway, he carefully worked his way up to the youthful group of boys. He observed as you stopped chatting to the boys and focused on him walking, making him much more nervous than before. "Hi, Shinji!" You smiled and waved at your blonde-haired best friend, who looked like he was about to pass out. Kensei and Love turned to look at the sweets and flowers in the boy's hand. He handed the flowers and chocolates out to you with his head lowered before any of them could say anything. "H-Hi Y/n! Please go out on a date with me! You’re the coolest, kindest, and sweetest person I’ve ever met! I promise you won’t be sorry!" His voice cracked at nearly every word, leading Kensei to cover his mouth to stifle the laughter. Love sighed and turned his head in the opposite direction, attempting to erase the scene he just saw.

When Kensei began to snicker at him, you frowned and lightly smacked the back of his head. "Shin, don't be so shy; I've known you for years. And, of course, I'll go with you!" You took the box and flowers from his hands as the dumbbells on his shoulders rolled off with ease, which meant his nervousness was disappearing. He quickly got up and straightened his posture with a bright smile on his face. Before he could form his next sentence, a set of lips that belonged to you brushed across his cheek. Making him lose all sense and turn as red as a tomato. "We should ask our moms to take us to that new arcade you talked about!" You told him as he nodded mindlessly with a silly grin on his lips. "Yeah, we enjoy arcades." His voice cracked once more, this time making you giggle. Both Kensei and Love curved their heads to the side as they witnessed the sight. "Oh, brother! Look for a classroom." Kensei fake gagged as Love sighed, realizing beforehand that this blossoming relationship was most likely going to be a problem in the future.

ʚɞ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ AND Love was completely correct. If he believed Shinji was in love with you in elementary and middle school, he had no idea what was in store for him after everyone entered high school. By this point, everyone knew Shinji was obsessed with you. From having your name tattooed on his forearm and finger to having your initials pierced in his ear, having you as his lock screen and home screen, and owning an I Heart My Boyfriend shirt somewhere in his closet, he's got it all. He's also your biggest fan! From his frequent appearances at your games, he is usually the loudest one in the bleachers, holding a poster. Being the one to carry you and your belongings when it's time to leave, as well as ordering takeout for you and him for the night. Shinji was the greatest boyfriend! No one could tell you otherwise. Most classmates assumed you threw a spell on the blonde, but it turns out he was just in love.

The sound of laughter was the only thing that could be heard from the janitor’s closet. The laughter belonging to you and Shinji, who dragged you in there the moment he saw you in the hall. "Shin, we’re going to be late for class." You murmured as your boyfriend proceeded to kiss your lips, ignoring the fact that not only you would be late but he as well. The small space of the janitor's closet is causing him to press you against the wall, with him lifting your thigh till it reaches his waist. "It doesn't matter if you don't turn up. Plus, I missed you." His pierced tongue dragged across your soft, ebony skin while his lips whispered into the crook of your neck. You ran your fingers through his soft golden hair. "I've missed you too, which is why I'm here. So that I can see you." You sighed. This is what happens when you separate yourself from him for longer than a day. He’ll turn into a baby crying for its mama.

"I barely see you now because you've been so caught up with volleyball and those damn club activities. I thought you forgot about me." He scoffed, his gaze now fixed on yours. You've participated in almost every club and sport since the first year of high school. That's why you were so popular. You gently smiled as you placed both hands on his cheeks, bringing him in for another kiss. "You know I can never forget about you, baby. Plus, I'm free today. This week, Rose, Lisa, and Love are in charge of the clubs. And I don’t have practice until next week." You grinned while playing with his several ear piercings, your initials dangling from his right lobe in gold and diamonds.

Shinji's eyes instantly lit up as he flashed his well-known smile, displaying his gorgeous pearly whites. "And yes, we can finally play that new street fighter game you were talking about." You pecked his cheeks as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, getting a good whiff of your scent before signing. "Mhmm, I love you. Also, you smell so fuckin' good. Like freshly baked cookies mixed with cocoa butter. It makes me want to eat you." He murmured, never letting his smile go. His sweet but strong aroma invaded your nostrils as you chuckled and buried your face in his shoulder. "I love you too, Shin. You smell like vanilla cupcakes with a hint of weed. Which you most likely smoked during lunch." He laughed and drew his face away from your neck. You could read him like a picture book. "Oops." He gave you his signature smirk, his hands trailing from your waist to one of his favorite parts of your body.

"Shin, don't let them find you smoking on school grounds. They almost sent you to detention for three months the last time you were caught." You scolded your partner, who was rolling his eyes. Because of that wet floor prank he committed in his first year, which resulted in the principal injuring his back, the staff were utter jerks to him. "Keyword, almost! My wonderful boyfriend bailed me out and convinced them to shorten my sentence." He kissed your cheek, and because you were one of the school's favorite students, you persuaded the administration to ease up on your nutty boyfriend's punishment. They eventually reduced his sentence from three months to one week of cleaning duties.

"But in all seriousness, I’m so lucky you’re my boyfriend. Everything about you is so perfect that sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t confessed. Just looking at you drives me insane." He whispered, now placing his hands on your ass and gently sucking on the flesh with his lips against your neck. You sighed and tilted your head back, feeling yourself fall into his trap but swiftly snapping out of it. "Shin, don't start again." You bit your lip to keep the stream of noises from coming out, knowing that if you made a sound, he wouldn't stop. He groaned, "Oh, come on. If we stay a little longer, I can show you what else my tongue piercing can do." He ran his hands up your button-up shirt, making you shiver under his cold fingers. You felt your cheeks become hot at the sentence; you knew him for over a decade and still couldn’t get used to his flirtatious demeanor.

"Maybe later, but we have to go now." You pulled away while adjusting your black-framed glasses. It takes some time for the burning sensation on your cheeks to fade away. Shinji followed behind as you opened the door, which revealed the familiar set of teenagers. Shinji put his arm around your shoulder and glared at the group, specifically Ichigo. Ichigo rolled his eyes, and Orihime waved as Uryu and Chad turned their heads away from the couple. Keigo's cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, his mouth dropping from pair. He was undoubtedly thinking negatively. "Eh? What the hell are you guys doing outside the door waiting for?" You whacked Shinji's arm as he swore at the gathering of first-year students. Ichigo scoffed at the man with blonde hair who stuck his tongue out and stuck the middle finger from behind your head.

"Are you blind? We're here to put these supplies up! But, of course, you're absent from class!" The Kurosaki argued back with the third year, who was grinding his teeth together, trying to keep back a torrent of vulgarities and insults. "What on earth were you two doing in the closet?" Keigo asked, his curiosity (and nosiness) getting the best of him. "What did you think we were doing?! Picking fucking daisies?!" He snapped at the youngster, who shrieked and hid behind Chad. Keigo's eyes widened as his cheeks blushed again, putting two and two together. You sighed and pinched your boyfriend's cheek, inflicting pain on him. "I'm sorry about him. We're already late, Shinji, so let's go." You waved farewell to the teens and tugged on his arm as he followed, not before turning around and flashing the middle finger at Ichigo, who quickly returned the gesture.

"I can’t believe L/n-san is dating someone like him." Ichigo grimaced at the sight of the male, who grinned and pulled you closer to him while giving multiple kisses to your lips, not caring about the students walking by. "They’re so cute! From what I heard, they’ve been in a relationship since elementary school!" Orihime squealed at the couple, and Keigo's mouth dropped to the floor. Elementary school?! He remembered when all the girls ran away from him on the playground. How could someone like you date a delinquent like Shinji? "Huh?! Is that why he’s so obsessed with L/N? I wish someone loved me like that." Crocodile tears streamed down his face as he looked at the couple. "Maybe because you’re a weirdo." "WHAT?!"

"Babe, why did you do that." Shinji massaged his reddish cheek while pouting. "I warned you about cursing at the first years, Shin." You just stated, as he sneered and rolled his eyes, this wasn't his first time in trouble for yelling or cursing at a group of students. He still remembered how the majority of them accused him of insulting them, which resulted in him being thrown in detention. "Are we going to your house today?" You changed the subject because you didn't want to hear his complaints. "Yeah, my mom is working the night shift, and Hiyori is staying at Mashiro's. So we can have as much fun as we want." You didn't have to look at him to notice the type of smile he wore as he leaned into your ear.

"You’re right, we can have fun all night." Your fingertips brushed against his exposed collarbones as you moved your hand up his chest. "But if you could just do one thing for me, please." As your hand moved to caress his cheek, you grinned. Shinji nodded while becoming utterly hypnotized. "If you don't make any more trouble today, I'll give you anything you want." Your minty breath fanned over his lips as your lips brushed against his. Shinji nodded his head again after taking a quick look at your lips. Knowing that the only way to persuade him to behave properly is to bring something to the table, you hummed and pulled him into a kiss.

ʚɞ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ "FINALLY, I'm done." Shinji sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. He clicked the x to close each tab while complaining. He put the joint to his lips while leaning back on the headboard and proceeded to doze off while gazing at his roof, the music playing from the speakers lulling him into a trance. When he heard the bathroom door open, he turned his attention away from the roof and watched as you emerged from the room wearing just a shirt. His eyes studied your physique, revealing just how much those workouts altered your body. You chuckled at your partner, who was virtually stripping you down with his eyes, when you heard the wolf whistle from across the room. "Nice thighs, babe." He smiled at you as you took off the shower cap from your hair and showed him your h/c locs, which were no longer pulled into a ponytail.

"Thank you, baby. Did you finish your homework?" You slipped into the bed as he blew out the smoke, his half-lidded eyes peering back into yours. "Mhmm, now come sit on my lap." He patted his lap with the same grin on his face. When you got into his lap, his hand grabbed your waist and pulled you closer until your chest touched his. Shinji's half-lidded eyes scanned your features; your beautiful e/c eyes were enough to put him in another trance. Not to mention how your h/c locs and the golden jewelry swayed with every movement you made. In his eyes, no one was as beautiful as you. "My boyfriend is so pretty." He muttered, his hand resting on your thigh and letting the flesh seep through his fingers. "Mine is too." You beamed, your hands running past his tank top to feel his toned chest.

"Gimme a kiss." He grinned and placed the joint on the tray, now gripping your ass with both hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in. Once your plump lips met his, he pushed his tongue past your lips. Allowing him to explore the damp cavern, the subtle taste of bubblegum toothpaste lured him closer. He groaned when he felt your ass against his clothed cock. From the way you rocked back and forth on his lap, you were completely aware of what you were doing. "Mhmm." You moaned when he began to rock your hips against his rising boner; his mouth completely absorbed the rest of your sinful sounds. When he pulled away from the kiss, you whimpered while he grinned and gently pushed you down onto the mattress. The blonde took the joint and pressed it to his lips, chuckling at his boyfriend, who squirmed on the mattress. "S–Shin please." You called out to your lover as you rubbed your thighs together, yearning for friction since he had stopped.

Shinji put the stick down and crawled between your legs after deciding to listen to your pleading. "Please what baby?" He sucked on your neck with a sideways tilt of his head and a smirk on his lips. The smell of brown sugar drove him to lick and suck every area of your neck, and he could feel himself growing drunk on your trademark scent. When you wrapped your legs around his waist and yanked on his golden locks, he let out a moan. "I-I need you right now." You exhale, the cold metal on your skin making you quiver. Shinji chuckled and drew away from your neck, exposing the dark marks he'd produced on your flesh. He bit his lip and placed his fingers around your neck as he felt himself becoming harder at the sight. His slim fingers gripped the sides of it, causing you to choke on your moans.

"So pretty." He muttered as he removed your shirt, exposing your beautiful dark brown skin. His fingertips skimmed across your beautiful skin before brushing against your nipples, causing you to tilt your head back. "A little sensitive, aren’t you?" He questioned, his thumb and index finger rolling over the sensitive bud while sucking on the other. "O-Oh, Shinji." As he continued to suck on the delicate flesh, you fisted his hair when he tugged on the bud before flicking it off with his tongue. Shinji rutted his hips against yours once more after hearing you say moan his name countless of times. "Shin, p–please kiss me." You exhaled through the moans as he lifted his head from your chest, smirking as he observed your dazed expression.

When his lips made contact with yours, he pushed past your luscious lips. As he groaned against the warmth of your lips, his hands explored your thighs once more. He couldn't get over the smooth tenderness of your lips, no matter how many times he kissed you. His saliva tasted like the sweets he had recently eaten. You both kissed each other as though one of you was going to vanish at any moment. You whimpered as he broke away, missing the feel of his lips. His lustful gaze returned to your needy ones. When he noticed you pouting, he sucked his teeth. "What exactly is it now?" He sighed. You were always so damn whiny when you got worked up. "Can you take your s–shirt off? Please?" You pulled on the fabric that covered his torso, concealing the other tattoos as well. Shinji's eyes softened, and he said, "Of course, baby." He yanked off the tank top and tossed it across the room.

He witnessed as your eyes sparkled at the sight of his chest, your fingertips brushing against the tattoos on his torso. "Do you like what you see?" He teased you as you nodded mindlessly, your gaze fixed on his chest, notably his nipple piercings. "Take off your pants, too." Shinji raised an eyebrow when you spoke to him. What? The way you talked to him gave the impression that he had already fucked your head up. He took both of your hands and pinned them above your head, making you squirm at his gaze. "What's the magic word, sweets?" He asked, his other hand clasping around your neck once more. You poked your lips out while making your infamous puppy eyes at him. "Please?" You tilted your head, giving it a more innocent appearance.

"Good boy. You won’t be needing these anymore." He slapped your thigh before tearing your underwear off, causing you to gasp as cold air hit your cock. When he reached down to the waistline of his sweatpants and teasingly tugged at the fabric, you bit your lip. Shinji laughed again when he heard your whining. "Please, hurry up." You whispered, your mouth watering. Shinji finally decided to stop his taunting and removed his sweatpants and underwear. "O-Oh my," you spoke unconsciously, leaving you in awe of his glory. His gaze moved down your body, stopping on your member that begged to be stroked. "Would you take a look at that? Someone is quite eager." He teased, making you cover your face with your hands.

"Don't look away, baby; let me see that pretty face of yours." He pulled your hands off your face and repeatedly pecked your lips. Even though this wasn't the first time you had seen Shinji naked or stripped off in front of him, it always made you shy. Before taking you and his cock and holding them in one hand, Shinji gave you one final kiss on the lips. His hands felt so amazing on yours that you softly moaned when they made contact with your erection. You both made a series of moans as soon as he started moving his hand. The unfamiliar sensation was like bliss. "Shit, this felt better than last time." Shinji cursed as he watched the gorgeous look on your face transform into unbearable pleasure. From the looks of it, this was going to be a long night for you both.

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