#she chewed up her last one pretty bad

[chuckpetrizzi]

EVERYBODY HOLD EVERYTHING

I made a little house for my rat.

That is all.

[orcelito]

There's also the impulse to be like "women ain't shit" but that's a lie I love our women. Not women as a whole's fault that one of them turned out a selfish bastard of a coward.

I just need to find a woman who doesn't treat me like That. Get me a good butch. I need me a good butch.

[boneblushed]

And, boy, you got her

synopsis Rafe’s in charge of the pledges during Rush Week. Hazing isn’t a thing. Making you feel so high school is.

wc 3.6K

a/n omgggg Euro Trip Rafe <3333 I was living on pledgetok last week and just couldn’t not write something about it

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters, surveying the crowd over his red cup, “I swear they get scrawnier every single year.”

Rafe nods gravely, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s fucking grim.”

“Like — fuck, look at those two.” Noah gestures toward the shaded veranda, a fresh coat of gloss making its balustrades shine. Huddled in one corner, attempting to take up as little space as possible, two boys donning UNC merch survey the crowd in tandem. “We weren’t that fucking scraggy as freshman, were we?”

“You two weren’t,” Kelce snorts, coming up behind them. Topper brings up his rear, mid-bite of his loaded hotdog. “Thornton definitely was though.”

“Oi!” Topper protests, his words garbled by half chewed sausage. “S’wasn’t that bad. C’mon.” He turns to Rafe then, swallowing his mouthful. “But seriously, you locked in any potentials?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, looking back over Delta Chi’s yard. Unsurprisingly, it’s far too early to say. Though the barbecue that they’re hosting is a good way for pledges to mingle, it isn’t exactly hazing material; they’re going to have to get creative.

“Maybe,” he replies finally, shrugging. “We’ll just have to see I guess.”

He tips back his red cup again, swallowing the last dregs of beer before acquiescing. As he’s about to announce his need for a refill, a few pledges sidle up to their group, looking hopeful.

Not overtly, of course. Painstakingly hiding their eagerness behind an armour of insouciance.

“Rafe,” the tallest of the three greets, handing him another red cup. The golden liquid inside it brims to the surface, its white foam dissolving in mocking. “Hey, bro. You need another?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, hiding a grin. “Shit. Table service already?”

The boy grins in tandem, looking a little sheepish. “Big fan, man. I’m Dylan.” He motions at the two guys on either side of him, wearing matching squints and backwards caps. “This is Rahul and Xav, we’re all here from Trinity.”

“Durham and Chapel Hill?” Noah enquires, whistling approvingly when they nod. “Fuck, we used to love having away games there. Those Trin cheerleaders…”

“Haha, shit, what was that chic’s name again?” Rafe asks then, a pull of mirth as he turns to Noah. “The one you messed around with in junior year?”

“Blake,” Noah answers, groaning in a mock-wistful sort of way. “They didn’t make ‘em like her at the Academy.”

Rafe snorts, sending the pledges a sage glance. “Nah. They made ‘em better.”

Noah raises his eyebrows, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, so we are allowed to objectify your girl then, Cameron?”

“Damn, so you’re tied down?” Xavier pipes up, his voice gravelly and low on purpose. Overtly masculine, like he’s trying hard to be red-blooded. “Your girl doesn’t mind you partying?”

Rafe frowns. “Why would she mind?”

“Uh,” Xavier balks, pulling at the bill of his backwards cap, “shit. I don’t know… like, doesn’t she get pissed that you’re constantly around sorority girls?”

“HA —” Topper laughs, and then he falters, thwarted by Rafe’s warning glower. “Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just say Cameron doesn’t give her any reasons to be suspicious.”

“Because he’s obsessed with her,” Noah adds, unperturbed by Rafe’s expression. He pauses then, an amusing idea popping into his head. “Which means…” he continues, returning Rafe’s glare with a trust me one of his own, “you guys should be too.”

Rafe doesn’t trust him. Like, at all. He sends him a bewildered look, unsure where he’s going with this. “White — what?”

Noah ignores him. He downs his beer and crushes the red cup in his hand, deftly aiming it at the nearest bag of trash. “So,” he says, eyeing the three pledges with interest. “How serious are you guys about rushing Delt?”

“Pretty serious, bro,” Rahul answers, looking to his friends for support. “Think we got a shot?”

Noah throws his arm around Rafe’s neck, his strong bicep taut as he shoots them a grin. “Depends, man, I might know how we could figure that out though.” He begins to steer Rafe away from them, sending one last, faux-somber look over his shoulder. “Be right back, yeah?”

Rafe, whose bewilderment is quickly giving way curiosity, allows himself to be marshalled out of earshot without complaints.

He shrugs Noah off of him once they’re on the verandah, his features ever-bemused as he turns toward him. “The fuck was that about?”

“Bro, I know exactly how we’re going to haze these motherfuckers,” Noah replies, his voice lilted with mirth. “You know… without breaking any rules.”

The bewildered expression on Rafe’s face doesn’t acquiesce. “Okay… how?”

“Instead of getting them to be our bitches,” he answers, a mischievous grin making home on his features. “We’re going to get them to be our girlfriends’ bitches.”

Rafe frowns. “Bro. What?”

“Cameron, it’s perfect.” He swipes Rafe’s beer from his hand and takes a generous pull. “What do frat guys hate more than being called scrawny as fuck?”

“Uh. Doing assignments?” Rafe answers blankly, still frowning. He doesn’t have it in him to think too hard about Noah’s profferance. He’s on hour two of manning this boring event, hour four since he bid you farewell, and all Rafe can bear to think about right now is the imminent taste of your peach-scented lips.

Noah shakes his head. “No, dumbass. Being called a simp.”

“Wrong,” Rafe answers, “I don’t mind that shit at all.”

“You’re the exception,” Noah replies matter-of-factly. “You and Y/N have always been the exception. C’mon, I’m talking about us,” he places his palm over his breastbone solemnly, “mere mortals.”

Rafe narrows his eyes. “Fuck off. How would that even work?”

“We…” Noah pauses to think, a slightly furrow to his brow, “alright, I got it. We assign the pledges to our girlfriends, one by one. Give them a week to make a good impression — you know, carry their bags, buy them flowers, all that sentimental crap you love.”

“You really think the guys’ll agree to this?” Rafe asks, sounding reluctant. “I mean… I don’t know if I’m alright with a bunch of idiots holding doors for my girl.”

“But you’re an idiot that holds a door for your girl,” Noah answers, not missing a beat.

“Fuck off, White.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be funny. And look… if you’re worried about Y/N, I know she’ll find it adorable as fuck.”

Rafe shakes his head. “No way. She didn’t find high-school me adorable.”

Noah raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You’d be surprised, man. Besides, these guys aren’t going to be like high-school you. High-school you was a douchebag.”

“A douchebag who got the girl.”

“A douchebag who got the girl after he stopped acting like a douchebag.” Noah smirks then. “A douchebag who’d give all these fuckers a run for their money if he was pledging Delt this year.”

Rafe grins in tandem, stealing his beer back to take a big swig. “Alright, shit, alright. Harmless shit though, right? Chivalry and all that?”

“Harmless as hell,” Noah agrees. “C’mon. You really think any of these guys has the balls to make a pass at one of our girls?”

“Easy for you to say, White. You don’t fucking have a girl.”

Noah frowns. “What d’you mean? Aren’t we going halves on Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Noah,” Rafe groans, almost spitting out his mouthful of beer. “If Y/N heard the shit you said when she wasn’t around, she’d probably kill you.”

“Nah,” Noah replies, seemingly unperturbed. “She loves me.”

“Well,” Rafe says grimly, crushing his own empty cup in his head. “She might do now, but she sure as hell won’t by the end of this week.”

—

The first time it happens, you’re understandably perplexed.

You’re en-route to your 9AM, bag strap denting your left shoulder, when a stranger falls into your step and swipes it from your figure. It’s a motion so quick and deft you initially think you’re getting mugged.

As you double back in bewilderment, he proffers, “you alright with this?”

“Uh.” You balk. “What?”

“Your bag,” he answers, readjusting it on his own shoulder. He seems earnest. Nervous, even. “It looked heavy. I can carry it to class for you, if you want?”

You allow a pause to take him in.

“No, I’m…” another pause, more of his demeanour on display. Backwards cap, crisp white polo shirt, smile lines exposing the ghost of a grin on his face. A familiar grin, the kind that pulls a soft, maudlin feeling from your ribcage. “Look, if you’re trying to hit on me —”

“No, no,” he interrupts quickly, his eyes widening in a panic. “Shit — no, don’t tell Cameron I’m hitting on you. I’m just…”

“Wait a minute,” your eyes narrow accusatorially, because of course he’s behind this chivalrous display, “you know my boyfriend?”

The stranger grimaces sheepishly. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Explain.”

“It’s… uh… well — basically, I’m pledging Delt,” he answers haltingly, self effacement juxtaposing his frat boy exterior. “Rafe’s asked us to be all gentlemanly and shit for pledge week, I don’t know. To you guys, I mean. Like… the current frat member’s girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “No he hasn’t.”

“Shit.” He looks far more nervous now that he did five minutes ago. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumble, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “No he did not.”

Rafe’s on speed dial. He picks up on the first ring, the way he always does for you.

“Hey baby,” his gravelly timbre crackles through the phone, the low hum of frat house chatter audible in the background. “What’s up?”

“Don’t even. You know what’s up Rafael.”

A pause. When Rafe speaks again, his voice is quick and placating. “It was Noah’s idea.”

“Of course it was.”

“Dylan’s not playing up, is he?”

You raise your eyebrows at the stranger then, assessing him faux-suspiciously. “No way. He’s doing a better job than you ever did in high school.”

“Woah woah woah,” Rafe replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “That fucker’s not calling you dream girl or something, is he?”

“Worse. He’s being respectful of my boundaries.”

“Oh shit. I fucking knew this was a bad idea.”

You shake your head in exasperation, trying not to laugh. The poor stranger’s still standing there at attention, your leather bag looking ridiculous on his arm. “Rafe. Tell me he’s the only one.”

“He’s one…” Rafe starts slowly, sounding sheepish, “of three. Four, counting me.” In the background, you hear Noah pipe up and add, “five, Cameron. How could you forget me?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Noah White,” you shout through the phone.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Noah sings, and then he groans, no doubt shoved to the side by his indignant best friend. It’s Rafe on the phone again, voice sweet and thick as molasses as he says, “they’ll behave, baby, and make your life easier in the process. I promise.”

“What?” You accuse, fighting back a smile. “Like you did in high school?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, the grin on his face audible. “They’ll be nothing like I was, sweetheart.”

“What?” You tease. “Absolutely insufferable?”

“And absolutely in love with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”

“They’re under strict instruction. Have a shiner waiting for them if they pull something funny.”

Another exasperated laugh bubbles out of you, and you begin walking forward again, motioning at the boy named Dylan to follow in your step. “Right. So the boundaries are on purpose, are they?”

“The respect, too. No being inappropriate and charming at the same time.”

“And why not?” You ask faux-indignantly. “What if I like being objectified?”

“Can’t have you falling in love with them, can I?”

“Hey,” you argue, frowning stubbornly. “That is not what made me fall in love with you.”

“It isn’t?”

“Well,” you balk, “not solely that.”

“You’re fucking sexy,” he recites devotedly, almost yells, and you can hear the collective groan of his frat brothers in the background. “Are you wearing those Lululemon pants right now? Point is, I’m thinking about your ass in those Lululemon pants right now.”

“Rafe, I was fucking kidding. Stop.”

“No you weren’t.” You know he’s right; you can picture that stupid smirk on his face. It makes your cheeks warm. Asshole. “You’re blushing now, aren’t you?”

“Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees. “No funny business, alright? Just lots of good deeds.”

Good deeds. You suppose you could get used to good deeds, the embarrassment of attention notwithstanding.

You let out a defeated sigh, halting in front of your 9AM class. “You so, so owe me.”

“I so, so love you,” Rafe replies, and it makes your pulse leap; you’ll never get used to this feeling. “See you later, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Love you.”

Dylan waits until you’ve ended the call before saying farewell, dutifully handing your leather bag back to you and giving you a mock salute. The way he does it, all sheepish and genuine with a charming smile on his face, makes your heart twinge in a junior year of high-school sort of way. You’re feeling sentimental. It’s sweet.

You’re reminded of Rafe before he was yours, stumbling over himself to win your favour. Confusing chivalry with courting, objectifying you in the name of flirting.

Insufferable, but sweet nonetheless. You digress.

—

The next time it happens, you’re ambushed at your favourite cafe.

A dutiful Delta Phi pledge has already queued up and purchased you coffee, handing it over to you with a blushing bouquet of tulips.

You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly. “Is that…?”

“Uh, an oat iced coffee with vanilla?” He asks, sounding nervous. “I asked Cameron for your order.”

“Didn’t ask me about pastries, though,” a voice behind you adds, rough and familiar with a sweetness around the edges. Rafe circles your waist with ease and pulls you into his chest, sponging a soft kiss to your temple before handing you a brown bag.

A glossy, Daily Bread sticker shines on its exterior proudly.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at him expectantly. “Tell me you didn’t drive back home for a single croissant.”

“I didn’t drive back home for a single croissant,” Rafe replies. He grins then, looking that same, sheepish genuine that pulls a maudlin feeling. “I drove back home for twenty.”

“Rafe. Why?”

“Because you like Daily Bread,” he replies matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious.

You shake your head in exasperation, tip-toeing up to press a quick kiss to his lips. It becomes less quick against better judgement. He tastes like spearmint gum and cold brew, the hand he has held to your waist tightening ever so slightly. Slipping under your shirt, massaging the soft skin he finds there expertly, discreetly. Too much for 8am on a Wednesday morning, sans coffee. Your face feels on fire. You pull away in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the freshman pledge balks at the exchange, looking out of place.

Rafe frowns bemusedly at your diffidence, only clocking the reason when you nod over at him.

“I’ll walk her over Ben,” he says, dismissing him. “You’re off the hook, bro.”

“Shit.” The boy named Ben grimaces; he needs to get his hours in, and doesn’t deem this a fair ambush. He scrambles for an excuse. “Right. Can I still give her the flowers?”

“Of course you can,” you beam, accepting them gratefully. You look up at Rafe then, asking, “And if I want to walk with Benjamin?”

Rafe grins down at you, disbelieving. “Do you, baby?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you say, wriggling out of his grasp. “He got me flowers.”

Rafe falters, his eyes widening in surprise. “Sweetheart, I got you a croissant.”

“Ben got me a coffee,” you hedge. “And flowers.”

“Y/N,” he placates.

“Rafael,” you echo, unperturbed by his exasperation. You take a sip your coffee. “I’ll see you later, okay? Ben’s ticking off a good deed this morning.”

Poor Ben looks helpless, taking the brunt of Rafe’s glare as you motion for him to hold the door for you.

“C’mon Ben, we’re going to be late.”

“But…” Ben pauses, his eyes flitting to Rafe nervously. “This is fine, right?”

Rafe sighs, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth in defeat. “Yeah, bro. You’re good.” He looks to you, then. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smile sweetly. “I’m wearing the Lulu leggings.”

“Oh I noticed,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes falling down your figure in slow, reverent paces. “It’s why I want to be the one holding the door for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Men only want one thing.”

Rafe grins. “Yeah. You.”

—

By the end of the week, you’re more used to the chivalry than you’re willing to admit.

You’ve enjoyed free iced lattes and filled your dorm with gorgeous bouquets, no door left unopened and no walk to class left unescorted. And really, every pledge you’ve come across has been pleasant and unassuming, albeit absolutely terrified of Rafe and therefore extra obliging on instinct.

They’ve even offered to do favours for you, got you into sought after Pilates classes and done last minute grocery runs on your behalf. It’s put you in this constant state of mild exasperation, like you can’t believe you’re worthy of this much love and chivalry.

It’s exactly the way you felt back in high-school with Rafe, and this revelation pulls lots of funny feelings from your stomach, from your chest. Feelings you’ve forgotten that are all yours and all his. Because it’s strange, having someone other than Rafe taking care of you. (Or Noah.) It’s strange because it makes you realise just how much he adored you back in the day.

These emotions come to a head at the pledge week closing bash, Delta Phi lit up with fluorescent lights in technicolour. Inebriation ensues, beer pong follows, and an impromptu DJ deck plays endless songs with heavy bass.

Rafe Cameron has you pulled close, as always, the taut muscle of his forearm pressing heat to your exposed waist. You’re a few drinks down and hyperaware of his proximity, ankles touching, thighs too, torsos close with your head resting on his shoulder.

“I think I like Dylan the best,” you announce suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe asks, kneading your skin absentmindedly.

You nod. “He’s sweet. Told me all about his girl back home.”

Rafe grins then, shaking his head bemusedly. “You’re such a sucker for love, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” You glare up at him faux-incensed, looking accusatory. “So are you!”

“Shhhh,” Rafe murmurs playfully. “Not so loud, you’ll fuck up my street cred.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care about street cred?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Rafe agrees easily, leaning down to draw your lips in for a kiss. He’s all patchouli and musk, beer on his tongue and unchaste intentions in his touch. When he pulls away, his lips are still an inch from yours, his voice rougher than it was a second ago, “I don’t care. Like, at fucking all.”

“Good,” Noah snorts from behind him. “‘Cause you never had any to begin with, bro.”

“There you are,” you say then, eyeing Noah over Rafe’s shoulder. There’s a mock accusatory expression on your face, softened by mirth and the alcohol on your lips. “Have you been hiding from me, White?”

Noah grins sheepishly, taking a pull of his beer. “Maybe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me. When did you become worse than Rafael?”

“I didn’t become worse!” Noah insists. “He just became better. You know, after he got the girl.”

You make a face. “Smooth.”

“Hey,” Noah raises his arms in surrender, looking faux-somber, “someone’s gotta teach the next generation, don’t they? I’m committed to their education.” He raises his eyebrows then, a mischievous glint in his eye. “C’mon, don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

Rafe grins. “She totally fucking loved it.”

You aim a glare at the pair of them, failing miserably at hiding your amusement. “So maybe I didn’t mind it. Sue me.”

“Of course you loved it,” Noah says, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side. “You love Cameron, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Opinions vary.”

“You love me?” Noah tries.

“You fucking wish.”

“Everyone fucking wishes,” Rafe says then, throwing his arm around you too, your figure wedged between the pair of them. Frat boy sandwich, you think tiredly. If high-school you could see you now, you’re pretty sure she’d have an aneurysm. “Especially when you’re in Lululemon.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding. Not really. They all love you, you know that, yeah?”

You look up at him questioningly. “The pledges?”

“Uh huh,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows at you. “This is what I was afraid of, you know.”

“What?” You ask, lifting yours in tandem.

“Everyone falling in love with you, like I did in high school.”

You scrunch up your nose at him, your cheeks warming in diffidence. “No one’s fallen in love with me, don’t be silly.”

“I have,” Noah pipes up unhelpfully.

“Shut up, Noah. I saw you talking to Georgia just before.”

Noah grins, pulling away and offering you a mock salute. “Guilty as charged.” He turns to survey the crowd, spotting her figure on the fairy-light lit porch. “Speaking of…”

And he’s gone before you’re able to tease him any further, leaving Rafe to guide you out of his side and into his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands exerting a warm, steady pressure into the curve of your waist.

“As I was saying,” you continue, frowning up at him playfully. “No one’s fallen in love with me.”

Rafe’s unconvinced. His gaze skates down your figure again, a tortured groan falling from his throat. “Have you seen you, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, face hot and self conscious. “And even if they have,” you add, “it doesn’t matter.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

“No way. Because I’m in love with you, not any of them.”

Rafe grins then, a devastatingly handsome look on his face. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”

“I’ll never get used to saying it.”

[sinofwriting]

Cover It All Up - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,214 Summary: As she starts to get ready to meet her boyfriend's mom, she can’t help but be nervous considering that last time she met a boyfriend’s family he dumped her all because his parents didn’t approve of her.

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After the disaster of Lando Norris, she had told herself no more British men and no more F1 drivers. She had at least stuck to one thing.

Charles was different from Lando. The only thing they really seemed to have in common was that they both were F1 drivers and competitive people. But where Lando would get stroppy when she beat him in paddle or during their one bowling date, Charles would laugh, grinning at her as he kissed her in celebration, telling her how easy she made it look, despite that sometimes not being the case at all.

It wasn’t that Lando had been a bad boyfriend, he had been nice, just not for her. Or rather she wasn’t for him.

She thinks about it as she stares at herself in the mirror, regretting the sleeveless top she bought to meet Charles’ mom. It was pretty, the color complementing her perfectly, there was just one problem. The lack of sleeves. Meaning her tattoos were showing.

She had lost count how many she had after getting her first one when she was eighteen and then getting three more within that same month. She had some on her thighs as well, a tattoo on the back of her shoulder and a small one on her ankle.

She loves her tattoos, there isn’t a single one she regrets but as she looks at them now, she does. The shame and embarrassment from meeting Lando’s parents still has a spot in her mind.

They barely had spoken to her during the dinner, their eyes lingering on her tattoos, the multiple piercings in her ears. Her words had seemed to fall on deaf ears, her compliments, and questions. She hadn’t been surprised when a day later Lando told her that they didn’t approve of her. It made her laugh. Lando’s parents not approving of her because she had tattoos and a few piercings in her ears. She had been surprised when he broke up with her in practically the same breath.

“It’s just a lot, isn’t it?” He gestured at her. Blood had rushed to her cheeks. “What do you mean?” “Well,” He chewed on his lip for a second. “The tattoos, the piercings.” He shrugged. “It’s just a lot, a lot to see, to deal with.” That had made the blood rush more, knowing he was referring to when she got her last tattoo. “And besides.” He continued. “I can’t really be with someone that my parents don’t approve of. It would never work.”

The memory has her eyes stinging, she had never felt so small or embarrassed before. Taking her top off, she puts it back on its hanger, placing it back in the closet before looking at its contents. There wasn’t much. Charles had tried to get her to bring more stuff to his, but she had figured one suitcase was more than enough. It filled the two drawers he gave her, she ignored the existence that those two drawers belonged to a dresser that was hers, and her clothes that had to be hung up fit perfectly in the section he gave her. She also ignored that they didn’t fit perfectly, tons of free space around them.

As she looked at what she brought with her, she sighs. So much of her wardrobe was short sleeves, tank tops, and sleeveless things, all to show off her tattoos and here at Charles’ she only had one top that had full length sleeves.

It was cute, it just wasn’t the top she wanted to wear, she had imagined wearing when meeting Charles’ mom, but it would have to be the one. Pulling it off the hanger, she quickly pulls it on, just barely resisting the urge to make a face as she looks in the mirror. She forces her eyes away from the mirror as she begins to take her piercings out, including her fake septum one.

As she takes her helix out on her left, she sees Charles behind her.

“You’re putting different ones in?”

She makes a humming sound.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Can I pick again?”

She can’t help but smile at the question, leaning back into him for a second. “You can pick something for my lobes. I’ll be wearing this top.”

He frowns as he looks at her tray of jewelry. “I thought you wanted to wear the one you bought yesterday.”

“It didn’t look nice on me.”

“Well, that can’t be true.” He lightly scoffs, before holding up a pair for her approval.

She shakes her head at the opal earrings, but opens her hand for him to place them in. “Next thing I know, you’ll be giving me earrings with your number.”

He flushes at the comment, looking away from her.

“Charles!”

He grins at her laughter, wrapping himself around her again, watching as she puts the earrings in. “You look beautiful with my number on you, mon amour. I can’t help but want to see you in it all the time.”

“Can I not pick another one?” He asks after a moment of her fiddling with her earrings, the backs of them always giving her a little more trouble. “Like uh,” he taps a spot on her ear, trying to remember it. “Your conch.”

She shakes her head, turning in his arms. “I’m not wearing any others today. You can pick all of them tomorrow.”

His eyebrows raise, “Including this one?” His hand goes between their bodies to gently press at her navel.

“Including that one.” She kisses his cheek. “Now, are you ready to go?”

He nods, eyes darting around her face, drinking her in before he frowns. “Amour, you aren’t wearing any other piercings?”

She shakes her head, stepping back. “I’m not wearing any others today.”

“I thought you just meant your ears, I didn’t think you meant your fake ones.” His frown deepens. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her go anywhere and only wear one visible piercing. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She tells him. “Just not feeling today.”

He looks at her, something not feeling right, but he nods. “Okay.” He kisses her forehead. “Let’s go then.”

As they walk to his mother’s, he can’t help but look at her. Not just because it’s hard for him to not look at her, which it is, because something is wrong. He’s never seen her cover up her tattoos when it hasn’t been cold out and he’s never seen her with so few piercings. It just isn’t her. It’s not who she is.

Her grip on his hand is also a little tight and he can see her fingers on her other hand constantly rubbing at her palm. She’s nervous, he realizes, feeling a bit stupid. He had thought that he had calmed the worst of them, but now as they grow closer, he fears he hasn’t.

Maybe he hadn’t told her enough how excited his mom was to meet her, to see her. She had so many questions about her tattoos and her piercings, where she got the fake ones, and so many other things it made Charles’ head spin. He had never seen her so excited to meet one of his girlfriends before.

“She’s going to love you.” Charles tells her as they reach the front door, pressing a small kiss to her cheek.

“Promise.”

She smiles at him, her nerves bleeding through. “Okay.”

He presses another kiss to her cheek before opening the door.

“Maman!” He calls, stepping inside. He wants to go further in the house but knows better than to leave the entryway with his shoes on. Bending, her hand still in his, he loosens the laces of his shoes with his free hand before getting them off. Staying bent over, he loosens the laces on hers as well, smiling at the large sigh she gives.

Standing straight he nearly jumps at the sight of his mom watching the two of them, a fond smile on her face. “Maman!” He greets, giving a squeeze to her hand before letting it go to hug his mom.

Wrapping his arms around her, he expects for her to murmur how much she’s missed him, fuss about his hair, press a kiss to his cheek, while she hugs him back, but all she does is give him a quick squeeze before moving out of his arms and past him. He looks at her wounded, but she doesn’t notice, enveloping his girlfriend in a hug, whose eyes widen before she returns it.

“Oh, you look beautiful, Y/N. I was so happy when Charles told me you’d be coming today.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Leclerc.”

“Pascale, please.” She says, finally pulling away. “Have you eaten? What would you like to drink? Come sit.”

Charles watches, mouth slightly dropped as his mother ushers her into the kitchen, completely ignoring him. She always asked him that, and told him to sit, no matter that he had grown up here. He was one of her babies, she always said, before gently pinching his cheek.

“Water is more than fine, Mrs. Leclerc.” He hears her laugh as he enters the kitchen and sees them sitting at the table.

“Please, call me Pascale.”

She smiles at his mom and he can feel the love he has for her grow more as she reaches for his mom’s hand, taking it in hers for a second. “Pascale.” She says, “Water is more than fine. And I have something for you.”

“Oh, there is no need for that.”

Charles watches, surprised as he sees her reach into her purse and pull out a jewelry box. He had no idea that she had brought something for his mom. “Charles mentioned that it can be hard to find nice topaz and opal jewelry.” She says, voice quiet and Pascale opens the box.

“It’s beautiful.” She breathes, carefully taking it out of the box.

His eyes widen as he sees the necklace in his mom’s hand. It was stunning. The topaz perfectly framed with opal. He had never seen anything like it.

“Mon amour,” the words are breathless as he shakes his head. “How did you?”

She ducks her head, “I wanted to give something to you,” she looks at Pascale. “That represents all of your kids. It was hard to find, but I’m happy I did.”

Pascale places a hand over her heart, tears stinging her eyes and she puts the necklace gently on the table before wrapping her arms around the girl. “Thank you, ange. Thank you so much.”

Charles watches as she melts into the hug, her nerves finally seeming to leave her and the sight of the two most important women in his life embracing makes him breathe easier, his own nerves disappearing.

“Now,” Pascale starts, pulling away. “Charles is going to pour us some wine.”

“Maman,” he tries protesting, but she continues ignoring him and he huffs before letting his feet lead him to where the wine glasses are.

“And you are going to tell me all about your tattoos.”

“Oh.” She looks shocked and Charles brows can’t help but furrow.

“You of course don’t have to.” Pascale rushes to say. “I just have seen so many pictures of them, from Charles and your Instagram, and would love to see them and hear about them. Your piercings as well. I had no idea you could get such good fake piercings.”

“No, I-I would love to tell you about them.” Her eyes glance over to Charles, who is concentrating on pouring wine. “I was just a bit nervous meeting you with all of those things. I didn’t know you had an interest.”

Pascale looks at her in confusion. “Since Charles showed me your photos, I have wanted to meet you. You are such a gorgeous girl and you make him so happy. And I love your tattoos. Did Charles never say?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Charles!”

He stops, eyes wide, just about to set the glasses of wine on the table. “What?”

“You never told her that I love her tattoos? Charles!”

“I thought I had.” He defends, putting a glass in front of both of them before sitting in the chair next to his girlfriend, his arm immediately coming up to rest on the back of her chair as he presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry, mon amour.”

“It’s okay.” She tells him, with a small laugh. She turns her head to look back at Pascale. “Really even if he had told me, I might have not believed him.” She pauses, taking a sip of a wine. “The last time I met someone’s parents, they didn’t care for my tattoos and piercings. He broke up with me over it.”

The older woman scoffs, shaking her head. “Their loss and our gain. They are lovely from what I’ve seen.”

“Would you like to know about my favorite one?”

“Yes!”

Charles watches fondly as she pushes up her left sleeve, exposing a myriad of tattoos before pointing at the one just above her wrist on the inside, telling his mom all about it. It’s a story he’s heard before, more than once, but just like his mom he can’t help but listen intently as well.

[luveline]

coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?

“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?” 

You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well. 

“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard. 

“That blows,” James says. 

“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth. 

“Please.” 

You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands. 

“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks. 

“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.” 

You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch. 

You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says. 

You drop your pointing. “Really?” 

He covers his eyes. 

Your following laughter is even richer. 

“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say. 

You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate. 

He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution. 

You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”

you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet. 

You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?

Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other. 

“They’re in love,” you say dreamily. 

“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body. 

You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get. 

He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.” 

“Ha-ha.” 

“No, I’m serious.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it. 

Lovely, even. 

[vivwritesfics]

Grandparents

Jimmy is a frisky little fuck, gets the neighbour cat pregnant. But hey, that's an excuse for the neighbour cats owner to introduce her to the pretty man with the mesmerising blue eyes who also can't wait to become a cat grand parent

1.7K

Beaver had been acting incredibly strange. When her owner acquired her (literally rescued the little cat from a bin - she had been sitting in the apartment dumpster literally chewing a bit of wood, how she got her name), she had never been one to beg for food. 

In the three years she'd owned Beaver, she'd always filled up her bowl in the morning, and then Beaver would sporadically eat from it. She'd never finish the bowl before noon and then yowl for more. 

And Beaver was definitely getting fat. 

Her owner was incredibly worried.

She scheduled an appointment with the vets and then spent maybe two hours trying to coax Beaver into her cat carrier. But the cat was a wild child. If she didn't want to do something, she wasn't going to do it. 

The cat carrier idea was abandoned. "I kinda hate you," her owner muttered with little conviction as she scooped Beaver up into a blanket and left the apartment. 

It was a little awkward, carrying a cat through Monaco like it was a baby. But Beaver was pretty happy to lay in her arms, happier than she would have been in the cat carrier. 

When, at last, they got to the vets, they were the only beings in the waiting room. Thank God, the last thing she needed was a dog freaking Beaver out, or Beaver chasing somebody's pet rodent across the room. 

She couldn't stop her knee from bouncing as they waited to be called. Her eyes couldnt stop drifting across the room, to that ugly, magnified picture of a tick. When they were called (which didn't take too long, maybe everybody else's pets were thriving that day), she carried adjusted her grip on Beaver and carried her into the waiting room. 

Pregnant. Her mangy little street cat who she loved more than anything was pregnant. "Beaver, you hoe," she mumbled as they walked out of the vets office. But then she looked at Beavers swollen belly. She had kittens in there.

Who the hell was the father? Beaver hadn't left her apartment (by choice), so who had gotten her pregnant?

She didn't mean to gasp as loudly as she did. In the hall of the apartment complex, she stopped walking to look at Beaver, her eyes wide. "It's the neighbours cat, isn't it?" She asked, but Beaver didn't confirm or deny. 

But it madde sense, didn't it? The neighbours cat had a habit of breaking into her balcony to check Beaver out. It wouldn't be a surprise if he and Beaver got busy while she was at work. 

"Well," she said to Beaver as she unlocked the apartment door, "at least you've got taste." 

Yeah, the neighbours cat was pretty beautiful. A Bengal, if she knew her cat breeds (which, she barely did). And his owner wasn't bad to look at either. 

The owner that she should probably inform of what was going on. 

She placed Beaver down on the sofa, and she climbed out of the blanket. "Okay, Bea," she said, holding out her hand (so that Beaver could push her head against it). "I'm gonna go and tell your baby daddy's dad what's going on. You stay here and... try not to let any more boy cats in." 

Beaver ignored her and made her way to the bedroom. 

Standing up straight, she brushed the loose cat hairs from her jacket. She grabbed her keys from the side and made her way out of the apartment, to the one just above her own. 

As she waited outside of her cats baby daddy's owners apartment, she could hear an incredible amount of commotion from inside. Well, I say commotion, but it was one single voice, sometimes shouting. She raised her knuckles to the door and knocked. 

The shouting stopped. Their was a pause, so long that she thought he wouldn't answer, before he pulled open the door. 

Eyes so pretty she got lost in them, and quite literally forgot what she was going to say. She'd never properly met her neighbour before, just seen him when walking through the building. Her mind blanked as she continued to stare into those pretty blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Her neighbour prompted, and she shook herself out of whatever trance he had her under. Witchcraft, I tell you. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to bother you but I live in the apartment beneath you with my cat, Beaver, and I think your cat might have gotten mine pregnant."

His face dropped, and then a smile split across it. "Really?" He asked, and she nodded. "Jimmy is going to be a dad?”

"If Jimmy is the pretty little Bengal that Beaver is obsessed with, then yeah, Jimmy is gonna be a dad," she answered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was reaching into his apartment and grabbing a set of keys. "Can I come meet the momma?" He asked, his voice so excited. How could she say no to that?

On the short journey form his apartment to her own, they introduced themselves. Max was Jimmy's dad, and he was a car mechanic (okay this girl clearly didn't know who Max was, and he didn't want to come out with the whole F1 driver thing. So he took a leaf out of Daniels book and called himself a car mechanic).

(She thought it was a little weird, how did a car mechanic afford a luxury apartment in Monaco? Maybe he was a car mechanic to the stars or something).

"Why is she called Beaver?" Asked Max as she pushed her key into the lock on her apartment door.

She didn't judge him for asking, it was an incredibly strange name for a cat. "Well, when I found her she was chewing this bit of wood and she looked sort of like a mangy little beaver. Turns out she was just a mangy little cat," she said and let Max in.

They might have been in the same building, but her apartment was much smaller than his own. A lot more full, too. Where Max had little else beside his set up in his living room, she had so much stuff. A fluffy colourful rug, a sofa big enough for a whole group of people, a cabinet full of DVDs.

"The little miss is probably in my bedroom," she muttered as she kicked off her shoes. "I'll go and get her."

Max kicked off his own shoes. He took a moment to look around properly, careful not to invade her privacy.

She emerged just a few moments later from a little way down the hall, a little black and white cat in her arms. "This is Beaver," she said, holding the purring kitten towards him.

"Hi Beaver," said Max as he took her from her hands. "I'm Max, Jimmy's dad. You're gonna make me the happiest cat grandpa out there."

Beaver pushed her head against Max's, still purring. "She likes you," said her owner as she sat on the couch.

"They're gonna have the prettiest babies," Max said as he sat beside her, Beaver happily sitting in his lap. As carefully as he could, Max fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to her. "Give me your number, just in case you guys need anything."

But it wasn't just in case they needed anything. After Max went back to his apartment, they texted almost constantly. It started off being about the cats, but then it went further (I say further, but it was just them sending each other memes, giggling from behind their phone screens as they laid in their respective beds).

Max invited her out for dinner maybe a week before the kittens were born. It wasn't anything fancy; he was just craving something unhealthy and he wanted some company.

And then the kittens were born. As Beaver hid herself away in her closet, she pressed her phone to her ear. "C'mon Max, pick the fuck up" she whispered as she sat on her bed.

She was panicking, admittedly. But who could blame her? Her cat was about to give birth!

Max finally picked up his phone. "Hey, I'm at the pet store. What sort of bed should we get for momma and babies?" He asked, sounding all too relaxed.

"Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here!" She cried. "The babies are coming!"

Max ran out of the pet store. He'd never moved so quick in his life (not with his own two legs, at least). In ten minutes flat he was outside of her apartment door, knocking insistently.

Max was just as stressed as she was. But, upon seeing the look on her face, Max let the stress drop. "She'll be okay," he said, pulling her close for just a moment. For a moment was all they had; they had to get to Beaver.

He took charge, sitting her on the bed with a glass of water. The two of them waited while Beaver gave birth. There wasn't much more they could do. Once the kittens were born, Max brought in towels and blankets. He kept a nice distance to her while he set up a lovely warm bed for her and the kittens.

"They're beautiful," he said, not daring to pick them up. "Should we bring Jimmy down here to meet them?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Let momma and babies rest," she said, laying her head on Max's shoulder.

He squeezed her. "We're gonna be the best cat grandparents," he said. When she held up her hand, Max gave her a high five.

"Can the grandpa take the grandma out for dinner? Is that something a new cat grandparent would enjoy?" He asked, looking down at her with her head still on his shoulder.

She hadn't yet taken her eyes away from the kitten. "Real dinner? Or you just want company?"

"Real dinner, date dinner."

"Love it."

[gothcsz]

Body Language | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 2 to this bad boy right here | ~8.2k wc | Series Masterlist | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Caught in a charged and unexpected moment with Javier Peña, you struggle between resisting his relentless seduction and giving in to the tension that has been building since the last shoot.

Tags: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, no use of Y/N, reader is shorter than javier but other than that no physical descriptions, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (we're in an elevator this time around), reader really doesn't like javi, steve being steve, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then my ass had to drag it out just a little because their dynamic is very fun to write 😭 he's like whyyy don't you like me and she's like how much time do you have? lmfao. this is dedicated to @auteurdelabre 🖤 #1 pornstar javi stan, i almost submitted this for your trope off but decided to save that honor for my other story! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy javier begging to eat you out 🥂 let me know what you think 🖤 mandatory mutual tags: @almostempty / @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

You sit in the cramped waiting room outside of Robbie’s office, the stale air clinging to your skin as you shift uncomfortably in the worn-out chair. The place is too quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outdoors.

You glance at the clock on the wall, anxiety creeping up your spine. You have a shift at the bar in an hour, and time is slipping through your fingers. The laundry, the groceries, the endless list of errands— it all piled up today, and now you’re cutting it too close.

But you need this check. It’s the only reason you’re here, tapping your foot in impatience. If you don’t get it today, the money won’t hit your account in time to cover rent, and you really don’t want another lecture from your landlord. It’s bad enough you’re already behind— no need to give him more ammunition to chew you out.

You sigh and lean back, eyes closing as you try to drown out the frustration swirling in your head. That’s when you hear the unmistakable ding of the elevator down the hall and turn your head to see who’s joining.

Your stomach drops and you sit up straight. No. Not now. The air feels heavier, thick with that familiar irritation, as the slow, deliberate sound of boots against the tile grows louder. 

Javier Peña.

Just the thought of him sends a hot wave through your being, a mix of irritation and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want to think about that last shoot, the one where things shifted. Where shit got weird. You behind the camera, filming as always, while he was balls deep in another woman, claiming you were on his mind.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

“Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

It was like he’d stripped you bare with just a few words, leaving you more exposed than them in the midst of their carnal fucking. And the worst part? You’d been affected by it. Skin on fire, pussy wet. It also didn’t help that Steve had heard it too. The mic catching the flirting, the hitch of your breath getting stuck in your throat, clear as day.

He’d asked you about it later at Lucky’s, as promised, all smug and drinking that God-awful beer. But you’d brushed him off, hoping he’d drop it. Thankfully, he had— for the most part— but you could still feel his restlessness, wanting to stir the pot.

Now, Javier is here, of course, because the universe just loves to mess with you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back against the chair in defiance. You refuse to look at him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets under your skin. 

His footsteps stop just a few feet away, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore. You can feel him looking at you, feel the weight of his brown eyes like a physical thing as they rake over your body.

You keep your gaze glued to the wall, focusing on the ugly, generic painting hanging there like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You gonna act like you don’t see me?” His voice is deep, smooth, and frustratingly cocky, just like always. 

You grit your teeth, biting back a response. You won’t give him an inch. Not again. This motherfucker will take a mile.

“Okay, so that’s what we’re doing.” Before you can react, he plops down beside you. You stiffen immediately, moving your crossed knees to the side, angling yourself away from him, as if the few inches of space will protect you from the onslaught of whatever the hell he’s about to say next.

He spreads his thighs wide, his posture screaming obnoxious confidence. You just barely catch a glimpse of his bulge pressing up against his left thigh and how the fuck does it look so big even when he’s soft? “You know,” he says, voice dripping with that lazy, arrogant drawl, “you’re the only woman that treats me like this, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

You snort, the sound sharp and humorless. You still don’t bother looking at him.

Javier frowns, flitting his tongue across the top row of his teeth. “Is it because I came off too strong the first time we met? ‘Cause if that’s the case; then I’m sorry. Can’t help myself from flirting with pretty little things like you.”

You roll your eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. He doesn’t sound sincere at all.

Thing is, you didn’t mind the flirting. Even if he, like he’s so romantically put it, does flirt with pretty little things all the time; it did make you feel like just that. Pretty. It’s what came after that soured your Javier Peña experience.

He huffs, like a petulant child, frustrated by your silence. You don’t give him the satisfaction of even a glance. Instead, you shift in your seat, your mind racing, wondering what the hell is taking Robbie so damn long. He never works, barely lifts a finger unless there’s money or something else in it for him, and now, suddenly, he’s busy? Yeah, right. He’s probably in his office jerking it to one of his films, getting off on his own work. Typical.

You’re done waiting. With a sharp movement, you stand, startling Javier, though you still don’t give him the time of day. He’s used to women catering to his every whim, hanging on his every word. You aren’t going to be one of them. Not even if he did manage to get you all hot and bothered.

You stalk over to the door and knock harder than necessary. “I’m busy,” his voice grumbles through the wooden surface, and you resist the urge to scream.

“And I need my check. Just slide it under the door or something,” you snap, the urgency in your voice making it clear that you’re not in the mood to get fucked around with.

There’s a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers before the door cracks open just enough for Robbie to stick his hand out, an envelope clutched between his fingers. He practically shoves it into your hand before slamming the door shut again.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope with your name scrawled across the front. Surrounded by imbeciles. Just one shift to get through tonight, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some peace. Enjoy the first weekend off you’ve had in months.

Now that you have what you came for, you spin on your heel and stride down the hallway, ignoring the handsome pornstar still lounging in the chair behind you. From your peripheral, you can see him sitting there, skinny jean clad legs spread, looking all annoyingly sexy without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were ugly— or literally anyone else. But no, it’s Javier fucking Peña, with his ridiculous good looks and that cocky smirk that could probably charm the panties off half the city if he wanted to (it probably has, to be honest).

You mentally map out the next hour: hit the bank, dash home to change, then off to work. You could walk to the bank, maybe catch a taxi home if you’re lucky. But with traffic in this city, luck isn’t really on your side. You start considering your options— do you skip changing and just head to work as you are? Would your other boss even care if you showed up a little underdressed? You’re so lost in your thoughts, focused on cutting corners to save time, that you don’t hear the quiet footsteps behind you.

It’s not until the elevator dings and you step inside that you realize you’re not alone. Javier’s slipped in just before the doors close, sliding smoothly into the cramped space beside you. The sudden proximity makes your heart do this stupid little jump, and you curse yourself for it. You’re trapped now— stuck way too close to him in the tiny metal box.

The air feels charged, his presence impossible to ignore yet again. The smell of his aftershave hits you first— spicy, with a hint of something woodsy, layered under the scent of his leather jacket and the faint, lingering whiff of cigarette smoke. He tries to drown it out with minty gum, but it’s still there, clinging to him like an old habit. And damn it, your knees go a little weak, despite your best efforts to stay cool.

The height difference between you is glaringly obvious now. You’re eye level with the habitually open portion of his cream colored shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give a peek at his brown chest. It’s frustrating how effortlessly he pulls off the whole rugged look— like he doesn’t even try, but somehow manages to look better than most men who spend hours on it.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you can smell him, that you can feel the heat radiating off his body in the tight space. He’s just too close, and the damn elevator isn’t moving fast enough. You’ve got a million things to worry about right now—rent, work, your life— and the last thing you need is to be distracted by him.

But, like always, he’s right there, invading your space, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” You snap, breaking your vow of silence. You frown up at him, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface as you cross your arms defensively over your chest— a bad move, you realize too late, as the motion only pushes your braless tits together beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

Predictably, his eyes drop immediately. You curse yourself for not wearing something more substantial. It’s not like I was planning to run into him today, you think to yourself.

“To understand why you hate me so much,” Javier says, his voice low, carrying that annoyingly casual tone, as if this whole conversation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.

Your brows knit together, and a dry laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it. “Well, for starters,” you bite out, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you ask.” 

His gaze snaps up so fast it’s almost comical, his dark eyes locking with yours, defiance flaring there. But there’s something else too— something that makes the air between you even more tense. You hold his stare, daring him to say something, to make this worse for himself. His expression tightens, but you continue before he has a chance to speak. “And I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. You annoy the shit out of me.” 

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The smallest chink in his armor. You reach around him, your hand brushing against his side as you press the button for the main floor. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through you that you try to ignore. You don’t have time for this— for him.

Javier scowls, his mouth pulling into a frown that mirrors yours, and before you can react, he half-turns and punches a button for a different floor, effectively canceling your request. The elevator jolts, shifting direction. 

You groan audibly, exasperation washing over you. “And here you are, proving my point,” you mutter under your breath. Every second you waste in this shitty elevator with him is another second closer to being late for work. Another second closer to not getting everything done that you needed to today. He’s not just in your way—he’s deliberately in your way, and the worst part is, he knows it.

“You don’t like me,” he counters, turning back to face you fully, his tone edging into frustration, “but you never even gave me a chance.” His jaw is set now, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit that there’s more to it than just annoyance. Like he wants you to say it’s something else, something deeper.

If you had the luxury of time, you’d lay it all out for him, explain in excruciating detail just why you’ve avoided giving him that chance. How his arrogance grates on you. How his charm, though admittedly effective, feels hollow. How the way he flirts isn’t even the problem—it’s the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

But you don’t have that kind of time.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. “As fun as it’d be to stand here and explain this shit to you like a child,” you say, your voice tight, “I have important things to do, and you’re keeping me from them.” You jab the elevator button again, hoping the damn thing will just go where you need it to without another unnecessary detour, but you already know it’s a losing battle. 

Javier shifts closer, just slightly, his presence looming. You can smell that damn aftershave again, all spice and leather and smoke, and it only pisses you off more because your body reacts to it before your brain can stop it. You feel your resolve slipping, just a little. His eyes are on you, unwavering, intense in a way that makes you want to both slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“I’m not trying to keep you from anything,” he replies, softer now, the edge in his voice gone. His tone is almost... apologetic? No. It can’t be. Javier Peña doesn’t apologize. At least not in any way that feels real.

You don’t even bother responding, just stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster. The sooner you���re out of here, the better.

“Just—fuck, give me something. Anything,” he growls, frustrated as all hell. His eyes are wild, and you can see the cracks in his usual suave demeanor, like he’s barely holding it together. “Ever since that last shoot, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t know why. You think you’re exasperated? How the fuck do you think I’m feeling over here?”

You raise a brow, leaning into your disdain as you pout at him mockingly. “Oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. A girl doesn’t like me back, wahh.” You mimic the sound of a crying baby, bringing your fists up to rub against your cheeks in the most exaggerated way possible. Then you drop the act, face deadpanning. 

His eyes narrow, and you think you’ve finally hit a nerve. Good. Let him stew in it. But instead of backing down, he does something you don’t expect— he turns, reaches out, and slams his palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt, the hum of motion disappearing as the car freezes between floors.

Your eyes widen, a sharp spike of adrenaline shooting through you as the reality of the situation sets in. “What the hell, Javier?” You’re about to cuss him out, to let him know exactly what kind of shit he’s just gotten himself into, but before the words can leave your mouth, he takes two long, purposeful steps toward you.

Instinctively, you move back, the sudden intensity in his eyes sending warning signals through your brain. But there’s nowhere to go. You can’t escape the tight confines of the elevator, your back is pressed up against the cold metal railing. You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as his broad body looms over yours, trapping you in a way that leaves you feeling both furious and breathless.

He’s too close. His chest brushes against yours, and you can feel his gaze as it drags over your face, down your neck, and lower still, lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Any insult you were ready to hurl at him gets stuck in your throat. You hate how your pulse quickens, how your breath catches. You can feel every inch of him— solid muscle, tense with whatever storm is brewing behind those dark eyes. 

For a brief, dizzying moment, you forget to be mad. You forget that you’re supposed to dislike him, that he’s the last person you should let get under your skin like this but somehow is the only one who’s able to. All you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your cheek, the way the small space between you crackles with tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, making your pussy tingle in ways you wish it didn’t. “You think it’s easy for me to just... shrug it off? Because it’s not. Not when I keep thinking about you, and I don’t even fucking understand why.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that catches you off guard, making you pause to wonder if this really isn’t a game to him.

But you can’t let him see that. You can’t let him know how much he’s getting to you (even though he’s more than aware). So instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, forcing your voice to stay steady. “And stopping the elevator? Trapping me in here with you? That’s your brilliant solution?”

“No,” he breathes, voice dropping to a near whisper as his face inches closer to yours. “But it’s the only way I could get you to stop running from me.” 

You hate how your stomach flips at his words. Hate how much you’re fighting against the instinct to lean into him instead of shoving him away. Every part of your body is screaming at you to tell him to fuck off and leave you the hell alone.

“Do you know what I think it is?” The words come out in a low, dangerous drawl, the kind that seems to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He leans in, crowding your space, eyes boring into you with an intensity that has your pulse skyrocketing. “I think you’re too fucking stubborn to let yourself have any fun. The idea of me fucking you is enticing, isn’t it?” His lips curl into a smirk, the kind that drips with arrogance and dark promises. “Could see it written all over your face that night at the hotel. That look in your eye while I was fucking Lexxie.”

His accusations slam into you, pulling up the exact moment you’ve been trying to bury. It should have been a professional gig, routine even, nothing personal… except that wasn’t the case. Not with the way he looked at you the entire time, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to react.

And, fuck, you had reacted. You felt the heat rise in your face, the way your body betrayed you as you stood behind the camera, mouth salivating, thighs pressing together.

“Javier…” You push at his chest, your hand meeting the hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt. The intent is to shove him back, to create some space between you. But the second your palm makes contact, it’s like the air shifts, and instead of moving him, it’s like you’ve anchored yourself to him.

Goddamn him. Goddamn you for your spineless ass, for not being able to follow through on resisting the temptation that he is.

He smirks wider, clearly reading the war going on behind your eyes. “You were shaking,” he continues, his voice a dark whisper that coils around your insides. “Damn near moaning while you watched me go down on her. Rubbing those thighs together while this pretty ass was in my face as she was sucking my cock.” 

His large hand snakes around you, catching you off guard, fingers gripping a handful of your ass and pulling you closer. Your body collides with his, and that’s when you feel it— his erection, hard and insistent, pressing into your stomach. The heat between you flares up to unbearable levels, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, every nerve ending in your body on high alert, buzzing with want.

“You’re delusional,” it’s breathless but you’re still determined to keep some semblance of control. You squirm in his grip, your body betraying your words, the friction making your mind tilt. “You just can’t stand the fact that, for once, a woman isn’t throwing herself at you. That I’m not kissing the ground you walk on or falling to my knees, ready to suck you off.”

His hold tightens briefly, pulling you even closer, and for a second, you wonder if you’ll be able to break free at all. It’s damn near impossible to ignore the ache building between your thighs at this point. But somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your body twisting away from his until you’ve backed yourself into the far corner of the elevator. 

You can’t breathe. Not properly, anyway. You’ve never felt so on edge, so exposed in such a small space. Every fiber of your being screams at you to keep your distance, to reassert control of the situation, but there’s a part of you— dangerous and impulsive— that wants to step right back into his arms.

Javier doesn’t move, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. The elevator is still locked in place, a silent reminder that you’re trapped here with him until one of you decides to relent. His jaw clenches, and you think he’s going to say something cutting, something to tear you down. But instead, he surprises you.

“You’re right.” His voice is rough, but it carries a weight that’s different from the cocky arrogance he usually hides behind. “I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavier than you expected. There’s no smirk this time, no sarcastic bite. Just honesty, and it’s a fucking curveball.

You weren’t prepared for him to actually admit it. For once, he’s not trying to fuck with you, not trying to win.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You swallow hard, the weight of his confession making your heart leap out of your chest.

You don’t know what to say, so instead, you just stand there, staring at him, your body buzzing with a cocktail of adrenaline, lust, and confusion. Because as much as you want to dislike him, as much as you need to dislike him for your own sanity, you can’t deny the way your pussy responds to him. The way your mind keeps pulling you back to that night, to the way he made you feel without even touching you.

“Get over it,” you snap, cutting him off before he can sink any deeper into this conversation. You don’t need to entertain this further. It can’t happen, and it will never happen. The second you fall into bed with him, it’ll be game over. Javier Peña isn’t just a casual fuck— you know deep down he’d be the kind that wraps himself around your soul and doesn’t let go until he’s consumed every inch of you. 

The problem is, you’re terrified that you’ll let him. It’s why you’re so dead set on not giving in.

You cross your arms over your chest again, as if trying to shield yourself from the strength in his eyes, the way he seems to reach into your very core with just a look.

You try to focus on anything else— on the fact that you still need to get to the bank, then to your apartment, and finally to your bar shift. You don’t have time for this shit, for the endless back-and-forth with him.

But then he says your name.

The sound of it on his lips makes you close your eyes, every muscle in your body tensing. Damn him. It sounds so fucking sweet, almost reverent, and you know if you make the mistake of looking at him right now— if you see those beautiful, pleading brown eyes— you’ll fold.

He says your name again, softer this time, and the way his voice wraps around each syllable has your resolve teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please, just let me show you how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “Just one taste, nena, por favor.” 

And for the first time since you met Javier— he’s begging. You never imagined that he, of all people, would beg for anything. But here he is, his voice low and thick with desire, pleading with you to give him just one chance.

You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that have been ignited by his words. The synapses in your brain light up like fucking fireworks, each one triggering a new thought, a new possibility. There’s a moment— a split second— where you picture it.

You imagine his hands on your body, his lips trailing fire down your skin, his mouth between your legs. The image flashes so vividly, so intensely in your mind, that it steals the breath from your lungs. 

You can practically feel the way he’d elicit things you’ve been trying to suppress. Your legs go weak just thinking about it, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, to remember who you are, what this is. 

But your cavewoman, horny brain betrays you— racing ahead, picturing every possible outcome. You can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let him in, just once. How it would be to let him take control, to let him show you, like he’s promising, just how good he can make you feel. 

You’re already late getting to the bank. You should be focusing on that, on getting out of this damn elevator and away from him, but your body won’t cooperate. Every part of you is ablaze, screaming at you to just give in.

Javier’s standing there, staring at you with those chocolate eyes, his dark brows drawn together, pouty lips parted just slightly as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He’s laid it all out in front of you, leaving you to make the next move. And fuck, as much as you hate to admit it, you want to. You want to let him pull you into his world, even though you know it’ll consume you. You want to feel his hands on your skin, his mouth everywhere, his name slipping from your lips.

But you can’t. 

If you give in now, you’ll never be able to walk away from him, and you can’t afford to let yourself get tangled up in Javier Peña. He’s chaos wrapped in temptation, and once you let him in, there’s no turning back.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you try to hold on to the last shred of control you have. “Javier,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. You feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, teetering between desire and self-preservation. The weight of his gaze presses down on you, and for a moment, you think you might just jump.

But then, with every ounce of willpower you have left, you take a shaky breath, shaking your head and breaking the spell he’s woven around you.

“No,” you say, the word barely above a whisper, but firm enough to anchor you back to reality.

His face falls, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. You almost regret it, almost, but then you remember who he is. What he does. And you know you made the right choice, even if every part of you is berating otherwise.

You stand there, locked in a silent standoff, both of you doing a piss poor job of pretending like you don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off right here in the elevator. 

You’re hoping—no, praying— that he’ll finally let it go. That he’ll stop pushing, stop testing your resolve, and just leave you alone. You’re begging for him to go back to what he does best, to leave you to your job— both of them.

You break eye contact first, glancing down at your watch. You’re definitely not going to make it to your shift on time. Shit. You need to phone your boss and give him a heads up before this gets even worse. But right now, you can’t seem to focus, not with Javier standing there like a Roman statue, immovable and perfect, watching you with that infuriating intensity.

“Now, if you can get the elevator to take us down, I’d really appreciate it,” you say, but the words come out softer than you intended. You hate how small your voice sounds, like you’ve already lost the upper hand, and you mentally slap yourself for it. 

But he doesn’t budge. He just stands there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and it makes you want to scream. His gaze is piercing, boring holes into your entire existence, and it’s taking everything you have not to crumble beneath it.

“Do you really mean that?” He asks as he brings a hand up to smooth down his mustache. There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, like he already knows the answer. “Because everything about your body language is screaming otherwise.” 

When the fuck did he get so close again? He’s right there, towering over you, and suddenly the air between you feels impossibly thin.

“It’s my fuckin’ job to read a woman’s body,” he continues, his voice growing huskier with each word. “And you know what yours is telling me right now?”

Your pulse quickens, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you can’t find the words to respond. You don’t trust yourself to speak— not when his presence is drowning you in your own body. 

He leans in, lips so close to your ear that his breath almost has you fainting. “It’s telling me that you want it.”

Your stomach flips, every nerve ending in your body coming alive as his curved nose barely grazes your skin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity straight to your cunt. You grip the railing behind you like a lifeline, your knuckles flushed as goosebumps ripple across your skin. 

Javier’s smirk deepens, the asshole clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Stop fighting it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, his hand sliding down the length of your figure in a way that feels too natural, too right. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You should stop him. You should. But you don’t. You can’t. His hands are on you now, moving with a confidence that’s impossible to resist. One large hand finds its way to your tit, groping it gently through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it. Your body fails you, head falling back against the elevator wall, your chest arching into his touch. 

The way his hand moves, so sure, so practiced, has your resistance crumbling, piece by piece. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your sensitive skin. “Barely done a thing and you’re already gone.” 

Your mind is spinning, your resolve completely undone as you melt under his touch. Every kiss, every graze of his lips against your neck feels like it’s unraveling the last bit of control you have. His body is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his erection through his jeans again, the hard (pun intended) evidence of just how much he wants you.

God help you, it feels too good to resist.

You sigh, a low, breathy sound that’s equal parts surrender and relief. His lips trail lower, his hand still groping your breast, and you let him. You let him because you’ve been fighting this for too long, and right now, you just want to feel something. 

Javier grins against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he pulls you even closer, his voice hoarse in your ear. “Told you,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you wanted this.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. You’ve given in, you’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces later, but right now? Right now, you’re letting yourself fall apart.

It’s like your whole body just deflates against his, sinking into the solid warmth of him as if all the fight has finally drained out of you. You’re giving him the green light, and he knows it. The grunt that escapes his throat is guttural, and you feel the weight of his palm pressing harder against your chest, his thumb and pointer finger expertly pinching your now hardened nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

“After this,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone.” His words are punctuated by a sharp tug at your nipple that sends a surge of arousal straight between your legs. Then his hand moves, sliding up to cradle your jaw with a surprising gentleness. He tilts your head so that your eyes meet his, forcing you to look at him— forcing you to really see him. “You have my word.”

You search his eyes, not entirely sure what you’re looking for— honesty, maybe? A hint of something real beyond the heat of the moment? Whatever it is, you can’t find the words to respond, so you just nod weakly, your breath bated. 

Javier smiles at that, a slow, predatory grin, and he leans in as if to kiss you. But you stop him, your hand pressing against his sternum with just enough force to halt him in his tracks.

“No kissing,” you say, your voice more resolute than you feel. “You said one taste, so get to it.” You’re setting boundaries, trying to keep some semblance of control in this situation. No kissing, no fucking— just head. That’s all this will be. He’ll get a taste of you, and you’ll finally get a taste of what all the hype is about. Then it’ll be over, and you’ll go your separate ways. That’s the deal.

His frown deepens, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, like he’s not used to anyone telling him no in any capacity. But it’s brief, because he’s not about to take the proverbial bone you’ve thrown him for granted. He agrees in his own way, pivoting without protest, his mouth returning to your neck like he’s already forgotten the attempt to kiss you.

Now that the rules are clear, you allow yourself to let your guard down— just a little. It’s not like your sex life has been riveting lately, and truth be told, you can’t even remember the last time a partner went down on you willingly. At least you’re getting something out of this fucked-up little arrangement, and for now, that’s enough. 

He kisses and licks a line down your throat, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. You sigh, your breath hitching as you feel his hands roaming your body with a confidence that should piss you off but doesn’t. 

His rough palms map out your curves like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He’s groping, squeezing, learning you in a way that makes you feel like you’re his personal discovery. 

The warmth of his breath, the skill in his movements— it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but respond, your hips shifting, your body bending instinctively toward him when one hand slides up under your shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast.

He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. Too damn good. It’s almost like he’s a fucking pornstar.

You hate that you’re enjoying it so much, hate that you’re already melting under his touch like some lovesick fool.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs against your skin, feeling the nerves radiating off of you. 

His touch lingers as he reaches the button on your denim shorts, undoing it with a flick of his fingers before pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate.

“You and these damn shorts…” you hear him say, more to himself than to you. His voice is gruff, frustrated, like he’s been waging a silent battle against his own restraint. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down over your hips, watching as the fabric slides off your skin. You step out of them, standing there in nothing but your underwear, top and sneakers, exposed in ways you hadn’t intended to be when you walked into that office earlier today.

His brows shoot up, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Of course, it’s laundry day. Of course, you’re left wearing your least practical pair of underwear— this skimpy, lacy purple number you hardly ever break out. The delicate string disappears between the cheeks of your ass, and the sheer front does little to conceal the soft tuft of hair just below your navel. 

And he’s drinking it all in.

“Fuckin’ hell, nena,” he breathes, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lust. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and hungry. “You always walkin’ around like this?” His hands grip your hips, and before you can even formulate a response, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, taking his sweet ass time, like this is some kind of worship.

“No, I—” Your voice is breathy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “I had to do laundry today…” It’s all you can manage, barely coherent as his lips begin pressing soft, teasing kisses to the inside of your knee.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you, his fingers gripping your thigh with enough pressure to leave you keening. You brace yourself against the elevator railing, your body tense with anticipation, your mind a chaotic swirl of logic and lust. You barely notice as the check you came here for flutters to the floor beside you, forgotten.

Don’t forget to deposit that, the reasonable part of your brain chimes in, but you tell that bitch to shut up because Javier Peña is currently on his knees in font of you, about to take you on the ride of your fucking life, and you’re nowhere near strapped in.

His head is tilted up, lips brushing dangerously close to where you want him most, and all rational thought is slipping through your fingers like sand.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked, and your breath catches again. You don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross, but now that he’s right there, so close to giving you what you’ve craved for longer than you care to admit, it’s hard to remember why you drew that line in the first place.

Javier’s lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and a quiet moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow path up your leg, sending shivers coursing through you. “Relax, bonita,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop teasing, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale as his hands part your thighs wider, positioning you exactly how he wants you. His grip is firm, possessive, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll survive whatever it is he’s about to do to you.

You don’t even have time to dwell on the thought before his mouth is on you, lips pressing a lingering kiss over the thin fabric of your panties. The sudden pressure sends a shockwave through your body, and your eyes fall closed, surrendering to the moment. His tongue teases the fabric, nudging against your already soaked cunt, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the lace. He hums low in his throat, savoring the first taste of you.

“These are so pretty. Don’t think I’ll take ’em off.”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to him completely. The cool air hits your slick folds, a contrast to the heat of his breath as he hovers just inches away. He’s staring, taking you in, and when he curses under his breath, it’s like he’s caught off guard by how badly he wants this. Wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, as he drags his nose up and down the length of your wet slit. The touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make you clench involuntarily, your body reacting without permission. More of your slick leaks out of your pussy, a response to the subtle stimulation, and you grip the elevator railing tighter to keep yourself from falling with how weak your knees get.

Javier flattens his tongue, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like your entire body ignites at once. You throw your head back, a ragged cry of his name ripping from your throat as your hips buck instinctively, searching for more of him, more of that friction that feels like pure electricity.

He’s not done, though. Not even close. One hand snakes around your thighs, strong and sure. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open, forming an upside-down V, and then he does something so filthy, so perfectly Javier— he spits directly onto your exposed pussy.

The sound alone could get you off, but the sensation is something else entirely. His saliva mixes with your slick, making everything wetter, hotter, and you feel like you’re unraveling before he’s even truly begun. A series of high-pitched moans spill from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your cunt, sucking and licking with a precision that has your entire being quaking.

Lips, tongue, teeth—he’s using everything he has, dragging you deeper into a haze of pleasure where nothing exists but the heat coiling in your belly, tightening with every flick. He’s devouring you, utterly relentless, and it’s too much but not enough, all at once. Every nerve ending is on fire, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep your balance. His grip on your leg tightens, keeping you locked in place, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling back for just a moment, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. His face is glistening, covered in your arousal, but his eyes are dark and hungry, never straying from your face. “With noises like that and a pussy this pretty— you’d be a fucking sight on camera.”

His words send another jolt through you, dirty and wrong and so fucking hot that you nearly forget how to breathe. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving faint marks in his wake, before diving back in with that skilled tongue of his. He’s a man with something to prove, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, zeroing in on your fleshy clit with a precision that makes your head spin.

It’s obscene, the way he’s working you over, all these years spent perfecting this art, but there’s a rawness to it too, a desperation like he can’t get enough of you. You’re soaked, dripping onto his face, and he laps it up like a man starved, the sounds of his mouth slurping against your wetness filling the small space around you. Your moans are louder now, more desperate, each one pushing you closer to that edge where you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

His fingers tighten on your thigh again, and then he’s dragging them lower, inching toward your entrance as his tongue flicks mercilessly against your clit. When he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly scream. The combination of his mouth and his fingers is enough to send you spiraling, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you arch into him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts when he pulls away to get a good look at your beautiful face and how you look when he’s making you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s enough to get him to latch onto your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“God, Javier,” you gasp, your voice shaky, barely coherent. You can’t think, can’t form any rational thought, not with the way he’s pulling you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure.

“Let go,” he growls against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your core. “I’ve got you, nena. Just let go.” 

And with that, the dam breaks. You’re coming hard, hips jerking wildly as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for a second, working you through it with that relentless mouth until you’re gasping for air, hands clenching at the railing so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped. 

Your vision blurs, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold on as Javier takes you on the ride of your life, just like you knew he would.

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back into your body after letting him take the reins for a little. You’re trembling, legs weak and body heavy against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s still on his knees, knuckle-deep inside you, lazily curling them as if savoring every last second.

His mouth trails soft, teasing kisses across your soaked panties, and the tenderness of the act startles you, nearly pulling you under again. But then he withdraws his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with an almost obscene groan, tasting you one last time as if to commit your flavor to memory. He carefully adjusts your underwear back into place.

Javier stands to his full height, your leg falling from his shoulder, towering over you. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as if to steady you. “You okay?”

You nod, though your bones feel like jelly. Your eyes stay closed as you try to gather yourself, forcing yourself back into reality, back into the woman who doesn’t fold like a house of cards for her co-worker. You bend down to retrieve your shorts and check from the floor, fingers fumbling with the zipper as you button yourself back up. He presses the button to resume the elevator, the gears shifting as you’re slowly carried back to the main floor. 

And just like that, it hits you. It happened. You’ve came on Javier’s tongue and fingers. You swore it wouldn’t— swore up and down that he was nothing more than a nuisance at work, a distraction you wouldn’t let get to you. But here you are, post-orgasm, in a goddamn public elevator, of all places, with the man who was supposed to be just a headache.

“Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again,” you mutter, trying to summon the biting edge to your words, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Javier just smirks, that infuriating glint back in his eyes like he already knows better, but he doesn’t push it. Not now.

The elevator doors slide open with a sharp ding, and the scene before you is worse than any nightmare you could’ve concocted in the heat of the moment. Two firefighters, the building manager, and— of course because why the hell not— Steve Murphy are standing there with varying degrees of shock and amusement.

You can see the moment Steve takes it all in— your flushed cheeks, the slightly mussed state of your clothes, Javier standing just a bit too close to you. His blue eyes narrow, then widen, and then he breaks into a shit-eating grin so wide you could slap it right off his face.

“Well, well, well,” Steve drawls, barely containing his laughter. “What do we have here?”

Your stomach sinks. Not again. 

Javier, ever the cocky bastard, simply raises an eyebrow and slides his hands into his pockets, all cool nonchalance like he hasn’t just been between your thighs minutes earlier. “Just crapped out on us randomly,” he says smoothly, and you want to strangle him for the audacity.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s in on some big joke that only you and Javier are the punchline for. And as you step past him, cheeks burning, all you can think is that this will never, ever happen again.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, a small part of you— the part still buzzing from the memory of Javier’s mouth— wonders if you’re lying.

[3amfanfiction]

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

[vigilskeep]

hey harker! very much enjoying the lucanis/illario/general crow posting, and im gonna encourage more: now that you’ve had some time to sit with the game i was really curious to hear more about your opinion on lucanis becoming first talon. i can’t help but feel like it’s completely glossed over that lucanis is definitely going to get chewed up by this job in most save states. i have mixed feelings about it personally - but setting those aside because i’m asking about yours.

i TRULY cannot express this enough: that villa is a tomb and if we do not get him out of there we are burying him in it

lucanis does not want this job. he has straight up canonically always avoided thinking about this by assuming he would die before it becomes something he has to deal with. he reacts with paralysed disbelief to being given it and seems to have barely registered it for the rest of the game. and even if he did want it, lucanis is not capable of this job. none of his skillsets are managing people, or making ruthless calls, or watching out for himself. the only driving force behind him being pushed into this is caterina, who will not be around to do the admin and protect him from external threats forever. and she only wants him to do it in the first place because she had a good heir—his mother—and has needed to project that dead daughter onto lucanis for his whole life, to believe she hasn’t already gambled and irrevocably lost her family’s future decades ago. but lucanis’ incapacity to ever say no to her, which is what lets him stay that eternal teacher’s pet, is one of the most obvious shining examples why he would be so bad for the job!

it would be an uphill battle for anyone to recover control of an assassin house that until last week was being run by your cousin who tried to kill you. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to lead the crows in the aftermath of the antaam occupation. it would be an uphill battle for anyone to cope with the fact that relying on viago and teia—which lucanis with his resources and skills has no choice but to do here, even if he didn’t simply like them and make choices based on liking people because he is not a strategist—presents them as an alliance that any other ambitious talon must cut down to get anywhere. three out of eight of the talons is such a ludicrously dangerous number. it does not take an overwhelmingly brilliant mind to notice that there’s more of us than there are of them

the best man for the job would still be fighting for their life, and lucanis is far from the best man. caterina was! and she still lost five children and six grandchildren holding it! that’s so many! have you guys ever seen that one post about people who kept getting a new outdoor cat every time the last one got eaten by cougars and it was pointed out they were basically just feeding cats to the cougars. that’s what caterina dellamorte was doing having kids

the points in lucanis’ favour off the top of my head are the weight of the dellamorte name and reputation, that his victory over illario was decisive and public, and simply the fear factor that he is a god slayer and, lest we forget, a fucking abomination. is that enough to keep him alive? for how long? under what level of constant anxiety and moral degradation for his very soft over-caffeinated heart? all for the questionable gain of several large and empty villas and the privilege of dragging out the slow and lingering death of a family that, you guessed it, you love it, it’s the thedas favourite: has no! next! generation! heirs! at all!!!

(unless illario has a bunch of kids somewhere. i think that would be objectively pretty funny, a sentence i managed to type most of before feeling ill. oh god we need to get them out.)

i apologise that my tone here is somewhat hysterical but i have been living in the mind of my rook, a character very aware of the realities of crow politics who loves lucanis very much. it does not surprise me that lucanis was once again incapable of even conceptualising saying no to his grandmother and accepted the title, or that the idea of abandoning her legacy and his family would seem insurmountable to him when he has been raised to believe it’s all he’s for and he is the last one shouldering the weight. but i am saying this with total and absolute confidence: this is another prison and he is going to die in there if nobody gets him out.

[novemberheart]

{overview} While John is out of commission you learn some startling information

{warnings} a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, fem reader, cursing, mentions of violence, pricesoap, handjobs (not very explicit)

Chapter 12 <- Chapter 13 -> Chapter 14

“I thought this could only happen when an omega is in heat?” Simon questioned, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Kyle was on the phone with a doctor. John had buried himself under his blankets, despite the heat building up in his body.

“It's a reaction that can happen when you become close to an omega you haven't claimed yet. Your body's way of speeding up the process.” the doctor explained from the other end. “Make sure to keep the omega away from him if it’s not what you want yet. It could also send them into a heat.”

John groaned from his bed. Out of worry. What if he lost control? He was normally a man of great control, would it still apply to this situation? He would make sure of it.

“How long does it last?” Kyle spoke.

“Well it usually depends on the length of the omegas heat- but without that, I would say 3 to 6 days.” the doctor shared. “He’ll be fine. Just make sure he stays hydrated, quarantined, and fed.”

“Thanks, doctor.” Kyle sighed, beginning to hang up.

“Sometimes it can be useful to incorporate some belongings of the omega in the nest.” the doctor added. They shared pleasantries once again before hanging up.

“You’ll be alright, alpha,” Simon spoke. The title made John huff.

“Easy for you to bloody say,” John growled. “Turn the fuckin’ lights off.” he snarled. Kyle quickly sprung into action flicking the bright overhead lights off.

“Go let Johnny and the pup know,” Simon instructed Kyle. “See if she wants to donate any of those pretty dresses of hers.” Kyle nodded his head, heading through the conjoined bathroom and into Simon’s room out the door. The last thing they needed was the smell of a rutting alpha in the living area.

Johnny groaned at the knock on the door. You were still fast asleep but started to stir once Kyle opened the door letting the light in.

“We've got a problem,” Kyle explained. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Why are you coming to me?” Johnny groaned, beginning to roll over to protect both of you from the light.

“John’s in a rut.”

The two of you shot up.

“How? I'm not in heat.” you sputtered, rubbing at your eyes.

“Doctor says it can happen when you grow close to an omega, but haven't claimed them yet,” Kyle explained.

Your heart sank, the comfort in your body slowly slipping away by the second.

“I'm not ready to”-

“We know, lovie,” Kyle interjected quickly. “We would never ask or expect that from you. Just have to tell you to keep your distance for a few days till it wears off. But we do need a favor.” Kyle trailed off.

“Anything I can do.” you assured.

“Can we borrow some clothes? Or a blanket or anything that has your scent?”

“Of course.” you jumped out of bed, your legs a bit wobbly. Kyle rested his hand against your back to steady you. You grabbed one of your dresses and one of the three pillows on your bed.

“I would donate a pair of underwear, but I don't have any cute ones.” you attempted a joke.

“This’ll be fine.” Kyle assured a small smile on his lips. “You two go back to bed,” he shouted over his shoulder, heading back into Simon’s room.

“I feel bad for him,” you mumbled against Johnny's chest. “I caused it.”

“Don't go there bonnie. He's a hard bastard, he’ll make it.”

“Well now he really is hard.” you sighed, causing Johnny to erupt in laughter.

It was one of his clear-headed moments. Johnny was curled up next to him, his sun-kissed skin rising up and down in a relaxed state. The bastard had waltzed into his room, without bothering to wash any trace of you off. He quickly turned into a chew toy.

“You alright?” Johnny mumbled, against his side. His hand rested against John’s lower abdomen fiddling with the dark forest there.

“Should be askin’ you that.” John yawned, stretching his legs out.

“Better not toss her around like that. You'll break her.” Johnny continued. John chuckled, tracing Johnny’s pronounced back muscles. Bite marks littered his back and shoulders, along with a red ass. He shivered under his touch.

“I’d never,” he assured. The thought of you had him swirling a bit. Your eyes. Your eyes hadn't left his mind. The way you had looked up at him in the movie theater. Tangled in his arm, melted eyes staring up at him so heated and needy.

“Already?” Johnny groaned, the thin blanket growing a new outline. “What’re you thinking about?” he whispered, his lips grazing the alpha's chest.

“You know what I'm thinking about.” John groaned, raising his hips in hopes of catching Johnny’s hand.

“I want you to tell me.” Johnny hummed. The beta was pushing his luck, but they both knew he held all the cards. “All Captain till it's your turn to take some directions. Spit it out.”

“Her.” John groaned. He shuts his eyes tightly, his chest relaxing as Johnny finally wraps his hand around him. No matter how many times Johnny touched him, he was always taken aback by how thick and heavy the alpha was.

“What about her?” Johnny hummed, his movements slow, but tight.

“Those fuckin’ eyes, and mouth.” His words came out strangled, not so much from Johnny’s movements but from the picture playing in his mind.

“And her in your shirt. Remember that?” Johnny continued.

Remember that? He’s fairly sure that's what threw him into this rut.

It had been four days. You've been mostly by yourself in those times- except during meals and nighttime. Kyle or Johnny herding you into their beds. Simon had been extremely busy, taking on some of the captain's work. Someone was always there with John.

Deep moans and groans seeped into your core. Johnny was loud- but when you got close enough to the door you could hear Kyle growl out the dirtiest things.

You needed to get out before you barged in there with them.

Luckily for you, the doorbell rang. Were you supposed to answer it? No. Regardless you tiptoed to it, looking out the peephole. Anais. Simon's bedroom door swung open.

“Get away from that,” Kyle growled playfully.

“It’s Anais! Can I please answer it!” you begged, loud enough to where she would be able to hear you from the other side. He nodded his head, and you quickly flung open the door.

“I'm so happy to see you!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. She giggled, squeezing you back. She smelled like honey and grapefruit.

“I missed you too, PC.” she smiled. “The omega committee is having a baking contest today and I took it upon myself to enter both of us- well plus Jane.” she was nearly bouncing with excitement. You looked over your shoulder at Kyle, giving him your best puppy eye.

“You can go. Wear scent blockers and I expect a text every twenty minutes,” he demanded. “It's nice to meet you, Anais. Thanks for helping our girl out when she needed it.” Kyle thanked.

“Yes, Sir!” you smiled, digging through a kitchen cabinet for the can. Anais flushed at the praise.

“Of course.” She smiled.

“Bye, KyKy! Thank you!” you grabbed Anais pulling her out the door. He rolled his eyes, heading back into the humid room.

You kept good on your promise, setting an alarm to text Kyle every twenty minutes.

You three even won third place. You recognized some of the omegas from the pink blanket. They came in first.

“Who are they anyways?” you questioned, digging into one of the cupcakes you had made.

Anais snorted unpleasantly, licking the chocolate from her fingers.

“You don't want to know.” she sneered. You and Jane side-eyed each other.

“Well, now I really have to know. I was told to stay away from them,” you explained and Jane nodded her head.

“I was too,” Jane whispered.

“That's good. Keep with it.” Anais huffed. She rolled her eyes as the two of you continued to stare at her, obviously not going to drop the topic. “They're wicked. They are bullies who peaked when they were sixteen and never grew up. And their alphas- Lieutenant Hale and Sergeant Connoway are supposedly into really sketchy stuff, like taking bribes and deals. Lieutenant Hale even went through a trial and everything but he was never convicted. They left for a few months and I thought I'd never see them again, then a month ago they reappeared.”

“That's horrible,” Jane spoke first. You nodded your head in agreement.

“I met Lieutenant Hale a while ago, something about him seemed a little weird.” you admitted, shifting. Your eyes naturally drifted to where their group was hanging out, but you tried your best to not look suspicious.

“Well you won't be seeing much of Connoway. He was attacked, his whole face was scratched up, and two broken legs.” Anais explained. Your breath got caught in your throat.

“Scratched face?” you questioned.

“And broken legs,” Anais reminded. “Their beta is missing too. No clue where he is.” You swallowed thickly. It was lucky you wore scent blockers, your scent would've been horrendous.

“Well whatever it is, they probably deserved it,” you spoke finally.

“That’s cold, PC,” Anais chuckled. “You’re not wrong though.” You wrapped up the rest of your cupcake, no longer hungry. “Hey, you know what we should do? Go to the library. They have an old TV with VHS tapes. Ms. Walker always lets me make popcorn and we can watch movies with horrible acting.”

Anything to get you away from there.

The knock against the door caused all three of you to scream. You could hear multiple people shushing you from the other side of the door.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon growled. You three had spent two hours watching the worst horror movies on the face of the earth- they still made you skittish. “Come on, pup. Time for dinner.” Simon nodded his head towards the door. “You two need to be walked home?” he added, looking between the two other omegas.

“It is about to be dark,” you added looking out the window.

“If it's not too much trouble,” Anais said slowly.

“I wouldn't offer it if it was,” Simon grunted. “Clean up your messes.” the three of you sprang into action throwing away the empty popcorn bags, and the kernels from the floor. You put the movies back, and the couch cushions. “Gonna have to take a shower when you get home. Don't need you getting lice,” he commented, staring down at your head. You rolled your eyes, the chill in the air causing you to drift closer to him. He didn't seem to mind.

“Thank you!” Anais and Jane said. You and Anais hugged each other goodbye and you were pleasantly surprised when Jane extended her arms.

“Quite popular, aren't you.” Simon teased as you two walked to get some real food.

“I know you are going to find this hard to believe but people enjoy being around me.” you complimented yourself.

“I do find it hard to believe.” Simon shot back, holding the door open for you. You giggled catching him a twinge of guard. You could take a joke. He appreciated that. You loaded up on spaghetti and salad, marching your way over to the tables you always sat in.

The empty space next to you gave you pause.

You missed John. He always sat next to you turning meals, his arm pressed against yours. You always felt so safe. Not that you weren't safe with Simon, but you felt so exposed not having someone next to you.

“Hold your head up, pup. He started coming out of it today.” Simon assured.

“Really?” you beamed.

“You’ll need to keep away for another night, but by tomorrow things should be back to normal.”

Looks like you are a part of the new normal now.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in three days for chapter 14! 🧡

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[sierrale8ne]

paige bueckers x black!fwb!oc part one part two

nsfw // 3.9k words, dom!paige, sub!oc, oral (p is a munch #munchmadness), strap-on sex, praise, spit play, stomach bulge, hair pulling, breeding kink, dirty talk (this is a given atp), they’re a lil mean i’m ngl, fluff.

The sun barely even begun to rise yet, just shyly peeking out from behind the horizon when Venus began to shift in and out of sleep. Her head softly pressed against the silk pillowcase, a hand pressed against her cheek as she turned towards Paige.

The blonde was yet to have fallen asleep, she’d been up for hours, thinking about the pair’s admission of feelings on the couch.

It didn’t go further than soft kisses after that. Venus didn’t say it again, and neither did Paige. But she wanted to. So bad. The moment didn’t feel real, and with how fast Venus fell asleep in her arms, she thought she must have dreamed it. Paige thought it had to have been the heat of the moment or maybe even the chocolates. When Paige dropped the bomb, she meant it. But for whatever reason, her mind wouldn’t allow her to believe that Venus meant it too.

The soft shine of sunlight bounced off of Venus’s brown skin, the glow of her skin was mesmerizing, Paige couldn’t believe that this was how she got to spend her morning. Simply admiring the girl in all her glory.

She reached out to tug on the scarf around Venus’s head, pulling it forward to avoid hearing her yell about it slipping off, when she woke up. The action caused Venus to stir a little bit more, blinking sleep out of her eyes and seeing Paige practically stare at her.

Her head was resting in the palm of her hand, an elbow propped on the head to keep her upright. Strands from her bun falling in messy pieces across her face. The sports bra Paige wore was more than enough to highlight the hickeys on her neckline.

“Were you watching me sleep?” The groggy morning voice made Paige briefly shut here eyes.

“No.”

“You lying?” Venus questioned. Her lips were slightly swollen from sleep and her eyes were nearly shut. A sight Paige found all too attractive at 5:45 in the morning. How could she look so beautiful fresh out of sleep?

“You’re a pretty sleeper, I got mesmerized.”

“Quit that.” Venus blushed, her hand covered her face as she nuzzled her head back into her pillow. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I was just thinking about shit. Don’t worry about it, V.” Paige shook her head. “Go back to sleep, I know you’re tired.”

“Oh, you know?”

Paige nods, thinking back to the night they had before, the sound of their moans ringing in her ears, the feeling of Venus’s touch on the most sensitive parts of her body. She knew her like nobody else did, studied Paige like she was a piece of literature. Venus could write a whole multi-page essay on everything about the girl.

She scooted closer, brushing the hair out of Paige’s face. She looked ethereal with the small rays of sun on her face. “Baby?”

“Did I tell you how much I love it when you call me that?” The blonde responded, a soft blush forming on her face.

“What were you thinking about?”

In the back of her mind, Venus already knew what Paige was thinking about. Paige was not a fan of love, one specific girl who lead her on for months was to blame for that. And Venus was victim to something similar. It’s what made this casual sex relationship easy, they didn’t have to worry about falling in love, because they weren’t searching for it.

But here they were, just hours after admitting to the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, that should’ve never happened, and now neither one of them knew how to move forward.

Paige chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit that Venus found adorable. “I-uh. Did you mean it? What you said last night?”

“Did you?” Venus rebutted. She didn’t know how to go about this conversation. Paige was a sweetheart and she knew that, but God was it hard not to think that she was going to leave her for dead after this conversation.

Paige nodded slowly, knowing that if the words were to leave her mouth again that everything would become real. The feelings she felt would be real, the possibility of her getting hurt again would be real. And she didn’t want that. Not with Venus.

“You have to say it, Paige. I need to hear you say it.”

The silence in the room was deafening. It was hard for Paige to do that, Venus knew it probably better than anyone else. But she needed that for herself, she needed to know that the person she was the most intimate with, the person who was the most important to her felt the same way she did.

Paige leaned closer, cupping Venus’s cheek in her hand. The atmosphere became more tense and neither of them wanted to move, to scared of breaking down the other. So Venus was the one to make the move, pressing her soft lips to Paige’s with a touch that resembled a feather before pulling back.

“Venus.”

She waited, eagerly for her to say something else. Then was surprised by Paige leaning back in for another kiss.

It did hurt a part of her to not get that verbal confirmation, but as soon as Paige’s lips met hers again, as soon as her large, soft hands met her waist and laid her on her back, Venus pushed it all to the back of her mind.

“You drive me crazy.” Paige mumbled against her lips, pulling on the hem of the black Nike Basketball t-shirt Venus sported. Her lips moved like they had a mind of their own, blending with Venus’s as her tongue parted them and slipped inside her mouth—morning breath seemingly the least of her concerns. She pulled the shirt up more, feeling the warmth of her thighs and letting out a soft groan.

Venus’s hand crept towards the band of Paige’s boxers, snapping the elastic against the ivory skin of her hip bones.

“Slow down.” Paige muttered, her kisses soothing in nature, “we got all morning. All day if you let me.”

Venus would. Without a doubt she would let her do whatever she pleased. Paige could ask her to jump and she’d ask how high. It’s why, even despite the slight pain in her chest, she still let the blonde touch her like this and speak to her like this. Venus’s hands left Paige’s hips, reaching to wrap her arms around her neck and pull the athlete closer.

“Stop it.” Venus begged, not sure what she meant. To stop holding back, maybe to stop teasing, she definitely didn’t want Paige to stop kissing her and the athlete didn’t stop. “Please.”

Paige pulled back, not a single word leaving her lips as she pulled the shirt over Venus’s head and tossed it off the bed. “You’re so beautiful, V.” Those soft pink lips found her neck, kissing the bruised skin there with an incredible tenderness. “Most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Paige.” Her name left Venus’s throat as a strangled moan.

Paige’s kisses traveled slowly, at first to her collarbone where she kissed the bible scripture tattoo marked there. Isaiah 60:22. Paige remembered the very first time she saw it, the very deep conversation it invoked.

She then kissed her shoulder, at the Dahlia’s inked into her skin. The girl’s favorite flower, the ones Paige bought for her every time they fought, every time Venus had given her weed for free, every time the girl crossed her mind in a way that was more than purely sexual.

Her lips met the valley of Venus’s breasts, then over to the supple skin where she pulled a nipple into her mouth. “You should get these pierced, you know?” Paige spoke into her chest. “They’d look even more perfect.”

Venus simply nodded, arching her back into the blonde some more. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Whatever you want.” Venus moaned, eyes fluttering open to see Paige already staring back at her. Bright sky blue eyes drinking in her entire being, pink tongue swirling around her swollen nipple, sucking on it like a woman starved. “Just wanna make you happy, P.”

“I know you do.” She nodded, moving to show some attention to Venus’s other tit. “That’s why you let me touch you like this, right?” Paige asked. Her lips kept sliding down Venus’s decorated body, passing by each scar, each drop of ink, each bruise and love bite.

“That’s why you always forgive me, even when I piss you off so bad? You just wanna make me happy?” Venus’s breath hitched when she felt Paige speak against her hipbone, “tell me again. Tell me you love me.”

“You’re so fuckin’ mean. Can’t even say it to me first, and now you wanna hear me say it again? Fuck you.” Venus breathed, slightly pushing back at the blondes shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Paige apologized. Her long fingers reached up to hold onto Venus’s hand interlacing their fingers together, the other creeping to the hem of the girl’s panties. White lace with an innocent small white bow. “You know how I feel about you, baby.” She added, kissing right above her clit through the cloth.

Paige’s tongue darted out to lick a stripe up Venus’s clothed clit, collecting her essence on her tongue.

“So wet. I do that, V?”

“Fuck. You.”

“I will. I promise, but you gotta say something for me first.” Paige teased, continuing with slow licks to her most prized possession. Venus could feel the saliva seeping though running past her folds from Paige’s actions, she was giving in. As desperately as she wanted to stand her ground, not let Paige break what was left of her confidence, it was so fucking hard.

“I hate you.” Venus said. Her voice attempted to be stern but it came out as a slight whimper. “Yes. You get me this wet, P.” Venus admitted.

The blonde dipped under the thick comforter and began pulling the lace down Venus’s long, toned legs. Her eyes immediately falling towards her dripping center and her head completely diving into it before there was even a chance to fully take her underwear off. The fabric clinging to Venus’s lower thighs.

Venus’s taste was addictive, that was evident in the way Paige’s tongue instantly traveled to her hole, torturously fucking her with her tongue and groaning loudly. She could die like this.

“More. Please, gimme more.” Venus moaned, her head craning down towards her lover. She let go of Paige’s hand, moving to hold the comforter to get a better look.

“I love how you taste.” Paige admitted. Her tongue swirling around Venus’s swollen clit, eyes looking up at her body. “I love how pretty you look like this.” Her choice of words was purposeful, telling Venus everything she loved about her as if it would excuse her inability to say those three words in the right order.

“Paige, shut the fuck up.” Venus whined. Her free hand forced her head deeper into her pussy, scratching at her scalp and tugging her roots roughly. “Just make me feel good, baby.” She drawled, slowing her eyes to close.

Paige moved her head side to side, practically at Venus’s mercy with the way she guided the blonde’s head. Her tongue dived into the deepest parts it could reach as Venus desperately pushed her in deeper. Paige let out a moan at the aggression and the arousal on her tongue.

Venus eventually let go, her body tingling as she pulled both hands away and gripped onto her sheets the thick blanker falling onto the blonde and Venus’s head falling back into her pillow.

She would never understand how each time they did this Paige would get even better than before. She found ways to garner reactions that Venus never experienced before. Her chest was heaving at the moment, hips raising off the bed and Paige had to hold her back down, nails digging into her skin.

“Fuck, it’s so good. Make me cum, daddy.” She moaned, grinding against the girl’s lips as best as she could until Paige sat up slowly, detaching herself from Venus’s pussy with a few kisses. She rose from under the sheets, giving a soft peck to Venus’s lips before licking her own clean.

She moved off the bed, much to Venus’s displeasure because her head fell back frustratingly. Navigated through the closet, she looked for and found the long purple strap-on that they had used more times than Paige could count on both hands. Venus watched as she discarded her boxers and fit it on.

“I love how much of a slut you are for me.” Paige finally spoke again, tapping the tip of the silicone onto Venus’s cunt, the sound echoing loudly through the room. The strap slowly broke into Venus’s pussy, the moan that left her mouth would ring in Paige’s ears for a lifetime. “Daddy’s pretty little slut.”

Her strokes were slow, giving Venus’s time to adjust to the length of her cock quite literally breaking her apart and the feeling of it against her g-spot. Then as soon as Venus reached to pull her closer, it was over. Paige’s thrusts sped up, her eyes glued to where they connected.

“I love strechin’ you out. Making you keep it open for me.” She spoke, holding Venus’s hip with one hand while the other held her leg to the side. Paige was so enamored with this view. She wanted it permanently engraved in her brain, burned into the back of her eyelids so she could see it whenever she closed her eyes.

“So big—” Venus moaned, scratching at Paige’s waist. The blonde leaned in close, pressing her lips to her neck where she sucked on the sensitive skin. Her palm moved to rest beside Venus’s head. Venus’s jaw fell slack, her arms wrapped snugly around Paige’s neck. “‘M so fuckin’ full, P.”

“Aww I know. But you take it so well.” Paige praised. Her lethal thrusts finally slowed down again, she rolled her hips so deep Venus saw stars. “Takin’ my cock so deep. You’re doin’ so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She was right: it was so deep. The bulge very evident in Venus’s lower stomach. Paige nearly drooled at how tight Venus was against the strap, she swore she could feel it, making her clit throb as she grinded her hips against the back of the harness.

“Oh my God.” Venus whimpered, her hand pulling at Paige’s bra straps while Paige pushed down at her abdomen and fucked her hard. The combination of her deep stroke, the rough pace, and Paige’s large hand made Venus’s orgasm approach like a freight train. “Right there, yeah there. Fuck, yes!”

“You feel that? That’s all me.” Paige spoke cockily. She peered down briefly at where her cock moved in and out of Venus’s cunt, the sloppy mess she was making around the purple length. She wanted to taste it again, so bad. “Such a messy girl.” She teased before pulling out slowly.

“No, Paige. Stop fucking teasing me.” She whined, bucking her hips upward towards what she wanted most.

Paige ignored her, situating herself near the edge of the bed again and licking through Venus’s folds once again. Her eyes rolled at her lover’s taste, nose prodding at her pretty clit in a way that Venus could only describe as euphoric. “You gonna let me do what I want. You know why?” Paige mumbled into her cunt, feeding on the moans that left Venus and how those made her own cunt drip.

“Because you fuckin’ love me.”

Her plump pink lips wrapped around Venus’s clit, two fingers running through her slick as her other hand ran up her body and gripped her breast harshly. Paige slipped those two fingers inside, immediately curling them to the spot she had learned so well. “You love my voice, you love my tongue on this pussy.”

“Paige, I’m— gonna cum, shit!” Venus moaned, her legs slowly giving in around Paige’s head but the blonde didn’t seem to care, Venus’s pleasure more important.

She drove her fingers in deeper, twisting them and finding a new angle that made Venus mewl and writhe in her bed. Paige sucked harder, drawing Venus’s juices into her mouth before pulling away and spitting them back into her cunt until she was glistening. Her tongue lolled out to collect it again, eating Venus so well just as she had promised the night before.

I wanna eat you ‘til you’re begging me to stop. She promised she would. And she was.

Paige was so dedicated she didn’t even notice when Venus came with a cry of her name, she kept feasting on the girl’s over sensitive cunt and toying with her painfully hardened nipples and breaking her fingers in and out.

“Fuck! P-Paige!” Venus’s hand trailed to push her head away, her clit felt like it had a pulse of its own, an Paige knew she should stop, but Venus was just so wet and her moans were just so pretty. She didn’t even need to look at her face because Paige had seen the view so many times. She could nearly paint the picture of Venus’s back arched and eyebrows furrowed tight. The pout she would have on her face by now, combined with the sliver of drool that fell from the corner of her lip. Paige knew Venus like the back of her hand.

“Stop, fuck! I can’t take it, P!” Venus pushed a little harder and Paige sat up with the inevitable pop of her lips echoing off the walls.

She had never been so obsessed with the view of Venus desperately trying to catch her breath. It was so fucking hot. Venus was so fucking hot. She’d be a fool to let the girl go, especially now with her feelings growing to the size of a boulder in her chest.

Paige’s free hand held her cheeks together, forcing her mouth open as she allowed her spit to fall off her tongue and into Venus’s mouth before doing it a second time. Venus swallowed, keeping as much eye contact as she could through her lidded eyes.

Her lips puckered and Paige met them, their teeth clashing in the heated exchange. No words left their lips, just the occasional drunken smile and pornographic moan.

“Mmm turn over.” Paige instructed when she pulled away. Her fingers entering her mouth to lick the rest of Venus’s mess off of them before the soft fingertips tapped against Venus’s hip, assisting her in turning over and pressing a hand to the girls back to arch her the way she wanted.

The tip of the purple strap met her pussy again, teasing from her clit up to her hole which clenched and unclenched expectantly. “Say please.” The blonde joked.

“You’re such a bitch, Paige.” Venus breathed out, almost laughing but she didn’t find her joke funny in the slightest. She pushed her hips back, desperate for any type of connection. Paige’s eyes were glued to her, eating up the sight of her strap easing into Venus’s dripping cunt.

Paige’s lip found its way between her teeth as she drew her hips back, she let out a low whistle at the cream that covered the silicone before pushing back in. The rhythm the blonde found was fueled by that perfect arch in front of her and Venus’s sexy piercings in her lower back.

She was drunk off of it. Drunk on the girl’s moans, her ass rippling against her pelvis with each stroke. Her hands held onto Venus’s hips, pulling her back slightly to match her movements.

“Just like that, P. Mmm, fuck.” She groaned with her hands gripping at the sheets.

The athlete reached forward for Venus’s hair, the braids once neatly wrapped with her silk scarf now falling perfectly down her shoulders. Paige wrapped her hand around it in a makeshift ponytail before tugging, a cry of her name leaving Venus’s throat. Her large hand landed possessively on her ass once, twice, three times before griping the flesh softly.

“All I gotta do to get rid of that attitude is fuck you? You actin’ right now? Or am I still a bitch?” She murmured, and Venus could do nothing but moan. The multitude of sensations was too much to process at once.

Paige bottomed out, going deeper if possible. Her own clit was throbbing at the stimulation from the harness but she wanted to hold her own until Venus reached that peak again.

The tattooed girl couldn’t answer. Her eyes sinking to the back of her head as she repeatedly let out different variations of the same sounds.

“Fucking you stupid. Can’t even answer me, huh?” Paige coos, and Venus screams at how good it feels. “It’s still fuck me?”

“Oh, Paige. You feel so fuckin’ good.” Venus moaned while Paige’s pace stayed consistent, fucking her just right to get her close, keeping her on that edge. “I’m gonna cum. Wanna cum on your cock. Please, please.”

She practically manhandled her at that, tugging harder on Venus’s hair until her back met the flush of Paige’s chest. She held her there and dropped a hand to circle at her clit and Venus let out a gasp.

“Nah, hold it. Tell me what I wanna hear.” Paige said into her ear. Her lips met Venus’s neck kissing it softly as she pounded Venus’s life away, the strap nudging her g-spot with an insane amount of pressure. Just the way she needed it to. “Who do you love, ma?”

Venus attempted to avoid the question, wanting to stand her ground on the subject that led to Paige splitting into her like this in the first place. A “fuck!” escaping her mouth when Paige added more pressure to her clit, her juices leaking down her legs and the blonde’s doing the same thing.

“I wanna make you cum.” Paige started. Her face buried in Venus’s neck. Their bodies stuck together by the atmosphere of their sloppy morning indulgences. “Wanna feel you cum around my cock, Baby. Gonna fill you up so fucking deep. Make you a pretty mama. Just say it, and it’s all yours, V.”

It was manipulative. The way she babbled into Venus’s ears, not only fucking her to her release, but desperately searching for her own. Paige’s voice broke off into sinful moans, the hand once in Venus’s hair now clawing at the girl’s hips.

“Say that shit. Tell me you love me. Tell me it’s just me, I’m it for you.”

“I— fuck— I love you. I love you. Paige, I can’t anymore. Please.” Venus gave in, letting her head fall against the blonde’s shoulder as she accepted her fate.

“You can be louder than that.”

“I love you!”

The phrase scratched a certain itch in Paige’s brain. Making her nod into Venus’s neck groaning as she felt her own orgasm sneak behind her. “That’s what I thought. I love you more, mama. Cum, baby.”

The words run a thousand miles a minute in Venus’s head, turning her brain and body to mush and she screams as she comes. She can feel the smirk Paige leaves burned into her skin as she does so as well, covering the back of the strap in her own sinful substance. Venus collapses down onto the bed, thighs slightly shaking while Paige helps her ride it out.

“Stop.” She begs, or attempts to, pushing the girl’s hand away from her cunt. Paige curses lowly, saying something more to herself as she slips out of Venus’s sopping wet canal. Her orgasm covering the silicone in a sheer white that Paige moaned at again.

“You’re— a freak.” Venus tells her, a deep breath taken in between her words. Paige just laughs, disposing of the soiled strap on the edge of the bed and lying next to her. She can’t even think of how many hours must have passed because the sky was brighter than when they started and her phone was suddenly dinging with notifications.

The marks across Venus’s body are downright dirty, a painful painting of the love Paige had felt for her for months finally coming together alongside her other ink storylines. Hickeys decorated her neck and chest and hips and thighs. Wherever Paige could leave a mark she did; clearly.

She turned her head slightly falling in love with the way Paige looked looking at her. Eyes softer than she’s ever seen them. Her tanned skin flushed, with hairs framing her sculpted face. Pink lips full and swollen from biting them. She sported matching hickeys across her skin, some new and red, and others a deep purple from the night before.

“Hi.” Paige was the first to speak up.

“Hi, baby.” Venus grinned softly, her voice hoarse and throat aching.

She puckered her lips as she approached Venus, giving her forehead a short kiss and letting her lips rest there, “I love you. You hear me? You don’t get to leave now.” Her tone of voice was in a joking manner but Venus knew it was a genuine concern. To catch feelings for someone was one thing, but to open up to Venus like this was different. She didn’t want to get hurt again.

“I won’t. You’re mine and I’m yours.” Venus responded. Her decorated arms wrapped around Paige’s body, snuggling into her side and Paige cuddled her with a smile she couldn’t fight off even if she tried. “I love you.” The words were so foreign she felt no other choice but to repeat them until they stuck forever.

“I love you.” Paige replied, letting sleep finally take over her.

author’s note omg who wrote this… (ovulation week was hitting y’all idk what came over me here) this is the official final part for this short series, but i’m not opposed to writing more for venus and paige if you would like to see it! send me requests and thank you so much for all the love this past week, im feeling very appreciative! 😌

[woso-dreamzzz]

End of the World VII

Ruesha Littlejohn x Child!Reader

Summary: You spend the day with Ma

After the trip to the zoo in Australia, you find yourself going to the zoo regularly.

Most of the time, it's London Zoo but today Ma has driven you out for nearly two hours to Whipsnade Zoo because they have red pandas and those are your favourite.

Her teammates are coming too but that's okay because you know Ma will keep you safe.

It's meant to be Mammy's week, you think as Ma keeps you in the car while she tries to unfold the pram. But seeing Mammy on Monday gave you a weird icky feeling in your tummy.

She's been in Ibiza through the week, partying and having fun in a different country. It had been weird seeing her again.

She was still the same Mammy. She looked the same. She smelt the same. She acted the same but, still, you got a bit of a weird feeling looking at her and you didn't settle in easily your first night with her and cried and cried and cried for Ma so they've swapped around the schedule to give Ma this week.

Next week, you'll try again with Mammy.

But, this week, you're with Rue and she lifts you into your pram with one of your felt dolls.

"You feel okay?" She runs a hand over your cheek and you giggle a little at the ticklish feeling.

"Yes, Ma."

"And promise me you'll tell me if you need the toilet?"

Your head bobs. "I will."

A kiss is pressed to the top of your head. "You're a good girl."

You giggle, kicking your legs out a little.

Most of Ma's teammates are already inside so Ma buys tickets quickly and goes in.

You let Rue push you around for most of the day but emerge from the pram to stand between her and Georgia and look at the red pandas.

They're very pretty and they're your favourite animal.

You've got a few of them as little figures for your Barbie zoo set but nothing beats seeing them in rea life.

They clamber all over their enclosure and Ma lifts you up onto her hip so you can see me clearly.

It's easy for Rue to hold you up while also digging around her bag for a snack, ripping open the packaging of the chocolate bar and taking a bite.

She offers you the next bite and you chew mindlessly as you stare as one of the animals misjudges a jump and goes tumbling down the ramp.

You giggle as the second red panda jumps onto the first.

"They're silly, Ma," You say and Rue beams at you.

"Silly? Are they?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you want to move on yet?"

You glance back at the funny red pandas and your jumper cuff somehow makes its way into your mouth.

It's a bad habit but it's never been Rue's first choice of habits to break you out of. Your bed wetting issue is much more pressing than chewing your cuffs.

Chewing your cuffs is probably the bottom of the ladder, under getting you to get rid of those creepy porcelain dolls your grandma gave you and getting you to speak without mumbling.

"We can stay a bit longer here, if you want," Rue says and you nod.

Most of her teammates go off to do their own things but Georgia stays to keep you both company as Rue walks around the fence of the red panda enclosure with you secure in her arms.

"Ma," You say suddenly when you finally allow yourself to be taken to the other animals.

Rue doesn't hear you, pushing your pram and talking to Georgia next to her.

"Ma."

The pram keeps moving and you wiggle a little in your seat, tears already welling in your eyes.

"Ma!"

You don't have a loud voice even when you shout but Rue's in tune to your noises most of the time and she definitely hears you now.

"What's up, Kiddo? What's going on?"

You whine. kicking your legs out. "Potty, Ma. I need the potty."

"Can you-?"

Georgia nods as Rue unclips you quickly. "I can stay with the pram."

Even though you've told Rue that you need the toilet, she knows you've left it to the last minute like always.

You've probably needed it for a little while now, hoping that the feeling would go away so Rue hightails it to the toilets.

She sets you up on the sink once you're done and helps you with your hands.

"Do you want to have lunch here?" She asks, scrubbing your hands," Or we can go home?"

You'd been at the zoo since it opened and Rue can see how easily your eyes are growing heavy.

"Mmm."

Your cuff is straight back at your mouth and Rue gently pulls it down so she can hear your mumbles properly.

"I know," She says," It's already been a long day. Naps at home sounds great, huh?"

You head bobs up and down in a nod as you're hoisted back up onto Rue's hip again and taken over to where Georgia's waiting.

"Red panda!" You gasp and Rue's eyes go wide.

"You didn't."

"I so did," Georgia replies with a grin, holding up the massive red panda toy she must have gotten from the gift shop...or stolen, Rue was never quite sure with Georgia.

"You couldn't have gotten her a doll?" Rue pretends to scold as you're strapped into your pram with the toy.

"Well, now that you've mentioned it. There was this amazing porcelain one that-"

"Never mind."

[sturniqlo]

I BEG please do more bff!chris / bf!chris hcs

ideas:

chris giving you piggybacks

sleeping with chris but you take the blanket so he has no choice but to cuddle up against u

cooking with chris and he feeds you

chris begging for massages / to massage you

chris praising you whenever you feel insecure

chris talking to his brothers endlessly about how much he loves you

We're In Love- C.S

summary: a collection of bf!chris and gf!y/n headcannons

cw: FLUFFF, slight curing, very minimal suggestive material

an: you guys seem to LOVE these flirty!bff!chris headcannons so here's bf!chris | shoutout to this anon | lowercase intended

masterlist | taglist

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

bf!chris who BEGS to give you a piggyback ride anytime anywhere

"get on!" chris looks back at y/n signaling for her to get on his back. "chris! we're like ten steps away from my house!" she giggles. "i'll carry you to your room, come on. please." y/n gives in and gets on his back and chris hoists her on his back, grabbing onto the back of her thighs. "ready?" he stands straight and looks back at her. "yup!" chris hums a playful tune all the way to the front door and up to her room. "thank you, baby." y/n places a kiss on his cheek before getting down.

"please? i love giving you piggyback rides." chris gently holds her face in his hands. "babe, i don't want to hurt your back." she pouts. "you won't, i promise you. never have never will. please, baby." he places a kiss on her pout. "come on, get on my back. i've got somewhere to take you." chris kisses the tip of her nose. "fine, take me to said place." she smiles, ruffling his hair.

bf!chris who has no choice but to cuddle you when you take all of the blanket

"baby, wake up. i want some blanket." chris whispers in her ear. for the last twenty minutes, chris has been trying to gently wake y/n up so he can get a bit of blanket. even without trying to wake her up, she had some grip on the blanket. he tries to pull the blanket off but, it was tightly wrapped around her. chris sighs, he turns the tv off and cuddles up on y/n. hours later, y/n turns over, throwing some blanket off of her in the process. opening her eyes she sees chris wrapped around her without any blanket. "baby, why didn't you wake me?" she whispers, giving him some blanket. "hm?" he mumbles.

bf!chris who loves cooking with gf!y/n

"is this too much?" chris refers to the amount of cheese on the soon to be baked lasagna. "that's perfect, actually." y/n dries the last clean dish. she dries her hands off and goes to open the oven so chris can place it in there. "now we wait." he closes the over door. "i think i have a way we can pass this time." chris walks towards her and places his hands on her waist. "really?" she acts confused. "oh yeah." he says before kissing on her neck.

"here, try it." chris brings one of the cupcakes they had just baked and decorated to her mouth, feeding her. "mm, i say we did pretty good." she chews the sweet treat. "here, try the strawberry one." he brings the other cupcake flavor up to her mouth. "oh, this one is my favorite." she points to the bitten cupcake in chris' hand.

bf!chris who loves receiving massages from gf!y/n and loves giving you massages back

"my back is killing me." is the first thing chris says as he enters his room, returning back from filming a video with his brother. "hello to you too, baby." y/n giggles from chris' bed, y/n decided to wait in chris' room while he filmed. "hi, baby. i missed you very much." he bends down slightly to press a kiss to her lips, hissing at the ache in his lower back. "it's that bad?" she pouts at his pain. "unfortunately." he plops on the bed. "why don't you go take a hot shower and when you come back i'll give you a massage, hm?" chris does exactly that. "oh- fuck. right there." chris groans as y/n glides her hands on his back, massaging her. "how are you so good at this?" he says, mumbling.

"come here." chris motions y/n to sit against his chest. all day, her cramps have been killing her and her muscles have been aching. "cramps still hurting you?" he presses a light kiss to her shoulder. "they're a bit better, the heating pad is working great. my shoulders ache a bit, though." she sighs, throwing her head back against his shoulder. "here, let me massage your shoulders." he kisses her temple. "really, you would do that?" chris nods. "of course." he places his hands on her shoulders and starts to gently rub them.

bf!chris who always makes you feel better whenever you get insecure

"ugh." y/n groans, looking at herself in the mirror, hating how her figure looks in her dress. "you almost ready, babe?" chris enters the bathroom, looking his girlfriend up and down in her dress. the material hugging her in the right places, he looks back up at her face to avoid himself from getting hard. "almost, i think i'm going to change." she runs her hands over her slightly bloated belly. "what, why? you look amazing in this." he walks over to her and runs his hands over her body. looking at the two of them in the mirror. "i look so bloated, though. and i don't like how it looks on me." chris gets pretty upset, hating how she's talking about herself. "what? no you don't. you look absolutely beautiful. i fucking love your body. you're absolutely perfect, babe." y/n slightly smiles. "really? you think so?" she looks at him through the mirror. "i know so."

bf!chris who always talks about you when he's with his brothers

"guys, y/n would love this!" chris picks up a jellycat, knowing she loves them. "she has seven of them. she's got a cherry one, a little peanut, a bunny, the birthday cake i got her for her birthday, a little egg with a top hat, a moon one, and a dragon." he tells his brothers. "you memorized all of 'em?" nick giggles. "yup, my favorite one is the egg."

"she's just so perfect like, how can anyone be so perfect? sometimes i think she isn't real because she's that perfect." chris sighs, placing his chin on his hand, thinking about y/n who is currently on vacation with her family. "just call her, i'm sure she's missing you like you're missing her." matt nudges his brother. "i don't wanna bother her." he looks at his two brothers. "she'll tell yo-" chris' phone rings in his pocket. "oh- there she is!" nick laughs.

"you really love her, don't you?" nick smiles at chris. "very much, she's all i think about now." chris opens the fridge and grabs a can of pepsi. nick had just finished a whole rant and chris would interrupt here and there whenever nick said something that reminded him of y/n. nick was happy for his brother, he loved seeing this side of him. a plus was that he got a new best friend out of it, y/n. she was so sweet, very caring, loving and very attentive.

"face id isn't working, what's your code?" matt says. "it's ****." chris takes the last bite of his burger. "isn't that y/n's birthday?" matt looks at chris. "mhm." chris hums through chewing.

bf!chris who gets hard by looking at your instagram pictures

baby, i'm so fucking hard right now. chris hits sends to his message. any why is that? y/n quickly types back, shielding her phone from her friends view. i miss you so i looked through your insta profile and that one post of you in the yellow bikini made me hard :(( come back to me please!!! he throws his head back, remembering the pictures. i won't be back to yours until eleven :/. she sighs, wanting to go to him. please, i'll make you feel so good, you know i never let you down. "fuck." she whispers, crossing her legs. fine, i'm leaving now.

bf!chris who always showers you in love and kinds words

"i just love you so much." chris plants butterfly kisses all over her face. "i love you more." y/n giggles. "impossible." he kisses her cheek one last time before placing his face in her neck. "i love you soo much." chris drags out the word.

"so, so beautiful. can't believe i get to call you mine." chris moans into her neck. "fuck- chris! right- right there!" she arches her back. "feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me so fucking good- shit!" he thrusts his dick in and out of her. "look at you, my pretty, pretty girl. i love you so fucking much. want- fuck! want you to come for me." he kisses up neck and up her jaw, making his way up to her lips. "don't stop, please. please don't stop." she gasps, he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in.

bf!chris who always has to be touching you

"hey! come back." chris pouts at the fact that y/n had moved in her sleep and his arm is no longer draped over her. "hm?" y/n mumbles. "come here. in my arms, feeling cold without you." chris reaches out for her and brings her to his chest. "much better." he kisses her bare shoulder.

both y/n and chris were currently at a party and chris was attached to her hip at all times. whether it be having a finger in her back pocket, an arm wrapped around her waist, his arm over her shoulders, or his chin on her shoulder.

bf!chris who loves to hear all the gossip you have to offer

"so then she told vic that her boyfriend had slept with this other girl. and guess what?!" chris gasps at his girlfriends question. "what?" he's antsy to know. "vic didn't believe her, and she got mad and almost fought her! like what the hell?" y/n throws her hands up. "no way, that's fucked up, honestly! didn't that happens last time with what was her name?" he snaps his fingers to think. "jade?" y/n gasps. "yes! i totally forgot about that one time."

"hey, what happened with the drama between pauli and eli?" chris questions, recalling that one time y/n mentioned the feud between the two. "oh my god! i never told you! so basically-" y/n goes on about the drama. chris interrupting to speak his mind here and there. "i agree! like you cannot tell eli isn't in the wrong." y/n agrees with chris. "tell me more!"

bf!chris who always tries to get your mind off of whatever is stressing you

"let's go get some lunch and we can go to the movies or something, okay? get your mind off of things for a bit." chris kisses y/n on the cheek, who has had her eyes on her laptop screen for two hours now. "chris, baby, i can't. this is due by next week. and i'm almost halfway." she whines. "exactly, you're almost halfway, it's okay to take a break for a couple of hours. i promise when we come back you can work on it again." he waits for a response. "okay, fine. thank you for doing this. i love you."

"i think that's enough, you're stressing yourself out." chris takes her textbook away. "no, wait. im-" he gives her a look. "give your eyes a break. you've probably already read a million words. i can see the gears turning in your head." chris places the book on his nightstand. "but-" chris cuts her off with a kiss on her lips. "no buts, we're going to spend the rest of the night together, no textbooks, okay?" he mumbles against her lips. "okay."

bf!chris who always takes care of you whenever you're sick

"you're buring up!" chris gasps as he puts the back of his hand against her forehead. "no, no, i'm fine. i need to make breakfast." she tries to get up but he gently pushes her back. "no, you stay here and i'll make you breakfast, tea and i'll bring you your medicine." he places a kiss to her hot forehead before leaving the room.

"feeling any better?" chris walks in with a tray of a bowl of hot soup and a bottle of water. "a bit." y/n sits up against the headboard and coughs. "here, eat it while it's still hot." chris places the tray over her lap. "i'll be back, gonna get myself a bowl." he places the millionth kiss on her forehead before exiting the room. "i need more tissue!" she groggily yells. "coming!" chris says from the kitchen.

bf!chris who asks you to get an apartment with him

"wait- so you want me" y/n points to herself. "to move with you." she then points to chris. "exactly, i want to move in with you! what do you think?" he awaits an answers "i think that's the best idea you've ever had!" she squeals, throwing herself into his lap. "i love you, i love you, i love you!" she kisses his lips with every word.

bf!chris who surprises you with a puppy once you two are moved in

"you didn't!" y/n gasps, covering her mother with her hands. "i did! look at him, he's so cute!" chris holds their new puppy in his arms, walking towards y/n so she can carry him. "oh, he's adorable. thank you, chris. i love you!"

[somber-sapphic]

Hi! I have a request for a WandaNat x Reader fic. The reader is on a mission with Tony and Steve that quickly goes south. Additionally, the reader comes down with the flu. Steve and Tony have been arguing over how best to care for the reader. Wanda and Nat are sent for extraction to pick up the three of them, but they are unaware that the reader is sick. When they finally arrive, they rush back to the compound to get the reader into the Med Bay and ultimately nurse them back to health.

In Good Hands

〖Summary: Natasha and Wanda comfort you while you're stuck in the MedBay〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: WandaNat x Sick R〗

〖Notes: This isn't super focused on Tony and Steve (I don't write men) but I hope you like it!〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You coughed and turned your head, the crinkling of the MedBay pillow case ringing throughout the all too quiet room. Natasha had gone to change into something more comfortable and Wanda was chewing out Tony and Steve in the hallway. 

You could see her standing there, one hand on her hip and the other waving in the air, tendrils of magic trailing her fingers. The look on their faces was enough for you to know that she was digging into them, you didn’t need to hear her words to assume how angry she was. 

Another cough sprung from your lips, this one harsher than the last. You were pretty out of it from whatever drugs they had given you, something for the pain something else for the fever, and whatever they put in the tea they made you drink. It was presumably some sort of flu medicine, you couldn’t think of what else it might be, but it wasn’t a big deal to you. Not much was a big deal now that you were safe. 

The mission had been rough. It wasn't supposed to be. Part of it was your fault but most of it was the guy's macho attitudes. You’d tried to convince them that confrontation was a stupid idea, you were there to collect intel not to start a fight, but they hadn’t listened. Even worse was while they weren’t listening to you they were also arguing with each other about the best approach. 

A big part of why you didn’t want to engage came from how you were feeling. You’d picked up a bug in New York, something you thought would pass in time, but it didn't. Of course, it didn’t. You had tried to shake it, getting extra sleep, drinking a ton of orange juice, and you’d even broken down and taken cold medicine.

The medicine had worked well enough and since it was supposed to be an easy mission you had decided to go after promising Natasha and Wanda that you would be safe. They still had been reluctant to let you go but they also knew that there was nothing they could do to change your mind. 

“Idiots, both of them,” Wanda growled stomping into the room. Her eyes were flickering red in frustration. Her anger visibly dissipated when she returned to your side and rested a hand on your shoulder, shaking her head slightly. Your wrist was in a plaster cast and you had a bandage on your leg to cover the graze of a bullet. Considering how bad it had gotten you were lucky to have only come out with that much. 

“Mhm. Men are stupid.” You agreed, tilting your head to rest on her hand. She laughed quietly and kissed your forehead, holding you close for a few seconds. Every time you went on a mission you missed your girlfriends so much, it was nice to be near them even if it meant you were stuck in the MedBay. 

“When’s Nat comin’ back?” You asked, pulling back to look into her now brown eyes. The door creaked open and you glanced over, smiling when you saw the other woman walk into the room. 

“Somebody talking about me?” She came to your other side and gave you a big hug, being careful not to jostle you. She’d seen the bruises when you came in and it had broken her heart. There were so many times that she wished you and Wanda weren’t Avengers, she wanted so badly to keep you both safe but it seemed that would never be possible. 

“I talked to Fury, he says you’re off duty until that arm is healed. Probably going to be six weeks. On the bright side though we can take you back to our room as soon as this IV is done.” She had taken the words right out of your mouth, sometimes it was like she was the mind-reading witch and not Wanda. 

The assassin climbed into the small hospital bed, laying on her side so that you had enough room but she could still hold you. It wasn’t abnormal for Natasha to show extra physical affection after the three of you had been apart for a long time, she was better at showing how she felt rather than telling. Emotions were not her strong suit. 

“How are you feeling love?” Wanda asked, taking a seat in the uncomfortable plastic chair that could be found in every hospital room. You reached out for her hand, wanting to be touching both of them. Natasha had her arm wrapped around your waist and nestled her head into your shoulder. 

“M’okay. Sleepy, stuffy.” You sniffled to prove your point further and blinked slowly at Wanda, trying to stay awake. She was pretty. Your girlfriends were so pretty. Natasha was warm, you wished you were in your real bed instead of the hard hospital bed but it was better with them. 

“Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. Close your eyes, we’ll be here when you wake up.” Nat murmured, kissing behind your ear. You nodded and sneezed into your blanket, grumbling slightly. The pain meds were helping but the sudden jerk of the sneeze had hurt. 

“I’m not going on any missions with them ever again.” 

“Agreed.” They said in unison, making you smile. You snuggled into bed, careful not to bump your IV and shut your eyes. You fell asleep to the sound of a heartbeat monitor and your girlfriends talking quietly to each other. You caught a few words before slipping into unconsciousness, most of them about keeping you safe. 

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[jayaury]

Marked for Love

Another short story from the archive. Plenty more on you know where! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

Cynthia Spellman bit her lower lip as she looked in the cracked mirror, her robe hiked up, baring her slim stomach, her lacy panties and, more importantly, the red mark like an elaborate heart tattooed on her mons. Throbbing.

Pulsing.

Beating with an insidious heat that wormed its way through her and to her core.

She groaned aloud. Ohhhh dammit. Dammit dammit dammit! She knew they should have recruited a priest into the party when delving into the Demon’s Dungeon. If only she’d been able to torch that imp to ash before the bitch got off that spell. Because Cynthia knew the curse mark she was looking at. Any mage would.

A breeding rune.

She swore again. An insidious mark, and one with only a 2% chance of landing. Honestly, she hadn’t thought any demons would be stupid enough to cast it. But that imp had looked awfully pleased with herself, right before Cynthia blasted the little harlot back to the pit that spawned her.

But the damage had been done.

And she was stuck with it.

Cynthia chewed on her lip worriedly. What she needed to do was get it dispelled, asap. Because a breeding rune was one of the more sinister magics. It enchanted a woman to desire a man to cum in her by any means. To be filled with seed and quicken with child. Which was bad enough, but the real danger was the longer she held out, the more the curse would change her in order to get what she needed. Corrupting her body and soul until she was just a demonic trollop begging for a good dicking. Not a problem if she got the curse banished. But if she ended up giving in, she’d be locked into whatever state she was in when she finally got that much needed fucking.

And how in the hells was she supposed to explain that?

A knock sounded at the door. “Cynthia? You okay?”

Cynthia squeaked, dropping her skirt hastily. “F-fine Roland!” she called. “Just fine! Just… just making sure this new hood fits! That’s all.”

“Alright. But be careful. We’re not out of this dungeon yet.”

Gods, and didn’t she know it. She felt again a flush. They’d delved pretty deep into the dungeon today, and the way out was quite far. But she felt sure she could manage it. The curse would take time to take effect. Honestly, she could last a few hours without jumping Roland’s bones. Fine bones that they were. Making the knight so big and strong and tanky. Always ready to take a hit for her. Let her do her stuff. So protective and sweet and…

She felt the heat within her stir and grow and she quickly shook her head. Get it together, girl! All she had to do was last a few hours and she could get out of the dungeon and head straight to the nearest temple to get the curse removed. For brief moment she considered telling Roland, but instantly dismissed the idea. The thought of admitting such an embarrassing thing appalled her. She couldn’t tell him she’d done something as silly as getting cursed by some low-level imp. Not to mention he’d ask to see it. Ask if he could do anything for her, because he was such a good man. A kind man. A sweet, lovable, hunk of man who would be such a gentle lover and…

She groaned and slapped her cheeks again. Focus, girl. Focus! Turning on her heel, she marched to the door and opened it abruptly.

Roland waited on the other side, and just the sight of his handsome, worried face almost melted her legs out from under her with a sudden needy heat that shot from her core. Blonde hair curled about his face. A broad build confined by his heavy armour, a large shield and sword sheathed on his back, and an expression of genuine concern, he was what every mage dreamed their tank would be.

“Did you try on the hood?” he asked.

“Hm? Hood? O-oh! Yes. Mhmm. Yes, absolutely. It ah, it didn’t boost my stats quite as much as I’d hoped. Haha!”

“That’s a shame,” he said, his eyes wandering down to her chest. “But uh, why are you leaving your robe a bit open like that?”

Cynthia looked down in surprise, realizing her collar was a bit undone, revealing a hint of her bust. “Oh, yes, that. Just… been feeling a bit hot in here. Thought I might get more air circulating. Cool myself a bit. Not a big deal.”

“If you say so,” Roland said, though she couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on the teasing hint of her breasts. A sensation of amused triumph thrilled through her, but she quickly tamped it down.

“Let’s get going!” she declared, quickly passing him. “Gotta get above ground soon. Can’t delay!”

“Oh, yes. Um, right. Of course,” she heard Roland say, then the reassuring clank of his armour as he followed her. Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief, focusing on the present and what she needed to do. Just keep moving. Just keep going.

And try to ignore how comfortable it felt to put a bit of wiggle into her walk.

#

Gods, why was it so hot!

Cynthia groaned as she sat on a rock, feeling the heat like her clothes were stuffed with burning coals. With every step she’d been feeling the curse mark pulse on her mons, threading more of its feverish warmth through her. Roland had gone to scout ahead for a bit, giving her a blessed opportunity to take a break. Gods, but she just needed a bit of relief. Just a little bit to get further.

She hesitated, reaching for the enchanted bell on the collar of her robe. She knew she shouldn’t adjust her clothes. But if she did nothing, she’d pass out from heatstroke before reaching the surface. And if she did, then Roland would surely check on her. Maybe undress her. Then he’d see that mark and think she was a dumb bimbo and… and…

She grimaced and tightened her lips. Reluctantly, she touched the bell on her collar, gripped it, and willed a bit of relief.

Almost at once the fabric around her chest loosened, stretching and exposing more of her cleavage. She sighed with satisfaction, sagging a bit. Gods, that was so much better! But she still felt warm. Blushing a bit, she willed the sides of her robe to open, creating long slits that left only a strap of cloth covering her mons and ass. Somewhat scandalous, true, but there was no denying it was far more comfortable.

And… dare she say, cute?

She looked down at her chest and a worried frown marred her face. Was it just her, or was she… bigger? She cupped her chest, and had to bite her lip to suppress a sudden moan from escaping her. Oh… oh gosh, that… that felt good. So… so sensitive.

In fact, it was kind of hard to stop.

Stop feeling her big, soft chest. Giving it a bounce. A squeeze. Ohhhh, that felt gooood. She squirmed, legs rubbing together. But… but what would feel even better would be getting a big, studly, strong man to fill his loving hands with her big breasts. A man like…

”Roland,” she breathed.

“C-Cynthia?”

She squeaked, snatching her hands back and looking up in shock to find the knight standing at the end of the tunnel, staring at her in amazement.

“Roland!” Cynthia exclaimed, bounding quickly to her feet, and as she did, she caught his eyes riveting to her chest as her breasts bounced in her top. A feeling of satisfaction filled her, but she dutifully ignored it. “What um, what did you find?” she asked.

Roland seemed to shake himself, blinking as he looked back up at her. “Find? Oh, yes. It seems clear ahead. Looks like the ah, monsters haven’t respawned yet.”

“Wonderful!” Cynthia said, snatching up her staff. “Then we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

“Er, yes. We should. But uh, Cynthia, your clothes. They look…”

“Oh! That,” she giggled, giving a quick twirl. “Do you like it?”

“I um…”

“Just getting a bit of cooler air. So hot down here, right?”

“It is?”

“Absolutely!” she said, smiling encouragingly. “So hot. Gets me all sweaty and warm. Just needed to, you know, get a bit of airflow going. Right? Anyway! No time to waste. Better get back on the move.”

“I… guess,” Roland said uncertainly.

“Exactly! Let’s go,” Cynthia exclaimed, bounding past him, trying to suppress the knowledge of how good it felt to have that strip of cloth swishing between her thighs. The way the silk stroked her panties and slick mound.

But she also noticed the way Roland watched her breasts bounce in her tight top as she went by.

And maybe she enjoyed that gaze a bit more than was proper…

#

Hells but her migraine was just killing her.

Cynthia groaned, rubbing her temples.

“You sure you’re okay?” Roland asked her.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just fine. Have a little headache, that’s all.”

“Can I do anything to help?” he asked.

Bend me over this fucking rock and rail me until I’m begging you to stuff me with your fucking stud baby batter!

Through an incredible force of will, Cynthia managed to not scream that out. But she needed some relief. The heat in her was coiling its insidious tentacles all through her, and she needed SOMETHING to take the fucking pressure off.

Her eyes slid back to Roland.

“Actually,” she said slowly, rolling her shoulders with a pained expression. “I’m feeling so… stiff at the moment. And you have those wonderfully talented hands. I was thinking maybe you could give me a quick massage.”

“A massage?” he said uncertainly.

“Yeah,” she said, already warming to the idea. Well, her body was anyway. Just the thought of getting those strong hands on her made the tension coiling in her ease just a bit. “Just a bit. Help me relax.”

“Of course,” the knight said, beaming that lovable smile of his as he took off his gauntlets. Cynthia bit her lip. Gods, just the sight of that goofy smile made her want to cram his head between her thighs and ride his tongue to a dozen screaming orgasms.

But she’d take what she could get. And as he moved around and sat down behind her, she tried not to shiver at the smell of him. That sweet medley of leather and sweat and manliness.

And that was before she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“Ohhhhh,” she groaned, arching.

He paused. “You okay?”

“Better than ever,” she sighed.

“I haven’t even started.”

“Then don’t wait,” she fairly growled. “Get those strong fingers in there.”

“Sorry?”

“Just… please, start.”

She stifled a moan as his fingers began to gently knead her shoulders, soon growing more confident at the familiar motions. Cynthia exhaled heavily, her eyes drifting half-shut as she enjoyed his touch. His wonderful, gentle yet firm touch. Gods, those fingers were incredible. She could actually feel herself start to drift away, even the headache easing.

“Is that good?” Roland asked.

“Wonderful,” she breathed, sinking back against his touch. Oh gods it was so good. “Lower.”

She felt his touch slide over her shoulders. “Like that?”

“Oh yessss,” she groaned, shivering in ecstasy, her toes curling in her shoes. “Just… mnnn… like that. Maybe… maybe a bit lower.”

She felt him hesitate, then obey. She was breathing deeper. Heavier. That was good. That was nice…

“You smell good,” Roland murmured.

A smile stole across her lips at his dreamy voice. “Thank you. Perfume… perfume is new. And lower, Roland.”

“L-lower?”

“Please,” she panted, wriggling.

Again that moment of hesitation. Then his hands slid down. Slid over the gentle curves of her chest.

Oh gods yes.

A soft moan escaped her as she arched, pushing her breasts into his uncertain hands. Hands that began to grow more confident. Slow. Gentle. Pumping and squeezing her breasts in ways that made her whimper and gasp in helpless pleasure.

Oh gods.

Oh gods that was so good.

She could feel the heat that had been torturing her dull to a pleasant throb. Swelling up into her head, filling it with a hazy warmth. Her headache easing into clouds of euphoric pleasure as her hips lazily rocked.

“Just like that,” she breathed, her free hand stealing between her thighs, a jolt of delight racing through her as she touched herself, the silky strip between her legs offering no protection to her hyper-sensitive pussy. “Oh Roland…”

“So soft,” he breathed, his face nearly buried in her luxurious hair, his hands still massaging and adoring her breasts. His warm breath panting against the back of her neck.

Oh gods yes.

“Roland,” she moaned, her finger pressing against her pussy, stroking herself through her dress and panties. Higher. Higher.

“Cynthia,” she heard him gasp behind her, his hands skilled and adoring as they bounced and massaged her soft breasts. She squirmed in delight, hot pants escaping her in rushes, her ass grinding back against him, feeling the bulge in his pants.

“Roland. Roland,” she whimpered, her finger strumming herself harder. Pleasure sparking through her in bursts, the cloudiness in her head concentrating. The pressure throbbing. Feeling so good. So wonderful. So… so…

“Mnnnnnn!” she cried out, quivering as she came, her juices staining her filmy panties and the strip of her robe, her muscles tightening in shameful ecstasy, the pressure in her head releasing in a sudden burst of euphoria that washed her in a wave of bliss.

She sighed happily, leaning back against Roland, who merely moaned softly, still gently massaging her plump teats. A sensation that ached through her wonderfully. Gods but it felt good. Gods it all felt so… so fucking good…

Why hadn’t she done this before?

As that idle thought swam through her mind, she felt another urgent throb from the place above her mons. She lifted her head numbly, and felt a strange weight on her brow. Vaguely, she reached up, touching her forehead.

Feeling a pair of bumps.

Her eyes snapped open in horror. Horns. Oh fuck, she had horns! Her formerly wonderful pleasure vanished like a flash of pink steam.

“Cynthia?”

She looked down in shock at the hands on her breasts and bolted suddenly to her feat, then slapped her palm to her forehead, turning away so Roland couldn’t see her front. “Er, yes! Thank you, Roland. Wonderful job. Very um, good. I’m just gonna go, er, freshen up a bit real quick. Be right back!”

“Wha-”

Before he could object she hurried back around the corridor’s corner and covered her face with her hands. Oh gods. Oh gods, did she really do that? Did she really just get Roland to play with her fat cow tits while she masturbated on his lap?

Yes.

Yes she did.

And it had been amazing.

She felt her blush warm herself anew, even as she berated her response. Gods, the curse’s heat was already back! It was like she hadn’t even gotten a moment of relief from it. But it was fine. It was fine. She could fix this. Just… just get out of the dungeon and find a priest who could dispel the curse. Then she’d be back to normal.

Yes.

Just normal.

So normal she’d never have done anything like that. Let Roland massage her sensitive breasts. Rub her ass against his bulge as she stroked herself to one of the best orgasms she’d ever had.

Totally.

Utterly.

Normal.

Cynthia bit her lip at the thought. She… she did want to be normal again. She was pretty sure of that. No, no. She was absolutely sure of it. Even if it had felt amazing. Even if she’d relished the thrill and the sound of Roland’s voice becoming dim and hazy. As if drunk on her presence. Her beauty. Even if she now had horns which she really needed to cover up. Yes, a hood. That’s what she needed.

And… maybe let the chest out a bit more. All of Roland’s pumping had made her even bustier.

Again she touched the bell on her neck and willed the changes. She sighed in relief as a hood formed from her top, looping over her hair, while an even larger boob window opened in her robe. As she looked herself down, she frowned at a sight below. The strip of fabric between her legs now sported a very apparent stain.

“Gods dammit,” she groaned. Look at that mess. She was NOT wandering through the dungeon with a big stain on the front of her robe. But how to hide it?

A sudden vision entered her mind, and well, it was a bit out of character for her, but why not? She’d be out of the dungeon soon anyway. Another press on the bell folded the strips of cloth between her legs, her robe shrinking even more, hugging her curves in a form-fitting leotard that showed off her every incredible curve. Cynthia smirked and turned this way and that, admiring her bared thighs and curves of her breasts. A perfect hourglass. Gods she was hot. That wasn’t the curse talking. Just… confidence.

Yeah.

Just confidence at being so gorgeous.

Smiling, she turned and went back into the chamber. Roland was still sitting on the rock, bent forward, his head in his hand like he had a headache.

“Ready, Roland?” Cynthia asked.

He looked up, and Cynthia had to bite her lip to keep from smirking at his expression. His jaw positively dropped at the sight of her, the awe in his eyes sending another shot of pure heat into her pussy and tingling through her veins.

“Cynthia,” he gasped. “You…”

“Just needed to let my body breathe a bit more,” Cynthia said coyly, turning this way and that to let him admire her further. “Do you like?”

“You… you look amazing,” he admitted.

Cynthia giggled. “So glad you think so. Now, come on, Roland,” she said, crooking a finger and beckoning. “Let’s get going.”

He rose instantly, and Cynthia felt another thrill at how quickly he obeyed. How his eyes grew dim as he breathed in deeply, as if just the sight and scent of her threatened to drown him in her presence. Arrogant of her to think so, perhaps, but as she turned, leading the way forward, she was hit with the delightful feeling like she was leading a puppy through the black stone halls.

And enjoying every moment of it.

#

The heat was back.

And strong.

So fucking strong.

It had been okay for a bit, but now the coiling warmth of desire was consuming her like an inferno. Cynthia was blushing, feeling her pulse throb and mons ache as if begging her to bathe her womb in the seed of a man. And it really didn’t help having such a handsome, willing man right behind her. Gods, she just wanted to push him down, kiss him, smother him under her fat tits and grind herself to a dozen orgasms before she even got his fucking pants off.

“Look! The exit.”

The words snapped her from her fantasies. Cynthia raised her head and through the blur of her vision she saw the white glow of the way out. The shining end of the tunnel beckoning her on.

Out.

Out of the dungeon.

Excitement surged within her. Bloomed with euphoria. “Yes!” she gasped. “Yes!”

So overcome, she whirled around and wrapped her arms around a startled Roland, leaned forward, and kissed him adoringly on the lips.

She felt him stiffen reflexively, but then he moaned, his eyes lidding, growing hazy as his lips moved against hers, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tight against him. Cynthia whimpered in delight as she felt her mound press against his front. Grind against his bulge. Her sensitive breasts rubbing against the steel of his chest.

The kiss deepened. Her tongue pushed into his mouth. Her hands slid up his neck and to his head, her fingers running through his hair as his own arms moved over her back as if tracing every inch of her winsome figure.

More.

She needed more.

The compulsion radiated from her mons. From the mark. She pushed him back and Roland hit the cavern wall. She broke the kiss, panting. Hot. Needy.

“We… we shouldn’t,” she breathed, her hands already moving, finding catches and buckles of armour and stripping them away with uncanny precision.

“Y-yeah. Shouldn’t,” Roland said dimly, offering no resistance as his hands continued to stroke her, tracing the curve of her ass, pressing himself against the tight fabric of her leotard.

“Gotta… gotta resist,” Cynthia panted as she tugged his pants down, her fingers grasping his stiffened cock.

“Nnnn,” Roland groaned.

“Can’t give in,” Cynthia breathed as she sank to her knees, Roland’s cock finally in her hand. Before her eyes. Thick. Throbbing. Begging for her attention. The scent stuffing her nose. Her head. Her tongue teased over her lips. Her mouth opened, and she swallowed him deep.

“Ohhhh!” Roland groaned, head falling back, body jolting with a gasp.

“Mmmm,” Cynthia agreed, her lashes fluttering in ecstasy as she began to bob, her tongue swirling over his tip and length. Gods. Gods above, he tasted so good. So thick and powerful and virile. Her free hand slipped beneath him, cradling his balls, and she could fairly feel his seed churn within them. Stirring from her ministrations. Begging for release.

She’d release him.

Gods she would.

She’d suck him dry. Swallow without missing a drop. Gods, what had taken her so long to do this? How could she have kept herself from pushing him down and just fucking choking herself on his fat cock!? Her throat seemed to accommodate his every inch with uncanny ease. Moaning, bobbing, she sucked him deep, going down to the root, her tongue lathing and wrapping around his manhood with utterly shameless need.

“F-fuck!” Roland gasped, his eyes misty. Foggy. His hands groping down to her head. Cynthia bucked as his fingers pushed aside her hood and wrapped around her horns, the sensation throbbing into her like a bolt of lightning. For a brief moment she felt panic, but glancing up at his face showed Roland didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were fogged, his mouth open, panting in needy gasps as he pumped into her waiting mouth.

Pheromones. A demon’s trait, now hers from the curse.

And he was utterly drunk on them.

She knew she should feel bad about that, but she didn’t care. She wanted him too much. Too badly. She needed his cum. Needed him. The heat from her mound pulsed in a throbbing beat like drums urging her on. Urging her to suck harder. Massage his balls. Tease and pump him until his face was flushed and desperate gasps were escaping him. Until he was feverishly pumping his cock into her mouth, fucking her face until… until…

“F-fuuuuuuck!” Roland cried out, head thrown back, groaning as he came.

And Cynthia was in heaven.

She moaned, her eyes lidding as the hot heaviness of his load pumped into her mouth, eagerly swallowed down into her stomach. She sucked him gently, relishing every spurt, feeling the swirling delight ache through her.

Gods.

Gods, it was… it was so fucking perfect…

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

Cynthia pulled her lips off his cock, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. Her head throbbing. Thoughts swirling with a single need that she had to satisfy. “More,” she gasped.

“C-Cynthia?” Roland panted, looking down at her blankly, his jaw slack.

She knew he’d do anything she wanted him to. She could tell. He wanted her as bad as she wanted him. And she’d have him. She rose, no longer hesitant. No longer caring of consequences or doubt. Her hand rose, rang the bell on her collar.

Every stitch of clothing seemed to burst from her, baring her glorious figure in all its glory, her skin so flushed it seemed red, her breasts so huge and full they seemed to float upon her chest. Her hips were wide and her legs parted, the curse mark blazing proudly on her body.

Roland stared at her, mouth agape. “What…”

“Don’t question,” she commanded, and he fell silent. Another thrill surged through her as she turned around, bent forward, planting her hands against the far wall, her ass thrust out. “Fuck me, Roland,” she growled, glancing over her shoulder. “Fuck me like you’ve wanted to ever since we met. Fuck me. Mate me. Breed my fucking pussy! I need your cock, Roland. I need it in me. Now!”

Roland stared at her, and oh how her curse mark rewarded her for that stare. That look of helpless lust. Of frantic desire. He came towards her, his hands reaching out, grasping the soft swell of her ample hips. She cried out, cooed as the rewarding heat of her curse mark surged through her again, tingling in her tailbone and back.

“That’s it,” she breathed, waving her rear, smirking as she saw his cock rise, hardening once again at the sight of her needy figure. “Fuck me, Roland. Fuck me hard. Mate me like the slut I am. Just a bitch in heat. Needing your cock. Now fuck me. Fuck me!”

“Yes,” Roland gasped, squeezing her soft rump, aligning his cock with the steamy gash of her pussy. “Yes… mistress…”

For a brief moment that word shocked Cynthia. Raised a doubt in her. She opened her mouth to order him back.

Then he pushed forward.

Filled her.

And hesitation was burned away by the fire of pleasure as she got what she so desperately needed.

“Ohhhhh!” Cynthia cried out, arching, tightening deliciously around the thick cock impaling her. Heat bloomed in her, but no longer tortuous. No. Now it surged in her in a euphoric blast. “Yesss!” she cried out. “Fuck me, Roland. Mate me! Fuck me haaaard!”

“Yes,” Roland panted, not hesitating a beat, beginning to thrust, pumping his cock feverishly into her hot pussy. Driving into her with a desperate urgency, every smack of his hips off her ass sending another throb of pure pleasure rocking her to the core. “Yes! Mistress. Fuck mistress. Fuck her!”

“Yes!” Cynthia cried out, uncaring, lost, relishing the feeling of him finally inside her. Finally giving her what she needed! “Yes! Fuck me. Mate me! Breed me, Roland. Breed your mistress! Mistress ah! Mistress needs your c-cum! Give it to her. Give it to me! Fuck me! Fuck me n-nooooooow!”

Pleasure pounded through her. Throbbed behind her eyes. In her back. In her ass. As she wailed her ecstasy, she felt the pressure burst. Felt a dark tail twist from her rear. Black wings sprout from her back.

“Breed your demon mistress noooooow!” Cynthia howled in triumph.

“Nnnnn!” Roland moaned, filling her a final time, his cock sinking deep inside her as he gave in. Cumming in a sudden rush of his hot seed.

The feeling surged into Cynthia. She wailed in pleasure, her orgasm flowing through her after his. Her pussy tightening, quivering, urging the hot gush of his cum into her womb. Feeling it fill her.

Wake her.

Consume her in bliss.

She moaned, her eyes rolling back, her arms shaking as she felt the curse mark burn itself into her skin. Marking her forever. Glowing like a brand.

And she couldn’t have been happier.

With a shaky breath she stepped forward, unsheathing Roland’s cock from her. The knight fell back onto the ground, his strong chest heaving, his eyes staring at her in worship and hazy love.

Cynthia smirked down at him, her hands lazily stroking her figure, her dark wings fluttering, her tail lashing.

Beautiful, she thought to herself. Utterly beautiful.

“Am I lovely, Roland?” she asked.

“So… so lovely,” he gasped, worshipping her with his eyes.

Cynthia giggled, her hands cupping her breasts, stroking them and sending them bouncing, her fingers tracing down onto her hips. “Mmm. And you’ll love me forever, won’t you? Be my obedient stud forever and ever? Pumping me full of children whenever I want?”

“Yes,” Roland panted. “Yes!”

“Adore me?”

“Yes!”

“Worship me?”

“Yes!”

“Do anything for me?”

“Gods yes!”

Cynthia purred, the desperation in his words filling her with intoxicating power. “Good boy,” she cooed, crooking a finger. “Then get up, lover. It’s time for you to get dressed and head out. There’s a whole wide world out there for us, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Roland breathed, dragging himself to his feet. “Yes, msitress.”

“Good boy,” she laughed, strutting towards the exit of the dungeon, her obedient love slave stumbling after her, still pulling his boots on as he did. Maybe she would visit the temple after all, Cynthia mused. After all, the sisters there would surely love to examine her curse mark. In intimate detail…

[eureka-its-zico]

Chaos in Their Bones Ch. 4

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: All your life you’d listened to your friend, Usopp spin wild tales about pirates and adventure. Pirates weren’t a thing that came often to Syrup Village, but one straw hat pirate and his crew changed all that the day they arrived. Now, you aren’t so sure if your sleepy little village was always pirate-free or if no one had been paying attention.  

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, frenemies to lovers, slow burn (I hope y’all like aching) eventual smut

Words: 8.7+

A/N:  This chapter is mostly filler from 1.04-1.05. This chapter also, once again has a POV from Zoro. I kept going through my options of what I could do to possibly give these two idiots more alone time and this was the result. The beginning, and introduction, of Sanji begins right at Chapter 5 and I already have too many ✨ideas ✨ that I know what to do with. Also, I did add in Zoro working out. It’s a brief mention, but I just found it weird he didn’t have any of those scenes (probably for damn good reason). As always, thank you guys for all the love and support. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story🖤 Much Love, Jenn

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Previous Next

“I don’t know, Doc. You’re starting to look a little pale.”

“And green.”

You’d been hugging the side of this particular railing since you’d sailed out of port. It was your first time ever on a ship and it wasn’t going too great. You’d heard about seasickness and even had sailors come asking for Naan’s Elfroot to chew to stem the tide while they were out at sea. You always thought they were being ridiculous. How bad could it be? 

Well, if your dry heaving was any indication - pretty bad. Of course, Zoro just had to make it worse. 

You glanced up from looking at the water that was gently tapping the side of the boat to the growing bane of your existence. One hand was tucked into the pocket of his jeans while the other rested on the hilt of his swords. He looked effortlessly cool as he watched you with - was that a smirk? 

He’d changed into a yellow shirt with fine detailing of gray lines running horizontally and vertically, which matched perfectly with his gray pants. 

Zoro was more of a fashionista than he’d let on. 

“It’s just the reflection of your hair,” you shot back at him. 

You could feel the next wave of nausea thrashing around in your stomach and you prayed you could keep it down. You were going to lose more cool points if you hurled again. Zoro squinted over the sun's rays to regard your current state. He must have been able to tell you were 0.2 seconds from hurling because, instead of replying, he simply twirled his finger indicating for you to turn around. 

You did as he instructed, but made sure to follow it up with a middle finger salute. 

“Man, you two always like this? You just met.” Usopp asked. 

Usopp tried doing the dotting friend routine by patting you a few times, awkwardly, on your back. It felt more like he was trying to get a burp out of you than soothe you. 

“It’s because they like each other.”

Nami pranced out of the galley and chose violence. It only took both you and Zoro to register her words before you both shouted: 

“I don’t like her.”

“I hate him!”

Nami wrapped her arms around herself as she looked you both over. A devious smile tilting the edges of her mouth and you had to look away before it turned into the shit eating grin you’d come to expect. 

“I’m sure you both do,” she teased. 

You wanted to prove to her that you meant it. Zoro would be the last person you would say you liked, like- like that. The man was literally the biggest pain in the ass you’d ever met. 

“Usopp,” you croaked, “can you get my bag, please.”

“I’m on it, Doc.”

At the sound of his feet hitting the deck, a groan of discomfort resonated in your chest. How could anyone think that sailing was fun? This felt like the absolute worst. 

When you first entered the Going Merry you couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. You’d heard Usopp tell you stories since he cleaned it everyday. It was as finely crafted as he’d described, and the white ashwood against the walnut was a stark contrast but complemented each other beautifully. There wasn’t another ship like the Going Merry and a one-of-a-kind ship should belong to someone as extraordinary as Luffy.

The minute you’d cast off into the giant blue you’d almost panicked. What if this was a mistake? You’d never been out in open water before nor had you ever left Syrup village. This could either be one of the greatest adventures of your life or a disaster. The only thing that kept you from flinging yourself over the side and swimming back was when you’d walked the stern and the glint of the sun shone down on the water. 

The sun’s rays illuminated the water like light reflecting off a crystal glass. One minute it was the deepest blue. The color was solid enough that your reflection was easy to see and in a matter of seconds after a ray of light touched its water, it took on a cornflower hue that made the water translucent. 

You’d been able to admire it for all of three seconds before you were embarrassing yourself over the port bow. 

“I’m back, Doc,” Usopp spoke softly as he placed a soft hand on your shoulder. He lightly tapped the bag against your hands to try and coax you to grab it. “Do you need me to get you water or anything?”

“Water is not going to help. It’ll make it worse.” 

You thought he was trying just to be his usual monotoned “Hi, I’m Zoro and I could care less,” self, but when you finally peeled your forehead off your forearm and looked at him he wasn’t even looking at either of you. He was curled up, like a lazy cat, against a couple of crates with his eyes closed and faced tilted towards the sun. With his hands infamously stuffed inside his pockets. 

“It would?”

You nodded your head only once in recognition before you started searching through your bag. Your hands started scrambling inside it a soft, “No,no,” building into a frenzy before you stopped searching.

“I’m guessing your magic little root isn’t in there.”

Zoro was still sitting without a care while you felt like you wanted to throw yourself overboard. 

“No. It isn’t.”

Mental note: Ask Luffy to stop at Irkhaven Isle to get supplies. 

Suddenly, Zoro stood in one graceful motion and walked off towards the galley. 

Ass. 

You turned back to the Going Merry’s railing and held on tight. Your stomach felt like you’d swallowed glass and got punched, it was so empty. Another groan was building in your chest when a cold bottle touched the back of your arm. 

The coolness to your skin sent a yelp of surprise from you, and sent you whirling to the presence beside you. Zoro was leaning back against the railing, looking as calm as ever, with a beer extended out between you. 

“Isn’t it a little bit too early to be drinking?” 

He rolled his eyes as he switched positions. He was now mimicking your current position against the rail but looked effortless and was still holding that damn beer out to you. 

“It’s for you.”

“For me? Zoro, I don’t think now is the time to be drinking-“

“Just drink it,” he growled, an obvious annoyance replacing his earlier calm. 

What hell, what was a beer going to do? At most, it would at least give your stomach something to actually throw up instead of dry heaving yourself into a six pack. 

You reached out and took it from him. Zoro continued to watch you as you placed the bottle to your lips, waiting for you to take a sip. 

“Could I get some privacy here?”

Zoro rolled his eyes but did as you asked looking off into the southside of the ship. You took that moment to take a long pull from the bottle. Surprisingly, it was damn good beer. You waited for the bitter aftertaste to kick in, but found it replaced with the tang of citrus. You immediately took another drink and another. It wasn’t until you were halfway to the middle of the bottle that you noticed the ship had been rocked a few times by the waves and yet…

You went to turn your attention back to Zoro and found him already staring at you. 

I am not blushing. 

You turned quickly to look back out at the ocean with both arms leaning over the railing as you took in the picturesque view. You couldn’t believe beer was making your sea sickness disappear. Out of your peripherals you waited for him to turn away from you. Unable to say it to his face as you played with the label that was peeling off from condensation. 

Alcohol. It was brilliant. You were sure your body was still feeling sick, but the depressant in the beer wasn’t allowing those receptors to acknowledge it. Tilting the bottle at him you asked, “How’d you know this would work.” 

“It’s how I survived all my boat trips. Old guy I’d met aboard my first ship when I was seventeen taught me that trick.” 

“Is that why you have so much booze? Cause you have a weak stomach?” 

Your question came off worse than you intended. You genuinely weren’t trying to insult him. He’d just helped you. Zoro has helped you. 

“No. I just like to drink.” 

His tone was void of all emotion. The little bit he’d given you quickly washed away and you wanted to kick yourself. 

Foot meet mouth. Mouth meets foot. 

You weren’t very good at this. The only friend you’d ever actually had was Usopp. The both of you know the tone of the other and every secret in between. You’d tried to make friends with the other kids in town, but holding up a frog as a friendship gift didn’t seem to go over too well. And on that wonderful trip down memory lane…

You straightened up and took a smaller sip from the beer before you leaned down to pick up your abandoned satchel. 

“Thank you, Zoro.”

The both of you stared at the other until the silence was washed out by the squawking of seagulls and the rush of water. Even now in this weird game of chicken, you knew you would be the first to give. His dark eyes staring straight through you until you felt exposed. You tipped the bottle for good measure and turned on your heel to make your way inside the safety of the kitchen. Your hand clutching the bottle close as your brain tried to make sense of what happened. 

Zoro helped you. He didn’t have too and for all intents and purposes you were surprised he didn’t just let you suffer, but he’d chosen not to. What did that even mean? He was just being friendly. It didn’t mean anything more than that. 

Instead of dwelling on the question, you sat down in the corner booth and took another pull from the bottle. 

——————-

After you finished your first bottle, you found another, and another until you’d ended up blissfully passed out in the booth. You were vaguely aware that Luffy and the crew had come into the galley at some point. The sound of Usopp and Luffy struggling to talk over the other was what forced you out of your nap.

“We all know who the Captain is.”

“It’s me.”

Two voices rang out as one with each ending in a high-pitch of surprise. It was his first day and already Usopp was trying to stir up mutiny on the ship. If you weren’t interested in staying unconscious you were positive you would’ve smiled. 

“Just call me Captain Usopp.”

“We already know I’m the Captain.”

It didn’t surprise you they were still giving out declarations of who was Captain. You waited for it to become a campaign, like when Townsfolk ran for Mayor, but the sound of Nami’s laughter followed by - was that Zoro?! - ended both men’s rant. 

“See, this is what it’s all about,” Luffy’s voice chimed in. “From now it’s going to be smooth sailing.”

He was his usual happy sounding self. You were willing to bet it was infectious, making everyone’s earlier laughter remain in the small creases by their eyes and the raise of their lips. Luffy was indeed a Captain and one of the best kind. 

Enjoying the moment abruptly ended, however, when you caught the sound of a whistle outside. It grew more intense by the second. Whatever it was, was slicing through the air with a force that was audible. You weren’t sure why it took so long for your brain to register that it wasn’t a natural sound. It was rectified, however, when something violently slammed into the Going Merry and sent everything trembling. 

Your back immediately shot up off the cushion of the booth. Eyes open wide as you stumble to your feet watching Nami and Zoro do the same. 

“What in the hell was that?”

“Luffy opening his damn mouth,” Nami replied as you followed behind her. 

You were wondering how Luffy’s mouth could have anything to do with the current sounds coming from outside. Your response died in your throat the minute you got out onto the deck. You followed them to the stern of the ship and finally saw what was waiting for you all was a very large, very metal, Marine vessel trailing behind you. 

All the blood drained from your body and whatever buzz you’d had left over from earlier was now completely gone. 

“It’s the marines! We’re under attack!” 

Nami rushed to the wheel to begin to try evasive maneuvers to get you all out of the way of the oncoming cannonballs. Another shot rang out from the marine vessel and you waited to be struck by steaming metal and found yourself vaguely relieved when it crashed into the ocean a few feet from you. 

“How did they find us?”

“Does it matter? They’re trying to blow us out of the water!”

What the hell were you supposed to do? 

What in the hell could anyone do against being shot at by cannons and a marine vessel that was gaining on your small ship by the second. You could see three figures standing at the bow of the ship, eerily watching as if waiting for something - or someone - to appear. 

Luffy grabbed the telescope and peered through the lens. You all waited for him to give an order and what he said next surprised everyone. 

“Grandpa?”

“Grandpa!”

“Did you just call that guy grandpa?” Zoro asked, his eyes carefully watching Luffy as he glanced through the telescope back at the ship. 

He didn’t answer right away. The sound of another shot being fired made all of you space out from one another. You could feel the tension singing through your nerves. The adrenaline was demanding you to move or do something else besides just hopelessly stand like a damn target. The fight or flight in you erupted to life with one key thought hoarding every inch of clarity besides one: run. 

This time when the cannon came crashing down it came right at the edge of the stern. An eruption of water covering you in a fine mist of water. You didn’t get a chance to decide on what to do when another shot rang out. 

“Hit the deck!” 

Usopp’s scream was frantic enough you didn’t ask why, and did as he instructed and became one with the wood. Seconds later, the sound of speeding metal whizzed by you and smashed into the railing behind sending wood fragments everywhere. 

You couldn’t stop the scream that tore its way from your lips as your body curled in on itself. 

What the hell did I sign up for? 

You could hear the sounds of feet clumsily finding their footing again as everyone began to get up. You wanted to stay where you were, but the sharp sound of Zoro calling you a coward resonated inside your chest. 

You could do this. You could totally hundred-percent do this. 

It was your turn to begin to get up from your place on the stern deck, and just as you moved to your knees someone offered their hand for you to take. Color you shocked when you looked up to find that hand was attached to Zoro. You must have been staring too long because he looked away, hand still out, and grumbled, “You going to keep staring at it or take it?”

Yup, and there was the Zoro you’d grown to know and loathe.

“It just burns you up inside to be so helpful, doesn’t it?”

Your voice oozed with sarcasm as you took his hand - maybe a bit too aggressively - and started to get up. Zoro saw your passive-aggressive hand smack and did you one better. He pulled you quickly to your feet, but that quickness came at the cost of your balance. Your feet couldn’t catch their footing back on the deck and you ended haphazardly colliding into his chest. 

As fast as it happened, it was equally as fast that you both dislocated yourselves from each other.

“Is everybody okay?”

“I think so.” 

“No. Not okay. Not even close to okay.”

“I second, Usopp,” you said. 

You weren’t sure why you raised your hand. It could’ve been you just really needed them to know that no - no, this was definitely not okay. 

Luffy took your concerns with a grain of salt, however, and ran over to the cannon - the only cannon - on deck. You’d only just meet him, but Luffy didn’t strike you as someone who held onto any ill will. So, you were surprised to see the determination burn in his eyes and the scowl to cross his face. 

What did your grandpa do to you? 

If you weren’t mortally in danger of drowning at any minute or being shredded in half by a cannonball, you might have asked. 

“Usopp! Fire back at them!”

“Or how about we sail away as fast as we can?”

“I like that idea, actually,” you chimed in, a hand scratching the back of your neck. “That’s a solid plan if I ever heard one, Usopp.”

“Run from the marines?” 

Luffy looked between the three of you. He couldn’t believe that Usopp, Nami, and you were apparently so quick to not want to put up much of a fight. You did enjoy not being a sea decoration. 

“No. Never! Nami trim the…sail thing. Let’s sink their ship!”

“Wait, what? Are you crazy?”

You had to back up to stand next to Zoro as Luffy waved for Usopp to join him on the stern. The two of them grabbed a hold of the cannon to bring it towards an opening in the back. 

“Let’s sink their ship.” 

“Luffy, we don’t have time for this!” Nami interjected, but Luffy wasn’t listening. “They’re going to come up alongside us! If they do, we are finished.”

“Our odds keep sounding better and better,” you mumbled as you made your way over to Nami. 

“You are our Navigator. Do something.” 

Nami let out a groan before her whole demeanor changed. No longer was she trying to flee or get Luffy to see reason. Suddenly, she turned to Zoro and ordered him to go down and pull the sheet in. He didn’t waste a second before he brushed past you and down the stairs. 

You waited for her to order you to do something, anything, but she must have known it would’ve been like explaining math to a baby. You didn’t even know what she’d even just asked Zoro to do. Apparently, neither did he. 

“Which way is port?” 

A heavy sigh left her as she shouted back, “It’s the left!”

“Have you ever loaded a cannon before?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ve loaded tons of them,” Usopp replied coolly.

You had to give Usopp props. He was literally the master of bullshit and could keep a straight face even though you both knew the only thing he loaded was his imagination. 

“This is just a different model I’ve never seen before.”

“Usopp, you load the cannon in the barrel. Light it and then get the hell out of the way!”

Following Nami’s directions, Usopp rushed forward towards the barrel. You thought he was going to make it when the ball slipped out of his hand and landed with a heavy thud on the deck. You rushed forward to grab it before it rolled down the stairs, but didn’t notice Usopp rushing to join you in the hunt. What neither of you failed to notice was that the vibration from dropping the cannonball dislodged the others. 

In a split second, you and Usopp collided into one another and when you stepped back to stand up your heel caught a ball. You had barely enough seconds to lean yourself forward as you slipped down the stairs, taking each stair with a thud just like the cannonballs. 

Your knees slammed into the edge of one of the stairs, but the balls under your hips kept you slipping. You tried bending your knees to slow your descent only to have them successfully bump every step on the way down. 

“Oh shit, Doc are you okay?” Usopp shouted down after you. 

“I’m fantastic,” you grunted as you came to a stop before the last steps. 

You weren’t trying to remove yourself from the stairs. You could feel the pain in your knees growing with each passing second. You were willing to bet when you stood up, that dull throb that was beginning to resonate under your skin would shoot out like lightning the minute you stood up. Unfortunately, you’d forgotten who was at the bottom of the stairs with you. 

“Are you going to get up anytime soon or do you enjoy just laying there?” 

You were ready to tell Zoro where he could shove his swords when a gruff voice you’d never heard cut over the chaos. 

“Pirate vessel, by order of the marines, lower your sails and submit to my authority.”

You were willing to bet a million berries if that man wasn’t Luffy’s grandpa that wouldn’t even be an offer on any table. Ever. The sound of Zoro’s boots coming closer caused you to peel yourself up just enough before he - did he really just step over you? 

“Oh, you asshole,” you seethed. 

You scrambled to your feet to chase after him when you noticed another cannonball headed straight for the Merry. But where was the sound of the gunpowder? What felt even more unbelievable was what came after. 

Sure, Luffy told you he’d eaten a Devil fruit. He’d told you his body was made of rubber but seeing was believing. You watched as Luffy began to inhale air and his body blew up like a…balloon. Luffy was becoming an actual balloon of skin until the cannonball landed in the center of his stomach. He took the entire impact and flung it back at the marine vessel. One minute, you could hear the return fire whistling through the air. The next, you watched as the crow’s nest above the mast exploded and seconds later it came crashing down. 

Everything grew silent aboard the Merry as you all registered what you’d just witnessed. You were still staring at Luffy and back to the now very much on fire marine ship when Usopp’s surprised laughter cut through the silence. 

“That was amazing! You just saved us!”

“You didn’t tell me you could do that.”

You could feel your own smile slide across your face as the adrenaline began to bleed away. The aftershocks of the thrill of battle - no matter how unsuccessful - left you feeling ready to do it all again. Or take a nap. 

You were joining in on the laughter as you looked back at Nami, and at Usopp who was jumping in excitement with Luffy. You looked over at Zoro and found your earlier excitement drained from your body. Sure, you’d seen him smirk and look like the grumpy cat who ate the canary, but you’d never seen him smile. 

Sometime during the battle the wind had tussled up his hair making him appear like he’d just woken from a nap. It made him softer, less broody, and the grin that lit up his face actually reached his eyes and scrunched his nose. 

It was safer in the village. 

You wanted to say the thought was because of what had just happened. Even as Luffy ordered Nami to get you out of the area, you knew it wasn’t because of the danger. Hell, as much as it was a mess of a first battle, the adrenaline of it all was demanding for a release. Maybe you’d be able to use that as an excuse for why your heart was beating so wildly as you watch Zoro run a hand through his hair. 

The ship suddenly felt too constricting. It didn’t allow enough space between you and the swordsman who resided on this ship. You tried to shake your head clear of all those thoughts and turned to run after Luffy. You called his name as you carefully took the stairs down after him. 

“Something wrong, Doc?”

“No, no,” you waved him off. “I just - I wanted to ask a favor.”

“You can ask me for anything.”

You weren’t sure if you would ever get over how genuine Luffy was. Every word he said to you he meant it. You could probably tell him you needed the sun, and whether physically attainable or not, you knew Luffy would try his absolute best to bring it to you. 

Because Luffy was just that kind of Captain. 

“Would it be a bother if we stopped at an island? I’m in need of some supplies.”

———————

Luffy didn’t hesitate to say yes to your request to stop at Irkhaven. It only took you all of four seconds to explain what it was, where it was, and why you needed to go before he sent you to Nami to give her the coordinates. While you’d never physically gone with Naan to harvest the ingredients you’d grown up using, she made sure to tell you often how to get there. 

Just in case the day came she couldn’t. 

What you hadn’t expected as you walked through fields of lavender was to have Zoro trailing behind you. 

“How much longer are we going to be out here?”

“Until I have enough of everything to last us a while,” you called over your shoulder. 

You didn’t need to look behind you to know Zoro was shooting daggers into the back of your skull. While he hadn’t been happy being volunteered to go with you onto the island, he hadn’t argued with Luffy either. 

You stopped midway out of the lavender fields and took out your small knife to begin cutting gently through the stems. After you had a good enough bundle, you sheathed the knife back in its place on your satchel where you reached inside to grab a pre-cut piece of string. 

You could still feel Zoro watching you, as you tied the lavender together in a tight bundle. 

“I wasn’t aware picking flowers was life-saving medicine.” 

This time you did look over at him. Zoro, the strong and proud pirate hunter. The demon, Luffy said was his nickname. Looking at Zoro now, even in an endless field of lavender, he resonated power. You held no doubt he had earned such an intimidating name through grit and blood-soaked swords. 

He looked out of place next to you in a place meant for healing and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was more what he projected than who he was. While Luffy told you happily about the scary parts of Zoro (which Luffy by no means actually saw as scary) he’d also mentioned Zoro never went without a specific sword.

Remembering Luffy’s words, your eyes quickly darted down to the white-sheathed katana. If you had to put money on it, that was the one that held a deeper meaning to him. It was the one he clutched the tightest and his hand fell on absentmindedly. 

Once you knew the bundle was secure, you playfully poked it in his direction. 

“It does heal. It calms the mind and spirit. It creates restful sleep.”

“It stinks.” 

“You are absolutely impossible,” you grumbled, your eyes rolling as you turned away from him. 

You placed the bundle inside your satchel and started forward. You didn’t need to look back to know that Zoro would be behind you. This time you were leading him towards an eyeline of trees you’d spotted a few feet back. They looked promising to hold green chiretta. 

“So, why did Luffy send you with me?”

You came out first from the field and onto a path that was being taken over by the vegetation. 

“Because you don’t know how to protect yourself.”

“I can too.”

“A pot doesn’t count.”

You spun on your heels, satchel swinging, and caught it with your forearm just before it swung into your hip. You were pleased to see the unexpected action had caught him by surprise. Not the typical surprise that Usopp, or others, gave where it might be exaggerated or a gasp and step back. No, Zoro’s was the briefest flinch in the corner of his eyes. Blink and you would’ve missed it. 

“Hey, that pot kicked ass.”

“You got lucky.”

“Okay, Mosshead, then what do you call this?”

You lightly tapped your cheek to indicate the very noticeable bruise that was just beginning to fade from his left cheek. 

“I call that luck.”

You let out a huff as you turned and faced forward. Leading him towards where you needed to go and reminding yourself that you needed to focus on the task at hand. Not Zoro. 

“You carry a knife with you but you don’t use it.”

He stated it as a fact. Not a question. Zoro already knew that it wasn’t used for self-defense. 

“I use it to treat and clean infected wounds and forage for ingredients.”

“But not for self-defense.”

You found yourself whirling on him again and this time he was prepared. His hand resting on the edge of his sword and hand infamously tucked inside his pocket. 

“I’m a doctor, Zoro. I follow Naan’s oath to never do harm to anyone-“

“And what if to help someone - yourself - it meant that you had to take a life to save theirs?”

He’d taken a step towards you. His whole body radiated with an intensity you hadn’t been prepared for. You could feel your muscles straining to stay in place; to not retreat. Zoro had closed what space you’d had between the two of you until all he’d left were a few measly inches. 

“I try not to let it come to that.”

“You don’t always get to decide like that, it's not how the world works. You keep thinking like that and you’re going to be a liability.”

Your eyes narrowed in on him and you felt yourself get on your tippy toes without thinking. Your index finger pressed into his stupidly hard chest as you looked up at him. 

“It is not a liability to give a shit about people, Zoro. To care about who they are with their own wants and dreams. What makes someone a liability is not knowing who is worth that effort and who isn’t.” 

You dropped back down onto your heels and turned to stomp your way into the trees. What did he know? So, you weren’t exactly a swordsman or incredibly stretchy, and while Usopp wasn’t necessarily the bravest man on the planet he was a damn fine shot. Nami could kick ass and was the best navigator. What did you bring to the table? 

No. You wouldn’t let him make you think that way. 

You hadn’t realized you’d gone farther than intended into the forest of trees until you noticed not only the green chiterra growing all over the sides of them, but also what looked like gold cap mushrooms. One that you knew to be poisonous. 

You put it in the back of your mind. You weren’t here to get things to harm people. That wasn’t who you were and you wouldn’t let this newfound journey, or anyone, change that. You unsheathed your knife from your satchel and started carefully scraping off the moss from the bark of the tree. 

“I could train you.”

Those four words stopped you mid-scrap. It had been roughly a few minutes - only a few - since you’d both been silent. You expected the rest of your time out here collecting ingredients to go relatively dull with you both pouting in your respective corners. Out of everything you could’ve expected, those four words were most definitely not it. 

“Huh?”

God, you really needed to get it together. 

Zoro grunted out a, “Fuck me,” before he gave you his full attention. 

“I said I could train you. If you want.”

Was it possible that Zoro, the demon pirate hunter, was nervous? You couldn’t believe it, and for that exact reason you didn’t think twice about it. However, you couldn’t pass up the chance to tease him. Just a little. 

“Did Roronoa Zoro - the demon pirate hunter - just offer to teach me how to kick ass?”

This whole entire trip was turning into one unexpected thing after another. The last thing you would’ve thought you would earn from your teasing was a grimace, maybe a smirk if you were lucky. Instead, your words generated an actual smile from the demon himself and you were devastated. 

“I thought you said you never heard of me?”

Oh, right. He was talking and he needed you to word back. Right. You could do that. 

“Luffy,” your voice cracked on your captain's name and you pretended to cough to clear your throat. “Luffy was telling me about the first time you guys met. It was truly a riveting moment.” 

“Okay, let’s back up,” you began, your fingers motioning like a wheel. You’d been sitting with Luffy at the table eating breakfast. What had come over you to ask about how he met Zoro was still currently pending investigation. Luckily for you, Luffy wasn’t going to question you on why you wanted to know. “Did you just say you met him tied up inside the marine yard?”  “He’d given himself up. Never told me exactly why he’d done that actually.” Luffy was perplexed for all of a millisecond before he sank his teeth back into the dry meat in his hand.  “Oh, well I’m sure he was happy you let him down.” “Actually, he told me to get lost.”  Yup, you were choking on a piece of toast. Luffy just stated it like it was useless information. Not that his first mate didn’t tell him to essentially fuck off during their first meeting.  “He told you to get lost?” “Yeah, he did.” “So, why did you even bother staying there? You could’ve just left.” A smile began to grow on his lips. It wasn’t his usual radiant one that could rival the sun, but a thoughtful one. It told you the memory of meeting Zoro meant something special to Luffy, and it made you regard the interaction a little less harshly.  “I couldn’t just leave him there. Not when he has a dream to fulfill.” While you were still debating on whether Luffy was a real person, there wasn’t any denying that he searched for the good in people. Whatever it was he’d seen in Zoro told Luffy he was a good guy.  “So,” you drawled out the o, “he told you to get lost and for some reason your brain heard those words as, ‘follow your dreams’.” “He isn’t a bad guy, Doc. I know Zoro is more than just a pirate hunter with a scary nickname. He is someone with a dream, just like you, and I’m going to make sure he reaches it.”

Looking at Zoro now, you could see what Luffy saw in him. Sure, he was quick to anger and even more quick to say shit without thinking it through, but who wasn’t at times? You had experienced first hand the good that lived inside of him. 

He’d helped you when he didn’t have to when you were sick. He shared a part of himself, a small part but still a part, to see who he was underneath all the attitude. While you weren’t in the business of hurting anyone, you debated on whether letting him train you would at least make you useful enough to save other members of your crew - maybe Zoro - if something came up. 

You did hit someone with a pot and punch Zoro in his face. What could learning a few moves going to do? 

“Alright, demon pirate hunter, I’ll consider it.”

—————————

He wanted to throttle Luffy. 

The way you kept looking at him - saying his nickname - was stirring something foreign in his chest. He may not know exactly what it was but he didn’t have too. His body was telling him plainly he should take back his invitation to spend more time alone with you. You were only going to get in the way of his goal. 

All of those made sense why he should retract his invitation and head back to the Merry. And yet…

“If it pumps up your ego, I’ll say it as many times as you like. For a price.” 

You wiggled your eyebrows at him and it was so unexpected Zoro wanted to laugh. His offer to help train you had been in the back of his mind, but when he went to offer it, it’d gone rougher than he’d intended. He hadn’t meant to make you feel bad - to call you a liability.  It wasn’t that he thought you would be an actual liability for Luffy. 

You were a liability for him. 

The way you were looking at him now, the smile on your face, gave him all the warning he needed to know you were a dangerous wildcard. He’d made a promise to Kuina and you felt like the one thing that could keep him from it. 

Whatever the feelings you were stirring in him were something he needed to be wary of. Zoro wasn’t going to have any of it. He made a promise a long time ago and he wasn’t going to let you or anyone else get in the way of him keeping it. 

He was so lost in thought that he wasn’t aware you’d gotten so close. It wasn’t until your fingers slid over his ear, placing something behind it, that he was jolted back into the present. 

“Oh, shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Your voice was breathy and sweet with your wide eyes looking up at him with something dangerously close to reverence. Close like at the dinner table. Close like when he’d tumbled out of the well and landed on top of you. Zoro still had the way your body felt under him burned into his memory. One he’d tried to erase with the bottles of liquor that now sat empty inside his room. 

His hand moved up to feel what you’d placed behind his ear, and his fingertips were greeted by the soft give of flowers. 

“Did you seriously just put flowers in my hair?”

Your response was maddening. Zoro watched as you brought your hands up to join your shrug, as if he wasn’t standing there, flowers now pinched between his fingers. 

“I think you look cute.”

Cute. 

“Yeah. That’s not me.”

In a show that it wasn’t him, that you and your stupid flower giving were just another nuisance, he opened his fingers and let them fall to the ground. Zoro watched as your eyes that had been brimming with sunshine were darkened by clouds of sadness. Even your earlier giddy step was replaced by slouched shoulders that suddenly looked as if the world weighed heavily on them. 

“Okay.”

Your reply was meek. If he wasn’t straining to hear it he would’ve missed it. You didn’t give him another glance or yell at him for being an ass. That was what he had expected; what he was still waiting for. Zoro had known you for a couple of days and within that time came to learn you were the most maddening person he’d ever met - second to Luffy. This? He didn’t like this. He liked it better when you fought back. When you told him what an asshole he was and when you touched him without thinking. 

Zoro watched as you went back to gently maneuvering your knife under the bark; skilled hands that removed pieces of that weird-looking fungus. You pulled an empty glass from your bag and, with the same gentleness, pushed it past the lip of the bottle to hold it inside. 

Cute. 

That’s what she’d called him. 

I am not cute. I’m the demon pirate hunter, Roronoa Zoro. 

He could feel his jaw flexing at the thought. Cute. Zoro has been called many things in his life, but cute was never one of them. His hand clenched and unclenched on the Wado Ichimonji as if asking - begging - what he should do. 

He couldn’t stay here much longer. Zoro didn’t know what to say and you obviously had no intention of speaking to him anytime soon. 

“Fuck this,” he whispered as he stalked off back out of the trees. 

He made it to the edge of the clearing where the sun fully broke free from the shade of leaves when you called to him. 

“Try not to get lost, Zoro. We both know you’ve got shit directional

skills.” 

He refused to admit he was happy to hear you say something. Even if that something was your usual shit-talking. Zoro grunted as a reply and quickly went back to walking out of the clearing when something - small and pure white - caught his eye out of his peripherals. 

It was huddled against the bark of a tree. Its petals were open and stark against the darkness. It took him a moment to recognize those white petals. What he found amusing was how the flower always seemed to be carrying its own weight on its shoulders; the neck of it dropping down like it’d just received devastating news. Zoro didn’t know why he gently plucked it from its resting spot. He couldn’t explain why after that he turned to head back in your direction. 

Zoro was trying to get away from you and here he was bringing a fucking flower back. You turned at his approach, your mouth already forming over some word. You never spoke what it was you wanted to say and you didn’t seem like you wanted to try either. 

Zoro placed the snowdrop behind your ear. Perfectly placing it to where the hanging bulb hugged the top of your ear to hang against your hair. 

“You left to go find flowers?”

Zoro shook his head. He stepped back just enough to see how it looked. He was a dumbass for doing this. 

“No, I was going to head back to the ship-“

“Figures-“

“When I saw this snowdrop by itself,” Zoro continued over you. “It made me think of you.”

“That feels oddly specific.”

He didn’t like how you were looking at him. More accurately, he didn’t like how you looking at him was making him feel. 

“It’s a snowdrop. They’re one of the most delicate flowers in the world.”

There it was. The darkening of those previous clouds now cracked to life with the spark of your anger. Zoro had to admit, he enjoyed getting you all riled up. What he wouldn’t tell you, is because they only grew at certain times and usually in the snow, it made them one of the most resilient flowers because they could grow under any conditions. 

“Are you calling me delicate?”

A huff left him as his eyes rolled up into the treeline. 

“I was trying to apologize earlier.”

“Oh.”

You’d started all that storm building just to deflate but also- 

“You sure have a way with words,” he teased. 

“My bedside manner is not the best, I’ll admit. I once told a dying man a joke about a pirate and marine having an entanglement. Naan said it probably wasn’t the most appropriate time.”

For some reason, Zoro could picture it. A man dying and you, being your nervous self, trying to make him laugh to ease his passing. The thought of it alone made a smile curl at his lips, and he tried to gently shake it away. To look at anything else but you. 

“What do I gotta do to hear one of these world-famous Doc jokes?”

He waited until his face was neutral to look back at you. Both hands rested on his swords as he watched you fill the bottle to the brim and place it securely inside your satchel. 

“For that kind of service? You have to be dying.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You were a pain in the ass. A pain in his ass. From the moment he met you until now and probably would continue to be. A pain that made him think of things outside of his goal. You made him think past his promise. Who was he if he didn’t keep it? He should’ve never offered to train you or willingly spend more time with you. He was going to have to take it back. It didn’t matter if it hurt your feelings or made you hate him. Maybe that’s what he needed to do to make you hate him-

“What are you doing?”

Zoro prayed that his face was devoid of any emotion. The panic that bloomed in his chest didn’t spread to where you could see. You’d placed your hand over your chest in a way Zoro knew too well. 

“I,” it was the first time Zoro ever heard your full name. “Promise to be the biggest pain in your - Roronoa Zoro’s ass - from now until whenever.”

For the second time, his hand was clutching onto the Wado Ichimonji today. While you spoke, Zoro could swear he saw flashes of Kuina standing behind you. The look of disappointment growing on her face. 

“You made a promise.”

Zoro couldn’t bring himself to speak. He couldn’t trust what he would say. So, he simply turned back on his heel and made a beeline back for the edge of the trees. This time when he reached it he didn’t stop. He had to get back to the safety of the ship where he could barricade himself from you behind wooden doors and booze because Zoro could really use a drink.

————————-

It has been two days inside the fog. Two days of Zoro avoiding you like you carried the plague back with you from Irkhaven. 

When you’d made that promise it was only meant to be good fun. You replayed over in your mind to see if you’d said something wrong - done something wrong to warrant the sudden extreme cold shoulder. 

Besides the time you’d been with Nami and Usopp, all of you shared thoughts about the naval battle that had happened and, who could forget, his very real vice-admiral of a grandpa. Who could launch cannonballs like paperweights. After that, Zoro didn’t come around you or close to you.

Sure, you would see him when he lounged on the deck napping like a cat in open spots. Hell, if Zoro wasn’t sleeping he was either drinking or training. You’d catch glimpses of him on the upper deck lifting weights with his arms and, sometimes, his mouth. 

The first time you saw him lifting eighty pounds with his teeth, you had about a thousand questions racing through your mind. If you thought he would answer you if you spoke, you might have asked him. 

You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It shouldn’t have even mattered whether he talked to you or not, but he’d offered to train you. Why bother asking to do something that required his time if he wasn’t willing to give it? These sorts of questions had been your own personal plague since he’d begun to give you the cold shoulder. 

You’d been sitting with your legs hanging out of the side of where the cannonball had blown an unfortunate hole through the Merry’s railing. It killed you to see her so broken; her intricate leafling design ruined all because of what felt like a family spat. Letting out a sigh, you pulled your legs out from over the side with a hand holding onto the rail so you didn’t fall into the sea. 

Once you were securely standing without fear of going overboard, you wrapped the leather cord that secured the pages of your journal around it. You were just finishing up tucking it in when Usopp began to shout, “I see something.” 

How anyone could see anything in this mess was beyond you, but then again Luffy was at the front of the Merry using his nose to guide you guys out of the fog so…yeah. Stranger things could and did happen. 

It was enough to garner your attention and bring you walking up to join the rest of the crew that had assembled. 

“I see nothing,” you stated. 

“I don’t know how anyone could see anything in this soup,” Nami agreed as she stirred the ship in the direction Luffy called. 

“You guys don’t see the red lights? How can you not see them?”

“Because, Usopp, I don't have eyes like an Eagle.”

You could feel the happiness your comment brought him as he continued to point in the direction of said light.

“Just keep your eyes posted right here in the center and you’ll see it, Doc. 

“3 degrees starboard, Nami and keep it straight.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t sit up there Luffy,” you called up to where he sat, legs wide, on the Merry’s headpiece. “What happens if you slip?”

“You're his crew mate. Not his mother. He doesn’t need you coddling him.”

You turned to find Zoro standing a few feet behind Usopp. He wasn’t looking at you but he’d just spoken to you. His first words in two days and it didn’t surprise you in the least they were his usual asshole tone. 

“Oh, so he can speak. What a shocker.” 

Zoro side-eyed you but still refused to acknowledge your presence. The soft bruise that was there two days ago at Irkhaven was all but a faded memory. You were tempted to make it a fresh one. 

“Okay you two let’s focus on-“ Usopp stopped mid-sentence as his eyes scanned over something in the distance. “What’s a baratie?”

You looked where he was and finally saw it. Red neon was bleeding its way into the fog. It was enough to make you forget about Zoro, your lack of clean clothes, or what had happened the last couple of days. It was land. You were finally going to actually put your feet down on something solid that wasn’t just the Merry. 

Nami stirred the Merry in and easily parked it at the next available dock. Immediately, people rushed out to begin tying the ship's ropes to posts to secure it in place. 

“Is it just me or does this look like a restaurant?” 

You meant your question to be open-ended. To allow anyone to answer in case what you were seeing was in fact a floating restaurant in the middle of the ocean. However, you were leaning against the rail next to Nami, with whom you pressed arm and arm. 

“I think it is.”

You were all still staring over the railing when Luffy asked excitedly, “Do you guys know what this means?”

“We stock up on supplies and keep going so the marines can’t find us?”

“We head back to Syrup village where it’s safe?”

“No - let’s go eat!”

You felt the blood drain from your face. You didn’t have much in the way of something to wear at an establishment like this. You were willing to bet you couldn’t just walk in wearing - or smelling - like you all did. You were getting ready to tell Luffy you’d hang back on the ship when you felt a hand gently wrap itself in yours. 

Glancing down at your interwoven hands and back up, you found Nami, her lips together in a soft smile, as she gave you a light tug to follow her. 

“Come on. You can borrow some of my clothes.”

You let out a raspberry, your hand squeezing hers briefly in relief. 

“Nami, you are a lifesaver.”

“That fish better have a bar.”

You weren’t going to say it out loud, but you agreed with Zoro. You were going to need the blissful ignorance of alcohol to make it through a dinner where you possibly ended up sitting next to him. 

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

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are welcome.

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