#mr prince’s head of security

[georgiapeach30513]

Nothing You Could Do, Part 1

Summary: You were just a sassy bartender minding your business, and then he showed up. America's prince, soon to be king, or in other word's future President of the United States of America. Things kicked off way too fast. You just want to be your normal self. But Steve Rogers needs you. Can you navigate being a self sufficient woman in DC, and the woman on his arm?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, PIV sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), squirting, rough, degradation, dumbification, spitting, stuffing things in reader's mouth, cum play, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.3K

*dividers created by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Steve leafs through a few more papers before laying them down on his desk. He runs his hand over the back of his neck, massaging the ache that he’s had there for over an hour. Things are becoming a reality. He is a candidate for president of the United States of America. Something he’s wanted his entire life. And yet, something still feels off.

Be a good man. That’s what his mother repeated to him everyday growing up. She didn’t care where he landed in life, she just wanted to make sure he was a good man. He thinks for the most part he’s accomplished that. Some, only Gail, would say that he didn’t find someone to share it with. But in all fairness, he’s never truly looked. Someone would come along if they were meant to share a life with him.

But who would want to share a life with him now? Now that he is starting to campaign for president. This isn’t an easy life. It’s nonstop. It would need to be someone willing to give up so much of themselves, and their life, and he’s not ready for that. Nor should it be what he’s worried about right now.

Right now he wants to sign a few more things, and head out. His one night a week that he asks for. This may be the last one, not if he has it his way. He gives up so much of his time, and that’s okay, but he still needs those couple of hours to just drink some beer at the bar. Pretend he isn’t who he is. Deny it if he’s asked.

“Boss?” Steve politely rolls his eyes while looking down before he greets the means well, but still annoying personal assistant Peter. “Um, you told me to tell you when it was six o’clock, sir, Mr. President, Rogers, sir.”

“Steve is just fine,” he reminds him again. Steve scribbles out his signature before stacking the papers in a neat pile, and tucking them into an envelope. “Can you make sure that Natasha gets these?” He asks, standing up to grab his coat.

Peter clears his throat, and then straightens up quickly, “Gail said that you don’t need to go out tonight.”

“Gail needs to mind her business.”

“She’s worried about security, sir,” Peter grabs the coat from Steve, and holds it up. Helping him get in, while Steve is trying to not be frustrated.

“Bucky will be with me,” Peter clears his throat, and shakes his head no. “Bucky will be late?”

“She thinks that Mr. Barnes gets distracted while it’s just the two of you,” there is no one that has ever looked after Steve quite like Bucky.

“Does she propose I take Sam with me?”

“The future vice president at a bar with the president?” Peter cringes. Steve could almost get away with it on his own. He just doesn’t shave before going out. Shaving was for the television. Who knew a beard could make all the difference in one’s appearance.

“Look, kid, Bucky can handle this. Even with a distraction there is no one I trust more than him to keep me safe. Now if you would excuse me I have somewhere I need to be. I’ll have Bucky text you the coordinates for the bar tonight. By the way, he went there earlier this week, and cleared it. You’re welcome,” Steve walks out, leaving Peter’s breathing to increase.

His job isn’t to make sure that Steve listens to everything Gail suggests, no. Peter’s job was to assist Steve. If Gail would let him do his job, he would be quite excellent. Less annoying because all he wanted was to please Steve, but feels an obligation to please Gail. A stickler for doing things by the book.

He walks out of his office, and directly into the parking lot where Bucky is waiting with a car. The one person that is bound and determined to make sure that Steve remains Steve, and not Mr. Rogers or just Mr. President. Bucky keeps Steve humble and grounded. And he’s not above reminding Steve of his tiny and sickly self. It’s what makes the world go round.

“Slade!” Your head turns to the door, where your boss screams a name that is definitely not yours, but fake names in this city are always a good idea. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Smoking,” you smile, bringing the stick to your mouth for a quick pull, and he jerks it out of your hand, “Hey! That was my cigarette!”

“That was a stick,” you know it was only a stick, you weren't a moron. “Why are you out here pretending to smoke a stick?”

“Because Anna comes out here to puff on a stick that causes cancer. Jacob vapes, and who knows what issues that could cause, and they are out here for twenty minutes, without clocking out, so they get paid.”

“It’s an addiction,” he says, his voice flat.

“An addiction that is being rewarded, while me, who doesn’t smoke, is working inside by myself. So I have decided that I am taking a smoke break twice a night, and getting paid for it as well. Scott, you know I’m right. They are costing you money,” you can’t exactly argue with reality. Deny it if he wants to, you are taking it upon yourself to make sure you are fairly treated like the other.

He rolls his eyes, holding the door open for you, “Get back inside.”

Lifting up your watch you shrug, “I’ve still got five minutes left.”

“You’ve seriously been standing out here, sucking on a stick for fifteen minutes?”

You laugh, shaking your head no. That is just silly, “No. I’ve been standing out here holding a stick for fifteen minutes. I only sucked on it when you came out here and disturbed my peace. Do you come out here when everyone else is smoking?”

“They’re actually smoking,” he says flatly.

”I don’t want to get cancer, but I also would like to have a paid break just like everyone else. Would you prefer that I took a beer break?” Scott seems to be playing favorites, when you know that it’s really yourself that is the favorite.

“No,” he walks off, but you decide you’re going to follow him, and annoy him. He’s easy to annoy, and you quite enjoy it. “Slade, quit following me.”

“We’re not finished with this conversation. I’m trying to figure out why I am not allowed to take a smoke break and not spend money, and not get cancer,” perfect logic.

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to waste my money on vape or cigarettes. I don’t want cancer. But I do want to go outside and ‘smoke’,” you wiggle your fingers in quotations to emphasize how you're not actually going to be smoking, in case he forgets. “In this society as a woman it’s hard enough for me to make it ahead of men anyways. I’m just trying to better myself. Trying to do what’s right in a man’s world, while saving my money in order to buy a house.”

“You could make more money dancing,” you retch. He’s suggested this a few times to you, and you just feel in DC if you became a dancer, then you would become the dirty little secret of some politician. One that doesn’t want you to dance for others anymore. Just him. Or her. Hey, it’s a modern world. Corrupt politicians are a dime a dozen, and it doesn’t discriminate against genders.

“I’m just saying,” Scott isn’t creepy. It’s this back and forth game you play. His bar doesn’t actually have dancers.

“I make very good tips here.”

“And once you’ve bought your house what are you going to do?” You hadn’t really thought about that. You had a goal, a big pretty white house with a nice fenced in yard. You’d get a dog. You’re unsure of the breed, but you want to adopt. Maybe a cute little mutt. “So you make the money for a house, and then what? You keep working here?”

“Yes! Because what is life if I can’t annoy you on a regular basis?” Scott rolls his eyes, and points behind the bar. “We’ll continue our conversation at another time, Mr. Lang. Please, make sure you leave any suggestions in the little box in my locker for me!”

“Get back to work!” He screams over his shoulder. You are back at work. And only one man is at the bar, and the suspicious man from earlier this week is just randomly walking around. You narrow your eyes as you watch the odd man before leaning on the bar to the slumped over man.

“You look as if you need Advil,” and a really long nap.

“Do you have any?” He asks, his hand goes to massage his neck, lifting himself up in the process, and you gulp. This man is obnoxiously attractive. His hair is just that odd length of long that you crave, and the blue behind his glasses is gorgeous. And then he gives you a cocky sideways grin.

“No,” he furrows his brows at your weird inflection of your tone, “You need to just lean right on over. I can’t look at you and hold a conversation.”

“Why?” Why? Did he seriously ask you why? Because he’s too fucking attractive.

“Because you’re the stupid kind of attractive that gets me in trouble,” the kind of attractive that makes you fall in love on a first date, and then you let him walk all over you.

“Oh yeah? And how’s that?” Could he not be so — pretty? There’s this adorkable quality to him, and you want to throw your bar towel in his face. Just to hide his looks, and eyes from looking in your direction. Turd.

“Well, you’re the annoying attractive man that sits there, and flirts with me all night.”

“Oh really?” You weren’t even finished! Yep. He’s the kind. He’s already interrupting your thought process.

“The kind that acts all innocent, and then when they see me about to close down the bar, you whisper in my ear, ‘You wanna continue this conversation?’ And the answer is yes, yes, I want to continue this conversation. And of course you’re going to take me to some sleazy hotel room, and there’s no talking involved at all, just horizontal dancing. And you know what the worst part is?”

“I don’t, but I have a feeling no matter what my answer is, you are going to tell me anyway. So why don’t you just go ahead and tell me, so I don’t have to play a guessing game,” oh, he’s good. He is hitting all your morally gray flags.

“The worst part is you’re the type of man that could get me to role play, and quite honestly, I’ve never understood the point. Here we are two adults, and we can be who we say that we are, you know?” Do you even know? Because you are not even Slade.

“What’s wrong with role play?” Oh, cheeky son of a bitch. “And do you actually have Advil?” You do. You reach into your apron, because yes, bastards here can be annoying, and you just need something to ease the pain in your head since you can’t tell them that they’re insufferable and you don’t want to converse with them. Good tips are important. “You’re not trying to poison me are you?”

To prove that you aren’t, you take two pills out for yourself before offering them to him. God, he has nice hands. No! Do not fall for this sorcery. “The problem with role play is the fact you spend a few hours on a scene, instead of just getting to the good part.”

“What’s the good part?” He cocks up an eyebrow at you, and you just know this asshole is enjoying this.

“Sex of course,” he licks his lips slowly, and you watch every movement of every goddamn muscle like you’re studying for a test. He has the best crinkles around his eyes. He’s not some young boy, so you know he knows how to use what he’s got, “What do you want to drink?” You have got to create some space between the two of you and this conversation. It’s derailing, and if you don’t stop he’ll be in the supply closet with you on your knees. This man is making it hard to breathe.

“Just some beer on tap. I’m not that picky.”

“Seriously? I would have pegged you for a Miller guy or something,” that stupid eyebrow does that thing again. “Maybe Budweiser. You seem all American,” he seems like he would look great over you. STAP!!! Focus.

“Please, don’t peg me,” you’re the one smirking at him now. Those powerful men love being pegged. So your bestie, who is just some girl on TikTok and you don’t know her at all, but that’s what she says. Powerful men love to be topped. Being a power bottom somehow makes them feel free to not think, and they can just enjoy.

“He’s got jokes,” you wink at him, starting to fill him a glass up.

“Well, you’re the one that brought up sex,” you lay the pint in front of the man, sliding it over. Watching as he takes a drink.

“How’s my head?” He chokes. Sputtering beer onto the bar, and the odd man that has been here nearly every night this week turns to look at him. “That bad? I’ll have to try better next time.”

“This isn’t at all how I saw my evening going. Do you have a name?”

“Slade. And you?”

He picks up his phone, looking through something, and you fear you might have gone too far, “I would have pegged you for a Meadow.”

“What?” where the hell did that come from?

“Slade means valley. Meadow seems a bit more suitable for you. Ah, but it also means a place of refuge, and that’s what you’ve been for me tonight,” you smile softly. Not your flirty little smile, but a smile of being seen for once. Somehow your awkward humor has given the bar hottie some refuge from whatever has given him a headache, “Steven.”

“We can forgo last names tonight, Steven. What is it that you do? You’re definitely a politician,” the stupid eyebrow again! Curse him and his sexy hot ways. You’d think he was an asshole, if he wasn’t also just so sweet. “Let me guess a congressman?”

“Presidential candidate,” you guffaw. Snort. Seriously, it’s the ugliest laugh that has ever come out of your mouth, and the weird shadow man looks over at the two of you again. He’s probably this man’s bodyguard. Ahh, makes sense. He was canvassing the place. You wonder what he discovered.

“Okay,” you answer, pouring the two of you a shot of vodka. Sliding it over towards him, you raise your hand for a cheer, “To Mr. President.”

“To Meadow,” whatever. You didn’t care what you called him. They’re all fake names anyways. He’s going with a presidential candidate just as much as you’re going to be the Queen of England.

You raise the glass to your lips, drinking it all down, “If you’re the presidential candidate then I’m the Princess of Genovia.”

“That’s a made up country. Wouldn’t you rather a real one?” It’s endearing that he knows that at all.

“Princess of Monaco.”

“Alright, Grace Kelly,” stupid damn crooked smile.

“I thought I was your Meadow?”

“Mine?” Fuck his eyebrow. “When did you become mine?”

“I suppose it was the moment you and your stupid brow did that thing. Could have been when you looked at me. I guess it was that easy,” shit. Shit shit shit. “Not that I’m easy. It was easy. It meaning I’m going to shut my damn mouth, Mr. President. Would you like another glass of cheap beer?” imagine, the president at this dive bar drinking cheap beer!

“No, I don’t like to be fully impaired.”

“Fully impaired for what?” Good grief! “Man, fuck your eyebrows.”

“Sorry, they’ve offended you, my Meadow. That was never the intention. Of course, my intention was to come here for a beer, and then I ran into an awkwardly charming bartender who just so happens to be the Princess of Monaco. Does this mean we’re role playing?” Shit! One conversation, and now he’s role playing with you. You said you didn’t like that.

“Does this mean we’re eventually going to get to the good stuff?” You’ve made a fool of yourself this entire conversation, but for some unknown reason it worked. This man is lying about who he is, just like you are, but you don’t care. The only thing that you care about now is feeling him. He’ll be gone before you wake up. But you have to know what his dick looks like. And just how long he doesn’t last.

“Are you going to try to do better at your head?” Oh he is a cheeky little bastard. So those gray flags that you always ignore are starting to turn into a shade of green. No man is perfect. And this is just the good stuff after the role play.

“I’ve never had anyone complain about my head before,” his tongue moves out of his mouth, and he traces it over his pillow pink lips. Pulling the puffy bottom into his mouth before he bites on it. After the distraction you look at his left hand, “Are you married, Mr. President?”

“I’m not.”

“Are you lying?”

“No,” the ultimate red flag is non-existent. He could be lying, but there isn’t a tan line. there always is. These politicians love to traipse around with their shiny band for everyone to see, but they come in here, and remove it, but the line remains. They can fool the country, but they can’t fool the bartender that they want to fuck.

“So which sleazy hotel are we going to?”

“The Four Seasons,” now you’re the one to choke. Obviously he isn’t running for president because he wouldn’t be caught dead taking a broke bartender into The Four Seasons with him, “Only the best for the Princess of Monaco.”

Your body slams into the wall, while Steven fumbles around with the keycard. His mouth is devouring your own, and you moan at the taste of beer lingering on his tongue. He pulls you in tighter to his body, his leg bent at the knee so you straddle his leg in the most unladylike way, and you grind down on him, “The Princess of Monaco is…”

“If you say slutty, Mr. President, we’re going to have a problem,” his chuckle is low and rumbling as he finally gets the damn door open, and he drags you into the suite with him. His mouth attaches to whatever part of your body he can get to. Nipping and sucking on your neck while you stare in awe looking at the suite.

“Holy fuck,” you surmise, gazing at how beautiful this room is. It’s bigger than your fucking apartment. Maybe he isn’t a politician but a businessman. Maybe he was in the mob! You won’t say a word. Steven is probably a made up name just like Slade. Meadow is nice. You could change your name to Meadow.

“If you think my mouth is good here, just you wait,” he rips at your jeans. Pulling them apart, and you look at him confused. Did he just speak? Wait, the good stuff is supposed to be happening. But this view!

“What?” He stopped for some reason.

“What?” He stands up straight, realizing your needy little body has stopped humping air, and he wonders if things have changed instantly. “What is happening?”

“I was looking at the suite. You can continue to undress me. I can let you fuck me from behind while I look at this view. Holy hell!”

Stepping away from him, you go over to the window, staring out at the city. It’s amazing. Beautiful in a weird way. “Are you not into — did I read everything wrong here?”

“Oh, no. I’m totally down to fuck. I have this huge, giant need to know what your dick looks, feels, and tastes like. But I’m just seriously caught up in this room. Holy shit, how much did this cost?” Too much. Steven is in the mob. His name is probably Captain Shawshank!

“Do you realize you’ve said holy in front of every curse word known to man?” Lies.

“Holy damn. Now, I believe that’s all the words,” you practically skip out of the living area, and walk into one of the rooms, whistling. “There’s more than one room in here. After you fuck me are you going to make me go into another room to sleep, so you can be in here alone? Are you going to call me a car, and I have to walk out the back door? Are,” his thick finger presses up against your mouth, and he shushes you like you're a damn child.

“None of the above. I’m going to take your pants off, and throw you on the bed. Then I’m going to crawl in between your legs, and suck on that pretty little clit that is swollen and in need of attention. Then I’m going to fuck you like a dirty little slut. You know longer will be the Princess of Monaco, but the President’s whore,” green flag. Green flags all around! You would very much like to be ‘the president’s whore’. Clearly, you’re into role play after all.

“I like that,” you sigh.

He presses his mouth against yours. Biting on your lower lip, “You like that?” The timbre of his voice rattles you to your core, and arousal floods your nether region, and you begin to hump the air again. His smile is full of sin, and you wish his leg was in between your thighs again.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. Pulling off your lip he picks you up, and tosses you onto the bed. He takes a few steps towards you, and you shake your head, “You told me you were going to crawl in between my legs, that is very much walking.”

Steve growls but does get down on his knees, and he crawls to the bed. Gripping to your foot, he yanks you down to the edge of the bed, and rips apart your legs. Kissing in between your thighs before he begins to pull your pants off. Inhaling so deeply when your mound is uncovered by denim, “Did you just smell me? What do I smell like?”

“Heaven,” he answers coolly. He tosses your pants to the side before he returns to pull your panties down.

“You do have a condom, right? I actually never have sex with random strangers, especially not ones that claim that they’re a presidential candidate. You know, you really do sound insane when you say that,” he chuckles, and you feel it right on your sex. He’s controlling you with his voice alone. He hooks his fingers around the elastic of your panties, and starts to pull.

It’s both too fast, and not fast enough, “You didn’t answer about the condom part. I am on birth control, but Mr. President, you could have a disease that I can’t wash off,” he stops the descent of your panties, leaving you spread and bear, and it causes you to whine in protest. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and he tosses you a condom. Then another. And another. And another.

“Stop!” You scream sitting up, and looking into his wallet. “How many are there?”

“There should only be five, but I don’t like odd numbers so there’s six,” that fucking eyebrow. He knows. You told him what that damn thing does to you, and now he’s using it against you.

“Ahh!” You shove your hand over his brows, and try to breathe, “Are they expired? Why do you have six?”

“Because I don’t like odd numbers,” he repeats, smiling, and even though you can’t see it, you know he’s moving that stupid sexy brow. How are eyebrows sexy again?

“No, I mean, did you intend to sleep with six random strangers tonight? Or…?” Please say no!!

“Princess, I don’t sleep around because it usually comes back to bite me in the ass,” sure sure because ‘he’s a presidential candidate’. “But if I ever decide to fuck someone as you so colorfully say, I don’t want one time typically. I want it all night. So why don’t you check the expiration dates, while I have a snack,” he sinks lower on the floor, before he’s face to face with your pussy.

He rips your panties off, “I’ll have more delivered here,” he says before licking a swipe up your slit, and he moans. A moan so deep and guttural that your eyes roll in the back of your head, and you drop back on to the bed, and grab one of the condoms.

Steve buries himself in your drenched folds. His beard tickles your thighs and puss in the best possible way. Vision? Who needs it? You most certainly did, until whatever the fuck he’s doing with his tongue happened. It flicks over your overly sensitive nub while both his hands pull you apart, “What a pretty little pussy this is.”

Oh, this man is about to dirty talk you into an orgasm. The art of dirty talk is lost on most men. They don’t understand the importance of being vocal. Moan at the tastes and pleasures that we women give you. Tell us what you’re going to do with us. We’re not made of glass, and a lot of the time, women want you to be rough as fuck.

He pushes two fingers inside your wet heated channel, and moans again, “What’s the matter, princess? You already going dumb on just my fingers?” No, you’re not. You’re enjoying the feeling. “Go on, what’s the expiration date, baby?” His lips wrap around your clit, and he gives the button a hard suck, causing you to see stars. Mewling out his name, and your legs start to tighten around him.

He uses the width of his body to keep you good and spread, and tsks you, “I’ve just got started. But I need you to be a good girl, and read me what the expiration date on the condom is. Just to make sure it’s allowed for me to fuck you. If they’re expired, then I guess there’s going to be no fucking, or I’ll have to call someone to bring me a box of condoms, and I really don’t want to do that.”

You don’t want that either. No no. You want at least six times tonight. He can call for another box later in the night. Wait, who the fuck is bringing him condoms? What a weird thing to call for. Can you have condoms DoorDashed?

He pumps his fingers into you, and you attempt to read the back of this packet. Why the hell is it shiny? And where is the damn expiration date? You know that they have them. “Your pussy is so fucking greedy. You think she can handle a third finger?” No, but you’d like to try.

“I think she can. Just gotta ease number three in,” pleasure blinds you, and again, you can’t read anything on the back of this stupid tiny foil packet. Thank goodness you’re not allergic to latex because you can’t hold off a single second of actually seeing how his cock feels inside of you. “Go on. I know you can do it,” condescending sexy as fuck asshole.

“Steven, I can’t,” he lets his teeth drag over your clit, and you sob out his name again. “Steven!”

“That’s Mr. President to you, princess. Now, try again. Read the expiration, and I’ll give this greedy little pussy what she really wants, my throbbing fat cock,” yes. Yes, that is exactly what your pussy wants. You wish he’d give it to her right now. When the hell did you start referring to your puss as a she? The power of Steven, Mr. President.

“Mr. President, I can’t.”

“Then I’m going to stop,” you sit up on your elbows to stare at his beard soaked in your essence, and he leans back on his calves. Leaning away from her! Your pussy. “Read the expiration date first. And then I’ll let you come on my fingers. And after that, if the condoms aren’t expired, I’ll fuck you like the needy little slut that you are.”

“Oh my god!” The sound of your voice is like a bratty child. You want him so bad. So much. That’s another reason that you can’t even concentrate. You’re horny, and you need to come. “Mr. President, I wanna come!”

“Expiration date, sweetheart.”

You growl in protest but read over this tiny stupid fucking print. Who the hell did this? Who designed this to look like this? Stupid people that weren’t in the middle of getting their back broken by a lying fucking god. If he was telling the truth, you’d be fucking a presidential candidate. Haha, wouldn’t your parents be so proud that you took someone like him home? Well, he paid for the damn room. At least he has money.

“Ahh! Ooh ooh! They don’t expire for another three months! Make me come.”

“As you wish,” he says before he is tongue fucking you into oblivion. You thought his fingers felt nice. This is a different feeling. This is primal. My god, he’s so dirty, and you almost hope he is a presidential candidate, just so you will know how a president fucks. His tongue is replaced by three fingers, and he sucks and finger fucks you roughly.

Slamming those fingers into your body like it’s what he was made to do. Curling his digits and hitting a spot in your body that only you have only discovered. No man has ever found this hidden gem. The dam to pleasure. It only means one thing, and you try to tighten your legs together. Shivering at the build up that he’s creating.

“You dirty little slut. You know what I’m trying to do, don’t you?” he’s trying to soak himself, and you for that matter.

“Mr. President!” Your voice is so uneven. He’s gotta stop hitting that spot or else…

“Go on, darling. Soak me. Squirt all over me. Come on. Give it to me. Give me what I want. Yes! Fucking yes!” He yells out a hoop of triumph as you squirt arousal all over his chest. “Fucking dirty girl,” he pushes his face back into your wetness, and laves up your juices. Giving you the time that you need to come down from that fucking high.

Before you even realize what is happening, he’s pulling off his shirt, and he looks better with it off. A few hidden tattoos that make you drool. If he’s telling the truth, he’s going to be the hottest fucking president ever. And he has hidden tattoos? Drool. God help your body. He pulls off his pants, and of course he’s a boxer briefs man. You want to cry happy tears at the size of his bulge. You’re a glutton for punishment, and you want him to ruin your cunt. Judging from the impossible starin of his underwear, he’s going to.

Leaning over your body, he starts chuckling as he removes your shirt. “Are your legs like jello, princess?” Yes. He just made your body have a damn waterfall, and your brain is trying to catch up, and he has the arrogance to ask that? Yes. You are jello. “I like seeing you pliable like this. Just means I’m going to get to fuck you the way I want to.”

Whoever is out there to ask for forgiveness, you promise to after he treats you like his own personal whore. Removing your bra, he smirks, “Yeah,” he slaps at your tits, moaning when you yip at the slight pain. “Perfection. I’m about to make you my little sex doll. What do you think about that?”

“Yes, please!” You sound like an idiot, and you don’t care. “Mr. President. I want to see your cock, please.”

“Oh, and she’s got manners, too. Does she just want me to forgo niceties, and just fuck you like the needy little slut you are?”

“Oh god, yes,” he reaches on the bed to retrieve one of the six condoms, and then starts to roll down his underwear. You try to be polite, and look him in the eyes, but there’s a glorious cock right there, that you have to see. He peels them down further, and his cock springs to life. Perfect. Pretty spongy mushroom tip with beads of precum oozing out. A beautiful vein traced on the underside of his cock, and right up his happy trail.

You want to bite it. Trace that vein with your tongue. You’re such a loser simp for this beautiful man, and you don’t care. You’ll shout it to the world that you are his sex toy if he wants you to. You didn’t care as long as he puts that pretty cock inside of you.

Steven brings the packet to his mouth, and his teeth clamp on a corner before he peels it off. Spitting the corner off with a pffft. Bits of his spittle float into the air, and you wish he’d just spit on you. In you. Make you swallow it, you didn’t care. He curls his finger, wiggling it, and beckoning you closer. You clamber up on your knees, both of you naked and ready to be owned and claimed by the other.

“If you want me, put it on me,” you look at him through your lashes before you take the packet, and pull the rubber out. You grip his velvet steel rod in your hand before placing the latex on the tip, and roll it down his length. Counting inches as you go along.

“Nine. Inches that is, and you’ll take every inch,” his voice is so gruff, and you can’t wait to try and fit his heavy, hot, pulsing cock inside of you.

“I do love a challenge.”

“Then lay back. Because I’m not stopping until every inch is inside of you,” every glorious nine inches of him. Yep. You’re a goner. Done. Finished. Whatever it is that he has, you’re taking. You settle yourself back on the bed, and Steven knees himself to his perfect spot, and uses his cock to slap over your clit.

He wiggles his tip through your slick. Always ending at your clit, and he adds a bit more pressure. Running the tip through your warmth, and pushes through your entrance, and he pulls back up. Repeating the process over and over again, until you’re weak, and wondering when you actually get to feel him.

Steven sinks into you past the tip. Watching you to make sure you’re still okay with where things are going, and adds another inch. You hiss at the wide stretch. He’s not just long, he is so wide. His fullness pushes you open in the most lewd and salacious way. This is such a vulgar moment, and yet it still feels so right. It feels like heaven.

Adding another inch, you grab onto his forearms, nodding for him to continue. Another inch. And another. Not stopping until the tip whispers against your cervix, and he’s fully sheathed in your warmth. “Do you want me to treat you like a whore, or like I love you,” that’s the thing about you and him, you both know this isn’t love. It’s two adults giving each other pleasure. And you haven’t had that in so long.

“I’m your whore, Mr. President, use me,” that damn brow cocks up, and he gives you a crooked smile. A warning because he isn’t going to take it easy on you. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he lifts you up and crashes his mouth into yours in sync with how he thrusts his hips into you. He’s so deep that you go cross eyed. He’s stealing your breath away with his mouth, and the harshness of the drive of his hips.

Fucking you in two. You feel this man up to your eyeballs, “Meadow, we’re going to have a long night if you’re already going dumb. Are you giving me permission to…”

“Yes!” You shout without any hesitation. “Yes, just fuck me. Whenever, however you want. Just always wear a condom,” he nods his head once, and both his hands grip onto the headboard. And he RAILS into you. You understand the need for multiple beds now because you’re embarrassingly leaving a mess all over this one. Your arousal pools underneath you, and the squelching sounds of your cunt echo in the room.

What the fuck is he doing to your body, and how? How is he able to control your body the way he is? Make you feel floaty and boneless, while also shocking you with aching pleasure. He is glorious, and you’re going to have him all night. Who knows, maybe he can continue to come into the bar and fuck your brains out.

“You’re body is so fucking reactive,” he grunts as he drills into your body. How is this man single? There is a bad trait in there somewhere. He lies about what it is he does of course. “Hey,” he snaps his fingers at your face, “Stay with me.”

Rude. But true. His face makes this so much better. You can look at him without imagining that you have Henry Cavill fucking you. This view is very nice indeed. “Don��t stop fucking me!”

“Shh,” he coos down at you. “I know you’re going all limp and everything, but you don’t have to shout at me,” you didn’t shout, “You very much did shout. If you can’t behave I’ll have to fill your mouth with something,” he is a devil, and you scream his name again. “Suit yourself.”

“No! Come back!” Sex should always feel so good that you beg them not to leave you. “Oh,” he keeps fisting his cock, while he searches for something on the floor. “Your ass is quite nice.”

“Yours isn’t bad either. Aha!” Bending over, he retrieves something from the floor, and then looks at you with a smile. What is he going to do with that? “My my, you were soaked at the bar. Were you leaking out on your thighs?”

“Yes,” there’s no point in denying that Steven has made you wetter than anyone ever has before. He knows it, too.

“Good girl,” you want to melt. You want to die right here. He can’t be saying words like that and think that your body won’t respond. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” you respond quickly, “Such a good girl.”

He inches closer to you. His mouth hovering right over yours, and he licks up your tongue. You shiver. Your body pushes you closer to him because you want more, and he spits on your tongue, “Swallow,” you listen so well, “Very good girl. Now, get on your knees. This next part is going to go fast because your tight little pussy is making it really hard for me not to bust a nut just looking at you spread, and gaping because of me.”

“I’m — what?” You look down at your body, gasping. “What…?”

“On. Your. Knees. Or I make you watch myself come in my hand,” oh, hell no. You get onto your knees, and lean forward. Arching your back, and showing him exactly what he gets to have for the rest of the night. Well, five condoms worth. “Thatta girl,” swoon. Asshole. Asshole! He reaches around your body, shoving your panties into your mouth, and you cry, arching your back even more. He’s filthy.

Steven lines himself up to your entrance, grabbing onto your hips with so much force that you know you’ll have his fingerprints etched into your skin for a couple of days. With one hitch of his pelvis, he slams into you balls deep, “Mmm!” You don’t care, your mouth is stuffed, you’re going to be as loud as you possibly can. He fills you so well. The fullness inside of you is the most pleasant exhilaration you have ever experienced.

But the way he grunts and moans with each harsh slide into you. His balls slapping up against your clit — this is perfection. He spits down to your hole, and you just know he’s about to turn even more gray flags green, and he pushes his thumb into your puckered ass, and if you could form words, they would be thanking him.

“You’re such a fucking dirty girl. You like this? You like how I fuck you like a dirty little slut?” Yep. You like it a lot, but you can’t tell him that. Not while you’re tasting your own honey. Not while you are coating his thick cock with your cream. Not while he is filling every hole in some weird way. Nope. You can’t think. Your synapses are sparking up with so much delight. A numbing pleasure that makes no sense other than your body is lifted into another world with the god of pleasure and debauchery.

“Your pussy has been pulsing around me for five minutes, did you know that?” Yeah. You are feeling that. You even feel the vein on his cock throbbing in your tight channel. “Fuck yeah. Yes! I’m almost there. You’re coming with me,” one of his hands dips between your legs, and he rubs over your clit with so much ferocity that your legs tremble. Falling down onto the bed, and he just keeps fucking you into a black hole.

Shuddering and shaking. Muffled screams that make no sense. And his hips snap into you, darkening your backside with heat. He’s so powerful. “I’m. Fuuuuuuck! Coming,” warmth balloons into the latex, and he slows his rhythm. Easing into a slow roll of his body, until he slides out of you. Flipping you onto your back, and you are surrounded in so much wetness.

He pulls the panties out of your mouth, tossing them back onto the floor. His eyes coast over your overstimulated body, still tweaking as he pulls the condom off himself. Grabbing the tip, Steven dangles it over your mouth letting his spend drip onto your mouth where you hungrily lick it up. He could fall in love with you at this moment.

You’re the best stress reliever he’s ever had. “You look so pretty coated in me.”

“Next time, why don’t you let me feel you explode on me? I could paint myself with your cum.”

“You’re the best kind of disgusting,” he smiles, and hops off the bed, and pulls you up to him. “Let’s get you showered. Then we’ll order some room service, and you need to hydrate. You made a mess of that bed.”

“Sorry,” you cringe. As you look over the mess of the bed. It’s soaked. Ruined. You feel sorry for whoever has to clean this mess.

“Do not apologize because I wasn’t issuing a complaint. Are you tired? It is late. We’ll figure it out in the shower,” is this man really offering to shower with you? How is that both sweet and hot. “Don’t get me hard in the shower, and I know that will be difficult because I know what you feel like. Not to mention, you looking like that, and because of me, it’s really working for you,” you know you’re wrecked. Your eyelids at half mast with the high that is coursing through your body.

“Who is the talkative one now, Steven.”

“You can either call me Steve, or Mr. President, Meadow,” you see the game that the two of you are playing. And either it’s just going to be good for tonight, or you could see yourself falling for this man, despite his need to lie about his job. It’s fine. You’re fine. As long as he fucks you like that again. You can pretend he’s the future president.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @distractingbeth @buckybarnesisdaddy @musingsfromthemitten

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers

[witchywithwhiskey]

trucker prince charming (part 2)

pairing: trucker!jake jensen x sex worker!female reader

summary: you take your favorite trucker up on his offer to meet him at his rig after you finish your shift at the strip club where you work—and it's better than you imagined, which means you're in trouble.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, condom discussion, dry humping, marking/hickeys, finger sucking, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (kitten), sex worker insecurities, referenced glory hole sex, referenced abuse of power, love confession, a lot of emotions—let me know if i missed something!

word count: 9.5k

a/n: god i hope this chapter works 🫣 i struggled with it a bit, to make reader's reluctance consistent and believable. but i also wanted to to be like super romantic, so yeah, i hope it is!!! ahhh ok please enjoy more trucker jake—i hope y'all love him as much as i do!!!

trucker king masterlist

Excitement and fear roiled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel slightly queasy as you shoved your cash tips from the night into your purse in the back room of Diesel Dolls. In fact, you were trembling so hard, if you’d been wearing a pair of the sky high heels you wore when you worked the stage, you’d be worried about breaking an ankle. But your thoughts were elsewhere, on the trucker who was absolutely not your prince charming. 

As you gathered your things, all you could think about was your favorite trucker who visited you often in the glory holes at the back of the club. Jake Jensen was everything you shouldn’t want. He was one of Diesel Dolls’ most reliable regulars, always stopping by the glory holes when he passed by on the interstate—though, ever since he’d started coming to you, you were the only one he’d let take care of him.

Still, his status as a regular made any kind of outside relationship with him strictly off-limits according to the owner of the club, Mr. Ransom Drysdale. 

Mr. Drysdale didn’t take kindly to girls who formed relationships with his trucker clientele outside the club, he said it was too much of a risk of the girl stealing his business. And if Mr. Drysdale suspected anything, he was known for his harsh, humiliating punishments. He wouldn’t fire you if he found out you were planning to meet up with Jake after your shift, but he’d find a creative way for you to regret it.

Even with that thought in your mind, you couldn’t get Jake’s parting words out of your head. You kept hearing his friendly, sweet and deliciously deep voice saying to you, “I’m sleeping in my rig tonight…in case you wanna stop by.” 

Those had been the final words he’d spoken to you when he’d come to your spot at the glory holes earlier that evening, but he’d left before you could respond to the obvious offer. A part of you was grateful he hadn’t demanded an answer from you in the moment, since it meant you could think it over without any pressure from him. But it also meant that, hours later, you were still uncertain about what you were going to do. 

You were still debating it with yourself when you threw on a long jacket to cover the skimpy tank top and shorts you wore when working the glory holes, and walked out the back door of Diesel Dolls. There, you stopped short. 

In your preoccupation with Jake, you’d forgotten what to expect when leaving the club. A few of the other girls lingered outside smoking cigarettes and chatting with the security guards tasked with walking you and your coworkers to your cars. There was a bite of chill in the air that had you wrapping your coat tighter around your body while you wavered in indecision, the audience making you more anxious about what to do.

“Need a cig, girl?” asked Crystal, one of the girls that had been working at Diesel Dolls even longer than you. She held out her pack to you, her own cigarette pinched between two fingers, the smoke trailing up toward the late night sky. Her eyes were sharp as they watched you, even if her open expression seemed to be nice.

You gave Crystal a tight smile and shook your head, muttering, “No thanks.” You could feel Crystal’s eyes on you as you took two steps into the parking lot, which made the fear in your chest burn brighter than the excitement Jake’s offer had inspired.

Crystal liked to make herself out to be the motherly one of the bunch who worked at the club, the kind who would give advice to the new girls and commiserate with those who’d been working at Diesel Dolls too long. But you’d noticed the way things that seemed to only be said to Crystal had a way of getting back to Mr. Drysdale. That was enough to have your shoulders bunching up around your ears.

Crystal was the last person you wanted to see you walking to Jake’s truck. But you didn’t want to give up on him yet. You’d known Jake for a couple months while he’d been frequenting your glory hole, and you were so desperately curious about him, that you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity. So you pulled out your phone and pretended to be texting someone while you hoped the group outside the back door dispersed.

Thankfully, they all seemed to finish up soon enough and Crystal went back inside while the security guards split up to walk the other girls to their cars. You waved them off when they offered to walk you as well, claiming you had a ride coming and waited until they rounded the side of the building to where most of the girls parked their cars.

For a brief moment, you were alone with nothing but the clear night air and your thoughts. You knew it was a bad idea to go to Jake, but the pull you felt to him was too strong. It was bound to get you into some kind of trouble, whether with Mr. Drysdale or something you couldn’t even anticipate. You typically prided yourself in having a great deal of sense, but everything about your favorite trucker made you want to act like you didn’t have any. 

Before you’d even fully made up your mind, your feet began to carry you in the direction you knew you’d be able to find him. For once, your heart seemed to be making the decisions and though your brain was still listing all the ways in which things could go wrong—Jake could be horrid in person, or he could fuck you and go around the club bragging about it—they didn’t seem as important as finally finding out what it would feel like to fall into your favorite trucker’s arms. 

Diesel Dolls had a small parking lot in front and to one side of the building, but on the other side, there was a much bigger parking lot that the strip club shared with Everett’s Roadhouse. It was big enough to accommodate all the truckers and their rigs who frequented both the club and the bar. It also had special permissions that allowed the truckers to sleep there over night. 

It was to this parking lot that your feet carried you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you were swallowed up by the shadows of the massive trucks in the parking lot, your soft exhale masking the sound of the back door of Diesel Dolls closing. You didn’t hear it, though, because you were too focused on looking for the truck Jake had described to you.

Turning a corner around a big white rig, you spotted the truck that could only belong to your favorite trucker. And standing in front of it, leaning against the grill at the front, was a man. Your heart leapt in your chest as you realized it could only be him. Your favorite trucker. Your Jakey. 

Your breath caught in your throat and your feet stumbled to a stop. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and you took the moment to look him over, greedily raking your eyes down his body while he stared at something on his phone. 

Jake looked tall, even from the little bit of distance between you, with broad shoulders that filled out the bright green t-shirt he wore, which had some kind of graphic printed on the front. His jeans were a basic blue denim that fit him a little snugly, and he wore work boots that were kicking idly at the pavement of the parking lot, like he was struggling to be patient.

But what caught your attention the most about Jake was his face. You were a little surprised to discover that Jake wore glasses, but that was maybe because you’d never seen another trucker who wore them. You stared at his side profile for a long time, appreciating his strong jaw accented by the goatee framing his soft mouth. His dark hair lightened at the spiky tips, and for some reason, you found yourself craving to touch it, to run your hands through it.

All at once, you realized you’d been right about Jake—he was cute. And not just cute, he was fucking hot. You’d never seen a man who could pull off both, but your favorite trucker managed it. 

Your heart thudded in your chest and if you’d been thinking with anything but your heart, you’d have been worried about your reaction to the man who you knew you couldn’t be with. But you were only admiring your favorite trucker and thinking about how cute he looked waiting for you.

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly drifting closer to Jake until he straightened suddenly, and looked straight at you. Your breath froze in your lungs when you met his gaze, startling at the bright blue of his eyes, even shadowed as they were in the dim light of the parking lot. Your feet came to an abrupt stop and you waited anxiously while Jake took his own inspection of you, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t find you lacking.

But there was no long perusal of your body, only brief moment when eh let his gaze drop to your lips before he caught your eye again. A charmingly friendly grin spread across his handsome face, excitement rolling off him in waves that made you feel giddy.

“Kitten?” he asked, a little hesitantly. Almost like he was a little shy. 

If you hadn’t already been certain the man was Jake, his voice would’ve convinced you. It was warm and pleasantly deep, sending a delicious shiver of recognition down your spine, heat blooming in the depth of your core. A small, tentative smile curved the edges of your mouth as you walked closer to your favorite trucker, noticing that he stayed near his truck and let you come to him. 

“Jake,” you said, his name gusting past your lips in an awed exhale. He looked even more handsome up close, and your eyes couldn’t stop taking in the lines and curves of his face. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of simply looking at him.

“You came.” He stated the obvious, his voice low and gruff with an emotion that tugged at something deep inside your chest. You were drawn in closer to your favorite trucker by some invisible tether that seemed to connect the two of you. So wrapped up in the moment, you didn’t even question why you felt so deeply for a man you were only truly meeting for the first time.

You came to a stop right in front of Jake, close enough you had to tilt your head back to hold his gaze—close enough you could feel the heat of him in the chilly night air. You wanted to press even closer and wrap yourself around the big, broad man, but you held yourself back, suddenly unsure how to act without a wall of plywood between you. 

“You’re cuter than I imagined,” you said, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them, amazement making your voice breathy.

But as soon as the words registered in your mind, you winced and pressed a hand over your mouth. You were about to apologize for the backhanded compliment when Jake laughed huskily, a little bit of pink tinging his cheeks, which only made him look even cuter.

“Ya think I’m cute, kitten?” he asked, his fingers reaching out and brushing against yours, electricity zinging through your body at just that brief touch. 

Your breath hitched as your body went haywire, desire flooding through your veins and making you sway into your favorite trucker. Jake seemed to notice your reaction because a grin spread across his face and he tangled his fingers with yours while he kept talking.

“Not hot, or sexy—or studly?” His voice went much deeper on that last word to emphasize it, and you couldn’t help the startled giggle that fled from your lips. You’d suspected Jake was funny, and you were delighted to discover you were right about that too.

Jake used the moment when your guard was down to pull you into his arms, where you landed against his chest with a small huff of surprise. Immediately, your laughter died in your throat and you stared up into Jake’s eyes while he watched you with a pleased smile curling the edges of his mouth.

The thought came to you suddenly: You could fall in love with Jake Jensen. In fact, you knew, somehow, that it would be as easy as breathing to fall in love with Jake. A small part of you even thought you already were falling in love with your favorite trucker. 

But as soon as you had those thoughts, you pushed them away, the fear you’d felt earlier rearing its ugly head. You couldn’t fall in love with Jake, not when you knew you’d never be able to be with him in the way you wanted. Developing feelings for him would only lead to getting hurt and you didn’t think you’d survive the kind of hurt falling love with Jake would lead to. So you forced yourself not to think about it.

Instead, you let yourself act on instinct. You reached up and traced your fingertips gently down the side of Jake’s face, your touch so light you weren’t sure if he could even feel it. But when you got to the plump curve of his lower lip, he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening as he stared down at you so intensely, your hand fell away to fist in the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I don’t meet a lot of cute guys in my line of work,” you whispered, the words part explanation, part distraction from the way Jake was looking at you like he planned to grab you and kiss you and never let you go. “It’s…” you trailed off, not knowing where you were going with that thought.

No, that was a lie, you knew exactly where you were going, you just got scared to continue it. But Jake was patient, and he waited, his gaze expectant, and you discovered you didn’t want to let him down—either with an attempt to change the subject or with a lie.

“It’s amazing,” you said, so softly, you weren’t sure he’d be able to hear. “You’re amazing, Jakey.” Your eyes fell to his lips, looking so soft and inviting. Your favorite trucker’s mouth was so tempting, and you knew you’d never be the same once he kissed you, which scared you more than a little, your heart thudding almost painfully in your chest.

Thankfully, Jake was brave enough for the both of you. 

His arms wound around your waist, knees bending to wrap you up in his hold and haul you up close to his chest, so you were left standing on tiptoes and staring up into his beautiful blue eyes. He lowered his face until your mouths were so close, you could taste the sharp mint of his breath on your tongue, but he didn’t close the distance. 

Your heart was racing with excitement and a little bit of fear, and you could feel Jake’s arousal through your clothes, but the tension of the moment was delicious and you didn’t mind if Jake wanted to take things a little slow. At least, for the moment.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rumbled, collapsing back against the grill of his truck while he stared at you with amazement in his blue eyes. “I’ll take cute as a compliment if you’re the one saying it,” he said, his voice pitched low and earnest. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, clinging to him as you watched the edges of his mouth curve into a grin. “Hell, you can call me a cute little pup and I’ll roll over so you can pet my belly.”

Jake’s arms squeezed you tightly, holding you pinned to his chest, and a distant part of you was surprised by the fact that you didn’t feel trapped by him. You felt impossibly giddy with happiness and excitement, warmth curling pleasantly through your body as you pressed tighter against him, feeling his hard cock digging into your stomach. He was so eager for you, and it was so hot because you wanted him just as badly, but you couldn’t help teasing him a little.

“I think puppy wants something more than belly rubs,” you murmured, a smirk curling your lips. You lifted one of your feet to rest on the grill of Jake’s truck, opening your legs to grind your core against his bulge, wringing a groan out of him, his hands fisting in the jacket at your back. 

“Mm, you feel so fucking good,” he rumbled in a husky voice, then paused, pulling back enough to catch your eye. He wore an adorably confused expression. “Hang on, are you calling me or my dick ‘puppy’?”

Jake’s question startled you so much, laughter burst free from your mouth unbidden; you had to tip your head back and close your eyes to let it loose. It was the hardest you’d laughed in a very long time, your body shaking in Jake’s arms and tears springing to the corners of your eyes. 

You could feel Jake chuckling right along with you, but when you finally sobered, he’d quieted and was simply looking at you, an emotion in his eyes that was so deep and terrifying it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs.

“You have the best laugh,” Jake muttered seconds before his mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

Your first kiss with Jake was everything you’d dreamed it would be, your body lighting up and your mind going blank in a combination of delight and arousal. His mouth was warm and soft on yours, the bristles of his goatee tickling your cheeks as your mouths slid together. A giggle rose in your throat and your mouth curved in a smile as giddiness flooded through you. 

Then Jake shifted his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your head while the other remained banded around your lower back, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and coaxing a moan from you as he explored the depths of your mouth. Jake’s kiss was heady and all-consuming and you never wanted it to end—you wanted to kiss him forever and ever and ever.

By the time Jake pulled away, your lungs were burning for air and you were left panting, dragging in as much oxygen as you could. He seemed to be in much the same predicament, his chest expanding where you were draped against it, his heart beating wildly beneath where your fingers were clinging to his t-shirt.

“So, you got a bed in that big rig of yours,” you managed to ask, in between panting breaths. “Or are you planning to fuck me right here against your truck?” A cheeky grin curved your lips and you ground your core against Jake again for good measure, making his eyes go dazed and dark. His hands grabbed your ass and held you tight against his bulge while he seemed to freeze. 

For a long moment, Jake just stared at you like his brain had short-circuited, and your grin widened at the realization that you’d somehow managed to render your favorite trucker speechless. Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to come back online and he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Jake led you around to the driver’s side of his rig and opened the door, helping you up into the cab. You took a quick, cursory look around the inside of Jake’s truck as you moved directly into the backseat, where there was a soft cot covered in a haphazard pile of blankets. The bed was messy and unkempt in a way that made you smile because it just seemed so much like Jake.

Looking around, you noted that the truck cab was warm, and a little cluttered, but cozy in its own way. You’d never actually seen the inside of a long-haul truck despite servicing countless drivers at Diesel Dolls, but everything looked so high tech, you would’ve thought you were in the cockpit of a spaceship. All the dials and controls on the dashboard gave off a soft blue light, including some of the panels in the backseat around Jake’s bed. 

When you looked closer, there appeared to be a gaming system and TV rigged up in the back, and you smiled again, imagining your favorite trucker spending his spare time gaming by himself. You couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, wondering if Jake might be interested in letting you keep his cock warm while he played his games…

You were distracted from that thought by Jake hauling himself into the driver’s seat and shutting the door behind him. He had a determined look on his face while he locked the truck’s doors, checking to make sure the space was secure before he turned to you in the backseat. The corner of your mouth kicked up in a sultry grin and you leaned back on your hands, pushing your tits out as your jacket parted, revealing the tiny crop top and shorts you wore beneath it.

In the privacy of his truck, Jake let his eyes wander down your body, lingering on the way your nipples pushed through the thin cotton of your shirt. They tightened further under the intensity of his gaze, and your lips parted in a gasping breath as heat blazed between your thighs. 

But Jake’s eyes were already moving on, his gaze roving over the curves of your waist and hips and down to the plush softness of your thighs. You could almost feel his gaze like a lingering touch as he looked at your body properly for the first time. If you’d had a chance to feel at all insecure about whether he’d like your curves, the way Jake’s pupils blew wide with lust would’ve quelled it. 

Jake spent long moments simply looking at you and, after you’d taken your own moment to get your fill of him before he’d noticed you in the parking lot, you tried to be patient. But the way your body was responding to just Jake’s eyes on you made you squirm on the bed, your thighs falling open of their own accord in a wordless offering for your favorite trucker. Finally, your impatience won out.

“Now that you’ve got me in your truck,” you murmured in a husky purr, smiling seductively when Jake’s eyes met yours again. “What do you plan on doing with me?” You shifted your shoulders, letting your jacket slip down your arms in a way that you hoped was enticing enough to make him want to rip it off you entirely.

Jake’s eyes darted to your bare shoulders then back to your face before he moved from his seat, prowling toward you in a way that looked more predatory than you would’ve expected from your sweet and friendly trucker. The intensity of his gaze on you sent a thrill through your body that only heightened as he eased closer, his hands sliding beneath your jacket to grab your hips roughly. 

Holding your gaze captive with his own, Jake eased you down onto your back until you were laying in his bed, his big body covering yours. Your lungs were struggling for air, little panting breaths slipping past your lips as you followed Jake’s lead, a part of you surprised by how easy it was to give in to your favorite trucker’s whims. But you trusted him—you trusted him in a way that was probably unwise, and it occurred to you yet again that being with your trucker could lead to serious trouble for you.

But then you were laying down in Jake’s soft bed, his broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes blocking out the rest of the world, and your worries miraculously faded—helped by the fact that Jake decided to finally answer your question.

“I’ve thought about this so many times, kitten,” Jake rasped, his tone raw with emotion that had your heart racing in your chest.

There was a vulnerability in Jake’s words, and you couldn’t help but reach for him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. A soft smile played at the edges of your mouth, but it deepened when Jake leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed while he nuzzled into your palms. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts enough to continue. 

“I’ve thought about getting you in my bed so many times, I can barely believe this is real,” Jake mumbled, the words sounding like they were wrenched straight from his heart. You could feel your own heart thump in response, a little bit of fear trickling through your body that you decided to ignore. “I plan to do everything with you kitten,” Jake murmured, opening his eyes and pinning you with his fervent gaze. “But most of all, I plan to keep you.”

Your breath froze in your lungs at Jake’s pronouncement, and fear flooded your heart. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jake it was impossible—he couldn’t keep you, not while you still worked at Diesel Dolls. Not while Mr. Drysdale still owned you.

Your entire livelihood was dependent on Mr. Drysdale and Diesel Dolls. He was the only one who’d hired you when you’d come to town. And, despite all his faults, Mr. Drysdale paid well—well enough that you could support yourself. If Jake jeopardized your job at Diesel Dolls, you’d have to become dependent on him to take care of you, and you didn’t know yet if he was the kind of man who’d do that, though the part of you that was falling love with him told you that he would.

It surprised you—and scared you—how much you wanted to give your heart and soul and everything to Jake. You yearned for him in a way you never had for any other man. You felt almost desperate for your favorite trucker to be true to his word, to keep you and take care of you and make you his in every possible way. 

But you had too much sense to let yourself fall into Jake’s arms completely just yet. So you reminded yourself that your life was not a fairytale, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. No matter how much you might want him to be. Jake was a trucker, and if you knew one thing about truckers, it was that eventually, they always leave. It wasn’t worth risking your entire life for the chance of a happily ever after with him, even if your heart yearned for it.

So, while you wanted to believe Jake meant what he said—that he was going to keep you—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the time you had with him, no matter how brief it would have to be. Pulling him down for a soft kiss, you murmured against his lips.

“Do anything you want with me,” you whispered, eagerly giving your body to your favorite trucker, even as you held back from giving him your heart. “Wanna feel your cock inside me so bad, please, Jake,” you begged, muffling a whimper as you kissed his jaw.  

If Jake knew you were holding part of yourself back, he didn’t show it. Instead, he captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming all over your body, ripping off your jacket and tossing it into the front seat. As his tongue plunged into your mouth, he tugged off the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him before he pulled away to yank his shirt off over his head.

The movement knocked Jake’s glasses askew and you giggled at the sight of him, leaning up to nip at his jaw to stop yourself from calling him cute again. He huffed an impatient laugh and took his glasses off, tucking them into a compartment above your head. 

Even in the dim light of the backseat, Jake was still so attractive it took your breath away just looking at him. You couldn’t help yourself from pulling his face close to yours so you could kiss him sweetly. 

“So handsome, Jakey,” you murmured against his mouth, wanting so badly to tell him how much you liked him. You settled for wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your bare core against the bulge in his jeans. “Look so fucking hot with glasses,” you said, pausing only to kiss him again before continuing, “and just as hot without them.”

Jake chuckled huskily, his hips pressing into yours to grind his bulge against your cunt, making you gasp while he kissed along your jaw. “What happened to calling me cute?” he murmured teasingly, nipping at the lobe of your ear and laughing again when you squirmed beneath him.

“You’re still cute,” you admitted on a gasp, humping against Jake from under his large body, trying desperately to get the friction you needed against your sopping wet pussy. “And handsome and hot and—god you’re everything, Jakey,” you cried, your desire driving you to grind harder against him, your body writhing like a cat in heat. “I need you, please!”

“Alright, alright,” Jake rumbled placatingly, easing your hips back down against the bed and untangling your legs from around his hips so he could undo his jeans. 

The loss of contact made you whine impatiently, and if need wasn’t blazing through you so hotly you would’ve wondered about what Jake had reduced you to—a needy creature so desperate for him that you were whining—but you didn’t care, you just wanted him. Jake kissed your cheek to mollify you while he fumbled with his jeans.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours and taking a deep breath to settle his shaking hands. “I’ve never met a woman who wanted me so bad.”

An anger you didn’t want to analyze too closely surged through your body at Jake’s statement. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you buried your hands in his hair and pressed hot kisses to his cheeks, his temple, his forehead, anywhere you could reach.

“All the women you’ve met are fucking idiots then,” you snarled, tugging Jake’s head to the side so you could kiss down the strong column of his neck. It wasn’t like you to say such things about other women, but you couldn’t even fathom not wanting Jake with a desperation that clawed through your body. Before you could stop yourself, your lips latched onto Jake’s neck and you began sucking on his skin, intent on leaving your mark on your favorite trucker.

“Fuck, jesus fuck,” Jake groaned, shuddering at the feeling of you sucking on his neck. His hands were shaking again, but he managed to push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off as fast as he could manage in the tight confines of the backseat. 

Then, finally, his cock was free, and you reached for it eagerly with a familiarity that came from sucking him off so many times in the glory holes at Diesel Dolls. You stroked him with an eagerness like greeting an old friend, reacquainting yourself with the part of Jake’s body you knew best. His cock was just as perfect as always and all the desires you’d felt earlier that night came rushing back.

“Wanna worship your cock with my mouth, Jakey,” you murmured in his ear, your fingers stroking his stiff length slowly, teasingly, pausing briefly to smack your pussy with the tip and making both of your groan in pleasure. “You have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, your lips pressing kisses to Jake’s neck just beneath his ear. “I wanna kiss you and lick you and suck you and make out with your balls, Jakey, god, I could spend hours just playing with your cock.”

Jake’s full body shuddered again, and you smirked against his neck, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of your favorite trucker and feeling yourself get wetter for him. But then Jake was pushing up and tilting his face to yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and stilled your hand.

“You have the hottest mouth, kitten,” Jake murmured when he pulled away, his hand cupping your cheek and dragging his thumb over your lower lip. 

You sucked his finger into your mouth and bobbed your head a little while staring up at him, hoping he’d see how eager you were and let you move down his body and worship him the way he deserved.

Instead, Jake’s other hand knocked yours away from his cock, fisting himself while you whined and pouted around his thumb. He chuckled, removing his thumb from your mouth so he could kiss you again.

“You can suck me off another time,” he promised, rubbing the tip of his dick between your soaked folds and making you shiver beneath him. “I gotta feel your cunt or I’m gonna go fucking crazy.” His voice lowered to a deep rumble, his words only turning you on more, as impossible as that seemed. “Gotta know if your pussy feels as good as I’ve always imagined.”

“Jakey, please,” you cried breathlessly, digging your knees into his sides and tilting your hips up to try to take his cock into your weeping hole. “Need you, need you,” you mumbled, humping against the tip of Jake’s dick, until a thought crashed into your mind. 

You’d never fucked anyone—at Diesel Dolls or in your personal life—without a condom. And you’d never forgotten to ask your partner to put one on. But you’d been about to take Jake’s bare cock into your unprotected cunt without even a second thought. 

It was chilling to realize just how much Jake affected you. You froze, your body tensing and pulling away as much as you could when you were laying beneath Jake in the small cot in the backseat of his truck.

Immediately, Jake took notice of your retreat, and he paused above you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, pushing up on his arms so he could see your face fully. There was so much concern in his expression that you had to look away, reflexively shying away from the emotion in his gaze. You stared at his shoulder as you asked a question of your own.

“Do you want to use a condom?” you asked, forcing out the words in a rush, hoping Jake didn’t hear the insecurity in your voice. You knew some men thought you were ‘dirty’ because of your profession—you’d had more than enough of them say as much to your face—so you wanted to give Jake the option in case he later regretted not using protection with you. 

The part of you that liked Jake (which was growing by the minute), wanted to believe he didn’t think that way about you. After all, he’d met you in the glory holes at the back of Diesel Dolls, and had made you feel safe and respected even when there was a plywood wall between you. But you knew too well from experience that even if a man knew what you did for work, even if he’d visited you at Diesel Dolls, he might still secretly think of you in a certain way.

So you held your breath, cautious hope in your heart as you waited for Jake’s response to your question. 

He blinked once, then twice, his lips parted and his expression adorably confused while he processed your words. He even glanced down your bodies to see his bare cock resting against your pussy, and you weren’t certain what was going through his head, but you desperately wanted to know. When his gaze met yours again, he still looked concerned.

“Do you want to use a condom, kitten?” Jake asked, an anxious note in his tone. “Because I’ll find one if you do.” His eyes searched yours, but you were too stunned to respond because you’d realized something. Something life-altering.

Jake was the only man who ever asked you what you wanted. 

Maybe there had been others, long ago, before Diesel Dolls, but if there were, you couldn’t remember them. Jake was the first man in a long time to ask you what you wanted to do, if you wanted to use a condom. An overwhelming and terrifying emotion surged through your body, tying your tongue and rendering you speechless. 

Thankfully, Jake’s anxiousness at your silence prompted him to keep talking. He dropped his voice low, his expression going serious as he stared into your eyes. 

“If you want to know what I want, I thought I made myself clear earlier,” he rumbled, working his hips in tiny little circles that had his hard length slipping between your drenched folds and grinding lightly against your clit. “I don’t want anything between us—I want all of you, including your hot cunt wrapped around my bare cock.” 

A gasp fell from your lips as you tossed your head back, your eyes squeezing shut to quell the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Jakey, yes, I want it—please,” you moaned in a broken, hoarse voice. Heat rose to your cheeks and, despite how turned on you were, you managed to feel a little embarrassed by how much emotion was in your voice when you said his name. Still, you couldn’t help the need you felt, and you pulled him close, feeling like nothing would be close enough. 

Jake dug his arms into the bed beneath your back, crushing you to his chest as he shifted his hips, lining up his cock with your hole and beginning to sink in while he shushed you. “I’m right here, kitten, ‘m not going anywhere,” he murmured soothingly in your ear. 

Your heart thudded in your chest and you were filled with an uneasy trepidation even as your legs spread wider around Jake’s broad body to take his cock deep into your cunt. You believed Jake. You believed he wasn’t going anywhere, and that scared you. But you didn’t have room in your mind to deal with that fear, not when he was sliding inside you, stretching your pussy to accomodate his thick length and pushing all your worries to the wayside. 

“Feel so good, kitten,” Jake rumbled in your ear when he bottomed out inside you. His lips found your neck and kissed your delicate skin, making you whimper for him. “Feels like you were made for me, like you were made to be mine, all mine.” He rocked his hips gently, fucking you in firm, short thrusts that you felt in the depths of your soul.

Jake’s words and the way he was fucking you—like he was making love to you—was too much. You wanted so badly to be his, to let yourself fall in love with him, but you knew it couldn’t be and that knowledge made you so despondent, you felt like you could cry. But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so instead you pushed on Jake’s shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back. 

He did as you asked, rolling your bodies until he was laying flat on his back and you were straddling his hips, his cock still lodged deep inside you. The ceiling of the truck was high enough that you could sit up, so you did, pushing on Jake’s pecs to put some distance between you and your favorite trucker. You began to ride him with practiced movements, taking the opportunity to watch Jake. 

Your favorite trucker looked deliciously devastated beneath you, his blue eyes glazing over as you rose up and sank down on his fat dick. His soft lips were parted, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as you worked your hips in tiny circles, clenching down on his length and fucking him like the pro that you were. 

Jake stared at you like you were a goddess come to life and he’d be more than happy to bow at your feet, a dazed look of pleasure in his eyes as they roamed over your body. His gaze drifted down from your face, watching your tits bounce for him, then fixating on where your bodies joined. You could feel his gaze everywhere he looked, your body lighting up at his attention, which only made you ride him harder.

“Look so beautiful riding my cock, kitten,” Jake rumbled, seemingly having found his tongue. His hands fumbled over your body, gripping your hips and then your ass like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to touch more, squeezing you anywhere he could. “And you feel so fucking good—fuck, kitten, I want to keep you on my cock forever, just sitting pretty and keeping my cock warm while I’m driving, fuck, even when I’m sleeping.”

“Mm, Jake, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you murmured huskily, planting your hands on his chest and using the leverage to bounce your ass on his cock. You knew from past experience it made men lose their minds, and Jake was no different. 

His jaw clenched and his hands pawed at your plush curves, his eyes rolling back in his head as he let out a groan that sounded like he was being tortured. “Fuck, fuck, kitten, you feel so fucking good,” Jake rambled, his tongue loosening the closer he got to coming. “Your cunt feels better than I ever could’ve imagined, ‘m gonna come so hard in your pretty little kitty.”

“Do it, Jake,” you urged, even though a part of you didn’t want your first time with Jake to be over so soon. But you knew it was better this way. You’d get him off and make some excuse to leave and you could go home and get yourself off while Jake’s come was still leaking from your pussy. “Fill me up, wanna feel you flood my little hole with your come.”

“Oh fuck,” Jake groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you and fucked up into you so furiously, you would’ve lost your balance if he hadn’t been holding on to you. “You’re perfect, you’re perfect, I—god, I love you, kitten.”

Every muscle in your body froze and you sucked in a sharp gasp at Jake’s confession, your mouth falling open in shock as you stared down at your favorite trucker. 

Men had said those words to you before. They’d whispered them into plywood walls while you sucked their cocks and moaned other girls’ names. They’d murmured them into your ear while you gave them a lap dance, promising you jewelry and bigger tips if you broke the rules and let them fuck you. They’d confessed them to you in a bid to keep you in relationships that were toxic. 

But you’d never heard them from a man who treated you with as much respect as Jake did. You’d never heard them from a man you wanted to hear them from. And god, you’d wanted Jake to say those words—maybe not so soon, but eventually—because you knew you were falling in love with him. And the fact that he’d said it meant he’d made it real.

And you were fucking terrified. 

Even with how close Jake was to coming, he felt the change in you immediately. For a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still hard inside you. As he watched you, you got the distinct impression he could see how scared you were of those three little words he’d said. 

Trying to conceal your fear with anger, you contorted your face into a scowl and hissed, “Don’t say that to me.” 

Jake sat up at once, one of his arms banding around your back to hold you in place while the other cupped your face, his thumb tilting your chin up so he could pin you in place with the intensity of his gaze. 

“Do you think I didn’t mean it?” he asked, his voice gentle and gruff.

With his blue eyes piercing yours, it was difficult to lie, but you managed. “I’m sure you only meant it because I was riding your dick better than any other woman you’ve ever been with,” you spit out with far more bravado than you felt. 

Jake’s expression shifted and he almost—almost—looked angry. His grip on your chin tightened, though not anywhere near enough to hurt. His hand was firm, unyielding in a way you’d never seen from Jake before. 

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you called me Jakey and told me I have a perfect dick,” he said, his tone daring you to challenge him. “I’ve loved you since before I saw this pretty face for the first time, kitten, and I know you feel something for me, too.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, everything in your body telling you to flee, but Jake was holding you too tight so you huffed an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes at your favorite trucker, pretending to be annoyed with him. 

“How d’you know I don’t tell everyone they have a perfect cock?” you asked in a nonchalant tone, your eyes cutting away from Jake’s as you shrugged. “Maybe I tell all my johns that so they’ll tip me better.

Jake’s expression softened, a grin spreading across his face, like he was amused by your antics. “And do you tell all your johns that you fantasize about their cocks while you touch yourself?” Jake asked, his tone almost teasing. “Do you finger yourself while you think about your other johns—or is it just me, kitten?”

Your mind flashed back to earlier that evening when Jake had visited you at the glory holes in Diesel Dolls and you’d been so turned on by him, you’d gotten yourself off while you sucked his cock. You’d never done that before, and you knew it was entirely because you were so attracted to Jake, even when you’d only known his cock. The fact that he was real and handsome and inside you made it impossible to ignore how much you desired him, your body squirming as need crashed through you.

Though you’d barely moved, Jake could feel the way you squirmed in his arms and he chuckled. “Mm, I thought so,” he rumbled, responding like you’d answered his question, which you supposed you had, in a way. He pressed his face close to yours and held you so you were forced to look at him, because he was all you could see. “You don’t need to say the words back to me, kitten,” he murmured, his tone so sweet and gentle, it inexplicably made you want to cry. “But I know you feel it.”

God help you, but Jake was right. You were falling in love with the ridiculous trucker, and it seemed there was nothing you could do about it. Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill down your cheeks. It was so tremendously frightening to open your heart to Jake, even when you weren’t thinking about everything in your life that would endeavor to keep you apart. Your throat felt tight with emotion, like you were choking on all the feelings you didn’t want to feel. 

“Jakey,” was all you could manage to get past your lips. Thankfully, you didn’t need to say more because Jake covered your mouth with his own, kissing you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs. Your hips squirmed as heat flooded through you, the aching need of having Jake’s cock buried inside you becoming too difficult to ignore. 

Instead of letting you ride him more, Jake flipped your bodies until you were pinned beneath his larger one, swallowing your gasp as he began fucking you like he had when you’d first begun, in slow, firm thrusts. When you wrenched your lips from his, gulping down much-needed air, he didn’t let you pull too far away.

“Love it when you call me Jakey, kitten,” he rumbled, in between peppering your face with kisses, his goatee tickling your skin, “’cause I know it means you love me.” 

It felt like he was everywhere—his arms holding you tight to his chest, his lips pressing against every inch of your skin he could reach, his thick cock stretching your tight little cunt. He was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you let yourself give in to the moment, crying out, “Jakey, Jakey,” as he fucked you even after what he’d said about it meaning you loved him. 

The tip of Jake’s cock hit a spot deep inside you that had you moaning and clenching around him, and he groaned at the feel of your body squeezing his dick. He shifted his position slightly and made sure he hit that spot over and over again, until you felt like you were the one unraveling beneath your favorite trucker. 

“That’s it, good girl, take your Jakey’s cock,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your ear and your neck as he fucked you harder, feeling the way you twitched with pleasure in his arms. “Look so fucking gorgeous creaming on my cock—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and you’re all fucking mine, isn’t that right, kitten?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, willing your lips to say yes, but all you could manage was a litany of your favorite trucker’s name, crying “Jakey, Jakey, Jakey.” You could feel the pleasure in your body coiling tight, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before Jake made you come. It felt better than you ever imagined, being with him, and you wanted it to last forever.

You could feel Jake’s smirk against your cheek and then his face was hovering above yours, his blue eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had blown with arousal. It made him look nothing like the friendly trucker you’d met in the parking lot, but you wouldn’t trade in this unleashed side of Jake for anything. He wasn’t cute anymore, but he was so scorching hot, you thought you might come just from the way he was looking at you like you were his whole world.

“You gonna come, kitten?” he asked, his lightly teasing words at odds with the brutal way he was fucking you, his cock pounding into that delicious spot deep inside your cunt, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit every time he bottomed out inside you. “Gonna come all over the cock of the man who loves you? Gonna let the man who loves you come deep in your perfect cunt?” 

Jake’s words were your undoing. The tension in your body snapped as your release crashed over you, pleasure consuming every part of your being as you screamed your trucker’s name, “Jakey!” Your body trembled, your hands fumbling against Jake’s shoulders as you tried to cling to him, but he wasn’t done with you yet.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Jake muttered, his hips rutting into you as he chased his own release while drawing yours out. “Ya look so fucking pretty coming on my cock, kitten—the prettiest girl in the world, gonna make me come, gonna make me come so hard your tight, perfect pussy.” He captured your lips in a kiss, breaking away a moment later to grunt, “Fuck, fuck, you’re mine, kitten, all fucking mine.” 

You felt Jake’s hips stutter against yours and then he pressed deep. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was flooding your pussy with his come, that thought making you moan deliriously. You pulled Jake down for a messy, sloppy kiss as you rode out your releases together, your cunt clenching around his cock to milk every drop of his seed into your pussy. 

You writhed together for so long that Jake began to shudder from the overstimulation, and he collapsed on top of you, forcing you to stop while he moaned in your ear. Even still, you kept your legs hooked around his waist, refusing to let him go. His heavy weight was crushing you a little, but you didn’t mind as you stroked your fingertips up and down hi spine.

Eventually, both of you settled, and Jake rolled onto his side, dragging you with him. He hitched your leg over his hip to keep your bodies connected, seemingly just as reluctant as you were to pull away from where you were joined together. 

But the realities of the world burrowed back into your mind, reminding you that no matter how much Jake loved you—and no matter how much you were falling in love with him—any relationship between the two of you was an impossibility. 

If Mr. Drysdale found out you’d fucked one of the truckers that comprised Diesel Dolls’ clientele, there would be consequences. Even if you weren’t fired, you didn’t want to learn what punishment Mr. Drysdale would come up with to make sure you never saw Jake again. There’d be no way for you to have a relationship with your favorite trucker, even a secret one, since secrets had a way of coming out at Diesel Dolls.

Once you’d caught your breath and thoroughly freaked yourself out with your thoughts about the consequences of your actions, you sighed softly and began to extricate yourself from Jake. “I should go,” you murmured, but the moment you tried to pull away, Jake pulled you in tighter against his chest. There was a light dusting of hair coving his pecs and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into the warmth and fuzziness of him.

Jake chuckled. “Do you really think I’m done with you already, kitten?” he asked teasingly, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve wanted to get you in my arms and on my cock for months,” he said, his dick twitching inside you as he began to harden again. “I’m not letting you go just yet.” He nudged your face up to look at him, a little bit of vulnerability swirling in his blue eyes as he whispered, “Stay the night. Please.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way Jake said ‘please’, like he would be heartbroken if you didn’t stay. At that moment, you realized just how much trouble you were in. It would break your heart to hurt Jake, but there was no way things didn’t end with one of you hurting the other. Either you’d hurt Jake by choosing your job over him or he’d hurt you by leaving. It was an impossible situation.

Jake seemed to sense your reluctance, and he kissed you softly, putting his heart into the slide of his lips against yours. “Let me take care of you, kitten,” he murmured. 

You knew he was referring to sex, but a part of you suspected he meant more than that, too. You sucked in a soft gasp, wanting to believe he really wanted to take care of you, all of you, all of the time. But it was so difficult to believe. If you gave yourself to Jake fully, he’d have to really take care of you, forever. And you didn’t know if he was willing or capable of that. 

It wasn’t like Jake was some sort of prince charming who’d whisk you off your feet and carry you off into the sunset. This was real life, and he was a trucker. One day he’d leave, and, odds were, he wouldn’t be taking you with him. It wasn’t like he was asking you to let him take care of you for the rest of your life.

But if all he was asking for was one night, you could give him that. It was only one night, after all.

“Ok,” you murmured, kissing Jake sweetly, twining your fingers in his blond hair and rocking your body against his, fucking yourself on his cock. “I’m yours for tonight, Jakey.” 

You could feel Jake’s grin against your lips, and feel his happiness in the way he squeezed you tight. His elation was heady and you almost got lost in it, imagining yourself leaving with Jake when he went back out on the road. 

You pictured Jake rescuing you from Mr. Drysdale, fighting for you when your boss from Diesel Dolls inevitably protested you leaving. You imagined fitting perfectly into Jake’s life as a trucker, and eventually becoming his sweet little wife. You imagined being his princess while he was your prince charming.

But it was all a fantasy, and you knew that. You weren’t some princess locked in a tower by a wicked witch, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. But for one night, you could pretend. What harm could it do.

trucker king masterlist

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

A Night Forgotten

Part Four

Flashback: The Wedding

What a beautiful, heart-felt ceremony. Emoni had come back from the restroom within the beautifully appointed ballroom. Her friends had picked an exquisite mansion to hold their ceremony and reception. The grand chandelier situated high above them made Emoni feel as if she were a part of Beauty and The Beast. The ivory ball gown the bride wore reminded her of a princess.

As Emoni enters the vast ballroom, she makes a beeline for the bar, needing to start the evening off on the right foot. Everyone began to mingle after filling their bellies with the best food she’d ever had. As she made her way there, her ivory and gold satin bridesmaids gown annoying her, she made eye contact with her ex, Troy, instantly turning her gaze away with frustration. He’d been trying to get her attention the entire time. Emoni wanted nothing to do with his lying, cheating ass.

To her delight, the bartender is a good friend: Brent is dressed up as Cupid for tonight's event, complete with a silly bow and arrow set slung across his chest. Ivory, silk, button down shirt on with the buttons halfway secured, his skin is oiled and painted in golden fairy dust, and his matching satin pants hang low on his hips. He looks like a love slave with fairy-like wings, quite honestly, more fit for a BDSM dungeon than a fairytale wedding.

"Brent, I didn't know you were a bartender, too!" she says as she takes a stool in front of him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear that had fallen from her elegant updo that Brent had given her just that morning. "This hair is fantastic, by the way. I love how it makes me feel, so…"

"Naughty and free?" he suggests.

"Exactly."

She's been his client for the last three years, and over that time, their rapport has been growing by leaps and bounds. It's been a wonder to discover there is more to this silent, talented man than just his good looks and charm.

"The best hairdresser in all of California by day, moonlighting as a mixologist for the newlyweds?! How very mysterious you are, Mr. Clark!”

Brent shrugs one muscular shoulder and flashes a quick grin. "I'm a man of many talents," he reminds her with a wink. "We're always full of surprises, Ms. Daniels."

"Is that so?" she challenges him with a wicked grin. "Why don't you prove it by making me something as unique and unforgettable as this hair Ply me with a menu of drinks guaranteed to end with my socks being knocked off!"

With a mischievous gleam in his dark eyes, he accepts her challenge.

"I do believe I've got just the thing for you, Ms. Daniels…"

Brent sauntered over towards the end of the bar to make her the perfect drink. Emoni swayed in her seat, enjoying the music and refusing to be in a sour mood because of her ex. Fuck him. He doesn’t deserve to steal her joy.

Unfortunately for her, another man known to be a thorn in her side since High School was on his way over, dressed from head to toe in Sebastian Cruz—Italian fabric. It’s a black suit with gold accents, matching the colors of the wedding. He is a groomsmen after all. His tapered locs are braided back and he couldn’t go without wearing his gold canines. He begins as it always does between them: with an acknowledgement and an insult.

"Evening, Daniels," Erik Stevens greets her with a bow of his head, taking up his customary place at her side as she turns up her nose at him, attempting to fake her disgust of him, “How goes the dick hustling tonight?"

She glances over at him, amused. His eyes are shielded with a gold half-mask. Very sexy. She would never tell him that however. With a mouth like his, it was sure to piss her off quickly. he carries a glass tumbler that is filled with melting ice and the tiniest bit of cognac.

Where is Brent with her much needed drink?! She searched the bar and there was no sight of him.

Odd.

Emoni was determined not to give into the whim to kick this smug Prince in his priced jewels. It's far too early in the evening for that sort of a juvenile response, and really she needed a little liquid courage to be that bold.

And why would you kick him in the balls when you actually want to tea bag them? Her salacious thoughts intruded.

"Hello, Stevens," she unenthusiastically responded instead, refusing to call him by his first name. "Still seducing the ladies with a forked tongue, I see."

His serpentine smirk is chased by a sexually-suggestive leer. "You meant silver tongue, I'm sure. And if anyone's out to deceive…you're the one dressed like a seductress, Daniels. Since when do you seduce?” He noticed she didn’t have a drink in her hand, “I take it Brent is still working on your drink?”

Emoni parted her glossy lips to speak but was suddenly rendered speechless. A beautifully-crafted cocktail was situated in front of her, as if it had materialized from nowhere. A striking and vivid pink, tropical flower was placed over the edge of the glass as a garnish. A pretty pink egg-white mixture swirled inside of the glass. It was topped with an orange drizzle and edible glitter.

For the slightest moment, Emoni could have sworn the mysterious drink glowed like it was made of magic. Even Erik couldn’t tear his eyes away from the pretty concoction. Just then, the most alluringly sexy voice brought her gaze forward. Emoni was stunned by the woman’s undeniable beauty. Long, sleek brown hair, feline eyes, chiseled jaw, sculpted body with sinewy curves, and a full set of lips so tempting. She was hypnotic.

“One Aphrodite’s Love Potion for you…”

“Thank you,” Emoni’s eyes searched, “Did Brent leave?”

“He needed to take a quick break. I’m taking over until he gets back…”

Emoni brought the cocktail to her lips and then she paused.

“What’s in this?”

“Gin, triple sec, lemon juice…just to name a few. It looks delicious, doesn’t it?”

Her voice was so beautiful. Erik stood there speechless. As if he were in a trance.

“Go on, drink it. I already know you’ll love it.”

Emoni gave a one shoulder shrug before bringing her lips over the rim and taking a sip. As soon as it touched her tongue, she was immediately hit with a burst of flavor. It was the best drink she’d ever had. She instantly felt a rush, the drink coursing through her body and making her feel all warm and fuzzy.

“It’s delicious. Thank you?—”

“Just call me Dove. It’s a nickname of mine.”

“Thanks, Dove. I may need another one of these tonight!” Emoni said with a flirty grin.

“Oh, you’ll be back for more, trust me. Maybe your friend here might want one?”

Erik locked eyes with Dove, for a second unable to formulate words. Someone had accidentally bumped into him on their way to the bar. Erik blinked away from Dove, clearing his throat to speak.

“I’m all good. For now at least. Not my type of drink.”

“I see,” Dove gave Erik a once over, “Well, I’ll see you two around. Enjoy your evening…”

Dove sauntered away towards the end of the bar. Emoni could feel Erik’s eyes on her. She glared at him.

“What?”

“Fitting.” He looked at her drink before eyeing her up and down, his gaze taking time to admire the view. "My, my, but you do love to play naughty for me, don't you?”

Although she didn’t particularly like the dress—not that it was her idea to wear it in the first place—it made her slim-thick body stand out. Her breasts sat up invitingly. The back of the dress although a bit poofy made her plump ass sit out.

“Naughty for you? That's the funniest thing I've heard all evening, Erik, Thanks for the ha-ha.”

She turns to assess the crowd of eligible men. There are more than a few faces she already knows, but others she'd like to know a lot better, “Contrary to your absurd and quite comical belief, I didn't dress this way for you. I have a specific agenda tonight.”

Erik scuffed, dimples deep in his cheeks and lips rolled shut, fighting the urge to burst into laughter. She’s such a logistician. That’s one thing about Emoni that attracted him to her. That articulate voice and intellect. It was so damn sexy. Erik waved down Brent who appeared again at the bar. He strolled over with a big smile.

“Another one of these, homie!”

Brent gave Erik a thumbs up and then he glanced at Emoni with a sorry look. She waved him away, not even bothered that he had to step away from the bar for a bit. Brent returned within two minutes with a new glass of cognac on ice. Erik accepted the drink graciously.

“Don't you always at these things? Have an agenda?” He dryly asks, taking a quick sip of his drink to hide a frown. “Speaking of which—” He leans in as if to impart a secret to her, appearing solemn and earnest in his proposal. “Look, the truth is…I just came over here to offer you my services.”

She turns her head and gives him a flat stare. “What services would those be exactly—teaching a woman what not to want in a man? Because you excel at that.”

“You're the only one who thinks so,” he baldly points out, and she knows he's right. The fact is Erik’s got women crawling all over him, begging for a piece on a regular basis, despite his abysmal character. Apparently, having a boat-load of money and royalty status is the great cosmetic for a truly deplorable personality, “As I was saying…my services,” he continues. “Tonight I'm feeling magnanimous, Daniels, so I'm going to make you an offer you can't possibly refuse.”

Emoni sighs and waves at him to get on with what will, indubitably, be a scandalous and ridiculous proposition. The answering dimpled grin he gives her is delightfully boyish and positively enchanting, and if she had fewer brain cells in her head she'd fall for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Go on, Boss, I’m listening.”

“Alright, now listen up because I'm not repeating it,” he says, preening as a peacock before her, “For one night only, for absolutely no money down and no contract necessary, I'm willing to save you the embarrassment of having to find and hunt down the perfect man for your desired one night stand,” He crudely points at his crotch. "I've already got one right here that can fulfill your every fucking dream. Totally free. I'll even throw in all the pink cocktails you'll need to work up the nerve. Dove is around her somewhere…”

Enoni purses her lips, trying not to laugh in his face. As far as trying it on goes, that one is rather original.

“So, let me just understand your pitch,” she replies, affecting indifference. “You're offering to ply me with copious amounts of alcohol and once I'm too inebriated to think straight, you're going to allow me a shot at some other chick’s sloppy seconds…assuming I don't fall unconscious somewhere in between and make things that much easier for you.” She fakes a yawn. “Nice try, but why would I allow my boss and a womanizer the chance of fucking me?”

His frown indicates he’s pissed that she would even think that.

“Your back is so gahdamn rigid, Daniels. I’ll be glad when you get that stick out your fuckin’ ass. And aren’t you the one tryna find a man to fuck in your hotel bed? A random man at that,” Erik chuckles, “So, if anything…”

She was furious then. She wanted to slap him in that pretty face of his. He was so infuriating!

“Are you calling me a hoe? All I did was tell you the truth. And you know it’s the truth, don’t you?”

He blinks as if she's nailed him right in the gut, and gives a long-suffering sigh as if disgusted with her total lack of interest.

“Daniels, you really know how to stomp a man's grand plans into dust at the same time as grinding his balls into meat strips,” He tosses back the contents of his drink, finishing off the glass. “I’ll leave you alone and watch you stand here looking desperate when an opportunity is right in front of you.”

Now she laughs and turns her attention back to the crowd, eyeing the selection and seeing if there is anyone there who might even remotely catch her attention tonight.

“You can’t stand the fact that I don’t fall for your dimples and your raspy voice and your status. Your charm doesn’t work on me. If you can even call it that.”

“Plenty do,” he grouses, looking petulant by her refusal to be impressed, “I'm amazingly appealing, and we both know that you know that.”

"Sure I do,” Emoni replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

He sniffs. "Your problem is you're too green…miss prim."

“No, I'm foxy and an excellent judge of character. Far from green and prudish, Stevens.” Emoni fired back.

“Yes, well…” He sighs, twirling his now empty glass in his hand, “I don't suppose you'd consider lowering your stuck-up standards for a night to aid a fellow charity-dodger deal with his dick?”

“Not for all the air to breathe.”

“Ah, well, your loss, love,” he says, sounding not in the least put-out by her rejection.

He is, after all, quite used to it by now. This is a familiar ritual for them, one they'd been having on and off for the last five years or so since his return from Wakanda. It always ends the same, too: he 'flirts' outrageously with her then ducks out with some random woman on his arm, and she, unwilling to be the brunt of jokes about a lack of a sex life come Monday morning, eventually leaves with one of her friends-with-benefits for a Saturday night of vigorous sex…followed by a Sunday morning filled with hollow excuses and quick goodbyes. That’s how Emoni ended up with her ex, Troy. A serious mistake that led her into a toxic relationship.

Really, the way she and Erik dance around each other at these events and in the office is comical, if it wasn't so fucking obvious that they both wanted a good, nasty, rough night with each other. The problem is that Emoni wants more than a one-off with her boss. Unfortunately, he's highly allergic to commitment.

Hence the sexual tension with the mean bite. Suddenly, Erik surprises her by taking her drink from her hand and sampling it. He held her gaze with a penetrating stare, daring her to do something. She stared back at him with her mouth agape and eyes wide.

He sits the drink down on the bar and licks his full, tempting lips, giving her a slow once-over, “Enjoy your cute, little drink,” he offers and heads off, a beautiful model-type following him with lustful eyes. That wasn’t the only woman there that wanted a piece.

As he walks away, Emoni tries not to let her disappointment overtly show, or derail her from the plan: she is going home with some man tonight and will lose herself in their sex. She’s horny and it’s been too long since she’d been full of dick. After all, that always helps her, at least temporarily, to forget her unrequited feelings for Erik Stevens.

She finishes off her drink, giving a surprised hum at how pleasant it tastes…and how light it makes her feel by the time she hits the bottom of the glass.

“When do you plan on admitting your feelings for him? I mean, it’s been over ten years…”

Startled, Emoni looked forward and met the eyes of that captivating bartender. She slid another pretty drink towards her with a mischievous grin. Emoni was mesmerized by her undeniable beauty with a slight trace of vanity.

But wait, how did she know it’s been over ten years?

[kevinbriansatterwhite]

When Prince passed away - I saw him in a puppet form. He was smiling and running around. I think he was trying to tell me the afterlife was cool. Also, the puppet he looked like - was in the image of a puppet I dreamed of creating. I callled them - The Cools. It’s not that I want to go to David aka The Afterlife - so badly. It’s just so amazing in my dreams. I think it’s my spirit sister Jacqueline’s planet. I once saw her riding a bicycle - alone - in a blue jay suit - head to toe. She also had clothes on over it. No shoes though - just bird feet. There was so much corn and a road. Kinda like that scene in The Wiz - where Mr. Jackson’s character sings - You Can’t Win. Man, it was so sad. I think David is A Big Bad world also known as - My Pet Monster. I would love to go there someday and chit chat about nothing all day - then work at a place called - Snack Bar that I created for my companions Kathryn and Skylar Grey - all night - with all my friends. On David - I bet it’s our responsibility to dream. That would make me the best security guard in the world - or even better. Batman. Catch you later Jacqueline.

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 7

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Zoro should count his lucky stars when Nami showed up when she did. She was on her way to Sabaody Archipelago to personally deliver the map that he asked for. He hadn’t seen their former navigator for almost a decade so he was taken aback at how powerful she had become manipulating the weather the way she did. It’s not that he ever underestimated her before, but he won’t openly admit that to her. She practically took on an entire armada of Pacifistas on multiple Marine vessels without so much as getting a scratch or being seen. It looks like travelling the world on Weatheria has worked out very well for her. The swordsman reminds himself to send a letter to Usopp to compliment his handiwork with her new staff as well.

Law had received their message and had been waiting at Duval’s base ahead of them. They should be celebrating Sanji’s success and their return, but the Heart Pirates had no smiles to share that night.

Bepo pushed the stretcher where Sanji laid, rushing him to the surgery room aboard the Polar Tang. Keeping up with them, a few other members of the Heart Pirates worked together to wrap a breathing mask around the blonde’s face, manage the gas tanks and calibrate other medical equipment attached to the stretcher while Law held the IV line that’s secured to the blonde’s arm. He injects a clear liquid into the drip chamber as he walks along quickly.

Law

Penguin, I need that blood result as soon as you can get them. We may need to look for donors if we don’t have his type in stock. I doubt royal blood type comes in abundance.

Penguin

Yes, Captain!

Penguin turns his heel with a few other members of the crew following him. They walk past Zoro, who is following closely behind, the entire front of his robe stained with dried blood.

Sanji

Wait…

Law

Sleep tight, Mr. Prince-ya.

Sanji weakly pulls the pouch that was looped around his wrist. He stretches it towards Zoro, wincing when he holds out his hand to a certain extent.

Law

Don't move, idiot!

Seeing that Sanji wouldn't listen to the doctor, Zoro rushes to his side and grabs the pouch by its bottom. The blonde clasps Zoro’s hands in his as he holds onto it tightly. With a dry mouth, he speaks in a rasp.

Sanji

I'm entrusting these to you until I get back. Promise me that you won't lose them.

Zoro opens his mouth as if to say something but ends up staring at their hands. There's just about a million things that he wants to tell and ask him, but can't seem to decide which one to say out loud first.

Sanji resists closing his eyes shut. He props himself on the elbow on the side without the open wound, still holding onto the swordsman as if his life depended on it.

Law

Oi! Lay back down.

Sanji

Marimo, I need to hear it.

Zoro looks up to his eyes. What was once bright and blue are now completely filled with pain and desperation, much like a helpless animal cornered by a beast.

Sanji coughs, getting a splatter of blood on the white sheets of the stretcher, some drips at the corner of his mouth. Law pushes him back down by the chest.

Law

I said lay down! You’re making it worse!

Sanji

Zoro, your word.

Zoro wants to give him the moon on a silver string.

Sanji

Please….

Zoro

Y–yes! I promise.

Sanji

Good….

At that, Sanji succumbs to slumber.

—

Zoro emerges from inside the submarine and into the chill of the night on the top deck. His head is down and hands tucked inside his sleeves, working the pouch loops around his forearm to keep it secure and out of sight. He stops then straightens himself in front of Nami who’s reading the most recent papers that she had acquired just a few moments ago. When the navigator sees him, she quickly folds the paper and tucks it under an arm.

Nami

So…was that who I think it was?

Zoro

The Pirate King of the North?

Yeah….

Nami tilts her head on the side as she eases back against the railing of the deck.

Nami

The one you wanted dead.

Zoro

Yes.

Nami

For…what, twenty years? Give or take? And…now, for a reason you wouldn’t tell me, you want him…not dead?

Zoro

Y–yeah….

Zoro rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to share any details with her, it’s just that he’s still trying to figure out how he feels about the man himself.

Nami

He’s kinda cute, actually. Minus all the bleeding.

Zoro

Yeah….

Nami raises her eyebrows. She gives the swordsman a moment to process his own response.

Zoro’s mind is still shocked and dazed following the events of Sabaody Archipelago. When he realises what he had said to the navigator, he stammers, and tries to find the right response to save himself. After not coming up with one, he settles with just crossing his arms and looking away grumpily. He eyes Duval’s tiki bar on one of their open docks where the man himself and the rest of his Flying Fish gang are currently at, drinking merrily while looking after the family that they had liberated.

Nami gives the swordsman a cheeky smile. After a second, her expression darkens.

Nami

You’re not going to like this then….

The navigator holds out the papers to him.

Zoro takes the papers hesitantly then unfolds them to the front page. His blood boils at the sight of the headlines.

“WORLD NOBLE DONATES TO CHARITY, GETS DISMEMBERED AND ROBBED BY PIRATE KING.”

Nami

Zoro…did this actually happen?

The swordsman remembers what Law had told him about the Marines twisting the truth in favour of the Celestial Dragons. While he knew that the headline and the article weren't entirely untrue, it didn't cover anything about the malice behind the World Noble. Unintentionally, he starts visibly shaking with fury, ripping the entirety of the paper from its sides. Purple aura starts to surround him and sparks of red zap from within. At that point, he wants to rid the face of the planet of all Celestial Dragons and their supporters.

Nami

Hey! I was reading that!

Duval

Is everything okay up there?!

Duval was shouting with concern from the tiki bar down at the docks. When Nami looks over from the side of the sub, she gives him and the worried crowd a reassuring wave after noticing how tense everyone had become–no doubt feeling the swordsman’s unintentional haki flexing.

Nami

Yes, yes! The adults are talking here, so don’t come up!

Duval

But I’m technically older than you….

Looking slightly hurt, Duval returns to making drinks for the people around him. He tries to think of a good distraction to take everyone’s attention from all that tension aboard the ship.

Nami carefully reaches out and places both her hands on Zoro’s shoulders.

Nami

I know this is hard, but you need to calm down. You can wreck this whole place just by doing that. You don’t want that to happen.

Zoro continues to tremble under her but the navigator has learned from the past that nagging him about this would just fan the flames. She approaches with care.

Nami

Remember your breathing exercises? How you had to really step it up because of Brook distracting you?

Zoro’s shoulders flinch at the memory. His aura starts to stabilise.

Nami

How about that song he likes to play…? Do you remember it?

Sure enough, when the swordsman finally gets his senses back, he hears the chorus of Bink’s Sake sung out happily below them by the drunk Flying Fish Pirates and the joyous family that they had freed. Touched at the scene, along with the memories that start flooding through his mind, he relaxes. His aura disappears as quickly as it came.

Nami gives Zoro a couple of pats on the shoulder and takes a step back, separating herself from him.

Nami

Good job. Now come on, let’s get a drink. You look like you could use one. Or two. Or several. Honestly, knowing you, you’d bleed them dry. Screw it, let’s go get drunk. It’s been a while!

Zoro smiles at that, and nods. He misses having a friend who he trusts enough to let his guard down–let alone someone who can keep up with him when it comes to drinking.

Seeing the papers almost tipped him over the edge. Everything that they’d gone through from that previous island left him drained and suffocating. Now, he just feels so tired that he just wants to spend the rest of the night drinking, then nap the whole week away–not wanting to think of a certain blonde who’s currently fighting for his life.

The swordsman misses the times when things are a lot less complicated and a lot more straightforward. At this stage in life, he expects himself to be older and wiser, to know exactly what to do and when. However, nowadays he finds that he’d been second-guessing himself a lot more than ever.

He begins to think about the seemingly innocent game show at Sabao Dome, and how it quickly spiralled into dealing with a Celestial Dragon. He wonders if telling Sanji not to kill him was the right thing to do, and starts questioning his own knowledge of the world. He thinks about his own ignorance and the consequences that someone else had paid for in his lack thereof.

Maybe some people just deserve to die, so he considers going back to get the job done out of spite now that he has a better understanding of how and why his “friend” sees the world the way he does, and the world hates him for it.

Out of nowhere, he feels a slim arm wrap around his own as his navigator friend pulls him out of his trance to walk with him side by side. He doesn’t know how long he’d been just standing there just staring blankly. He welcomes Nami’s presence as it brings him back to reality, taking the opportunity to ground himself.

With a deep breath, he focuses on what’s currently around him. He slowly comes to, feeling the navigator's warmth next to him, smelling the sea in the air, and hearing the sounds of his own feet against the wooden deck and the merry singing in the distance. He pulls himself together and decides that he should stand by his own morals, to stay strong and keep his values. Now is the worst time to falter. If he’s to prove himself to be a real man to protect his friends, he shouldn’t be one to bend so easily.

—

Zoro wakes up the next morning feeling like hell. He pushes himself off whatever ground surface he ended up on, running his hands over his face, trying to ease the throbbing pain in his head. He doesn’t get hangovers a lot but for whatever reason, this is one of the few rare moments when he does and he has it bad.

The swordsman stretches, then winces at the pain from his back and shoulders, only just realising how sore he is from all the fighting and fleeing yesterday. When he looks down, he sees that he’s in a very loose orange boiler suit with the Heart Pirates jolly roger embossed on its front pocket. His face scrunches as a memory comes to mind.

He remembers getting a full lecture from Nami for not changing out of his blood-stained clothes before going out drinking. The Heart Pirates agreed with her so they took matters into their own hands when he refused to take her advice. It took almost the full crew to pin him down so they could clean and dress his wounds to avoid infection. To add insult to injury, Bepo forced him into his spare clothes, which are the only ones that aren't too small for the swordsman, to keep him protected from the chill of the night. They were very concerned that he’d catch a cold, especially having been soaked for hours in the oceanic storm.

He looks around to figure out where he is, then recognises that he’s sat in the middle of the floor of their room aboard the Polar Tang. The familiarity gives him relief. Over at the bunk beds, he sees a mess of orange hair on his pillow. A flash of another memory comes back to him–he’d talked to Nami a lot last night. She promised that she’d be there for him as he waits for Sanji to come out of surgery.

Zoro scooches his butt so his back rests against the far wall. He turns his gaze at the round window. By the looks of it, it’s already late morning so they’d just missed breakfast in the ship’s galley. He digs through his mind, trying to figure out if he saw the blonde at some point in the night but can’t seem to recall anything of the sort. Then he hears blankets shuffle around.

Nami

Morning…. Ugh…someone, kill me.

The navigator struggles to push herself up to a sitting position. With both hands, she parts her hair from her face then nurses her forehead with her fingers. She swings her legs off to the side to face Zoro.

Nami

So…do you want to talk about last night?

Zoro raises a brow at her then returns his gaze to the window.

Zoro

What else is there to talk about? I told you everything already.

Nami

No, you haven't!! You passed out first so I didn’t get all the details!

Zoro groans at the volume of her raised voice. He covers his eyes with a hand.

Zoro

I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mind if you keep it down? You’re doing my head in, witch. Also I didn’t pass out first–you did.

Nami

You were about to tell me about the kiss!

Zoro

Oh–then, no.

Nami

Zoro! Come on! This is the first time I hear you being involved with someone! Is he your first?

Zoro

Look, just forget it, alright? My head wasn't in a good place and I had too much to drink. Why do you care anyway? It’s none of your business.

Nami stands and puts her hands on her hips, looming over him. She gives him an intimidating glare.

Nami

That's not fair, Zoro.

The swordsman grunts in annoyance and chooses not to face her out of spite.

Zoro

What did I do now?

Nami

Do you only talk to me when you have a favour to ask? Or when you need something from me?

Zoro slides his hand off his face to properly look the fuming navigator eye to eye.

Nami

Do you have any idea how worried everyone's been? Sometimes we don’t even know if you’re still alive because no one hears anything from you, sometimes for years. We only know you are because you'd pop up in the papers once in a while.

We try calling but you always throw your snails away. We send you letters but you've only ever replied twice. So you'll have to forgive me if I get all excited just to hear just a smidge of news from someone who means a lot in my life.

Tears welled up in her eyes and snot dripped from her nose as she spoke. She sniffs and runs an arm over her face in an attempt to clean her face.

Zoro’s eye softens and he stands in front of the now crying navigator.

Nami

I really, really miss everyone.

He opens his arms to her, and she runs into it, giving him a tight embrace. The swordsman returns her affection shyly with a hug of his own.

Nami

Zoro, we just want to be there for you.

Zoro

I know….

Nami

But you have to let us in, alright? Otherwise…

Nami pulls away to look up to him, gripping onto his arms.

 Nami

Otherwise…we don’t know if you’re okay.

Zoro quietly nods.

—

The family that were freed from the Celestial Dragons are enjoying their newfound freedom. The merchild had taken to swimming laps around the entire perimeter of Duval's base while the adults celebrated with the gang for hours on end, and doing absolutely anything they can think of “just because they can,” as one of them would say. Such things included eating food any time they wanted, sunbathing, running around wild, singing out loud and wearing the gang’s leather jackets for fun–anything and everything that they can think of they do happily–their future looking as bright as the sun above them.

Man 1

A–are you sure you want us in Weatheria?! We really don’t want to impose…everyone’s done so much for us already!

Nami

Don’t worry about it–you and your family are welcome to stay for as long as you like! We’ve got plenty of space up there and there are no Marines to catch you. It moves as fast as a den-den mushi but we go to different parts of the world collecting data about the weather. Maybe one day you can find a more permanent home but that’s really up to you.

Woman 1

Up to…us?

Nami

Yeah! It’s your life!

Nami turns her heel and waves behind her, walking away to join the swordsman who is currently fishing by a nearby pier.

Man 1

Did you hear that, junior? We can do whatever we want, and go wherever we want!

Merchild

REALLY?! Thank you, kind lady!!

The merchild jumps around happily, clapping to himself. He proceeds to swim all the way around the base for the twentieth time, spouting long streams of water from his lips as he goes–simply because he can.

Nami joins the unhappy looking swordsman who’s grown impatient from the lack of bites from his fishing line.

Zoro

“Kind” is a bit generous.

The navigator’s temper snaps. She delivers a strong kick to Zoro’s back, sending him flying into the horizon.

—

That afternoon, when Zoro had gone and changed into fresh dry clothes, he made his way to the infirmary and knocked on the door as soon as he was told that he could visit Sanji.

Law

Come in.

The swordsman quietly lets himself in, the cool air-conditioned room is a welcome sensation on his sunburnt face.

Law

Oh good, it’s the other one who doesn’t follow my plans.

Law scribbles angry notes onto a clipboard and hangs it on a nearby wall. His face is looking a lot more grumpier and sleep-deprived than usual, which makes sense given that he was up all night performing surgery. The swordsman isn’t even sure if he’s slept or eaten yet.

Zoro closes the door behind him. He puts his hands in his pockets as he approaches, looking at the sleeping blonde tucked comfortably in the infirmary bed. He felt relieved to see that Nami had used her cat burglar skills to pick the slave collar off him earlier. It was an ugly sight and he was glad to have rid of them. In place of it are bandages around his neck, proof that Law had already tended to the wounds.

As Zoro stares at the sleeping patient, the doctor frowns at him for wearing Bepo’s oversized outfit but chooses not to say anything about it. Instead, he stays on topic about his first point.

Law

You lot always do whatever the hell you want. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought that the Pirate King was a Straw Hat.

Zoro

Shut up. It’s not the end of the world, okay? Nami’s here, and we got the funds to pay her for the map.

Law

Great, but we still have to find a bubble ship, unless you know a way to make my ship fly. The only capable shipwrights that I know of who specialise in modifying submarines or making bubble ships are in Sabaody Archipelago.

Zoro crosses his arms and gives him an unimpressed face in return.

Zoro

You know the scientists in Weatheria practically invented bubble ships, right?

Law raises an eyebrow, intrigued at the idea.

Zoro

It’s smaller and probably can’t carry everyone you wanted…but it flies. If you play your cards right and you’re nice, maybe the Pirate King will give you more of his money to buy it off our navigator.

Zoro pulls out Sanji's bag from under his sleeve and shakes it in front of Law's face. Its contents jiggled with sound.

Law’s eye twitches at the bag, and at Zoro’s attitude towards him.

Law

I just saved his ass!

And since when do you care so much about him? He gave you everything he got, didn’t he? Given how much you wanted him dead, what’s stopping you from just leaving him behind right here and now?

With an impassive look on his face, Zoro returns the bag in his sleeve, pulls up a chair and sits by Sanji’s side. Calmly, he replies.

Zoro

Would you?

Law crosses his arms and looks away, thinking carefully, as if weighing his options whether or not to also ditch the swordsman who’s apparently now taken the Pirate King’s side–literally and figuratively. 

Law

No.

Zoro

Because you and I know that we’re better than this…

The swordsman reaches out to hold Sanji’s hand in his, gently stroking his knuckles with his thumb.

Zoro

And he needs to see that the world isn’t such a cruel place.

The doctor stays quiet, now looking at Zoro and Sanji’s entwined hands. After a few moments, he decides to give them privacy and walks towards the door.

Zoro

Hey, Traffy…

Law stops but doesn’t turn to face his way.

Zoro

Thanks….

We’ll find Corazon. I swear to you.

Law hides a smirk on his face and continues to move to the door.

Law

I know we will.

—

Zoro didn’t want to part with Nami so quickly, but he knew that the longer they stayed at Duval’s base, the more they put the people around them in danger. Law agreed with him, stating that they need to leave quickly before they leave too much evidence of their visit behind.

They purchased the map and the bubble ship from Nami as planned, giving her a single condensed Seastone that Sanji acquired. The swordsman wasn’t actually sure if the bubble ship was hers to give away, but nevertheless they finally have what they need to travel to Skypiea.

She had also given Bepo a work-in-progress copy of the Grand Line map with a very clear disclaimer stating that it’s incomplete so they may find islands that aren’t drawn on that she isn't aware of. When asked why she gave it for free, she looked at the swordsman and secretly told him that it’s a reward for opening up about his personal life. In truth, Zoro knew that her heart was too big for that, and that she’d give him anything if she thought he needed it.

Duval generously offered to escort Nami and the liberated family to Weatheria with his entire gang on their flying fish mounts to ensure their safe travel. He didn’t ask for much in return but he approached Law to see if he could give him a facelift so he could look just as “handsome” as the Pirate King. Zoro cringed at the idea, but the man was insistent that he wants the same popularity as Sanji did when he saw him in the video feed during the game show at Sabaody Archipelago. Naturally, the doctor refused until Duval begged him for the umpteenth time so Law had to say yes in the end just to shut the man up. Now, Duval looks like an extra “handsome” version of the Pirate King, but much taller.

It’s been three days since they set sail and Sanji still hadn’t woken up from his sleep after his big surgery. Law reports that it’s not because of the wounds inflicted on him but rather the serum that they detected in his blood. It was a type of drug that’s designed to keep the victim in a helpless state for several days. The fact that the blonde was awake for hours after receiving it would have taken a strong constitution on his part. They had flushed it out of his system successfully but his body still needs time to recover naturally. The whole idea of him potentially being in the hands of the Celestial Dragon in that state just makes the swordsman want to turn the ship around to give the World Noble a piece of his mind, and maybe shove one of his blades down his throat while he's at it.

Zoro felt particularly protective so he’d been spending most of his time keeping the blonde company in the infirmary instead of staying more comfortably in their bunk room. He’s been kindly lent a futon to be set up in the corner of the room whenever he needs it. Unsurprisingly, other Heart Pirates have also come to visit Sanji at least once a day not just to check in on their patient, but also to hang out, trying to be supportive of Zoro and hoping to be there the very moment Sanji wakes up. The swordsman welcomed their company lest he spirals too deep into his own mind which he’s been trying to avoid recently. 

Shachi

I reckon he did all that just so he can skip out of doing chores, the lazy fuck.

The others laughed at the snide comment as they played a round of cards between themselves on the floor. They figured that now is the best time to make fun of the blonde, in front of his own face, without worry of any retort.

Penguin

How do you like your new outfit, Mr. Bushido?

Zoro looks down, admiring the orange boiler suit that is now tailored exactly to his size. Over one side of his chest, they embossed the Straw Hat jolly roger on with the Heart Pirate’s one just underneath it, especially made just for him.

Zoro

It’s fine, thanks. It’s great, actually. Luffy would love it too.

Bepo

You properly look like one of us now! It’s a good colour!

Sanji

The Marimo…turned into a giant carrot.

Everyone in the room poke their head up from the floor to look at the blonde on the bed.

Sanji gives the crowd a warm smile and a weak wave.

Heart Pirates

CHORE BOY!!!

They immediately surround Sanji, giving him hugs, pats on the head and cheerful greetings.

Zoro stood behind them, watching the group finally celebrate his return and recovery. He can’t help but smile at the touching scene. The blonde makes eye contact with him and returns his grin with his own.

When the hype had gone down and they felt like they gave the blonde enough affection, the Heart Pirates wished Sanji well and returned to their duties to leave him to rest. Zoro closed the door behind them and turned to approach the bed.

Sanji

It's a shame that I didn't get to meet your nakama.

The blonde massages his neck where the heavy collar once was.

Sanji

I would have liked to have thanked her personally. It was like the heavens sent her.

Zoro lets out an unexpected hearty laugh, making Sanji jump.

Zoro

Sent from the hells, more like.

Sanji

Marimo! You talk about ladies that way?

Zoro

If you knew Nami, you would too.

Zoro gets a faceful of pillow thrown square at him.

—

Hours have passed since the Heart Pirates have left but Sanji can't seem to settle himself comfortably on the bed, his body feeling too sore to properly relax on the unfamiliar thin mattress under him. He gives up eventually and decides to watch the waves of the waters through the round window. He feels that familiar pull again, as if the ocean itself is beckoning him. It's a comfortable feeling that he's always sought after since reading about the All Blue when he was a child in that damp cell where his father kept him.

The repetitious calm waves eventually makes him drowsy, but he fights going back to sleep. He thinks, not just yet. He knew that he’d already missed out on precious days that he could have been spending being up and about, even with the limited space the Polar Tang offered. If he was being completely honest with himself, he’s also feeling scared and fragile–a feeling that hasn’t arisen until the recent encounter with the Celestial Dragon. He's afraid that if he falls asleep, he'd never wake up.

The bed sinks on one side. He turns his head to find that the swordsman had sat next to him, making him smile at the contact and the newfound comfort that the man seems to have with him. It was reassuring and warm to the heart but Sanji knew he’d have to stop whatever this is before he gets too emotionally attached to the man.

This isn’t supposed to happen. He’s planned to have the swordsman by his side as an asset as he does with Doflamingo–to instill fear where he needs it, and destruction where he wants it. The extra sex would have been beneficial as well.

He shouldn’t care about the swordsman. He wanted the challenge of turning someone worth their salt, someone who can keep up with him, someone who the Marines respected. He meant to strip him bare, break him slowly, confuse him, then use him. But now he can’t seem to get himself to do any of that.

Finding love wasn’t supposed to be on the table–or whatever it is that he’s feeling. He starts fearing for the things that might scare the swordsman if he learns too much about his life, and the heartbreak that will inevitably come if this gets too far.

Out of nowhere, Zoro reaches out and takes his hand in his. He gently lifts it to plant a light kiss on the back where an old scar is. The blonde’s eyes soften at the sight.

Sanji

Mellorine…

Zoro

You’re shaking. Have you gone for a nap?

Sanji

No… I couldn't.

The swordsman flips his hand and pecks an old burn mark on his wrist. He looks at Sanji in the eye then places his next kiss on his inner forearm where the burn spans. Slowly, he continued the trail of affection up his arm, then his shoulder, until he found the bandaged area of his neck, kissing over the material right in the middle where he very well knew an old scar is.

Sanji holds his breath as he feels Zoro’s tenderness in the area. The mark was from another slave collar that he tried to force off by hand when was younger, and he’d always associated it with nothing but pain. The swordsman's gentleness on it was a new sensation that made his heart practically flip.

He can’t help but stretch his neck to present himself, exposing his vulnerabilities and succumbing to the affection as the other man continues his barrage of kisses on different spots of his skin. His breath quickens. His face scrunches when he tries to resist the pleasure, only for his body to betray him and demand more.

Zoro pulls the blanket down with his teeth, revealing Sanji’s top half bare. He's fully unclothed aside from the wrappings around one side of his chest where he just had his surgery.

Zoro

This one, I know about….

Zoro kisses a scar on Sanji’s collarbone. He trails his lips down, finding his way on one of the blonde’s pecs, never removing his mouth off his skin.

Sanji

Mhmm…

Sanji wraps his arms around Zoro’s neck, spreading his legs to give him better access.

The swordsman takes the opportunity to mount the bed and hover over his figure with care. 

Sanji

You gave me that one and…

Sanji pushes Zoro’s head further down where the swordsman finds an old stab wound on the side of his waist where he once pierced him with Wado.

The swordsman gives it a light smooch.

Zoro

Don’t forget this one….

Zoro tilts his head and gives an unexpected lick along a deep scar on the V of Sanji’s hips, making the blonde yelp in surprise.

Sanji can’t help but chuckle at the playfulness of it all, entangling his fingers into the man’s soft hair.

The swordsman starts dragging his hands up and down Sanji’s front to soothe him, all the while continuing to lick and peck the man’s skin wherever he can find old and new wounds. They stay like this for a while, with Zoro remembering each instance when he’d harmed the man and leaving him gentle kisses in his wake like a form of apology.

Sanji

Marimo…why are you doing this?

Zoro

Hmm….

Zoro starts using his tongue, dragging it down from the man's chest, following the line in the middle of his abdomen.

The blonde takes a sharp inhale, arching his back. He ignores the slight pain from his chest.

The swordsman, liking the reaction, shuffles himself under Sanji’s blanket and covers himself in it. He continues his onslaught of kisses closer to Sanji’s core, out of sight between the man’s legs.

Sanji

Fuuuuck…

Sanji jerks his hips in the air involuntarily, trying to get any sort of friction.

Zoro

You were saying something?

Sanji

I… I forget.

Sanji’s mind has gone blank and can no longer see what Zoro’s doing. Everything became about touch alone. He could feel the swordsman’s rough hands glide over his hips and legs, comforting him. He remembers pain from the bite marks that the Celestial Dragon had bestowed on him. But now, in its place, the swordsman took his time to lightly kiss the area in his inner thigh as an attempt to make him forget by replacing the hurt with his own affections.

Sanji

Z–Zoro… I don’t know if I can get hard right now after…you know….

Zoro pokes his head out of the blanket to look at him eye to eye.

Zoro

That’s not what I’m doing this for.

Though…you do smell fuckin’ amazing down here.

Sanji winges.

Not wanting to torture the other man too much, the swordsman moves up, still dragging his lips over his skin. He leans his arms against the pillow, caging the blonde underneath him. He peppers his face with tender kisses–under the jaw, at the corner of his lips, the tip of his nose, and the spot between his brows. He repeats this on the other side. He feels the blonde release the breath he’d been holding, easing into his touch.

After a few moments, he feels pressure against his chest from Sanji trying to push him. The swordsman parts himself to look into his wide blue eyes. He looked pained.

Zoro

What's wrong?

Sanji

…I don't think I want to marry you anymore.

Zoro stops his movements abruptly. He pulls himself back to separate himself from the blonde. He sits back on his heels, his face looking confused and offended.

Sanji

Don’t take it the wrong way. It’s not that I don’t want to do this….

Sanji entwines his fingers around Zoro’s collar and pulls him back at his eye level. With his other hand, he brushes back stray strands of the swordsman’s hair that had gone awry on his forehead.

Sanji

I don’t want to marry you anymore because I want to do this right…. Whatever this is.

Zoro

Hmm…

Zoro eyes the blonde up and down, as if trying to gauge him and read his thoughts.

Zoro

Alright.

Sanji

Alright…?

Zoro

Yeah…I want to do this right too.

Whatever this is.

Sanji raises his eyebrows in surprise. He’s never been one to go exclusive and steady, but the swordsman didn’t explicitly say that. The one thing he knows for sure is that he wants Zoro in his life, in a very different way than he initially thought. Whatever plan that he had concocted for the man before had already gone down the drain ages ago, opening an opportunity for a fresh start. It’s not exactly the cleanest one, but it might be what he needs while he figures things out.

There is a knock on the door.

Zoro clumsily throws the blanket over Sanji’s head to cover his nakedness and readjusts himself back to a sitting position at the edge of the bed, trying to look as casual as he can.

Sanji sputters, pulling the blanket down from his face irritatingly, earning him a smirk from the swordsman.

Sanji

Hey!

There is another knock, this time, more urgent.

Sanji

It’s open!

Law opens the door slightly, just enough to poke his head in. He looks especially furious behind his polite tone.

Law

You have a guest, Mr. Prince-ya.

He steps inside and pushes the door wider. Behind him, a familiar man with long pointed blue hair and a dark cape around his shoulders ushers in. Sanji notices a particular iron helmet not being worn, but instead tucked under one of his arms, leaving his curled eyebrows exposed.

Zoro

Who’s this?

Sanji

Commander.

Commander 2

Your Highness. We lost track of him.

Sanji narrows his eyes, his expression instantly changing into something dire.

Sanji

Who, exactly?

Commander 2

The Warlord, Donquixote Doflamingo.

----------

Coloured to show that Sanji looks healthier when he's happy.

Also I really enjoyed drawing Zoro in Heart Pirates outfit!!

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

If you are a movie fan and haven't read the book yet, here are some irrelevant details from the book

Henry owns a cardigan

Arthur and Catherine meet on a Henry V play (which they named Henry after), which Catherine went to see and saw Arthur playing. She "shook off her security to disappear into London and dance all night".

Pez listens to kpop, and he got Alex into it

Nora watches drag race and got Henry into it

Henry is an Elton John fan (actually relevant in the book)

Alex is a Hall & Oates fan

Alex wears glasses (actually relevant in the book)

Henry is described by Alex as having lots of moles

Bea is the rockstar girlfriend, at the end of the book she plays on a concert and everything. She plays the guitar and is always wearing a leather jacket. She also has a fat cat called Mr Wobbles. And the queen wanted her to learn violin “since it was more proper” instead of guitar. “Bea was allowed to learn both, but she went to uni for classical violin.”

During the turkey phonecall, Henry is wearing a peely face mask

Amy is trans and has a pansexual wife

(Actually relevant) Catherine was not off in another country the whole story, just battling intense grief for her husband's death, so she wasn't present in her children's life, so they felt as if they lost both parents.

There's no king, she's actually a queen, her name is Mary and she should die (she's so so much worse on the book than the king is on the movie)

David is a service dog

(Actually relevant in the book) June bought a teen magazine at 15 and 13 year old Alex would sneak into her room to stare at the magazine (and the picture of a blonde 14 year old British prince on it).

Bea is the middle kid, Henry is the youngest

Henry is canonically on therapy and on antidepressants (since the start of the book)

I don't remember if they mentioned it on the movie but Arthur was James Bond and died of pancreatic cancer.

Alex’s favorite Olympic sport is rhythmic gymnastics

Bea had an addiction problem when Henry was about 17 (as a way to cope after their father's death) and only got herself into rehab after Henry went to her and started crying about dad was dead and he was gay and scared so she couldn't kill herself. That's how he came out to her

Alex doesn't wanna be president at the end of the book, he starts law school

Henry favourite star wars is Jedi, Alex's is Empire

June is allergic to peanuts

Alex runs and runs to cope and clear his head

He did not know he was bi until after Henry kissed him. Yes, he had a friend with benefits relationship with his high school friend Liam, but he genuinely thought it was perfectly platonic and straight

Also he doesn't keep on touch with Liam after high school (their friendship just slowly fades away, with living so far and Alex being suddenly famous) but they reconnect at the end

Alex and Henry move in together on a brownstone on Brooklyn, eventually they marry (after Henry abdicates) on the lake house, they move to a farmhouse on Austin, they spend their honeymoon unpacking

Pez is lactose intolerant

Bluebonnet is June’s code name, Barracuda is Alex’s

Henry is a big Austen fan, and makes references to her books through the story

Amy knits

Zahra has a sister who recently had a baby

June forced Alex into dresses as a kid

Henry’s favorite food is a cheap falafel stand ten minutes from the palace

Henry really likes sailing

Shaan has a motorbike

Alex is allergic to dust

Henry keeps a copy of Le Monde, the newspaper from the day they were in Paris, on his room

Alex and Nora dated when Alex was 17 and Nora 18 but realized they were definitely better off as friends. When they are bored, they like to create rumors about their relationship

Alex makes tons of lists to organize

Alex wears chinos, and claims kakhis are for white people

Nora is very good at math

Alex grew up catholic

At the end of their e-mails, Alex and Henry quoted historical lgbt love letters

Nora’s one-bedroom is “full of books and plants she tends to with complex spreadsheets of watering schedules.”

Nora is bisexual and on the aro spectrum (not canon on the book than she’s aro, but Casey did mention it somewhere)

Arthur gifted Henry a telescope for his seventh birthday

The karaoke scene happens not while on Texas but in some club full of queer people. The whole group is there, Pez got them matching kimonos. Alex’s says Hoe Dameron, Henry’s says Prince Buttercup. Aside from Henry singing Don’t Stop Me Now, Bea sings Call Me by Blondie, and Pez sings So Emotional by Whitney Houston in a “shockingly flawless falsetto”.

The lakehouse confessions happens while at night

The Kensington fight (after the lakehouse confession) is much more dramatic, they don’t go to the v&a that night, but the next night. That morning Henry got up early, and brought Alex coffee when he woke up. They made up.

Also Alex takes his coffee with cinnamon

Alex, Nora and Henry are gen z, while June is a millennial

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 7

When Eddie returned to the castle, it was in the form of a raven. He perched himself on the outside of Steve's window. The prince was deep asleep and of course, looked completely harmless. Eddie knew not to be fooled by that though. Dustin looked downright cherubic when he slept but could still be an absolute menace. This was a prince, meaning he'd been taught in the ways of strategizing your next move and making every moment count.

It was very likely that he was just regaining energy for an escape attempt later on. Nancy's worries didn't fall on deaf ears. At the time, the reason Eddie didn't put a constant eye on him was because Dustin seemed attached to him already. Now that he was out of the cell, Dustin would probably seek him out at all hours. Which meant the prince wouldn't be able to get far before the young boy mentioned to someone that he couldn't find him.

He was dangerous. Eddie had to remind himself of that even as the prince was surrounded by softness and his face was smoothed of all tension.

The next morning, Steve was awakened by someone banging on the door. "Up and at 'em! Time for work!", Robin shouted through the door.

Steve got up, almost reaching for the doors of the wardrobe before remembering there wouldn't be anything there for him. All he had were the clothes on his back. Even the ones he'd come in with, dirty and wrecked, had been taken. Probably tossed, useless as they were.

He took a quick look at himself in the bathroom mirror. It wasn't too bad. His hair was lacking in its usual style, falling over his forehead, and there was still a bit of darkness under his eyes, but at least he didn't have that layer of filth anymore.

Steve let out a sigh when Robin pounded on the door again. He understood people's problem with him, that didn't mean he liked it.

"What, no breakfast?", Steve asked when she all but dragged him down the hall. They passed a few people who had sneers and glares to spare. At least back home people knew how to hide their disdain for him.

She put him to work in the music room again, arranging chairs with a prepared diagram. He heard someone call her name and she was out of the room, leaving him by himself. Steve wondered if they were just underestimating him or if they were that confident in their security. Steve continued to work for a few minutes before deciding to try and venture outside.

The moment he stuck a foot out the door though, a gaggle of kids were out in the hallway, waiting for him.

"See! I told you!", Dustin exclaimed.

Mike's jaw was on the floor. "They've got you doing chores?!"

"That's gotta be all he's good for", a red-headed girl he didn't recognize said.

The rest of them included Will, Lucas, and another girl he'd never seen before and they started arguing among themselves about Steve and his uses right there.

"Hey, hey!" Steve clapped his hands. "Has no one ever taught you brats any manners?"

"Do you really think so little of us?", Dustin asked.

"Forget it. I've got work to do." Anything to not be surrounded by a random group of children. But just as Steve went in to finish putting up the chairs and arranging the instruments, he was followed right away by the kids, discussing very loudly what was to become of this whole music lesson thing.

"What gives Eddie the right to tell us what to learn?", Lucas asked.

"He's literally in charge of everything else", the red haired girl, Max, said.

"And you guys had no complaints about him making sure you get educated in other things", Mike said.

"Because every young child should have a healthy dose of math, science and the arts", Dustin said.

"Guess what music counts as", Will grinned.

There was that Eddie guy again. Apparently in charge of what these kids learned. Maybe he was some sort of headmaster? Or some kind of higher up here. But Steve had never heard a title attached to their name. Not a lord, or duke, or even a mr. So just who was he to these kids. Steve's interest was almost piqued to ask but he had other things to worry about. Like filling his stomach.

His stomach growling was somehow heard over the cacophony of voices and it was heard by El. Steve had only known her for about fifteen minutes and yet she unnerved him. She laughed and smiled like any child and yet there was something lurking underneath the surface with her.

"He's hungry", she commented.

"Time for lunch then", Dustin decided.

Steve was somehow corralled by them all and he found himself taken to the castle kitchens. He was taken aback by the sights and smells. It was just like the kitchen back home, when he used to sneak down as a kid. The only difference was that instead of a numerous staff, there were much fewer people.

That and some of the pots were stirring themselves. Steve went up to one in awe.

"Magic?"

"Cooking magic", Will explained.

"Sit down, children", a voice said from deeper into the kitchen and Steve was pulled to a small table in the corner with chairs for all of them. The moment they did, a tray of warm bread floated to land in the middle and bowls of soup came flying towards them, landing without spilling a drop.

"Thanks mom!", Dustin called out.

Steve's mouth watered. He'd been eating scraps for days and none of it had been warm. He took his first bite and nearly cried. It was so good. some of the best he'd ever had. The kids were still talking, but Steve hardly paid whatever topic they were discussing any mind. He was too focused on the food. That and the fact that they didn't seem at all bothered by him.

The king's minions had attacked him and thrown him into a dungeon without any thought. The king himself hadn't shown his face until he was sure that Steve had no value as a bargaining chip. That Robin woman saw him as a pack mule and used him as such. The few adults in the kitchen would openly glare at him and Steve wondered if he should worry about poison in his food.

But Dustin and his friends...it was like they didn't care.

Robin appeared just as they finished eating to drag Steve to the library and have him move books around. Steve thought that at least he'd be free of the kids, but of course they weren't too far behind. The idea of library manners were lost to them as well, as they kept their normal volume around what must be thousands of books.

The next couple of days went very much the same, Steve being led around by Robin to reorganize the library. Sometimes it was blessedly quiet, the rest of the time, Dustin was there, asking questions about him or his kingdom which usually prompted some kind of argument amongst his friends.

Somehow, despite himself, Steve started to like them. They even got a laugh out of him once or twice. Dustin was bright, if a bit self righteous. Max was always instigating and it was clear she had fun doing it. Will had a sweet face but wasn't afraid to speak his mind. From what he gathered, they all lived here in the castle, and some of their parents were in the staff.

It was such a routine, that Steve was confused when Robin didn't come to get him one morning. He thought he should wait, but when it got close to noon, well he had to leave in search of food. He was still barefoot, but thankfully that wasn't much of a problem. What was a problem was how he was turned around and didn't know where he was going.

He heard some voices from around the corner and thought of asking for directions before remembering his place. If anyone other than the kids saw him walking around unescorted, they'd probably think he was up to something. Steve ran in the opposite direction, avoiding places he heard people talking and ended up in what looked like a sparring arena. The roof opened up to let the sun in and there was a wall of weapons. The area for sparring itself was a simple arena in the dirt and there was Lucas in the middle of it, struggling to lift a sword that was about as tall as he was.

"Uh, I can explain", Lucas said.

"No need", Steve said, mostly because he didn't want to have to explain what he was doing. "You're obviously in the middle of training." He looked to how big the sword was and how there was no teacher in sight. "A little advice, choose a weapon you can pick up."

Lucas frowned. "Why don't you show me, since you're so badass? Dustin told me you know all these techniques but so far I've just seen you carry stuff."

Steve raised a brow as he walked over and took the sword from Lucas. "Carrying stuffy counts as heavy lifting." He took a step away to get a safe distance and swung the sword with ease. "For now, you might be better with that", he used the sword to point to a rapier on the wall.

"That twig?"

"Think it's too much for you to handle?"

Lucas snorted and took it off the wall. He swung it around, not too confident in it. "Looks like it'll break if I went up against that", he gestured to the broadsword Steve had.

"It's not meant to go head to head like that", Steve said, sure that Lucas was imagining his sword slicing down right on top of Lucas' blade. "Real sword fighting is about using your skill to create an opening to land the right blow."

"Isn't most fighting like that?"

"Just shut up and show me your stance."

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

Nancy was running through her to do list in her head. Spring would be coming soon and while the human inhabitants would be celebrating and holding festivals, the demo-creature population would be preparing for hibernation and there were things that needed to be arranged.

Her thoughts were interrupted by sounds coming from the sparring room. Neither she nor Jeff and called upon anyone but the room could be used by anyone trying to brush up their skills. Curious as to who was putting in extra work, she was surprised to see Lucas clashing swords with the prince. She didn't see anything else but red. She didn't see the smile on Lucas' face or how slowly Steve seemed to move.

She pulled out a dagger first, throwing it right in front of the prince's nose to get him to back off before unsheathing her own sword and getting between him and Lucas.

"Whoa! That was too close! You could've hurt him!", Steve said.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!", Nancy shouted back.

Lucas put a hand to her shoulder from behind. "Calm down, he was just-"

"Stay behind me. I knew something like this would happen." She advanced, raising her sword against Steve.

He was surprised at her ferocity when she was so small. That was when he remembered. "You were part of the ambush!"

"I should have killed you then", Nancy declared while actively trying to kill him. "Eddie was wrong, you're-"

Steve cried out when he tripped on a stray rock, cutting his foot in the process. It caused him to fall forward, which Nancy wasn't prepared for. A rush of black smoke was their saving grace, pushing Steve away and cushioning Nancy before turning into a man that held her close. Not just any man, of course. The king.

And just like most of the court, all he had for Steve was a hardened glower. Lucas had been stupefied into silence but spoke up when he saw the blood.

"Listen, it's not what it looks like! Steve was helping me train."

"And why would he do that?", Nancy demanded to know as she righted herself. "You know we're not taking on anyone new until training officially starts. You shouldn't even be in here."

"Yeah, well he was", Steve said, ignoring the pain in his foot for now as he sat up. "And he needed some pointers."

The king's eyes narrowed. "So you took it upon yourself to train him?" Then he looked to Lucas. "And that's the story you're going with?"

"It's not a story, it's the truth. We were just practicing", Lucas said.

The king stared down at the prince, thoughts running through his head. He approached and Steve held up his sword. His foot might be hurt, but he could still fight if this beast wanted a challenge. To his surprise though, the king paused, and held his hands up like he was trying to show he meant no harm.

He glanced down at Steve's foot. "Let's take care of that first. Everything else can wait."

"I don't need your help", Steve said, rising to his feet. He took a step and while he held back a hiss, he was able to move just fine. He knew he was dripping blood but his pride kept him from looking down. He let the sword drop to the floor. He'd find his way back to his room and tear a bandage from his sheet or something.

He let out a yelp when suddenly he was lifted up into the king's arms and when he blinked their faces were just a breath apart.

"I can appreciate being too proud to accept help, but I won't have you trailing blood around the castle."

Steve had no choice but to cling to him. Walking or being carried, his blood would still drain from his foot, so he could see how it mattered. The king carried him anyway sat Steve on his bed where a bandage cloth was already waiting, as well as a basin of water. He was set down on the bed and Steve expected to be left alone to dress the wound but the king surprised him yet again by kneeling and starting to wash his foot.

"You're...You're the king, aren't you?", Steve asked.

"That I am."

Steve didn't think he needed to elaborate. Kings didn't kneel. For anyone. And they especially didn't help enemy royalty with cuts and bruises. They didn't carry them to their rooms. It made no sense at all for King Edward to treat him like this, especially after what he had to endure in his cell.

"Why were you helping Lucas?", he asked.

Steve shrugged. "Kid needed help. He was trying to lift a sword as big as he was."

"Hmm. Well, considering the current state of affairs, it's been irresponsible of me to leave you unattended for so long. So you'll be getting a new guard detail, starting tomorrow."

That sounded more sensical than anything else that had happened so far, so Steve didn't even question it. Someone came by to drop of dinner, but besides that, Steve didn't see anyone until the next day when the king himself appeared at his door with a pair of well worn boots.

"Of course. You're my guard."

"No one better", the king grinned.

Part 9

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue

[fangirlfrom-hell]

One of Those Days || Jay Halstead x Halstead Sister

We deserved more interactions between Kim and Jay, that's all I'm saying.

I was thinking about this day where I was feeling super shitty at school, my self harm habits were horrible back then and I always wanted to cry. Since my mom was working, I texted my aunt and she took me to her house. She knew I was pretending to have a headache, but anyway followed my game. My little cousin lend me her bed to lay down and she decided it was a good idea to read The Little Prince for me to fall asleep 💕

“Do you want me to call your dad?” The receptionist at school asked the girl infront of her. Her head was slightly lowered and her hair covered a good part of her face.

“Can you call my brother instead?” Becca asked in a low crackly voice.

The receptionist sighed, “Sure. But you know I can’t let you go without your dad’s permission”

The girl nodded and sat in the hard plastic chairs of the office to wait while the woman spoke on the phone.

“…Yes, she has a headache…She’s alright, but seems like it’s getting worse. The nurse checked her, but can’t really do much. Sure, she’s at the office. Thank you, Mr. Halstead”

“Becca, your brother will be here as soon as he can. Go get your stuff, I’ll call your dad to let him know”

She didn't really have a headache, but it seemed like "fake it 'til you make it" was a real thing because she was now starting to feel discomfort in her head. Although it might have been because she was struggling not to cry in front of everyone. Her nose was now red, and her eyes were watery. Everybody thought it was due to allergies or the flu, but in reality, she was swallowing hard, trying to retain tears rolling down.

“Let’s go, Beccs”, Jay said while picking up his sister’s backpack from the floor.

The walk to the parking lot was silent; she knew that if she talked, she would burst into tears. A hole in her chest appeared the minute she saw her brother, and now it was growing fast inside of her.

Jay was eagerly typing on his phone, dealing with work issues he couldn't leave for later. He was worried; since he received the call from the school, his gut told him Becca's emergency wasn't about being sick, and now, even looking at her sideways, he could confirm it.

The detective opened the car a few steps before they reached it. Both siblings went to the same side of the truck, the girl ready to jump inside, while her brother was putting her belongings on the back seat. When Jay closed the door, Becca was still outside waiting for him. She was scratching her eye, and as soon as their gazes crossed, she started to silently cry. Instinctively, brother and sister took a step forward to hug each other; there was no time for Jay to bend to her height, so she squeezed his waist tightly.

"Did something happen, or is it only the feeling?" He tilted his ear to be able to hear the answer.

Becca moved her head, saying no, her face still sunken in his stomach, "Only the feeling."

"Alright," he softly said. They stayed like that for a moment before actually going inside the truck.

With a mixture of affection and concern, Jay stared at his sister before starting the car. "Do you want to talk?" He spoke gently. Her delicate attempt to wipe away the evidence of her tears with the sleeve of her sweater tugged at his heartstrings.

Becca despised being seen in such a fragile state; the vulnerability on display only heightened her emotions. It struck her as ironic that the very person who made her feel secure and shielded, her brother, was the one in front of whom she felt the most exposed. In the tumult of her emotions, Jay remained her safe person, the only one she could trust.

"It's the pain in the chest, the black hole. It's growing."

He frowned with a slight nod. Jay knew perfectly what she was talking about, and he hated to be so powerless about it.

"I don't want to go home," she begged. Becca's face made Jay's heart drop; you could see the pain in her puffy eyes and her cheeks a bit swollen along with her pink nose.

He swallowed hard, "I honestly wouldn't take you there even if you asked me to. You are coming with me, but I still have things to do at the bullpen."

“I can wait”

On the road back to the 21st District, Jay’s phone never stopped ringing, but anyway he passed by a drive-thru to get an ice-cream for Becca, a nice attempt to cheer her up a bit.

“Feeling a bit better?” He asked before getting inside of the building. At least, the crying was controlled for a moment. “Alright, let’s go”.

It was obvious she had been crying, but nobody said a thing about it. All the cops, detectives and seargets greeted the girl with a warm smile and acted normal around her.

Becca stayed in the coffee room and never got out of there. After all the weeping, exhaustion took its toll, and she found herself drifting into sleep on the arm of the sofa. Jay periodically entered to check on her, his stress evident as he felt the weight of time pressing against him. The clock relentlessly ticked away, yet the workload showed no sign of diminishing.

Kim noticed, and after preparing to leave by taking her coat and bag, she approached her friend. "Hey! I'm already done here and heading home. If you want, and if she wants to, I can take Becca with me. I just need to pick up Mak from school, and then we'll be home."

The detective hesitated, “Uhm—“

"Look, I don't know what's going on with her, but at least she can properly rest there..." Kim's voice carried a note of genuine concern, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and worry for both of them.

They turned their heads to see how the girl was all tangled in her spot.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. That way you won’t have the pressure—I mean, you’ll still have the pressure, but it will be different knowing she’s comfortable in a safe place…I know the feeling, Jay”

After a few seconds of deliberating in his mind, he thankfully agreed only for his sister’s comfort.

“Don’t worry, don’t rush. You can pick her up whenever you can, doesn’t matter if it’s late”, Burgess said before departing and Jay knew she was honest, “I’ll take care of her”

Makayla was delighted with Becca's presence but was too shy to interact with her. Since they didn't have visitors often, this was kind of a new experience for her.

"Mak," her mom called, "Becca is not feeling very well, would you lend her your bed for a little while so she can rest?"

"Sure!" Despite her short life, Makayla's tender heart had already weathered enough storms, shaping her into a compassionate soul capable of understanding when someone else was beaten down or in pain. She sensed all that in Becca and was willing to make her feel good. "I can even lend her my stuffies," she added as an innocent gesture. Now addressing their guest directly, she continued, "They'll keep you company and won't be scary if you wake up in the dark."

Kim guided Becca to the room and arranged everything for her, picking up some clothes and toys that her daughter had left on the floor. Meanwhile, Makayla was opening drawers and climbing them to reach the highest shelf where the books were placed.

"There you go, make yourself comfortable," Burgess said while still fixing the unmade bed.

“And I’ll read you something to help you sleep”, Makayla approached holding a big book with her small hands.

“Mak, sweetie, no. We’re going out while she sleeps, okay? But you can read to me”, she took her hand to lead her out.

“No, mom. She doesn’t need to be alone right now”, Makayla’s big dark eyes were over Becca. “She needs a story, that’s what you do when I am sad”

Suddenly, the pain in Becca's chest intensified, and the gaping hole seemed to expand. It was as if her new little friend could read her mind. Becca yearned to be alone to release the pent-up tears, yet a lingering understanding told her that solitude might not be the best course of action.

“It’s alright, Kim. This her room, after all”

“Yas!” Mak jumped out of excitement. “Now, you lay down here and close your eyes. I’m going to read you a story that always make me feel better when I am not happy…”

With a smile and slowly going out of the room, Burgess leaved the two girls alone.

“The Little Prince is one of my favorite books too, Makayla”

“I knew it” her smile was bright.

As Becca listened to the reading, she feigned sleep. A few tears escaped her eyes, but she skillfully concealed them. Eventually, the reading ceased, and Becca sensed Mak's tiny face drawing near, checking if she was truly asleep. The youngest Halstead heard Makayla's footsteps departing from the room, but then she returned, placing a stuffed animal between Becca's arms. "Don't leave her alone, Buttons," she whispered before descending the stairs with her mommy.

Slowly, Becca opened her eyes and as soon as she made sure she was alone, she started an intense crying, trying not to make a lot of noise. She turned to give her back to the door, hidding in case someone came in. Clutching the stuffed animal tightly, she cried until exhaustion enveloped her, eventually lulling her into a fitful sleep.

She awoke in Jay's bed, disoriented about how she got there, a Mak's plush toy still nestled between her arms. Rising from the bed, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her, her head throbbing, and the discomfort in her chest persisting. When she emerged into the living room, her brother was seated on the sofa. Becca raised Buttons with one hand, a question mark etched on her face, silently seeking an explanation.

“Makayla insisted you should take it for tonight”, he answered simply.

“Oh. That's sweet”

"How are you feeling?" Jay asked, standing up to approach her, but she just shrugged. "Stupid question?"

"It's just—"

"One of those days," he completed. "I know."

"A terrible one, and it's not over yet" There was a long silence and Jay knew she was trying to say something, so he gave her time. "I was scared, Jay."

Those last words sent shivers down his spine, he understood what she was referring to and was also frightened but couldn't admit it in front of her. He masked his concern, assuring her, "You should never be scared, I'm here with you."

"I know", she gave him a hug.

"Do you want to talk now?" Becca hurriedly said no only with her head, and her brother understood.

"Okay", Jay sighed, "You haven't eaten a thing all day. Food should make you feel better. What about pizza, a movie, and the company of your favorite brother, hm?"

"What? Is Will coming?" Becca teased him, finally smiling.

"Ha! A joke, that's a sign that you are already feeling better."

The evening unfolded and laughter echoed through the room as they enjoyed the movie. Yet, even in her weariness, Becca managed to stay awake for a fleeting moment. As she drifted into sleep, the pain in her chest, a constant companion throughout the day, was miraculously eased by the gentle touch and care of her brother.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭— 𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐅

Note: Check Description and other chapters first to understand the story ^^♡

Chapter 17

Bang Chan

"Your files are secure Chris."

click click tap

"There's no way he'll be able to get through this" Seungmin's fingers were flying over his laptop keyboard in such speed, his hands were basically going invisible.

"Are you sure?" I took a sip from my glass of bourbon, the liquid burning slightly as it went down.

The room was filled with the soft hum of his computer set up and the occasional beep from the various gadgets he had around the place, it feels like I stepped into a server room instead of his penthouse.

"Are you doubting me?" Seungmin looked up, arching an eyebrow, my hands immediately went up in surrender. He narrowed his eyes at me and then looked down at his screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard again.

"I've doubled the firewalls, encrypted the sensitive data, and set up real-time monitoring. If he even tries to breach the system, we'll know."

"Well, then good" I nodded, feeling a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders. At least the digital side of things was secure. After that bastard's visit 2 days ago, I was positive it was Victor who must have tried to access our files to leak information about the launch.

Relief washed over me after Min assured about the security, I looked around at my friends gathered in the living room at his place this afternoon. If I spent another hour in my office I'd definitely lose my mind, so I made plans with Seungmin to talk about the file security and we decided to invite the guys over as well since we didn't meet after Christmas and New Year's.

"So," Hyunjin said, breaking the silence with a grin. "Someone disappeared for a long time during Mr. John's party"

The guys' eyes flickered to Hyunjin then me, I shifted in my seat taking another sip of my bourbon while having Hyunjin smirking at me without an end.

"Oooooh," Han interjected, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Spill the tea, Hyunjin. What happened?"

"Nothing happened" I said defensively. The last thing I needed was for them to turn this into a grand drama. But it wasn't like they were gonna stop anyway.

Hyunjin leaned back, stretching his arms on the head of the couch. "Well, I was just chatting with Aria, you know, making polite conversation. Then Chris here comes over, looking like he's about to rip someone's head off, and next thing we know, the two of them disappeared for the rest of the night."

The room went to a chorus of oooohs, Changbin bursted laughing, slapping his knee, the sound echoing through the whole room. Sometimes his laughter was funnier than the joke itself, contagious and impossible to ignore.

"Oh man, did you get jealous? Of our Hyunjin?!" Changbin managed between laughs, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

"The hell? No I didn't."

Yes you did.

I kept my glass on the table with a soft thud and looked at him, "I just didn't like the way this guy," I gestured at Hyunjin, narrowing my eyes at who was supressing his laughter, "was looking at her"

Felix chuckled. "Sounds like jealousy to me. You were worried Hyunjin would sweep her off her feet with his charms."

Hyunjin closed his eyes nodding proudly. "I mean, can you blame her? I'm the Versace Prince after all."

Ever since he got crowned Versace Prince by Donatella Versace herself, it's been impossible to shut his mouth about it. Not that I blame him. I'd be crazy flattered if I were to get crowned in only a few months of modelling for them.

"I wasn't jealous." I said firmly. "I was just concerned"

Han wagged his finger at me. "Sounds like someone's got it bad. You actually care, huh?"

I sighed, shaking my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It's not like that. I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Lee Know said with a smirk.

"But disappearing with her for the rest of the night? That's a bit more than just 'making sure she's okay.'" His fingers air quoting as he spoke.

The guys laughed, but I couldn't stop from playfully scoffing at their teasing. If I told my old self who was erratic and carefree in Europe that I am now married and my friends giving me shit, calling me out on being 'jealous', that Chris would have asked me if I was high on crack.

"We heard about the whole 'wife calling you during a meeting' thing. Bet that was a first, huh?"

My head immediately turned to Seungmin as Changbin's question remained unanswered, the guy was hiding his grinning face behind that screen, trying to avoid my glare.

Seungmin glanced up, feigning innocence. "What? It's not like it's a state secret."

I rubbed the back of my neck and cracked my knuckles, "She never calls me, so I knew something was wrong."

Felix leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you rushed home like a knight in shining armor, didn't you?"

"Shut up, Felix," I glared at him. "I did what anyone would do."

"Yeah, right," Han chimed in, nudging I.N. "Our fearless leader, dropping everything for his lady. It's almost romantic."

"Almost?" I.N raised an eyebrow. "I'd say it's pretty damn romantic. Next thing we know, he'll be writing her love letters."

"Or serenading her with his guitar," Lee Know added with a smirk.

"You guys are impossible. It wasn't that dramatic." I grabbed my glass again and chugged down the remaining liquid, coughing lightly. Jack Daniel's is better.

"Sure it wasn't," Felix said, grinning. "Just admit it. You were worried."

"Not worried," I corrected, trying to maintain some dignity. "Just concerned."

"Concerned, worried, same thing," Lee Know said, waving a hand dismissively.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. "What we do in private doesn't need to be involved in our conversations."

"Right," Changbin interjected, a sly grin on his face. "Because what happens behind closed doors is where the real magic happens, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "You guys have way too much time on your hands"

"Since you're the only married person among us and constantly need advice, it very much is an interesting topic," Seungmin added, glancing over the top of his laptop with a smirk.

Despite their relentless teasing, there was a warmth in their banter that reminded me why these moments felt kind of good. Friends who give you shit and still have your back, they were the best.

Hyunjin clapped me on the back getting up from his spot, “Just remember, if you ever need guidance on how to keep a lady happy, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass." I kept Aria happy enough— probably not in the best way, but I'd rather step on a thousand Legos than see her that close to him again.

What the fuck. Am I actually jealous?

As I leaned back on the couch, my mind swirled with thoughts. I'm beginning to hate the way I'm starting to feel around Aria. Getting too close to her will only make it harder for both of us when our...deadline reaches.

Which is in exactly seven months from now.

This was a problem. Not just because of the ticking clock on our arrangement, but because I wasn't supposed to feel this way. I shouldn't feel this way. We had a clear line drawn between us. But lately, that line was starting to blur.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. Although at the same time, I'm starting to actually like how there's someone to go home to. Unlike last year when my mansion was empty, my housekeeper and butler spent more time there than I did.

It was unsettling how quickly I'd grown used to her laughter echoing through the hallways and her presence filling the emptiness. The way her cheeks swell when she smiles or how good she feels in my arms. And how quickly I'd come to look forward to it.

"We'll figure this out"

"And you won't. You've come this far"

Aria's words replayed in my head again, the way she reassured me. There was a warmth in her voice, a sincerity that cut through my defenses.

She believed in me, in us.

It was more than I ever expected from this arrangement.

I stared at my friends who were engrossed in their own worlds. Min's head glued to his laptop, Hyunjin, Changbin and Lee Know gaming, Felix texting and scrolling his phone while Han and I.N snacking, engaging in a conversation.

And my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I was used to control, to having everything in its place. But Aria had a way of dismantling my rules without even trying. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Part of me wanted to push her away, like I did with almost everyone except for my parents and my friends. To keep the distance that had always been there. But another part of me, a part I was struggling to ignore, wanted to pull her closer.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. This was a dangerous path. Letting my guard down, letting her in, could only end in heartache.

But as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn't deny that she was becoming a part of my life. More than just a contract and a part I wasn't sure I wanted to let go of when the time came.

With the launch and fucking Victor trying to bring me down, my life had become a balancing act on a razor’s edge. Every decision, every move felt more critical than ever. And now, with Aria in the mix, it was getting harder to keep everything on track.

I leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling of Min's living room, the sounds of my friends' laughter fading into the background. The weight of my thoughts pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe.

Seven months.

That was all the time I had to figure out if I could let go of the woman who was turning my world upside down, or if I was willing to risk everything for a chance at something real.

"Are sure you want to have your Pre-launch event in this Venue?" The sudden voice felt like a splash of cold water, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"What?" My voice got caught in my throat, I turned to see Han, standing next to me scrolling his phone without looking up.

"The venue. Are you sure you wanna have the event there?" He asked arching an eyebrow, removing his eyes from the screen.

"Yeah." I replied, trying to refocus. "This place has the right mix of elegance and exclusivity."

"Cool. I'll email you the details by tomorrow and the guest list?"

"Jane has it set. She should have sent it to you by now" I said, shifting slightly on the plush sofa. Han nodded, his fingers moving swiftly as he made a note.

My father suggested we hold a Pre-launch event to build hype and attract potential investors for the upcoming line. He always had a knack for these things, knowing just when and how to create a buzz.

He also suggested I speak with the event host he has been working with over the years but I knew better to trust Han with my event.

Just at the age of 23, Han managed to host successful events for multiple brands and had quickly built a reputation as the go-to guy for high-profile launches. His attention to detail, coupled with his ability to anticipate what would captivate an audience, made him invaluable.

"Just make sure everything is flawless. No room for errors," I reminded Han, though I knew I didn't need to. His track record spoke for itself.

"Don't worry," Han replied, his tone confident. "I've got everything under control. This is going to be the talk of the town."

I nodded at him and took a moment to look around at the guys. Seungmin, was the tech genius, which makes sense why his penthouse looks more like a micro data center rather than an actual house, who made sure my digital security was airtight and of his other clients as well.

Changbin, lounging comfortably, was the CFO of Tommy Hilfiger, his sharp mind for finance keeping budgets and investments on track. Lee Know involved shaping trends and setting new standards in luxury fashion was the Creative Director of Gucci.

Felix and Hyunjin, the dynamic duo, were renowned models for Louis Vuitton and Versace, while I.N, with his magnetic presence and social media savvy, served as a brand ambassador for Bottega Veneta.

And I, currently am COO but the future CEO of Aurelius.

As the evening sun painted the penthouse in golden hues, the excitement and anticipation among us were palpable for the Pre-launch event. I glanced at my watch, it was almost 5pm, I did kind of promise Aria I'll be home by the evening.

Since I truly suck at telling how I feel, I might as well treat Aria a bit more...nicer, for the remaining six months before we have to part ways. For some damn reason that thought made my heart clench, it was a heavily uncomfortable feeling.

With a sigh, I stood up from the plush sofa, catching the attention of my friends.

Changbin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Off to be the dutiful husband, Chris?"

I chuckled lightly, rolling my eyes as I straightened my shirt. "Something like that."

"She'll be coming to the party won't she?" Felix asked, sitting down on the couch holding a glass of water. Him, I.N, and Han never drink when it's not a weekend.

"Yes," I tried to keep my tone casual.

"Better watch out," Seungmin who finally laid down his laptop, gestured at Hyunjin, "Or this guy might steal her away again" said with a smirk spread across his face as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.

Hyunjin grinned mischievously. "Like I said, can you blame her? I've got irresistible charm."

The guys chuckled, and I could feel the heat rising to my face. "Don't push your luck," I said, my voice was tinged with annoyance.

"Why not? It's not like it bothers you" He let out deep chuckle, somehow that only irritated me more.

"She's my wife."

The room fell into a silence like a sudden drop in temperature, leaving the air thick and tense. The words slipped out unexpectedly, surprising even myself, the guys exchanged glances, then all their eyes fell on me as I stood their as if I was rooted into the floor.

"About time you admitted that" Lee Know chimed in, clinking his glass with Seungmin, a cocky grin playing on his lips while bringing his glass up.

"Let's not make a big deal out of it." I muttered, slipping my phone and keys into my pocket, I could feel the weight of their scrutiny, their eyes on me like lasers. 

"Too late for that," I.N's amused expression was hard to miss.

I could feel the weight of their gazes, their smirks, and the unspoken words hanging in the air. Their reactions only fueled my desire to get out of here.

"See you guys later." I grabbed the jacket off the couch and headed for the door, their laughter and teasing followed me. But I didn't bother to defend it. I didn't want to defend it.

As I made my way towards the elevator, that same unfamiliar feeling settled in my chest.

The lights flashed as I clicked the key to my Porsche, the engine roared and I swifted into the streets. The sun began descending in the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and yellow, the nightlife beginning to stir as I drove by.

A flower boutique caught my eye as I drove through the bustling streets, I went past it, then without thinking, I U-turned. I pulled up to the curb, parked and stepped out into the setting evening air.

I haven't stopped at a flower shop before, hell I never had a reason to buy flowers in the first place.

The bell above the shop door chimed softly as I entered. The place was surrounded by gorgeous flowers, filling the air with the sweet scent of fresh blooms. A young woman behind the counter looked up, smiling.

"Good evening. How can I help you?"

"Hello. I'm looking for tulips," I said, my voice sounding almost foreign to my ears.

"Of course," She gestured me to a vibrant display of flowers, and there they were, their petals a mix of pinks and purples sitting in delicate glass vases. I stepped closer, the sweet fragrance enveloping me.

She wrapped a neat bouquet of purple tulips delicately and tied it with a satin ribbon as I searched for my wallet.

"Someone must be very special," She commented as she finished wrapping it.

"Yeah," I replied, taking the bouquet, feeling a slight unfamiliar flutter in my chest.

"She is"

I handed a hundred dollar bill, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of it before she quickly composed herself.

"Sorry sir, we can't break a hundred."

I smiled slightly, holding out the bill. "Keep it," I said. "It's a tip." 

Her expression shifted to one of surprise, then gratitude, her cheeks flushing slightly as she accepted the bill. "Thank you," she replied, her voice sincere.

I nodded, barely acknowledging her thanks as I turned my attention back to the bouquet in my hands. The tulips were delicate, almost fragile, their colors vivid against the darkening evening outside.

I walked back to my car and placed the bouquet on the passenger seat, it's soft fragrance mixing with the scent of leather. The city lights flashed past in a blur as I drove home as the flowers rested beside me.

Once I pulled up to the driveway of my mansion, my heart began thundering in my chest like a like a drumbeat echoing through an empty hall.

I took a deep breath and got out of the car grabbing the bouquet, and walked inside, the cool evening air brushing against my skin. The house was quiet, the only sound was my footsteps on the marble floor and the door slowly closing shut behind me.

"Aria?" My voice echoed, bouncing off the walls, only the lights from first floor and the living room were on, Aria was no where to be found until she came out of the guest room holding her tablet.

"Oh Chris, Hey. You're home early."

"Yeah I was with the guys and um," A hand embarassingly went behind my neck while the other came from my back, holding the bouquet.

When the hell did I hide the bouquet behind my back?!

"I got these for you." I handed it to her, my heart racing at the speed of a runaway train.

Aria's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she just stared at the flowers. Then, a soft smile spread across her face as she took the bouquet from me, her fingers brushing lightly against mine.

"Oh Chris, thank you."

I shifted uncomfortably, not used to these kind of intimate gestures. "You're welcome. I know they're your favorite."

She looked up at me, her eyes shining with genuine appreciation. "They are."

Feeling the awkwardness of the moment, I cleared my throat, it felt like I had a cactus shoved right down it. "I know that we are a bit... complicated"

Dear fucking heaven. Why was talking to my own wife so hard?

Her eyes were glued to me, then fell on the tulips, then back to me. Good God, I might explode here out of sheer discomfort. I felt like a teenager fumbling through his first confession.

"I just wanted to, you know, show that I'm, I don't know. Trying."

She smiled softly, her fingers tracing the petals of the tulips. "I can see that, and it means a lot."

I nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and tension. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm not exactly Mr. Romantic."

She laughed gently, a sound that was both comforting and nerve-wracking. "I won't. But it's nice to see this side of you."

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ease the tension in me. "Thanks. Don't expect too much."

She just shook her head, chuckled and walked near the vase that was on our coffee table removing the roses and putting in the tulips. Okay, since when did we have roses in the house?

And that's it?

Whatever. I didn't care. I took a deep breath and walked to her, her presence was genuinely comforting and terrifying at the same time, I started to wonder when did I get so affected by her.

She glanced up from the vase, her expression soft but curious. "Want dinner?"

A knowing worked its way onto my mouth at her question and right as she turned away figuring out my intentions, I grabbed her wrist, pulling her to me and lifted her up on my shoulder.

"CHRIS!"

"Oh yes sweetheart, I do."

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

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If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3 (If I missed someone please lmk)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

Next Chapter

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

It’s my blog I get to choose the brainrot!!!

Anyway. Theme park au.

Ghost doesn’t know how his brother managed to convince him to come with them to the park. It’s everything he fucking hates: loud, crowded, overwhelming, expensive. The works. The only thing that makes it marginally worth dealing with is the look on Joseph’s face when he looks around at the scenery. And he does have to admit, the attention to detail with the settings is pretty impressive. He doesn’t go on any of the rides, and suffers in silence with the stupid ear headband that Beth forces on him (the giggle he gets is well worth the indignity). Overall, it’s not the best time but it’s not the worst.

At least, until Joseph goes missing in the post-parade crowd. Ghost prides himself on his cool head and his preparedness, but the sheer density of the mass of people combined with the sensory overload and the flood of adrenaline from realizing his nephew isn’t next to him is enough to send him into a near panic attack. Tommy isn’t much better, but at least Beth has her wits about her to make a plan

The three Rileys split up to cover more ground, and Ghost heads to the sci-fi area of the park to look for Joseph. His lungs are caught in a vice, his brain is soup, and he’s freaking the fuck out. The only good thing is that it seems like this area is less crowded.

His heart stops when he hears a shout of “Uncle Simon!” And the relief that floods him is almost enough to send him to his knees. He runs for his nephew, whose face is blotchy and red from tears but smiling so brightly at the sight of Ghost. (Ghost is sure his face isn’t much better, but thankfully his black medical mask is still in place.)

He’s doubly thankful for the mask when Joseph points to someone behind him and chirps “Mr. Soap helped me!” He’s sure he’s tomato fucking red when he catches sight of the man standing there, ridiculous mohawk and brilliant blue eyes and all, waving awkwardly.

Mr Soap introduces himself as John MacTavish, and Ghost never stood a goddamn chance.

Perhaps there’s something to that slogan after all…

Some notes:

- soap is a ride engineer/mechanic who was there to fix one of the downed attractions and just happened to be at the right place at the right time. He also helps with the effects for some of the nighttime shows (and might give some hints to his new favorite guests about the best seats in the house)

- Gaz is a face character because that man gives Disney prince energy and I will take no criticism

- price works security with Nikolai

- laswell runs guest relations and doesn’t take any shit from any of the guests

[sailorstar9]

Betrayed By The Cousin, F/N Does This...

At the wedding venue...

“Let's welcome the bride.” the wedding emcee announced.

The hall doors swung open and F/N walked down the aisle in her wedding dress.

I am F/N. F/N introduced herself. I have recently ended my residency at Kyoto University Hospital. I have everything anyone has, except for a good husband. Today, I'm going to expose an affair at my own wedding ceremony.

“Miss L/N, are you willing to marry the man in front of you?” the pastor posted the question once F/N took her place beside her husband-to-be.

“I don't.” F/N answered steadfastly.

“The bride is regretting the marriage.” one of the guests whispered.

“The groom is embarrassed.” another guest muttered.

“F/N, what does this mean?” Ikeda Michio demanded.

“Have you forgotten what you did before going on stage?” F/N fired back. With a snap of her fingers, she played the video extracted from the security cameras on the screen on stage.

“Michio-nii-san, you're going to get married soon and you're still messing with me like this.” L/N Nao's simpering voice sounded from the audio. “It won't be good.”

“Baby, don't be jealous.” Ikeda pacified. “If she hasn't have that bit of money, I won't even look at her even when she's lying on the bed; someone like her who doesn't even know how to charm men.”

“Don't look!” Ikeda fumed.

“Don't worry.” Ikeda's voice continued on the video. “After we get married, I will use her money to support you.” he promised and proceeded to kiss Nao.

“Taking the bride's money to support the bridesmaid.” one of the female guests tsked. “To mooch off a man who lives off a woman...”

“Next time you have an affair, find some place without surveillance.” F/N retorted. “You'll pay the penalty for the wedding and honeymoon. Talk to my lawyer about the rest.”

“Enough, F/N.” Ikeda grabbed her wrist. “You have to take this small thing up to the stage, you tricky woman. You only know how to go to work every day. You never wash and cook for me. What else do you have besides money? You should be thankful I'm willing to marry you. Now apologize to me and Nao immediately. We can still get married.”

“Take a good look at yourself in the mirror.” F/N spat and gestured to the emcee for the microphone. “Mr. Chris Prince, I accept the post as sports therapist of Manshine City.”

“Understood.” the blonde stood up from his seat. “On behalf of Manshine City, we welcome you onboard. I'll send one of my players to aid in tying any loose ends.”

“That would be much appreciated, Mr. Prince.” F/N nodded. With a satisfied huff, she left the wedding venue.

“Manshine City?” the venue was now filled with astonished whispers, the moment the bride exited the venue. “The bride is moving to England?”

In her changing room...

F/N had already changed out of her bridal dress and into her normal clothes when she was alerted by a knock on the door.

“Come in.” F/N called out.

“Yo.” Chigiri poked his head in and entered the room.

“So, you're the poor sap Mr. Prince sent.” F/N grinned, instantly recognizing the familiar redhead who so happened to be her junior high school classmate.

“Nah, I volunteered.” Chigiri offered. “I do have a law minor, you know?”

“Really?” F/N was surprised. “I didn't peg you to be the type.”

“Ha, ha.” Chigiri rolled his eyes. “Are you done packing?”

Later...

“I'm sure glad I found out his true nature before I changed names.” F/N remarked, she and Chigiri was walking out of the ceremony hall.

“That's one good thing that came out of this fiasco.” Chigiri muttered.

“Did you say something?” F/N blinked.

“Nothing.” Chigiri turned away, flushing slightly.

A/N: So guys, should I make this into a series?

[stellas-et-abyssum-vincite]

I Just Love to Look at Him ~ *Wriothesley*

Summary: You are expected to marry before you become Queen. Your mother and closest friends are helping you find a suitor. It doesn't take you long to find a Mr Right...

Pairing: Wriothesley X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff Drabble

Word Count: 793

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

A/N: Inspired by the Princess Diaries 2 scene.

You knew ever since you were young that one day you’d have to marry if you ever wanted to be Queen. And now that you were finally of age and eligible for the throne, an arranged marriage was in order. You weren’t terribly fond of the idea, but you weren’t afforded much of a choice. Nevertheless, you were at least allowed the opportunity to pick who you married.

It was your mother, the Queen’s, idea to have her secretary, Charlotte, compile all the potential suitors into a presentation. You invited your best friend, Navia, to be there, as you believed her opinion was just as valid as anyone else's. So in the theater with you to pick out your future spouse was your mother, Charlotte, Navia, and the Head of Security, Clorinde.

“Baron Tartaglia,” Charlotte began. “Resident of Snezhnaya. His hobbies include hunting, fighting, and spending time with family.”

Your mother shook her head. “No, not appropriate. He’s a compulsive gambler.”

The slide changed. Before his name was even announced, you gasped. “Yes! Oh yes! I absolutely accept!”

Charlotte chuckled as she read the slide. “Prince Al Haitham. Resident of Sumeru. His hobbies include reading and sleeping.”

“He’s not eligible because he’s in line for his own throne.” Your mother stated.

“Oh.” You couldn’t help but pout. You hoped he wasn’t the only perfect guy in the mix that Charlotte and your mother put together.

Clorinde finally spoke up from her spot leaning against the wall. “If he’s not eligible, why is he included in the line up?”

Charlotte sighed. “I just love to look at him.”

“Me too.” Your mother mumbled.

“Your Majesty.” Clorinde chuckled more to herself, though you could still hear. You chuckled to yourself. Let it be said that under her no nonsense exterior, Clorinde definitely could joke and play around when she wanted to.

“Next.” The slide changed again. “Kaveh. Also a resident of Sumeru. His hobbies include architecture, pranks, and gossip. No title, but a good family.”

Navia leaned over to whisper in your ear, “What about the title husband?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, he’s cute.”

Clorinde hummed. “His boyfriend thinks he’s handsome also.”

Both Navia and you fist pump at that fact. “Right on.”

“No matter.” Your mother tapped Charlotte’s shoulder so that she could take down a memo. “Put him on all the invitation lists. He’s a divine dancer.”

“Next.” The slide changed again. “Sir Zhongli. Resident of Liyue. His hobbies include games, art, and making money.”

“Too old.” Your mother shook her head.

You frowned. He didn't look that old to you. If anything, he looked rather dashing and young. Nevertheless, you didn’t argue with her. You learned that lesson the hard way a long time ago.

The slide switched again. “Prince Venti. Resident of Mondstadt. His hobbies include playing the lyre, singing, and drinking.”

Another shake of your mother’s head. “Too young.”

“Does this popcorn taste different to you?” Navia leaned over again to ask you all of a sudden.

You shrugged. “Sigewinne made it. You know how she is in the kitchen.”

“Ah, I thought so. It tastes amazing!”

The slide switched while you weren’t looking. “Lyney. Resident of Fontaine. His hobbies include magic, pranks, and spending time with family.”

It was Clorinde who had an objection to this one. “Arrested too many times.”

“Really? Him?” You asked, bewildered. "He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly!"

She gravely nodded. “I should know. I’ve been the one to arrest him at least twice.”

Your mother huffed. “Wait, no. We need someone titled, someone who can help you run a country without ego getting in the way. Someone attractive, smart, but not arrogant. Someone with compassion-”

The slide changed.

“Someone like him?”

“Duke Wriothesley.” Charlotte announced, her voice holding a hint of pride. “Resident of Fontaine. His hobbies include drinking tea, fighting, and helping others.”

“Yes!” Your mother all but shouted. “Someone very much like him! Good choice, dearest! I wonder why I didn’t think of him before!”

“Duke Wriothesley.” Ryujin muttered before giving a small nod. “Sounds like he’d be a good choice for you.”

“Well he looks,” You tried to pick a suitable adjective. “Decent.”

As you mentioned before, you weren’t really interested in getting married just so you could become Queen. You thought you could handle the task on your own. But the law is the law, and you couldn't argue with it. Besides, maybe this could work. Even if you didn’t fall head over heels in love with him, perhaps the two of you could get along with one another. His extended biography that Charlotte had given you along with all the others made him sound like quite the gentleman.

Who knows, maybe this could work out after all.

[toreadorcaretaker]

🎄𝓐 𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮🎄

LaCroix doesn’t do holidays.

✨ Platonic ✨ Silly ✨ Featuring LaCroix, Mercurio, and (briefly) Chunk. No TW. ✨ This was created as a secret santa gift for the wonderful @crownedinmarigolds in the 2024 VtM Secret Santa event for writers!

“Come on, Mr. LaCroix! Even the bank has a tree in the lobby.” The tuft at the back of Chunk’s Santa hat (which he’d already started wearing three days ago) bounced this way and that as he shook his head in disapproval. “It doesn’t even have to be a Christmas tree. It could be like, one of those generic trees that’s just a tree. Non-demon-national – nonde – nondenominational, that’s what they call ‘em! Or – or even some garlands in the windows? A wreath? Please?”

Sebastian just shot him a withering glare and a retort as he headed for the elevators. “I don’t pay you to compare my décor to Wells Fargo.”

So, the security guard pulled out the big guns. “It’s a bad look, that’s all I’ll tell ya. Bad for the Venture brand.” Sebastian stopped short. Branding: the reason Venture Tower looked so imposing in the first place. It was a monument to the prince’s power, a visual reminder that he was both timelessly wise and a master of the present time. It was carefully designed to narrow at the top, making it look even taller than it really was. And it was intended to appear full of bustling activity befitting a human corporation, even though half the office space went unoccupied. Looks, in the Masquerade and in every political game, were everything.

“We look sinister, like some den of gothic monsters. And not cool monsters. Scrooges,” Chunk continued, crossing his arms. He could already tell he’d won.

“That’s quite enough.” Sebastian jabbed the “up” button on the elevator more aggressively than necessary. “I’ll…I’ll see that a tree is ordered. Now be seated. You would do well to notice that the surveillance screens are unattended.” He sighed as he stepped into the elevator. The season may be a hollow farce, but then, so was every marketing ploy. Best just to get it done.

Sebastian had loved Christmas once, as a young boy in Calais, singing carols with his family. But one horrible winter on the frontlines had killed his love for the season even before he was embraced. After decades and decades of Christmases on top of that, who could be excited for the holiday anymore? It came and went every year, just the same, in a cycle of days so short it was relevant only for mortals. And the boyish thrill in his chest, which rose up involuntarily at every first snowfall, absolutely needed to be silenced until it matched his silent heart. If he occasionally went for long midnight walks through the shopping district or even the residential zones in December, it was to survey the state of his territory and canvas with his people. Definitely not for any fondness over the splendid, neon profusions of LA Christmas lights.

Settling into his desk in the penthouse, Sebastian picked up the phone and dialed the one person he could always count on when seeking a last-minute delivery free from any fuss. He spoke without waiting for a hello. “Mercurio. I want the largest tree that will fit in the Venture Tower lobby. The largest, yes? And enough decorations to cultivate an atmosphere of…er…festivity, in the standard way. In the front lobby tomorrow, by 9 PM.” Click.

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

Chunk was relieved of his post early the next night. Sebastian informed him that the Tower would be closed for some renovations, but that he’d surely like the look of it when he returned. The last thing Sebastian needed was boundless holiday cheer while attending to the serious, professional work of setting up the displays.

…In a plush red and white sweater, obviously, because that was attire appropriate for the occasion. And one should always dress appropriately for the occasion.

By the time Sebastian came downstairs, humming to himself, he thoroughly expected to find a large tree and boxes of decorations at-the-ready in an otherwise empty lobby. No one would be the wiser about who hung them. He could sit by himself, playing old songs on the portable radio, and reminisce about the loss of his mortal life until he either felt better or was completely undone by loneliness.

Instead, Mercurio wobbled at the top of a ladder, stretching silver and gold tinsel in long swooshes across the top of the glass doors and onto the adjacent moldings to trim the entire room. The tree was already half decorated too. Sebastian’s displeasure was so great that he found himself snapping even before Mercurio had seen him.

“Why on Earth does this look so sloppy? It should be twisted together first, the silver around a core of gold. I’ve seen it done in the Macy’s display. Don’t tell me you intend to hang all of this tinsel so deplorably? Who ordered you to do this anyway? I certainly didn’t.”

The ghoul nearly toppled off the ladder in surprise. “Well goddammit Sebastian! It ain’t gonna hang itself, no matter how much you insult it.” He began pulling down what was already done, muttering something under his breath about holiday stress and about how, if Sebastian had wanted it some particular way, he should’ve just said so.

Sebastian chose to ignore him entirely for the time being. Taking up the loose ends, he began twisting them together with pointed (even spiteful, if that was possible) care. If I want something done well, I have to do it myself, as usual, he thought. But in reality, he soon found the pair of them working in highly efficient tandem – one twisting the tinsel together and the other hanging it. Despite his grumbling, Mercurio couldn’t seem to stop helping his regnant. And oddly, looking at the thoughtfully decorated tree in the center of room, towering over both of them, Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to order Mercurio away.

After a little while, Mercurio glanced down from the ladder. “Funny you know how Macy’s hangs their tinsel anyway.” The look Sebastian offered in answer dared him to laugh, but he just continued. “I know too, as a matter of fact. I always liked to go walking through the malls and down main street this time of year. Maybe you think a guy like me can’t have any fun, but, well…” he stretched up to his full height to secure the next swoosh of garland. “When my old man was alive, it was him and me who’d deck the house every year, getting up on ladders and all that. And we wanted to do a nice job for my mom. So we’d go walking through town, look for inspiration, talking about the year that went by...that was one of the only times he was around for me. I guess I still get nostalgic.”

“…It isn’t the worst idea, to honor the memory of such traditions.” He had the sudden impulse to tell Mercurio how he had always wanted to share “la bûche de Noël” with his family when he was still a mortal, believing he might one day marry and have children sitting on his knee in front of the fire. But the words were caught in LaCroix’s throat, leaving only a cold and awkward silence between them.

“I’m sorry, Prince LaCroix. I talk too much when you’re around, you know that. Damn vamp blood has that effect on me. Makes me want to be nice to you and shit.”

“No. No, it’s quite alright, Mercurio. It’s becoming, in a ghoul, to be…nice…to one’s regnant. In fact, here: I’ll tell you something in return.” Definitely not about the long-dead fancy of a loving family gathered around him at Christmas, but… “In the days of the revolution, when I was still a baby, Christmas celebrations were banned in France, due to anti-clerical sentiments from the new regime. But most people celebrated anyway. My family was one of them, or so I’m told. It was easier for us than most, since we were well-to-do. And I have some memory – I’m not sure if it’s real or not after so long but – I have some memory of dancing candlelight filling my home up to the ceiling. So many more candles than we’d normally have any need for…and everyone was singing…”

Mercurio cleared his throat. “Well, I didn’t get you candles, since that seemed like a bit of a vampire death trap. But hey, is that a radio? You want to put on some holiday tunes to decorate with? Not that pop garbage. The vintage stuff.”

Vintage. LaCroix wrinkled his nose at the descriptor, when it seemed to him like only yesterday. But he broke into a tentative smile nonetheless. “That’s not a half-bad idea.”

So it was that the Prince of Los Angeles found himself hanging ornaments and garlands and velvet bows all night long. His own vitae beat in the veins of the man next to him, but strangely, it was LaCroix who felt alive in his own motionless chest. For once, he hadn’t killed the childish joy that fluttered there.

Author’s Note: I got into learning a bit about the French history of Christmas, which is why there’s so much tradition in this. This is an article called Noël en France that helped me. Besides that, it was mostly Wikipedia.

[sweetvelaryon]

luena | lucerys x rhaena

warning | 18+, smut, hate sex

“I hate you!”

Rhaena waited for the words to hold meaning. To burn at her from the inside out and truly mean the words of hatred. She hates her father, sister, mother, and stepmother. But most importantly the hate for her stepbrother. stupid mafia business.

“I hate you!”

“No you don't,” Lucerys growled as he pulled her hair back and continued fucking her from behind. her cunt clenched around his cock like a vice as his hand found purchase on her countertop. She somehow always managed to find herself calling Luke when an issue arose with other mafia houses. Recently, the Greyjoys were messing with her. She had gotten out with her other brother's help. Lucerys was livid and angry with his brother Jace. Out of the business, she married a humble man, Garmund Hightower. Much to her family's disdain when they found out about her chosen husband. As always Luke hated her choice in leaving him. He didn't hate that she wanted a life without violence but that she chose a useless Hightower above all. Rhaena had a deep debt with Luke. She needed the extra security. Just because she was out of business didn't make her a target. Lucerys was her security. Her safety net. It came with a prince of course.

she tried to mumble out another I hate you but was met with Luke bending her further to meet his thrust.

“You don't hate me,” he says.

“yes, oh! I do,” she moans as his cock scraps against her g-spot. a spot, unfortunately, Garmund had never hit.

Luke darkly chuckled as he wrapped a hand around her neck and bowed her back to look into his brown lust-filled eyes. “You can't hate me. You need me. I need you. You want and need this,” he groans as he continues to fuck her.

She shakes her head but feels lightheaded, her legs growing like jelly beneath her, the lewd squelching sound filling her ears. “I… I don't want this.”

“Why lie? huh? Why lie?” he pulls her hips back furthermore and starts hitting her cervix.

why? I have to! I have to lie! if I don't lie to you or to myself I will be stuck in an endless loop of danger. I'll be stuck between a gun to my head and your arms. forever caged with you. That's all I'll ever have. a family? you always said you didn't want kids.

she simply moans like a pornstar and takes the brutal fucking her stepbrother gives. Luke swipes his hand to her cunt and gives her clit to harsh strokes. That's her undoing. She screams and thrashes underneath his hold as she squirts onto him, and her mind goes fuzzy. never had she had such a powerful orgasm in the past months. Garmund doesn't have such a passion for hate sex like Lucerys. when he finishes inside her it catches her off guard. his cum filling her up quickly and to the brim. He usually wears a condom, but with both of them being so worked up, that became an afterthought. She would need a plan b soon. Luke pulls her back up, his hand still around her neck as her glossy orchid-pink eyes look up at him. He kisses her. sloppy, messy, and possessive.

Luke doesn't kiss. He doesn't like it. But you always do it with me and I hate it. You give me hope. And for what? Just to bring me back to you? manipulate me? What's your play, velaryon?

he lets go and slips out of her ruined cunt. She rests her forehead against the cool counter. she can faintly hear Luke zipping up his jeans. a soft gasp leaves her lips as she feels him carefully pull back up her black panties. Luke presses a kiss to the back of her thigh and stands up. She waits a moment to gather feelings back in her legs before she turns and faces him. When she does Luke lights a cigarette and leans back onto the wall.

“You should leave,” she manages to say.

He takes a long drag and blows the smoke out. “Worried Mr. Perfect, finding out about your dirty secret?”

Her eyes darted to the ground, “we've talked about this Luke.”

“No, you talk and I listen. we never speak of it. I'm still protecting you even out of our business. I can do it better with you at my side,” he says.

she exhales softly, “I can't.”

his eyes harden but he doesn't press on. He doesn't do anything else but stares at her.

“bye rhaena.”

“bye… Luke.”

she watches as he puts out his cigarette and leaves without sparring her another glance.

[celestialmantdonna]

Going Knowhere || closed with thenexusofsouls

She was home. Mantis was finally home again. Not because Knowhere was her home as a��place, but because home was where the Guardians were.

It had been two years since Mantis chose to bid farewell to the Guardians, leaving to find her own purpose while Quill left to return to Earth. The Celestial siblings had stopped running from their past, and it was freeing, as scary as the choice had been. Mantis had taken the three Abilisks with her… and the green seed Nuada gave her, of course.

Moments after landing, Mantis was greeted by some of the residents that lived on Knowhere. She rarely wanted to draw attention to herself, but she knew the three giant Abilisks would attract a few looks. Drax was all over her. He had picked her up at least three times to hug her, tightly squeezing Mantis until her eyes bulged from her skull. Part of the reason why Mantis had been at peace leaving his side was because now there were other children, children who needed him, after he spent years protecting Mantis since she reminded him of his daughter.

“Okay, Drax, enough! I want to say hello to everyone else,” she exclaimed, patting his back until he finally put her down.

Nebula, Kraglin and Adam hugged her affectionately, but soon enough Groot pushed them aside so he could hug Mantis, as well as Rocket. Cosmo licked Mantis’ face and Mantis giggled, patting the dog’s head. Cosmo was still the best girl in the galaxy.

When Mantis asked where Quill was, Drax told her he was still on Earth, but he wrote to the Guardians regularly to let them know he was okay. They were family, all of them, and they would always be.

“I say we throw a party tonight,” Rocket suggested. “You’re back, bug. We've gotta celebrate. What do ya think?”

“That sounds good! Thank you, Rocket,” Mantis said.

“Abilisks!” someone cried nearby, and collective screaming followed.

After reassuring everyone that the Abilisks were with her, lest panic took over all of Knowhere, Mantis asked the Guardians if they knew where Prince Nuada was. She had left without saying goodbye to anyone but the Guardians, and she wondered if Nuada would be angry with her. Rocket and Groot offered to look after her Abilisks while Mantis looked for the Elven Prince.

Mantis walked with more self-assurance than before. She no longer held her hands in front of her body, letting her arms swing at her sides instead. She was more poised now, secure in herself yet more mellow. Confident – but not unfriendly. As if her two years of complete independence had allowed her to grow more than her several centuries with Ego. She wandered over to the spot where Nuada was, following the direction Rocket had told her, and a few bark children appeared to say hello. Mantis smiled and waved at them. She remembered taking them to Knowhere shortly after bringing Nuada's people, as well as Mr. Wink. She never wanted Nuada to choose either his people or his friends; he could have both. She tilted her head when she spotted Nuada, and offered a polite smile.

"Hello," she said, trying not to make things awkward. "Good to see you," she added. "Okay, I know I left without saying goodbye, but... I already said goodbye to my friends, and I realized if I stayed a little longer to say goodbye to everyone, I would not leave. I would just think about how much I would miss everyone and stay. The seed is fine, by the way! I have been speaking to it regularly and making sure it knew it was a good seed. My Abilisks would keep it safe when I couldn't, so... yeah."

@thenexusofsouls

[starsfic]

Summaries:

A two parter DoTMNT fic, with the turtles adjusting to the fact that they are biologically related and the Hamato brothers discussing their eldest brother.

In the wake of learning about Splinter’s real identity, Leo and Raph struggle with deciding on how to handle it. (Or, according to @stylishbutdefinitelyillegal, Hamato Saki earns the Worst Uncle award.)

Modern AU where Azure, the head of security in a fancy casino, meets a beautiful golden man. Smut

After Iron Fan manipulates her son into a state of possessiveness over his mate, Red and her enter a civil war. DBK and Qi Xiaotian are watching on the sidelines. (Or, Ironbull and Spicynoodles keep fucking in each other’s bed. Smut.)

Inspired by an AU discussed on Discord with @rain-bow-donkey and @draw-of-the-moon, Sun Wukong has reincarnated into Pigsy’s neighboring shop. Azure must process this during their first meeting. Smut

Sun Wukong is trapped in a real life harem romance. The issue is that he wants none of them.

The gang, fresh off a new attempt at breaking the spell around the town that keeps them trapped, are hired in order to investigate sabotage around the town's yearly magic festival, the Carnival of Souls. Mr. E's spying is complicated by Pericles and Nidhogg's plans.

Qi Xiaotian's birthday is coming up. Sun Wukong jumps at the chance to do an old-fashioned bash because Xiaotian is his favorite person, and he deserves it. His parties are legendary, not just among the Brotherhood but throughout Heaven and the demon community. So imagine the reaction when, out of nowhere after 500 years of sudden silence, Sun Wukong is throwing a party. Not just a party, a PARTY.

Based on King Thrushbeard, after Red Son rejects suitor after suitors, DBK loses patience and married Red to the next peasant that passes by. Qi Xiaotian, the peasant in question, is very confused.

That one fic I mentioned to @twinklecupcake: AU of Pignapped where Tang and the kids instead land in the capture where Zhu Bajie joins the journey and must work with Sun Wukong and Tripitaka to wrangle the pig. What Tang also finds is a rival over his husband- Blue Orchid.