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writersdrug · 2 months ago

Note

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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reasonsforhope · 6 months ago

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Green energy is in its heyday.

Renewable energy sources now account for 22% of the nation’s electricity, and solar has skyrocketed eight times over in the last decade. This spring in California, wind, water, and solar power energy sources exceeded expectations, accounting for an average of 61.5 percent of the state's electricity demand across 52 days.

But green energy has a lithium problem. Lithium batteries control more than 90% of the global grid battery storage market.

That’s not just cell phones, laptops, electric toothbrushes, and tools. Scooters, e-bikes, hybrids, and electric vehicles all rely on rechargeable lithium batteries to get going.

Fortunately, this past week, Natron Energy launched its first-ever commercial-scale production of sodium-ion batteries in the U.S.

“Sodium-ion batteries offer a unique alternative to lithium-ion, with higher power, faster recharge, longer lifecycle and a completely safe and stable chemistry,” said Colin Wessells — Natron Founder and Co-CEO — at the kick-off event in Michigan.

The new sodium-ion batteries charge and discharge at rates 10 times faster than lithium-ion, with an estimated lifespan of 50,000 cycles.

Wessells said that using sodium as a primary mineral alternative eliminates industry-wide issues of worker negligence, geopolitical disruption, and the “questionable environmental impacts” inextricably linked to lithium mining.

“The electrification of our economy is dependent on the development and production of new, innovative energy storage solutions,” Wessells said.

Why are sodium batteries a better alternative to lithium?

The birth and death cycle of lithium is shadowed in environmental destruction. The process of extracting lithium pollutes the water, air, and soil, and when it’s eventually discarded, the flammable batteries are prone to bursting into flames and burning out in landfills.

There’s also a human cost. Lithium-ion materials like cobalt and nickel are not only harder to source and procure, but their supply chains are also overwhelmingly attributed to hazardous working conditions and child labor law violations.

Sodium, on the other hand, is estimated to be 1,000 times more abundant in the earth’s crust than lithium.

“Unlike lithium, sodium can be produced from an abundant material: salt,” engineer Casey Crownhart wrote in the MIT Technology Review. “Because the raw ingredients are cheap and widely available, there’s potential for sodium-ion batteries to be significantly less expensive than their lithium-ion counterparts if more companies start making more of them.”

What will these batteries be used for?

Right now, Natron has its focus set on AI models and data storage centers, which consume hefty amounts of energy. In 2023, the MIT Technology Review reported that one AI model can emit more than 626,00 pounds of carbon dioxide equivalent.

“We expect our battery solutions will be used to power the explosive growth in data centers used for Artificial Intelligence,” said Wendell Brooks, co-CEO of Natron.

“With the start of commercial-scale production here in Michigan, we are well-positioned to capitalize on the growing demand for efficient, safe, and reliable battery energy storage.”

The fast-charging energy alternative also has limitless potential on a consumer level, and Natron is eying telecommunications and EV fast-charging once it begins servicing AI data storage centers in June.

On a larger scale, sodium-ion batteries could radically change the manufacturing and production sectors — from housing energy to lower electricity costs in warehouses, to charging backup stations and powering electric vehicles, trucks, forklifts, and so on.

“I founded Natron because we saw climate change as the defining problem of our time,” Wessells said. “We believe batteries have a role to play.”

-via GoodGoodGood, May 3, 2024

Note: I wanted to make sure this was legit (scientifically and in general), and I'm happy to report that it really is! x, x, x, x

#batteries #lithium #lithium ion batteries #lithium battery #sodium #clean energy #energy storage #electrochemistry #lithium mining #pollution #human rights #displacement #forced labor #child labor #mining #good news #hope

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tetzoro · 1 month ago

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☽◯☾ - SWORD AND SHEATH

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : After another slew at sea, you and Zoro have the ship all to yourselves as the crew restocks up on the island. They say that curiosity kills the cat, but what happens when you've tamed the beast?

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. zoro roronoa x f!reader ; swordplay, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, mentions of spit, pet names (baby, pretty girl), mentions of squirting, lots of teasing and praise — WC : 5.2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ First Quarter ! ꒱ ― Kinktober Masterlist

Each glide of the polish-infused cloth along the Wado Ichimonji is slow, refined. Zoro was using his practiced hand to do the process he’s done thousands of times with the blade he cherishes most.

It was a form of art — the way the blade would be reborn with the shine it was always meant to have, no longer weighed down by the blood, dirt, and sweat that would so often coat it.

The sun beats down on him as he continues his ritual. Sword maintenance was just as important as training; it was cathartic, another form of meditation that Zoro relied on to center himself, grow stronger, and keep his tools as efficient as he could.

Wiping away the horrors each weapon has seen makes him feel a little more cleansed himself. Zoro has never been one to shy away from a fight or doing what he needs to do in order to survive, but the process just reminds him that he won the battle; he’s the one who gets to clean his blades and move onto his next enemy — the next step in his dream.

His wandering mind can’t help but drift back to you — his bright star in the night sky, the one that silently guides him along and encourages his every step on his journey, even going as far as lighting the way when the path seems too dark.

After a few moments of being with you, he too feels the weight of the blood on his hands fade away as soon as you lovingly take them in yours. The tender skin of your palms kissing, the buzz of being grounded by each squeeze you grant him and he finds himself able to begin again.

Seagulls chirp overhead as he works, polishing his blades with intent, his focus unshakeable even though the world around him demands attention. The gentle lull of the waves, the whispering breeze in the air, he was able to tune it all out.

But the moment you came waltzing onto the deck, his ears perked up and his nose scrunched, signaling that he knew you were there and mentally preparing himself for whatever you had planned next. If only he knew.

“What do you want now?” The last word dies in his throat as he takes you in, freezing in place. You only see it because you know him so well, and have studied his face and all of his expressions far and wide.

The subtle widening of his eye, barely a fraction of a difference but it’s a difference all the same. The stoic mask he so often wears, acting indifferent to things such as clothes, slips away as no one could ever ward off the power of beauty - especially yours.

The facade begins to chip away as a blush spreads across his face, gears turning in his brain to find something to say as you make your way over to him.

Because today, the Sunny was docked at an island for a routine supply run and you were all too quick to volunteer you and Zoro to stay back and watch the ship together. He should've known right then and there that you were up to no good but your syrupy sweet eagerness disarmed him.

But now you were stalking closer to him, dressed up entirely in his clothes – or at least some of them. Adorned in his notable green robe, his haramaki, and completed with his bandana securely tied around your head. His gaze rakes over your figure, taking in the way you look wearing one of his favorite outfits. Swallowing hard, his adam's apple bobs in anticipation. He can’t help but feel his throat close up and trap all the words he wishes to say behind a wall of surprise.

“What do you think?” You ask, your lips bending in a coy manner.

A blush blooms across his tanned skin in a slow crawl, blossoming into a darker shade the more you twirl in his robe that very clearly shows you’re not wearing his pants underneath it.

His jaw clenched, unable to form any words as he continues to drink you in. This was the last thing he expected from you today, but he really should’ve known better.

“You’re blushing.” You grin, going to poke his cheek. But his reflexes were too sharp, instantly swatting your hand away before turning his head away from you.

“Am not! Shut up!” He hisses out, the blush only deepening as you call him out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, woman.”

“Don’t I?” You move to get back in his line of sight, that disarmingly sweet yet taunting smile still resting on your lips. “Just tell me what you think of the outfit, Zo.”

“You’re wearing my clothes.” He points out, stating the obvious. You don’t bother to hide the way you roll your eyes.

“Very astute of you. Did you have to use your Haki to come to that conclusion?”

Without another word, Zoro throws you over his shoulder, marching back into the ship and straight for the bunks. You squeal, accusing him of being a brute as you lazily pound your fists against his back.

Zoro slaps your ass with a sadistic grin that you don’t have the pleasure of seeing before he begins to squeeze and knead the plush flesh, unable to move his firm hand away from it.

He makes his way into the cramped room. It wasn’t his favorite place to take you but it was the closest and climbing up the crow's nest would only cause a delay between him and what he desired most.

After closing the heavy wooden door with the back of his boot, he tosses you onto the bed, letting you sprawl out for him while he places his swords to the side – perfectly lined up as always.

“Wearing my clothes around like this…” Zoro trails off as his eye zeroes in on the way the robe slides off of your shoulder, teasingly exposing the sliver of your chest. He can feel his face heat up all over again. “Are you really not wearing anything under this?”

“Well, the pants didn’t fit me and you don’t normally wear a shirt under this.” The impassive manner in which you said that did not hold a candle to the way your eyes were fired up with a diabolical mirth wrapped up with mischief. Always playing the little minx that would find a way to burrow under his skin and make a home there just to torture him. Or so he says.

“You little...” Zoro quickly crawls over you, caging you in under him, elbows digging into the mattress by your head. “You make it so hard for me sometimes.”

“Do I? Let me feel—” You reach toward his pants but his hand encircles your wrist.

“Oi! That’s not what I meant.” he almost hisses out. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them over your head on the flattened pillow on his bunk.

The thread of control he was clinging onto was no match for the ember of desire you spark in him. One single strike and it would be burnt out, turning into ash and falling right into the palm of your hand.

“I know.” You giggle. The damn giggle that never fails to cause something within him to flutter, stirring it around until he had no choice but to act on it.

Surging forward, his lips aggressively capture yours. There’s no room for easing into it, just a clash of teeth knocking together, swirling with a mix of heady groans and needy moans.

But that’s one of his favorite things about kissing you — how you were just unabashed about how messy it would get. Swapping spit through the sheer force of each other's tongues shoving their way into hot, receptive mouths.

The amount of passion and unspoken feelings he’s able to express through this simple act is something he flourishes at, excelling at unraveling you. Gripping your cheeks, he tilts your head back slightly so he can deepen the kiss — as if he was trying to spill the words that stubbornly sat on the tip of his tongue and have it reach the bottom of your heart.

The call for air was growing too difficult to ignore and reluctantly he pulled back, letting the string of saliva snap and drip down your chins. He leans down, kissing the droplet off of your skin, ingesting as much as he possibly can before looking at you.

You look back at him through half-lidded eyes, melting into the bed already from the ferocity of the kiss. His steely eye trails away from your swollen, lust-bitten lips in favor of taking in the way you’re panting under him. Need takes over him as he reaches for your — his — clothes.

Zoro has disrobed himself many times, but he’s never had to take it off of someone else like this. He knows the way it unravels open and leaves his chest all exposed before he fights someone, but this isn’t one of those times.

With a gentleness that only love could bring, he languidly undoes the robe, pulling back a bit so he can see how the green fabric bunches around your sides, your heaving chest now out on display for him.

Peppering a few kisses down your jaw, his tongue trails your neck as he works his way down to your collarbone and your supple chest. Each delicious drag has you squirming under him, whining about him being a tease.

“You’re one to talk.” Zoro gruffs out with a bite of sarcasm, giving your nipple a quick pinch. He relishes in the yelp of his name that you beautifully let out before carefully trailing his slick tongue along your skin.

The way you mewl as his lips enclose your pert bud only reinforces the primal desire that’s been raging inside of him since you first came out dressed in that damn robe.

After giving your other breast the same treatment, he presses his lips in the middle of your chest and lets it linger so he can inhale one of the sweetest parts of your body — the one that lays closest to your heart.

Zoro presses wet, open-mouthed kisses all along your stomach, moving further down until easily slipping your panties off and tossing them behind him.

Running his fingers along your glistening folds, he holds back a groan at the strings of arousal already clinging to him.

“Already so wet f’me.” His eye was trained at the apex between your thighs, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. “Gonna prep you now.”

Bringing his face closer, he shuts his eye in a hazy bliss as he takes in your scent. The action always made you squirm but he was addicted to every single aspect of your cunt. He could never get enough of your musk, knowing that heaven was only a taste away.

Before you could complain about him taking his time, he dives in.

It wasn't often that Zoro was in a position to praise you relentlessly while his head was normally buried in your heat where you took everything so well for him.

So, he’s learned to show you his adoration by the precise swirl of his tongue, making out with your clit and giving into every one of your demands. Groaning against your cunt as soon as he got his first taste, never quite getting his fill of it no matter how much he lapped at it.

“Zo – fuck.” The words rush out from your lungs and assimilate into the hazy tension that’s hanging in the sex-filled air. “Feels so good.”

His hands grip your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulder before moving to grab your ass, digging into the plushness and bringing you impossibly closer as he continues his assault.

“Tastes s’fucking good.” He slurs, the sound presses directly against your clit. Zoro's attention flickered back up to you, dark and stormy eye swirling around with a primal hunger as if he couldn’t ever get enough. “My sweet girl.”

You let out a soft whine as you clutch his hair, guiding him even closer as his tongue slips into your entrance.

He keeps at it, pinching your thigh — a demanding little code he uses when he wants to hear you more. Your saccharine moans, addictingly lewd mewls, and honeyed murmurs of praise.

“Please don’t stop, ah, ‘m getting close!” There was no way Zoro would stop. Not even if he wanted to tease you, not when he was so lost in your taste that all he wanted to do was let you pull him under your current and drown in it.

He vigorously continues to lap at your entrance, attempting to collect every drop of your sweet essence. His nose nudges your clit and he can feel your thighs begin to tremble, locking his head in place. He moves to focus his attention there, the flat of Zoro’s tongue adds more pressure onto the throbbing bud.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your back raises from the mattress when Zoro collects your puffy clit in his mouth, sucking as hard as he can. You choke back a whimper, letting out a noise you’ve hardly ever released before as you claw at his head, humping his face for more.

“Zoro — fuck! Wait, it’s too much!" The words melt into an elongated moan, losing yourself to the drowsy delirium that zoro is spelling out against the bundle of nerves. He gives out a resounding grunt, gripping you tighter in encouragement.

It’s all you need to let go.

Thank god no one else was on the ship because they might’ve heard the way you cried out his name in ultimate bliss as the taut band within you fully snapped. Zoro didn’t stop, lapping up the slick that gushed from your sweet pussy.

The bottom half of his face glistens in your arousal and he was absolutely drunk off of it as if it was a bottle of the finest sake in the world.

“Keep 'em spread open for me baby, ‘m not done yet,” Zoro said, sitting back on his haunches and taking in your already fucked out expression. “Need you to do that again.”

After sliding off his pants, he grips the base of his cock, giving it a few tentative pumps as his eyes trail back over your body, covered in a sheen of desire.

If he didn’t crave to be inside of you so badly he would’ve come all over you, making you as messy as possible. His dick twitches at the thought, heat curling in his gut as he imagines you covered in the white of his essence.

“Zoro.” You gasp out, hands digging into the slightly sweaty sheets. The desperation and utter need that coats your husky voice almost does him in. But you’ve had too much control over him today, and he had to gain some of that back.

“Look at you.” Zoro's voice is low, dark and merciless. The deep desire that overtakes him and makes his words more gravely and coarse, sanding over your skin so gratifying it leaves your hips bucking up for more. The sight below him is surely one of his favorites and he plans on drawing it out for as long as he can. “All spread out for me in my bed, still in my clothes.”

Zoro leans forward, lightly tapping his cock against your sticky folds and nudging it through to your entrance, just resting it at your opening, not yet pushing in. His fingers dig deeper into your waist, keeping you in place before you can think about rolling your hips against him, trying to suck him in with all your might.

“You’re so mean.” A pitiful pout rests on your pretty lips and he almost gives in. Almost. But he knows you so well by now, knows that you’re used to getting exactly what you want and it only makes him want to ruin you more. To put you in a place where all you want is him, all you crave is his touch. And you’re teetering right on the edge, only a simple nudge and you’ll be falling right into his trap.

“Yeah?” One of his hands returns to his cock, reddened tip angrily staring at you as he starts to pump himself over your mound, spreading his precum all over his length as he preps himself for you. “That’s not going to get you what you want though.”

“Please, Zoro.” You barely breathe out, your need for him so great that it starts to turn painful, the dull ache spreading through your body like a wildfire, screaming out for relief as the flames of desire consume you. You’ve had a taste but you needed more. The only thing that would satiate you was his cock sliding deep within you. “Please, I'm sorry. Please don’t tease me, come on.”

The whine in your voice has his dick twitching in his hand, ego fueling the blood coursing through his veins. Zoro wasn’t a power-hungry man, he never cared for it in the same way most people did. He liked being strong, he demanded respect, but never wanted to lead — to rule.

But that all changed whenever he’d have you sprawled out beneath him. feeling like the king of the world as one of the most desired women only has eyes for him, begging for his cock, yearning for his love.

He’d give into you every time, his heart too weak to win against the love he had for you, but he tried to stave it off as much as he could.

“Only if you think you can handle it.” He smirks, tip catching against your clit, your body jolting forward. “See? You’re already so sensitive just from my mouth.”

“Dammit Zoro.” Another mewl that his cock leaps at. Frustration etches across your features, water pooling in your eyes as you continue to paw at him. It’s what he was waiting for — his pretty girl reduced to putty in his hand, ready to be played with. “Please.”

Something possesses him with the plea that pierces his heart — takes over the last cognitive brain cell he has as he lets out an exaggerated spit, the glob landing on his length.

Your breath hitches as he finally pushes himself all the way in, the stretch splitting you open to the point that no noise can come out, finally feeling full of what you’ve been waiting for all day.

“You turned me into this — fuck — made me like this,.” Zoro swears, his arm wrapping around your back and pulling you flush against him as he feels the way your greedy cunt keeps him snugly in place.

“Are you really complaining about that?” Your voice almost slips into a whine as he pulls back out a little before bullying his way through you as your cunt accommodates his girth — eagerly welcoming him back in.

“So tight, look at that.” He ignores your snark, opting to fixate on the way you’re swallowing him whole, slack-jawed and practically drooling over the sight. “Made for me.”

You clench at his words which rewards you with one of his sinful grunts, his head bowing slightly as you pulse around his throbbing length.

“Mhm,” You hum, digging your nails into his shoulders, little crescent moons blooming in its place. He lets out a hiss, snapping his hips all the way back in, nudging against your cervix. “Just fuck me already.”

“Always running your mouth off like a damn brat.” He glares down at you but there’s no bite to it — not with the amused crinkles that cradle his eyes with care.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Famous last words.

But Zoro didn’t do what he usually did; flipping you over and fucking you deep in the mattress until the only thing your mouth can do is sing out his name like a mantra.

His eye held the secrets of unspoken words, a question that he refused to waste his breath on — not when he already knew how to decipher the language of his gaze.

You trust me?

As easy as breathing.

Breathy pants escape his lungs as he keeps a steady pace, looking at you. No matter how many times he’s had you under him, you never fail to weaken him.

“I think it’s time we complete your little ensemble here.”

“Huh?” Zoro doesn’t answer you as he reaches for the Wado Ichimonji. You shift under him in anticipation.

“Relax, baby. I just want you to hold this for me.”

The heavy hilt lays in your mouth, muffling any of the moans that tried to escape it. Zoro's calloused hand runs along your cheek, down your jaw and chin as he appraises the view before him.

The look in his steely gaze was one you were familiar with but with an edge of possession — pride.

Countless times this treasured weapon has been wielded in his own mouth, fighting to protect himself, but more importantly, his crew. Seeing you laid out under him with a lust-blown look in your eye as tears brim your lashes is something else entirely.

“That's it. Keep holding onto it,” His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he slowly begins to thrust back into you. “Just like that.”

You let out a soft whine that sounded like a muffled version of his name. Compulsion drives him to quicken his pace, moving slow and steady until your body jiggles under the ferocity of each stroke.

“There you are. Keep it there for me and I'll take care of you, alright?”

True to his word, Zoro keeps pounding into you, his other hand trailing down your body and grabbing every bit of you he can get his hand on before his fingers catch your neglected nub between them.

The way you effortlessly clean his dirty hands, having his sword fit in your mouth like this makes it feel like it’s being cleansed in the most pure form possible. Each rapid rock of his hips has your jaw clenching down against it further, all of your enticing noises are muffled by the intricately woven hilt.

“Fuck, perfect.” The praise spills out of his mouth and pools into your gut. “So fucking perfect.”

The hilt started to slip, threatening to clatter against the floor and finishing all the work he had done on it earlier.

“Hold it.” He hisses, “Don’t let it fall.”

His hips urgently move faster, thrusting harder into you as you try your best to grip the sword in your mouth. But he knows how strenuous it can be on his teeth and jaw, so his hand slips up to cup yours.

Once you steady the sword, his hand trails down the sheath but his eye never leaves yours. With a bated breath, he begins to slide the sheath off, watching as your eyes widen in curiosity but make no protest to stop him.

The blade was now out, facing him and gleaming under the rays of light that poured into the room from the tiny window. The sight had his hips stuttering — the element of risk now flirting with his innermost desires.

You were perfectly safe in his arms, he was the one who should be worried. He knows how sharp those blades are, how a tiny graze could pierce his skin.

Yet the siren call of the silver glint beckons him as it sits so prettily in your mouth — a tantalizing sight. You may be the one under him but he was the one surrendering to your power.

Many more possibilities flashed in his mind, darker desires that had him pressing his chest flush against yours, the Wado Ichimonji only a few inches away from him.

But perhaps another time he could fully indulge in the temptations that swam around in his mind, wondering how far you two could go for each other.

For now, he missed kissing you, missed your lips on his, consuming the very air from his lungs and replacing it with your sweet noises that breathe him back to life. So he bends down further, expertly taking the hilt in his mouth and pulling it from yours.

He gives you a few deep thrusts before he rises up, ready to put the sword aside but your arm stops him.

The look in your eyes mirrors the same desire that licks at his gut, and he knows you two are on the same page — just like always.

“You want me to keep it out?” Zoro can’t hide the tone of surprise in his voice as he lazily humps against your hips. You give him a shy nod. “Why?”

“It could be fun.” The way you’re looking at him right now is killing him, slowly shredding away all of his worries and pushing him into the pits of temptation.

“It could be dangerous.”

“But isn’t that exciting?” Zoro swallows hard. It could very well be exciting, showcasing your trust for one another but…

“I don't want to hurt you.” He couldn't live with that, knowing that one of his blades had hurt you in a way you didn’t want. He'd rather slit his stomach open than do that.

“You wouldn’t but I'll tell you if it does, I promise.” You reach up and caress his cheeks with a tenderness that has him choking for air. “Our safe word can be… sake.”

“Okay.” The unease that previously rested on his shoulders flows down his back and far away from him as he lets out a soft chuckle. “Sake it is, you ready baby?”

After a quick nod, Zoro brings the Wado back between your two joined bodies.

The cool metal kisses your skin as it trails along a precise path with absolutely zero intention to harm. But to have the infamous pirate hunter Zoro hover over you, a dark gaze latched onto the point of his katana to your skin that’s budding with gooseflesh sends a chill down your spine.

It takes everything in you not to arch at the thrill, the simple act could nick your skin and end this before it even begins.

“How's that?” Zoro's voice sounds a million miles away as your blood thrums loudly in your ear. The swordsman lets out a groan as you salaciously clench around him, his fist tightening around the hilt as he continues to glide the metal along your skin.

“So good,” Your breath hitches as he continues to graze it over your collarbone. “Knew you wouldn’t hurt me, Zo.”

“Never.” He gruffs out, trying to keep his eye open although the fluttering of your walls tempts him to shut them in bliss. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out like this.

Trust could be hard to find in this new world, he was lucky to find a crew that he knew would always have his back throughout everything. but this? This was so much more than that.

To be able to have you in the most vulnerable position imaginable with a blade dancing along your skin, and enjoying it not because of the act itself, but because of the trust and respect the two of you have built for each other, growing into something he’d never dream of attaining.

If he wasn’t careful, he could finish right now as pleasure shoots down his spine, desperately begging to fill you up. But the last thing he’d ever do was leave you ever wanting more.

Gently putting the blade aside, he ravenously crashes back into you with a new spark of ardor — chest to chest, ferociously driving into your cunt before his lips meet yours once again.

He kissed you and tasted the familiar steel, but mixed with your sweetness that he’d never stop chasing as long any time he’d have to put this blade in his mouth.

“So fuckin’ good.” The words sink into your lips, unable to move away from you for too long. His hips erratically move now, no set rhythm as they chase the high you both desperately seek. Your nails claw into his back and force a guttural groan out of him, wanting nothing more than for you to mark up his whole body. “So fucking good for me.”

Zoro never minded pain, it came with the territory of who he is. But having you inflict it on him was the sweetest sin he’s ever known, his body bursting with pleasure as it threatens to come undone and feed into all of your desires.

“Zo-!” you gasp out, tears brimming with droplets of devotion that he can’t wait to lick up. “‘m close!”

The sweet sound of your cries only fuels him more.

“Go ahead baby, let go.” His gaze is trained on your expressions, soaking them up as it morphs into an unyielding force of pleasure.

As your back arches up into him, he’s quick to flatten his palm there, keeping you flush against him. He can feel every tremor and tremble, each of your nerves and neurons firing off and coursing through your veins.

A wave of ecstasy crashes over your body, freezing each of your limbs in place and threatens to drag you to oblivion.

“Almost there, just a little longer.” Zoro pumps into you, your cunt clamping down on him to the point he almost has to pull out as you squirt all over his lower half and the already messed up sheets. “That’s it, fuck yes-“

Zoro begins to release in your cunt with a grunt of your name, letting you milk his cock as his body shudders in the eternal bliss you so readily provide him. He pulls out at the last rope of cum, letting it land on your mound before he nudged your clit with his softening cock, ensuring to make a mess all over your pussy.

“Zoro!” your body jolts, fingers gripping his bicep. “‘m sensitive.”

“Then come here baby.” Zoro pulls you into his strong arms, carefully eyeing the blade that was still unsheathed and still set aside.

Zoro's calloused fingers catch your earlobe, gently massaging it as he inspects it.

“You know, you still need one more piece.” Zoro's gaze is intense as it sets on you. His hands trail down your body, lightly massaging it as he works his way down in a soothing manner.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“When the others get back, we’re going into town so we can get you your own pair of earrings.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Just like me.”

“Really?” The mind fogginess of the shared desire breaks away from the way beams of light emit when you smile at him.

He nods, brushing his lips alongside the temple of your head. Zoro presses his nose into your hair and inhales it.

“Quit sniffing me.” You let out an amused scoff.

“Nah, you just smell so damn good like this.” His lips move to kiss along your face, pressing into your neck before inhaling once again.

“You mean sweaty?”

“Drenched in sweat, arousal and me.” His voice is low in your ear and you crinkle your nose at the strange, but endearing compliment.

“Freak.” You tease, snuggling into him, feeling the way his muscles ripple around you in his strong, unrelenting hold.

“Takes one to know one.” He chuckles, feeling his body start to settle from the intensity of his high, melting into you and the mattress as a nap threatens to take hold. But he just had one more question. “So, if you’re dressed as me, does that mean you can drink sake as well as me?”

“Maybe we should find out.”

tags: @thesunxwentblack @autumnstuffs

#☆ 𓂃 Kinktober !#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#dividers by cafekitsune #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #op x reader #op smut

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amastarxoxo · 9 days ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ೃ❀࿔ Blue Injuries₊ ˙

masterlist ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა navigation

JINX is definitely the type to get hurt on purpose, not badly to the point of death. but visible injured and makes you care for her.

“Jinx?! what the hell..? it’s the middle of the damn night..”

she’ll open your unlocked window, reserved for her, and fling her already injured body into the window and hit a loud and hard thud on the floor, causing you to wake up.

“relax toots, just a few minor injuries. nothing serious.”

she knows how much you hate when she uses the staple gun. she enjoys the lectures because it’s you but she doesn’t want to be scolded again.

you caved in and sigh tiredly, you tell her to stay put and leave the room and went into the bathroom to grab the medical supplies.

JINX loves your room, she seen it multiple times and still acts like she’s brand new to the area. the room is a mixed of you and her, 75% of you and 25% of her. your decorations and somewhat aesthetic and her doodles and the half-finished projects that she keeps here for funies.

“you’re acting like you’ve never been here before.” you catch her looking around again in awe.

you examine her bruises and cuts / scratches, muttering to yourself about how she needs to be more careful and mindful of what’s really happening to her if she’s in the right state of mind in the first place.

she hears all of your mutters and mumbles but doesn’t say anything like she’s deaf or something. watching you intently as you fix her up again.

“my personal nurse!” a little nickname she always has for you when it comes time for healing.

once you’re done. it’s immediately cuddle time!

“c’mon toots! i know you’re still tired! cuddle with me.”

trying to punish her by not giving her what she wants is funny and scary. funny on how much she begs and demands for it but scary on what her reaction will be if you tease her for too long.

“shut up! stop saying! you’re lying!”

when the hallucinations come back then you comfort her. you didn’t want it to reach that point but whatever.

cuddle time, you are the bed. jinx curls up on you, does her whole starfish on top of you, or you are her whole body pillow when she’s half way on you. she’s clingy as fuck. you aren’t complaining but when it’s time to get up or use the bathroom in the middle of the night it is a struggle.

you know she barely gets enough sleep for your liking due to her always working on guns snd bombs and working for her father so when she does sleep, she’s out cold. a light and heavy sleeper depending on where she is or who she’s around.

with you, she isn’t waking up until you somehow escape her animal grip while she sleeping.

“morning toots, where are you going?“

it is longer than i excepted . — just have an HC of jinx hearing almost everything but nothing at the same time. due to how aware she is but also she dissociates every time (just like me fr)

#⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ amastarxoxo 𖤐 .#⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀₊ ˚ works ꒰꒰⠀☆⠀꒱꒱#⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀₊ ˚ favorite ꒰꒰⠀☆⠀꒱꒱#arcane x reader #arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x female reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx #arcane jinx

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 months ago

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baby steps. l Joel Miller

Summary: you were his very quiet companion on patrols

Warnings: angst, a little bit of swearing, mentioning pregnancy, mentioning loss of a child, mentioning abortion, mentioning suicidal thoughts, generally - a lot of unpleasant things, Reader is 30s or sth, I guess

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a long time. There are some not so nice things (read the Warnings!) but I hope the whole story won't be so awful. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

and i would like to thank you for the few kind words i have received recently. it scared me but was very nice. thank you!

The first time he met you was at Tipsy Bison when Tommy told him you would be his new partner on patrols. Footsteps were barely audible, and then a chair on the other side of the table moved and you sat down.

Your eyes stopped on Joel's face for a moment, you nodded in greeting. The name quietly fell from your lips, and then you focused on the map that Tommy had spread out on the table.

Joel wasn't sure if you understood what his brother was saying to you. You were silent, sometimes nodding your head, nothing more.

"Is she even good for this?" Joel finally muttered as you said goodbye and left.

"What do you mean?" Tommy folded the map and put it in his jacket pocket.

Joel raised his eyebrows "She seems a little... I don't know. Distant?"

A quiet laugh escaped Tommy's lips "Really? And who's talking?" he took a few sips of coffee "Joel, you wouldn't patrol together if I wasn't sure she was good. She may not be the life of the party, but she's great at what she does."

Joel had the impression that he had seen you a few times in Jackson, but you were one of those people who kept their distance from others. So he looked like that to others too?

It was only the first patrol with you that made him change his mind about you, but he wasn't sure yet if this change was for the better.

You were definitely not one of those people who needed to talk. Small talk wasn't for you, but you listened very carefully.

The area around Jackson was no stranger to you, just like handling a gun. So Joel got used to you, and over time he even managed to get some information out of you.

You had been in Jackson for almost five years, you lived alone in a small apartment. You were alone. "That's the best way." No family or close friends, except for Maria. You were patrolling and searching for supplies. He was also sure he saw you in the library, but he never asked about it.

After a few months, Joel could clearly tell that you were the right person for the job. He even managed to make you laugh a few times or talk a little longer. You never asked him about the past, and when he asked you about it, you answered "We're at an age where everyone has some background, right? But not everything is suitable for talking about it."

"Your girlfriend seems nice." Ellie stated one day, and seeing his confused face added "I talked to her today. She said that this crap didn't let her finish high school, so now she's catching up on school readings. If I were her, I wouldn't bother. School sucks."

The warm coffee warmed his tired body, but after a moment he spoke up "You talked to her? When? And... She's not my girlfriend."

Ellie shrugged "We talk a lot. And you don't? You spend a lot of time together, I thought that..."

"You were wrong." Joel mumbled "Did she say anything else?"

The girl looked at him carefully. "You really don't know her very well, do you?"

He wasn't sure if he knew you at all. Did he have the right to demand that from you? You did your job thoroughly, he could rely on you, and despite everything you were still standing somewhere in the shadows, hiding from everyone.

"Is everything okay with you?"

Your voice tore him out of his reverie for a moment. You were walking through a quiet area, the fading grass crunching under your feet, and the cold wind slowly became more and more severe.

"Yeah, everything's okay." he replied, glancing at you over his shoulder "I was lost in thought."

"I saw. Good thoughts?"

Joel cleared his throat and stopped, and a moment later you stood in front of him, looking at him uncertainly.

You really liked him. Miller might seem like a grump, but his personality didn't bother you at all. Women in Jackson also said he was handsome. You had a lot of time to watch him outside the city, you had to admit they were right too. But that wasn't what mattered, was it? You felt safe with him and you trusted him, that was important.

"Doesn't Ellie tire you out?" he asked finally.

"What?" you burst out laughing "Come on. I like her. She asks a lot of questions, but she's a cool girl. I remember when I was her age..."

You stopped as if the thought slowed down your thinking the moment it appeared in your head. Joel saw your eyes wandering around the area with an unseeing gaze.

"Were you her age when this started?" he asked, but you shook your head slightly "Older?"

"Not much." Your voice was quiet but calm "I was a senior in high school. It seems so stupid now... I had a crush on this one guy, fuck, I don't know why I thought of him now."

"It was important back then." Joel mumbled, absorbing your every word. "And your family?"

"They died. A long time ago." The answer was quick, but emotionless. "Why do you ask?"

Joel shrugged. "I don't know. Just like that. Maybe I'd like to get to know you better."

You nodded, analyzing his words for a moment. "You're weird sometimes, Miller." You finally stated. "Conversations like this don't lead anywhere. They only reopen old wounds."

You adjusted your rifle strap and moved forward.

Fall had come for good, and you were slowly starting to withdraw even more. He could see it. Patrols were almost completely silent, he rarely saw you among people or at evening community meetings.

Even Ellie convinced him that something was going on, because when he asked her she said that she hadn't talked to you in a while.

"It's that time of year." Maria said when he asked her about you too, he was helping her fix the heating in her house. "You should get used to it, Joel. But... I didn't know you were so interested in her."

"It's not like that." he mumbled, but he felt a strange warmth creep up the back of his neck. "She's my partner on patrol. I want to know that she's okay."

"I get it." Maria nodded and sat down on the couch. "Have you talked to her?"

"I've tried, but you know perfectly well that it's not easy. You're her friend." the woman smiled gently. "Is there something she's not telling me?"

"A lot of things, Joel. Just like you, she's not very open to confiding. And this time of year..." she looked out the window where the wind was playing with the fallen leaves. "You should talk to her yourself, if you care about her. But you can also forget about it, be like everyone else, pass her on the street and just let her be. It shouldn't be that hard for you, right?"

And that was something he couldn't get out of his head.

When he saw that guy instead of you the next morning, a strange shiver ran down his spine. "She's sick." Mark said, pushing leather gloves onto his hands. "I'll replace her."

Joel nodded and they set off on patrol. However, his thoughts kept returning to you, he analyzed your last meeting, the last words you exchanged. You were even more subdued. He had the impression that he was forcing the next words out of you, and you just wanted to leave, to disappear.

"She's weird, but pretty." Mark replied when they took a break for hot coffee and a sandwich. "A few guys hit on her, but nothing came of it. Actually, I was hoping that you and her, you know..." he winked at Joel. "But maybe she's that type of person."

"What type?" Joel asked, chewing a bite of his sandwich.

"In times like these, people need each other. They want to at least pretend that things are normal." Mark explained, reaching for the thermos of coffee "And others simply adapt to it. They don't want to have anyone close to them, because it's risky, you know. I guess she's like that. A lone wolf."

But Joel wasn't entirely sure, because he knew you from a slightly different side, or at least that's what he thought. When he showed up at your door that evening, only silence greeted him. And it was the same for the next few days.

"Yeah, she's still in Jackson." Maria was sure of her words "I visited her yesterday, but I don't think..."

That was enough for him. That strange fear was creeping into Joel's heart again. He didn't know why. He was afraid, and all his thoughts kept running to you. It was as if a strange force was pulling him towards you.

"Hey! It's me. Open up." he knocked on your door, but it didn't help "I know you're there. I want to talk. You can't keep hiding."

No answer.

"I can easily break down this door." he declared "I'll make a mess and you'll just be embarrassed. I can do this, you know that. So... On three?" he cleared his throat as if he was preparing to actually do it "One!" Nothing. "Two!" he thought he heard quiet footsteps on the other side. He was about to open his mouth when the door opened slightly and he saw your face.

"You'll hurt your shoulder. It'll be my fault and you'll be excluded from patrols for a long time." you said "That's pointless. Go away."

"I'm not going until you talk to me." Joel replied, his dark eyes full of stubbornness that you knew so well "You can't keep hiding."

"Maybe I'm sick?"

"You don't seem to be."

And then with one strong push he opened the door and before you could stop him he went inside. His gaze swept the apartment, he heard your protests but didn't care.

Like a storm he passed through the small living room, peeked into the kitchen and when he entered the bedroom he found what he was looking for.

"Fuck! Get out of here!" you hissed, rushing after him, but then you noticed the bottle of whiskey he had taken from your nightstand.

"And these are bedtime snacks?" he growled, throwing a box full of medicines to the floor. "You robbed a fucking pharmacy?"

"None of your business!" you replied, he saw the fury in your eyes. "You're the last person who should be judging me."

"Or maybe I can, because I'm the only one who's ever shown up at your fucking door? What did you want to do, huh?" he put the bottle down with a bang and walked up to you, but you didn't take a single step back. "We were supposed to find you only when the stairwell started to stink? Did you think about Maria? About Ellie? That girl really likes you. Did you think about..."

About me.

Your gaze, although full of tears, was unwavering. You stood there, arms folded across your chest, your throat constricted so tightly that you couldn't swallow.

"Joel..." his name sounded like a prayer in your mouth. "I don't know what you were thinking, but this doesn't concern you. You shouldn't even be here. I tried to keep you out of this."

"Why?" his voice was a little calmer "Why are you like this? I can't figure it out. At first I thought we just didn't know each other well, but after so many months. I heard how freely you talked to Maria, Tommy said that you used to babysit their kid. I don't understand it!"

You closed your eyes as if his words brought you pain, as if they evoked all the emotions in you that you wanted to hide. Tears ran down your cheeks, and a quiet sob escaped your throat.

"I don't know how to deal with this, Joel..." you whispered after a moment, looking at him with eyes full of pain "It all hurts me so much. Every day. Patrols with you were an escape for me, you didn't ask stupid questions, I could feel safe there. But it's all always for a moment."

Joel approached you, his warm hand caressed your arm "You can tell me everything, you know that." you nodded "Come on, sit down."

He closed the bedroom door behind you as if he was leaving something unpleasant and bad there, and then sat down next to you on the couch. When you calmed down a bit, you looked at him like never before, almost with tenderness.

"When I came to Jackson, five years ago, I wasn't alone." you started slowly.

"Were you with someone? With some group?" Joel frowned, trying to remember that detail that must have escaped his attention.

You shook your head. "No, Joel. I wasn't alone, because I was pregnant."

Something twisted his guts. He didn't expect this.

"It was the middle of the seventh month, I guess. It's hard to get regular doctor's visits these days." The little joke was probably meant to lighten the mood, but even you didn't smile. "I've had a long journey. I was alone. Almost." you took a deep breath, and Joel felt his hands go cold and trembling in an instant. "It's funny, you know. Long time ago, women my age already had two kids. And I was completely unplanned pregnant and I hated every single day. I didn't want this baby, but it was there. It was growing. It was alive. I could feel it."

"What about the father?" Joel asked quietly.

A strange grimace crossed your face at the mere memory. "He wasn't father material, if that's what you mean. Some random guy. You know, as women we have another bargaining chip. Something that really tempts some men. Something we can use to survive."

He knew perfectly well what you meant. He had seen many women like that, but he didn't judge them. Everyone did what they had to to survive.

"He was nice, if that's any consolation. We stuck together for a while, and then we went our separate ways. After a while, I found out I was pregnant. But I didn't have anyone or anything at hand to help me solve this... problem." you rubbed your forehead with your hand as if you wanted to get rid of bad memories "Some guy told me about someone who could get rid of it manually, but I was afraid of infection. Then it was too late. Days and weeks passed, and I hated myself and this baby. The nausea was killing me. I was no longer good at smuggling. I also had no idea what I would do with a crying newborn... I got to Jackson, I thought maybe someone here would help me. Maria was so wonderful." a faint smile appeared on your lips, but you weren't even looking at Joel anymore. Your gaze was fixed on your clasped hands "I started bleeding a few days after I arrived. Then everything happened so quickly... The doctor at the clinic couldn't do anything. I had to give birth, but... There was so much blood... And silence. There was no baby crying."

Joel felt as if a heavy stone was resting in his stomach. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face, but he couldn't say any words that could comfort you. And what the hell would they sound like. But you didn't wait for that, the words slowly flowed from your lips.

"The doctor said that my body was too weak, that long fatigue, improper diet, that he was too weak... I had a son. He was so small when Maria put him in my arms... And he was so perfect. I was so afraid that his crying would bring trouble to us, that he decided to be quiet."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault..." Joel finally choked out "Things like that..."

"Happens. I know that." You interrupted him calmly "But it was my fault, Joel. When I saw him... I would have given my life so he could cry, so I could know he was healthy and strong. How could I have ever thought otherwise? What kind of person am I?"

Your voice broke. You looked exhausted and tired of life. Joel understood your guilt perfectly, he knew what you felt. Sarah appeared in his head in an instant.

"I had a daughter." His voice broke the long silence between you. "I lost her right at the beginning."

"I'm sorry." Your voice was quiet, but full of something that gave him some relief.

"After everything I wanted..." he cleared his throat "I wanted to do the same thing you wanted. I even tried, but... I know how you feel, it's so devastating, and it will never get easier."

"I still have him in my mind, you know. He'd be five now. He'd ask a thousand questions, and I'd have to make sure he doesn't get into trouble. Sometimes I think about what it would be like, but then I hate myself even more... I didn't want him. I wanted to get rid of him. Maybe it's because of this..."

"Don't say that." Joel grabbed your hands and squeezed them tightly. "You might have thought so. You were alone, and this world had gone mad. You got into Jackson, you could be safe here, but... These things happen."

You watched him carefully. Never before had you and Joel spoken so intimately, but you didn't feel embarrassed by it. On the contrary, it was the first time someone had really meant it when they said "I understand you."

"I'm sure she was beautiful." you said quietly.

"She was. And very smart. Much smarter than me." Joel added. "She probably would have gone to college or something."

For a moment, silence reigned again. You had the impression that you were both lost in your thoughts about the losses that affected you. You weren't beating each other, you just allowed yourselves to feel it all again.

"Did you really want to kill yourself?" his question brought you back to reality for a moment.

You nodded. "Look at me, Joel. I have nothing, no one. I don't know if I could ever get close to someone again. And all these thoughts only make me feel worse. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to feel anything anymore."

He understood it perfectly. After Sarah died, he felt that this world wasn't for him. Every day was torture, and the longer it lasted, the more he closed himself in his shell. Years passed, and Joel barricaded himself so much that no one and nothing could get him out.

And then Ellie appeared.

"You know..." he began uncertainly trying to find the right words. "I know what I'm going to say will seem pointless to you, but sometimes it's worth gritting your teeth and trying to live on. Not jumping into the deep end right away, but slowly, day by day. I know that your son..."

The name you gave him when you saw his face for the first time came out of your mouth. Joel repeated it gently.

"Your son would have a really fantastic mother." he said "I'm sorry you had to go through this. I really am."

Tears flowed down your cheeks and Joel struggled to put his arm around you so that you could snuggle up to him. You clung to him, and for the first time he felt the warmth of your body, your scent, your tender touch when you hugged him.

You sat like that for a long time. For the first time you talked about everything and nothing, he heard your quiet laughter a few times and noticed how much he liked it. It was all like honey to his heart. The feeling of loneliness he had disappeared when you were next to him.

He saw you the next day on patrol. It was the first sunny morning in a long time.

"Hi." Your quiet voice was the best thing he'd heard in a long time.

"Baby steps, right?" He nudged your shoulder lightly.

You smiled and followed him.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months ago

Note

more plug sev pls ☹️ it can be like almost anything just pLEASE

heheheheheh gonna combine this

giving Sevika sloppy head 🙂‍↕️ under a desk...or.....in a public space

men and minors dni

sevika looks so fucking good right now.

she's got enough regular customers for her to not need to go to parties to sell much anymore, but from time to time she'll get an invite to a party she just can't turn down.

she's dragged you along-- insisting that she's horrible at socializing without you, despite the fact that she's got a crowd of partygoers cackling at her jokes and stories right now.

you're watching from the couch, a small smile playing at your lips as you watch your girlfriend easily work a crowd. her henley sleeves are tugged up around her forearms, her hair is loose and brushing her cheeks, and her fingers are quickly rolling up a few joints for the crowd.

she looks up, her eyes finding yours across the room immediately, a shy smile on her lips when she catches you staring. she nods her head, trying to summon you toward her, and you go easily, moving through the crowds of people to wrap your arm around her waist while she wraps hers around your shoulders.

"what're you starin' at, huh?" she asks. you snort.

"there's a really hot weed dealer here."

sevika grins and ducks her head. "shut up." she mumbles. you giggle and kiss her cheek.

for a few minutes, you help her roll joints and count cash, snatching one for the pair of you to share, the two of you getting gigglier in the corner as you slowly smoke it between customers. but as the night gets later, more people start dancing and drinking, and pretty soon you and sevika are all alone in your little corner.

"so..." you start, trailing your hands up sevika's arms to grope her biceps. she smirks at you.

"so?"

"so... you think i got a shot with that dealer?" you ask. sevika giggles and swoops in to kiss you. it's far too sweet and chaste for your taste-- but you'll change that soon enough.

"baby, i think you got that dealer wrapped around your finger." she says. you grin and kiss her again.

"you look way too fuckin' good tonight, y'know." you mumble against her lips. she chuckles.

"yeah, my girlfriend helped dress me." she says. you smirk.

"she's got good taste."

you've both started swaying to the music, and you trail your hands down to grab sevika's hips, slowly pushing her further and further away from the crowd. "and where exactly are we going?" she asks. you giggle.

"well... you've got a few options. we could go out to the back patio, there's a few people out there you haven't met yet."

"or?" sevika asks. you grin.

"or we could go to the bathroom so i can get my fucking mouth on you-- show you how crazy you drive me."

sevika gulps, then she grabs your wrist and drags you down the hallway. you cackle the entire way.

it takes a few tries to find an empty room. there's couples hooking up everywhere-- drunk girls crying in the bathroom and people making out in the supply closets-- but eventually you find an empty bathroom.

you pull sevika in by her belt loops, slamming her against the door as you fiddle with her belt buckle, launching forward to slam your mouth against hers. sevika whimpers against your mouth and you sigh sweetly. "i fuckin' love you." you say.

sevika smiles as you start to kneel before her, tugging her pants and boxers down her thighs. "fuck. i love you too, baby."

for a moment, the weed and the sight of sevika's wet cunt overwhelm you. you're stuck in place, your mouth going dry and your head getting fuzzy as you admire her.

"take a picture, it'll last longer." sevika giggles. you huff and pinch her thigh.

"i have pictures-- none of them are as pretty as the real thing."

"fuck off." sevika shudders, pulling a joint out from behind her ear and putting it between her lips. you kiss her happy trail, your eyes locked on hers while she lights up, watching in fascination as she blows the smoke out of her nostrils.

"gimmie a hit." you demand. sevika chuckles and rolls her eyes, but places the joint between your lips regardless. you take a quick hit, then kiss her knuckles.

"thought you wanted to get your mouth on me." she mutters as she pulls the joint back up to her mouth. you giggle.

"feelin' needy?"

"'course i am. got a beautiful girl on her knees in fronta me." she says, gently swiping your cheek. you smile.

"i'll take care of you, sev. you just stand there 'n look pretty." you say with a wink. sevika snorts, then cuts herself off with a moan when you dive forward and start eating her out.

fuck she tastes good. she's soaking wet too. you groan against her and she lets out a curse, her head falling back against the door and her hands threading through your hair.

"shit, baby, you're so fuckin' good at this. couldn't wait 'til we got home, huh?" she teases. you giggle a bit.

"not when you look so good." you say before diving back in. sevika moans.

with the weed in your system and sevika in your mouth you easily lose yourself in making your girlfriend fall apart above you. the sweet moans and grunts she's letting out are like music to your ears, and you can feel her cum and your drool starting to trail down your chin. you don't care. all you care about is the sweet twitch of sevika's thigh as she gasps and bucks into your mouth.

"f-fuck, baby, you're makin' me all messy." sevika whines.

you groan against her cunt, nodding up at her. "i love it." you mumble between kisses and sucks. sevika huffs.

"shit, i'm gonna cum. you look so fuckin' cute on your knees-- my cum all over your face-- fuck baby, you've been wantin' this all night?" she asks. you moan and nod against her.

there's a knock on the door and sevika jumps. you don't stop, just diving back in for more of her as she scrambles to get herself under control enough to shout. "just-- just a minute!"

you chuckle against her and she smacks a hand over her mouth to muffle her moan, flicking your forehead.

"i gotta pee!" a drunk voice calls through the door.

"well do a lap around the house and find a different bathroom!" sevika growls, her voice squeaking halfway through when you sink a finger inside her. she glares down at you. you just chuckle and press against her g-spot, smirking as she shivers.

"some fuckin' people." the drunk outside the bathroom huffs as they walk away.

sevika snaps her head back as she cums, her skull hitting the door, her fingers scratching your scalp, the joint falling from her parted lips and landing on the bathroom floor. you chuckle, dodging the joint to lick up every drop of cum that you can.

sevika's got hearts in her eyes when you finally pull away with a gasp to blink up at her.

"you okay?" you ask with a giggle.

sevika doesn't respond. instead, she swoops down, grabs you and the joint, and pulls you up into her arms, kissing you passionately. you gasp against her lips, and she groans at the taste of herself.

"let's get outta here. i made like six hundred bucks tonight-- i'll take you anywhere you like."

you giggle. "home? for some cuddles?" you request. sevika melts at your request and wraps you up in a hug.

"'s long as i can repay the favor once we're in bed." she mumbles against you. you laugh and nod, and pull the bathroom door open.

there's a line of about five people waiting when you stumble out into the hall, and they all boo and groan as you and sevika walk out.

you just laugh as sevika flips them off. "you're just mad none of you have a girlfriend like mine!" she yells.

you muffle your cackles against her shoulder.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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valenrixo · 10 days ago

Note

First of all, your yandere Femboy was great I loved the little gremlin energy <3

How about a yandere sugar baby turned househusband? Just a spoiled brat

Please remember that the most important thing when writing is to have fun<3

Yandere sugar house husband!

Thank you for your kind words! Unfortunately I cannot moot u even if I wanted to because this is a second acc! (The main one is for irls)

Yandere sugar baby who hated your guts at first. You’d be so rough with him! Choking him and teasing him during intimate times…he liked it

Yandere sugar baby who came to your work one day and saw your assistant flirting with you and something snapped in him. Suddenly your assistant is desperately putting in their two week notice.

Yandere sugar baby who now drags you out to have lunch with him, this idiot doesn’t even know that he loves you yet he just wants you to be his.

Yandere sugar baby who after a night of intimacy found himself drooling at the sight of you.

“Damn it! They will get me pregnant and defy biology!” He thought banging his fists against the sheets. It caused a raised eyebrow from you and he stopped.

Yandere sugar fiancé who finally realized he was in love with you when you took care of an injury of his, now he basically doesn’t let you leave the bed whenever you’re off work

Yandere sugar fiancé who manipulates you by searching up rings on your business computer while you were getting coffee and pretended like he found it in your search history.

“Gasp! You really love me, you better pick out the best ring!” He cooed hugging your arms. Now you had to get it….you really didn’t want to deal with him crying.

Yandere sugar husband who realized soon after the wedding that he had tasks he had to do now.

Yandere sugar husband who can’t cook at all but please stop looking at him with disappointment! He’ll try better!

Yandere sugar husband who soon finds out how to cook simple craft Mac and cheese so you eat that a lot.

Yandere sugar husband who now finds enjoyment looking at kitchen supplies and cleaning supplies.

“Isn’t this a bit stereotypical…? You become a house husband and you suddenly like cleaning supplies? Is this really what your life is like now Lieo?”

“I don’t care! Look at this new type of scrub daddy!” He said picking up the packaging and shoving it in your face. You actually started worrying about him…

Yandere sugar husband who whenever you get hit on clears his throat obnoxiously and shoved your matching rings in their face before he forces you to put the hand on his waist.

Yandere sugar husband who starts being more spoiled, why have you been more gentle with him in the bedroom recently?! He craves the pain! He throws a fit when you’re too nice…sometimes it wrecks the mood..

Yandere sugar husband who demands the cutest aprons and decorations for any holiday, what do you mean he doesn’t need another 100 foot Christmas light package?? It’s on sale!

He bit your once because you cooked breakfast instead of him….he sobbed out sorrys and other apologies as he kissed it better.

Yandere sugar husband who really needs to find hobbies now, maybe get him back into dance like before?

Requests open! Please read rules! This got even longer wowiwowowow!

#oc blog #oc fanfiction #sub yandere #yandere blog #dom reader #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere boyfriend #masochist yandere #yandere boy #yandere #yande.re #yandere sugar husband #sub boyfriend #sub yandere bf

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lupinmoonlight · 5 months ago

Text

Too Full

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Remus pumps you full and tells you to hold it in for the rest of the day. Literally. (1,590 words)

Tags - rough sex, dom/sub dynamic, dom remus lupin, sub reader, cum kink(?), age gap, porn without plot, praise kink, lots of "good girl", light humiliation kink, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - Guys this is absolute filth I don't know what else to tell you. I'm embarrassed. I made up this silly scenario at university today. I'm sorry if this is a mess. I wrote this in 2 hours, barely proof-read it, and English isn't my first language. Good night now!

The parchment in Remus' hands blurred at the edges. Numbers swam before his eyes - Order safe house locations, patrol schedules, supply caches. None of it seemed to penetrate the fog of his mind. All he could see was the flash of a silhouette pinned beneath him, hear the echo of a moan. Your silhouette. Your moan.

Your relationship was a secret. It was a raw, passionate love, born out of desperation and need. Remus knew it was almost unhealthy, the way he craved you, needed you, but he couldn't help himself. You were his escape, his forbidden sanctuary in a world gone mad.

His focus on the parchment was shattered, his thoughts consumed by you. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. He was aching to be with you, but the house was always bustling with Order business... until it wasn't. For a delightful moment, the attention wasn't on him, the members too busy, too taken with their own tasks.

He didn't need to say anything. He just took you by the hand and you knew. The moment the door to his bedroom slammed shut behind you, he warded it. His need was immediate and overwhelming. He was already rock hard, his erection straining against his trousers evident. He wasted no time, spinning you around and pushing you face down on the bed, hiking up your skirt with an urgency that bordered on madness.

"Remus," you gasped, your voice muffled by the mattress.

"Shh, sweetheart," he growled. "I can't wait any longer. I need you. I need you now."

He hastily freed himself, his erection throbbing with need. The sight of you, face down and hips raised, made his cock twitch almost painfully. He tugged your panties down, just enough to give him access, and positioned himself at your entrance. He pressed hip tip against you, feeling your warmth, and pushed into you with one swift thrust. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

You whimpered, your body trying to accommodate his size. "R-Remus..." you gasped, your fingers clenching the sheets.

He stilled, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips. "Easy, love," he murmured. "Take a deep breath. Just relax for me. You can take it."

You nodded, your breathing evening out as you adjusted to him. "That's it, good girl," he praised as he felt you relax about him. Once he felt your ease, Remus began to move, his thrusts slow and controlled. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you back to meet his movements.

"That's it," he groaned, his pace quickening. "Take me. Take all of me." Each thrust was powerful, demanding, driven by a need that bordered on feral. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging it back, making you arch back into him. "God, you feel so good wrapped around me."

You moaned in response, your body yielding to him. "Remus..." you whimpered.

"Such a good girl...taking me so well."

Your body shuddered with each movement, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. "I can't...Remus, I..."

"Yes, you can," he growled. "You can take it. Let go for me."

You cried out, your body trembling violently as you reached the edge, clenching around him.

"That's it," he murmured, his grip on your hips painfully tight.

He could feel himself nearing the edge too, his control slipping further with each thrust. "I'm close," he warned you, his voice strained. "You're going to make me come. Ah...fuck. I'm going to come inside of you."

He thrust into you one last time and held himself as deep as he could, his hips bucking as he released inside you, a loud moan escaping his lips. "Yes...you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. He stayed inside you for a while, his cock pulsating, lazily thrusting a few more times to prolong the sensation.

Eventually, he slowly withdrew, his breath still heavy, his hands caressing your back. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before pulling you up and turning you to face him.

"I want you to do something for me."

"What is it?" you asked, still breathless.

"Don't clean up," he said simply. "I want you to stay like this, full of me, all day."

Your eyes widened, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. "Remus..."

He chuckled softly as his fingers traced random little patterns on your skin. "Yes, love. You will do as you're told, aren't you?"

"Y-yes, Remus," you responded, eager to please him despite being embarrassed.

"What a good girl," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Now, let's tidy up a bit so we can head back. We don't want the others suspecting anything, do we?"

"No, Professor," you teased.

"Careful, love," he warned playfully. "You might just get me started again."

"Maybe that's what I want," you replied innocently.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "You're insatiable."

He helped you adjust your clothes and gave you one last, lingering kiss before leading you out of his bedroom like nothing had happened.

Only a few hours later, you felt the undeniable sensation of Remus' essence running down your thighs. Your face flushed a deep crimson, and you immediately sought him out. You made your way to the dining room where the Order was gathered for a meeting. You waited at the doorway, your eyes wide and pleading. Remus' eyes traveled your form, pausing briefly at your thighs, and he immediately understood.

Maintaining his composure, he stood smoothly. "Excuse me for a moment," he said calmly.

He followed you to the study, closing the door behind you. "What is it, love?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. He wanted to hear you say it.

You hesitated, looking down in embarrassment. "Remus...it's...running down my thighs," you admitted.

His eyes darkened with desire at your words. He lifted your skirt slightly, exposing your slick thighs. "Aww," he cooed, his tone both mocking and affectionate. "Is my little girl too full?"

Your face turned an even deeper shade of red, and you looked away, flustered. "Remus, I-"

"Hush," he interrupted. "Let me see."

You stood still, your heart pounding in your chest as he lifted your skirt further up, giving him better access. He took out a handkerchief and began wiping you clean, his touch light and gentle. "You need to try and hold it in a bit longer, love," he murmured.

"But, Remus, I can't-"

"No," he said firmly. "You will do as I say. Can you do that for me?"

"Y-yes, Remus."

"Very good," he whispered. "Now be a good girl and hold it in. I'll take care of you after the meeting."

You nodded again, his words going straight to your core. "I'll try."

Remus smiled, kissing your forehead. "That's all I ask. Now, go back to what you were doing."

Remus watched you go before composing himself and returning to the meeting, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever.

"Sorry for the interruption," he said smoothly, taking his seat. "Where were we?"

You kept to yourself for the rest of the day, mostly focusing on staying still, desperate to please Remus. As evening finally fell, Remus discreetly took you back to his bedroom, closing and warding the door behind you.

"Show me," he instructed.

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushed. Slowly, you lifted your skirt, revealing the sticky mess that had accumulated throughout the day. Remus hummed appreciatively at the sight, his eyes darkening.

"My, my...looks like I've made quite the mess down there," he whispered. "You've done so well, sweetheart. I'm very pleased with you," he praised.

You could barely hold still under his gaze, feeling exposed.

"Now, let it out," he commanded softly.

You went to protest, thoroughly embarrassed by the idea. "But, Remus, I can't just-"

"I said, let it out," he repeated firmly.

You bit her lip, your eyes darting nervously, but you obeyed him, relaxing your muscles. Remus watched with satisfaction as the evidence of your intimacy slowly began to trickle down your thighs.

"Good girl," he murmured. "You're doing so well."

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you felt a strange sense of pride for following his instructions, for pleasing him.

"That's it, just let it out," he soothed, his hands gently rubbing your hips. "How did you feel today? Sitting around the others knowing you were full of my seed?"

"I-I felt like I was...yours," you let out almost too quietly.

"That's right, love. You're mine. Say it."

"I'm yours, Remus."

"Such a good girl for me," he praised. "You've done so well today. Now, let get you cleaned up properly."

He led you to the bathroom, helping you undress and stepping into the shower with you. He washed you gently, his hands moving slowly, caring, possessive, gentle.

"You've been so good," he murmured. "You did exactly as I asked."

You leaned into his touch, feeling utterly safe and cherished. "I just wanted to please you," you whispered.

"And you did. You've pleased me very much," he replied, his hands gently massaging your shoulders.

After you were both clean, Remus dried you off with a soft towel, his movements slow and deliberate. He led you back to the bedroom and tucked you into bed, joining you under the covers.

"You need your rest," he said softly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You've done enough for today."

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin #remus lupin smut #d/s relationship #dom!remus lupin #sub!reader #this is so filthy i'm sorry #hp fanfic #hp smut

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mystic-writings · 4 months ago

Text

ink on skin | daryl dixon

PAIRING — daryl dixon x fem!soulmate!reader

REQUEST — anon — hello! could you do an angsty story with daryl dixon? fem reader please <3

SUMMARY — daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

WARNINGS — canon-typical scenarios, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soulmate au

WORD COUNT — 3,573

NOTES — this was supposed to be part of a really long collection of prompt drabbles from years ago but i found it in my docs and turned it into something a lot longer <3 it’s not the best (i couldn't for the life of me work out a good ending), but i think this might be one of my faves i’ve written bc of how poetic the first few paragraphs are

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Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long before the world ended. He gave up on it when he was just a boy, when his mother died and his father stopped showing love. When he was told by his peers, his brother, his father, that no one would ever want him to stay with them, because he just wouldn’t be wanted by anyone.

He grew to loathe the words on his wrist from a very young age. He did everything he could to cover them — makeup he stole from his aunt, long-sleeved shirts, bracelets, you name it. He’d even gotten used to not glancing at the ink scribed on his left wrist, making sure that no matter what, his eyes never fell on them.

But even when he hated the words that sat there, waiting to be spoken by someone who cared, someone who wanted him, he couldn’t deny the countless nights he spent awake, tracing each letter and imagining what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. How would they say those three little words? What would they look like? When would he meet them?

Daryl missed the feeling of being wanted. He only ever felt it when he was with his mother, when he was a young boy who didn’t know anything but that the sky was blue and soulmates were real and his father was mean. He hasn’t felt wanted — truly wanted — for a long, long time, not even when he found the group.

Over time, with the loathing came the forgetting of the words marked on his wrist. By the time the world ended, Daryl had almost completely abandoned the reality of having a soulmate, and he rarely ever thought about it. In fact, he felt some relief in the fact that the world had ended. The chances of him finding ‘the one’ had lowered significantly now that most of the population was undead, and he had no reason to worry about being better for someone just to make it seem like he was worth loving anymore.

For almost three years, he lived with the relief of likely not having a soulmate anymore.

Today was an ordinary day, especially for the Alexandrians. At least, it seemed like an ordinary day. The sun was shining, people were milling around, crops were growing. But underneath the surface was something that no one wanted to address. Fear.

Negan was beginning his wrath on the community that could barely keep itself alive. He demanded supplies, and he demanded a lot of them. So, half of Daryl’s people had gone out on runs to look for stuff. Food, clothes, medicine, whatever they could bring back. Daryl was among that group, taking a car as opposed to his motorbike and going to a high school with Carol.

At first, he volunteered to go alone, but she reasoned with him. It was too big of an area for him to cover on his own, she said. He could get hurt, or worse. And it was Carol, how could he deny her? She was his best friend, after all. So, Daryl drove in silence, Carol in the passenger seat, staring curiously at him.

The feeling of her eyes on his annoyed him to no end, and eventually, the archer caved.

“There somethin’ on my face or wha’?”

“Nothing,” Carol chirped. “Just… thinking.”

“‘Bout wha’?” Daryl asked, sparing a glance at the woman.

Carol shrugged, eyeing her friend. “About those words, on your arm.”

Daryl tensed, shifting his posture to hopefully hide them from Carol’s view. “And?”

“Well, they’re not gone, for one.” She stated, a lilt in her voice. “And they’re… interesting first words for a soulmate, don’t you think?”

“How am I supposed ta know? I ain’t never seen anyone else’s tattoos. And it ain’t like I got a good chance of meetin’ ‘em, with all this shit goin’ on.” Daryl grumbled, watching Carol shrug and avert her gaze, looking ahead at the road.

“Just saying… I wouldn’t give up hope, Daryl.”

How would Carol know whether or not he should give up hope? Sure, she’d been the person closest to him aside from Rick, but even she knew nothing about his soulmate. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how she knew exactly what words marked his wrist. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and continued the drive in silence, as though nothing had been spoken between the pair.

Somehow, the high school Daryl and Carol had arrived at seemed to be completely abandoned.

There were no walkers roaming around outside the grounds, most of the windows were intact, and the parking lot was practically void of cars. It was a small town, but from what Daryl could remember of the high schools they’d driven past or looted during their time at the prison, he figured most high schools in small towns — like this one, in particular — would’ve been turned into aid camps for refugees.

Even with no signs of life, Carol and Daryl kept their weapons up as they entered through the main doors.

Flashlight beams swept over every inch of the school, and it became clear as to why there were no walkers. Rotting bodies littered the linoleum floors, dried blood splattered over tile and wall and metal lockers. A stench that the pair had, unfortunately, gotten used to, permeated the air, filling their guts with a permanent feeling of nausea.

The first place they’d found was the nurse’s office, and while there wasn’t much in the way of medicines, there were supplies that Alexandria was lacking. Gauze, tension wraps, bandaids, generic over the counter medicines like ibuprofen and Gravol. Whatever was left, Carol loaded into the backpack she’d brought, filling it to the brim with what they found.

“Cafeteria should be this way,” she nodded down the hall, flashlight sweeping across the path before they exited.

Passing by empty classroom after empty classroom, Daryl said, “Migh’ need some of this stuff for later, when the kids get older, ya know? Be good for ‘em to learn.”

“Yeah, it would be,” Carol nodded, eyes landing on a set of double doors to her right. “Maybe we’ll come back for all that stuff later.”

Daryl grunted in affirmation, about to push the cafeteria door open with his shoulder. He paused as a loud thump echoed down the hall. His eyes flashed, followed by the beam of his flashlight, landing on a singular closed door, a plastic chair propped under the handle.

“Leave it,” Carol advised. “It’s just a walker.”

Daryl nodded, but his eyes lingered on the door for a moment. Deciding to leave it be, he pushed the cafeteria door open, finding it empty yet again. The pair crossed the large area to the hot table, where they could already see some canned goods lying about on the tables.

“If there were people here,” Carol began, “why wouldn’t they have taken the food with them when they left?”

“Why’s that matter?” Daryl asked, propping his crossbow against the wall and pulling out his knife. He knelt by the door to the kitchen, putting his flashlight down and wedging the blade between the frame. “‘S more for us, ‘s all that matters. Don’ gotta question everythin’,”

Carol said nothing, keeping her flashlight trained on the door for Daryl to use as extra light.

After prying open the door, the pair used a cart to transport the mounds of large, sealed canned goods. With Carol pulling and Daryl pushing, they’d made quick work of the first two trips they needed to make, loading their trunk as best as they were able.

On their way out of the third and final trip, Carol held the cafeteria door open as Daryl pushed the half-full cart, stopping abruptly as the door started to swing shut behind him.

“What? What is it?”

“I hear somethin’,” Daryl muttered, straining his ears to listen for the noise again. He listened for what felt like decades, and just when he thought he was going crazy, he heard it again. “There,”

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Carol said.

“Nah, I heard it. Comin’ from this way,” he gestured down the part of the hall they hadn’t bothered exploring. Slowly, focused entirely on identifying the noise, Daryl crept down the hall, a confused Carol following him.

Just as he’d been passing the room with the chair blocking the door, Daryl heard two sounds: a dull thunk, and a hiccuping cry. He stopped, turning to the door that had drawn his attention before.

“Daryl, it’s just a walker,” Carol insisted. “Let’s go, we got what we need.”

The archer didn’t listen, footfalls nearly silent against the linoleum as he approached the door, knife raised. In quick motions, Daryl pulled the chair from the door, sending it down the hall with a resounding screech, grabbing at the handle and pulling it open. The hinges squeaked as he peered within the dark, small room — a supply closet, he’d discerned from the cleaning products lining the shelves. All sense of danger left him when he wasn’t met with a walker, but instead a girl, her body half-laying, half-sitting, propped against the wall.

Daryl’s eyes widened, taking in her form. She was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, save for the clear tear tracks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was matted, and the side of her calf, just above the ankle, was wrapped in dirtied bandages. Her only protection was a small knife, covered in dried blood, the handle of which rested in her limp hand.

“Holy shit,” Daryl blurted, catching the attention of Carol, but barely gaining acknowledgement from the girl before him.

Carol, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder, moved first. She darted around the archer’s broad frame, kneeling down at the girl’s calf. Peeling the bandage from her skin, Carol sighed in relief, finding a deep gash where she feared there might have been a bite mark. “She’s hurt,” Carol remarked, moving closer to search for a pulse. “And barely alive.”

“Go bring the cart out, I’ll carry her out,” Daryl’s eyes never left the girl’s form as Carol left. Carefully, he scooped the girl into his arms, relief flooding him when a weak, protesting groan fell from her chapped lips.

There was no telling how long she’d been stuck in that closet, without food or water, simply left to die. And based on the chair propped against the door… it had been intentional.

Daryl carried her to the car with ease, having Carol assist him as he laid you across the back seat, taking the time to make sure she would be secure as they drove. After confirming that everything was packed into the trunk, Daryl peeled out of the school parking lot, the drive back to Alexandria being much shorter than the one to the school.

The sun was setting when the car passed the gates, and from there, things passed in a flurry of motion. Daryl carried the girl to the infirmary himself, watching Tara and Denise move about hastily to heal this mystery woman.

“What happened to her?” Denise asked, cutting the bandage from her ankle.

“Dunno,” Daryl huffed. “Found her like tha’. Musta been trapped for a while. Few days without water, at least.”

Denise only nodded, working to clean the wound and stitch it. She barely had the focus to think about the wound itself, how deep it was and the likelihood of infection setting in. Tara worked at cleaning the girl’s skin, inserting an IV into her hand like she’d been taught.

The sun had set by the time they were done, the girl changed into new clothes and her skin cleaned of grime. Tara had been sitting by her side when Daryl came back to the infirmary, after going to the Grimes home to eat something and give as much information as he could to Rick and Michonne.

“How’s she doin’?”

“As good as she can,” Tara smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon, she’s like— super dehydrated. It’s been an hour and I’ve had to change the bag thingy twice already.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, pulling up a chair on the other side of the girl’s bedside. He didn’t know much about her — or anything, really, not even her name — but even with her chapped lips and sickly look, he thought she was beautiful. And he also knew that whoever had left her in that closet had done so on purpose. He figured it might have been because of her injury, but it was cruel no matter which way he tried to paint it.

He just hoped she’d be okay when she woke up.

It took the mystery girl three days to wake up. Managing her health at a time where there weren’t any real supplies to use had been difficult, and it took all of Denise’s focus to make sure she had enough fluids.

Waking up in an unfamiliar, oddly clean, room, on a bed, with no stench of rotting bodies wafting through the air was confusing, terrifying, and oddly comforting.

Your body woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open like you’d woken from a nightmare of sorts. There was movement to your right, and you jumped back from it, frantic eyes finding a blonde girl attempting to calm you without touching you as best as she was able.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” She’d said, stressing the last word. “One of our guys found you in a supply closet and brought you here. He— He said you were half dead.”

Pure fear and confusion kept your mouth shut. The girl kept talking, asking questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it. The pain in your leg hadn’t been of any help, pulsing and throbbing with every slight movement.

By the time she’d realized you weren’t going to respond, she sighed and moved over to the kitchen to your right. When she came back, she placed some food and a tall glass of water on the bedside table, backing away slowly as she spoke. “I’m Denise. The man who found you, Daryl, is on his way to see you. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable talking to him?”

The idea of speaking to anyone, even the man you vaguely remember before passing out due to dehydration, made your stomach roll. Still, you picked up the plate, gratefully digging into the food you were given. Drinking the water, you relished the feeling of it sliding down your throat. Water was something you hadn’t had in what felt like years, and you’d be damned if you didn’t cherish what you’d been given.

As you finished up, the door creaked open, and your body stiffened. You watched a burly, reserved man step inside, his movements hesitant. You watched Denise approach, whispering something to him — likely about you. Presuming this was Daryl, you willed yourself to relax, even as you pulled your knees tight to your chest, arms locked around them.

You watched him approach the bedside, standing awkwardly beside you as you looked into his eyes. Strikingly blue, surprisingly soft.

“Hey. Ya alright?” He asked. His voice was rough, southern accent awfully thick. But his words sounded soft, somehow. Small. Like he was trying not to frighten you.

All you could manage was a nod. He huffed, nodding back, clearly somewhat relieved that you were at least communicating somehow. You kept your eyes on him, tracing every inch of his face and his clothes. It was clear to you, though you were unsure of how, that he must’ve been built for this world. Daryl seemed out of place in this clean, crisp, white room, and when you pictured him in the woods, he seemed to blend right in.

After a moment, he turned and went back to talk to Denise. They spoke in hushed whispers, and you thought back to the exchange you’d just had. Your mind had been reeling, so caught up in the entire situation, that the words Daryl had spoken didn’t register. And neither did the tingling across the inside of your wrist.

Pulling down the sleeve of your shirt, your fingers grazed at the skin where the words you’d been waiting your whole life for the right person to say used to be. With wide eyes, you found the words gone, replaced by a slight scar of where they had once been inscribed. It was surreal, and definitely not the time.

“Hey,” Daryl called out as he came to stand beside you again, voice still soft despite its natural roughness. “Doc said ya can leave if ya want. I know ya don’t know me, but if ya want… ya can stay with me. I got a cot ya can sleep on, if yer okay with tha’,”

You mustered up a small smile, nodding at the man before you — your soulmate. You’d been wishing to find him your entire life, but with the world ending, you put that aspiration aside. You certainly hadn’t expected to find him when you were at the brink of death, trapped by the selfish people you’d once considered family.

Carefully, you slipped out from the blankets, stumbling as you put weight on your injured leg. Luckily, Daryl caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other guided your arm to rest around his neck. Wordlessly, you watched his cheeks flush red as he shifted his weight before you began walking.

It was painful, getting to the house he lived in. Not because of your leg, but because of the proximity. Along with the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a single word, not even to him.

As you settled into the large basement room he’d taken, he told you more about the community, about his people. The ones who lived here — Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith — were family to him. The others were the same, but they all lived in different homes. He laid out the cot as you sat on the bed, watching intently as his voice reverberated around the room, rattling your heart in your chest.

“I know ya don’t talk much,” he huffed, rooting through a bag of his and pulling something out. “But ya can write, right?”

You nodded, watching a smile play on his lips as he handed you a notepad and pen.

“Can ya tell me yer name, at least? So we can call ya somethin’ that ain’t jus’ ‘girl’?”

Smiling, you wrote out your name and handed the paper back to him. Your smile widened when you heard him say your name, meeting his eyes as he looked back up at you.

“Ya can talk, right?” You nodded.

Daryl nodded, leaving the pen and paper with you, just in case. “‘M gonna go find Rick, tell him yer stayin’ with me fer now. Alright?”

The thought of Daryl leaving you, of being alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no light aside from the window at the very top of the wall, shocked the fear back into you. As he turned, heading for the door that led to the stairs, your breath caught in your throat. As quickly as you were able, you reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling him back to face you.

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, voice gravelly and strained. It surprised even you, eyes widening as you met Daryl’s gaze. But his carried a certain fear as his eyes tore from your own, locking onto the wrist you’d caught.

Following his line of sight, your heart stuttered, watching the ink on his arm begin to fade into his skin, into the same imprinted scar of words that you had.

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes watering, watching him as his eyes remained on his wrist. “Your soulmate.”

Daryl pulled his wrist from your delicate hold, his mind on overdrive. He’d thought it ironic, that the apocalypse had only pushed him closer to his soulmate instead of further apart. And now, the words he’d been desperate to cover throughout his life were finally gone, and the woman that the universe decided was meant for him was sitting on his bed, saved from the cusp of death because of him. All because he couldn’t take his mind off the closet with the chair blocking the door.

His hand came to his wrist, rubbing at the skin that was no longer tainted with words he thought would never be spoken. And despite all of the fear Daryl carried with him over the years, the gratefulness he had for the apocalypse and the relief that he’d never have to let down his soulmate when they saw that he wasn’t good enough for them, he felt none of it when he looked at you.

All he could feel was happy. Relief, not that the world had ended, but that you were safe and healthy.

And, all of a sudden, meeting your eyes, Daryl was okay with the idea of having a soulmate. All the words that had been spat his way growing up, all the times he was desperate to pretend like he didn’t have a soulmate didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was you.

It would take time for Daryl to feel like he deserved you, he knew that. But you were here, and you were alive. That was enough for now.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #soulmate au #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write something like Evil Queens WandaNat x maid reader? Like reader is a new make and she’s kinda shy and quiet because she doesn’t wanna draw attention to herself, but she ends up doing that anyway when she manages to get out a really bad bloodstain out of the carpet (cause yk Wanda and Natasha did sum evil muahahaha- I’m sorry) Anyways, the maids usually have a hard time getting out blood stains which usually leads to them getting fired or uh- yk. But R caught their attention cause she could and was suddenly appointed as their personal maid and uh yeah you go wherever you want from there

Stains of the Heart

EvilQueens!WandaNat x Maid!Fem!Reader

Summary: Though you try to keep yourself hidden amongst the rest of the maids the Queens you work for take notice of you after being able to clean up properly after a mess they've made.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, mentions of dark themes, mentions of blood, sexual themes

A/N: I feel like I could have made them more evil, but this is what came out as I wrote. These two took over~

The grand hall of the castle was eerily silent as the new maid, you, scurried about, nervously clutching your cleaning supplies. The atmosphere was thick with tension, an almost tangible sense of dread that had settled in ever since you had started working here. You were well aware of the fate of those who failed to meet the exacting standards of the castle's rulers, the formidable queens Wanda and Natasha.

You had heard the whispers among the other servants, the hushed tones speaking of what happened to those who displeased the queens. The stories were enough to make you keep your head down, blending into the background, hoping to avoid their notice.

Today was particularly nerve-wracking. A terrible incident had occurred the night before, leaving a significant bloodstain on the opulent carpet in one of the grand parlors. The maids who had tried to clean it before you had all failed, disappearing shortly after. You knew this was a test of your skills, one that could either secure your place in the castle or seal your doom.

With trembling hands, you set to work. You had always been meticulous, and today you put every bit of your knowledge to use. You mixed a special solution, carefully applying it to the stain. As you worked, you whispered a silent prayer, willing the stain to vanish.

Hours passed, but eventually, the carpet was spotless. You allowed yourself a small sigh of relief, barely daring to believe your success. You knew better than to draw attention to yourself, but as you packed up your supplies, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of hope.

That hope was quickly dashed when you felt a presence behind you. Turning slowly, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Wanda. Her piercing eyes seemed to bore into your soul, making you feel small and insignificant.

"What's your name?" she demanded, her voice smooth yet laced with an underlying threat.

"Y/N, Your Majesty," you replied, keeping your eyes downcast.

"You did this?" she asked, gesturing to the now pristine carpet.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you answered, your voice barely above a whisper.

She studied you for a moment, then nodded. "Impressive. Follow me."

Heart pounding, you followed her through the winding halls of the castle, eventually arriving at a grand chamber where Queen Natasha waited. Her eyes were just as intimidating as Wanda's, and you felt a shiver run down your spine under her scrutinizing gaze.

"This is the one?" Natasha asked, her voice cool and assessing.

"Yes," Wanda replied. "She has a talent."

Natasha approached you, her eyes never leaving yours. "We have a proposition for you," she said, her tone making it clear this was not a request. "You will become our personal maid. Fail us, and you know the consequences."

Your mind raced, but you knew there was only one answer. "Yes, Your Majesty," you agreed, bowing your head.

From that moment on, your life changed. You were no longer just another servant in the castle; you were under the direct scrutiny of the queens. They were demanding, their standards impossibly high, but you met each challenge with quiet determination.

As time passed, you learned more about them. Wanda, with her powerful presence and piercing gaze, and Natasha, with her calculating mind and cold demeanor. You discovered the complexities beneath their fierce exteriors, the reasons for their ruthlessness.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself alone with Wanda. She seemed different, almost... softer. "You surprise me, Y/N," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Most would have faltered by now."

"I'm just doing my best, Your Majesty," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"And you do it well," she acknowledged, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

In that moment, you realized that perhaps there was more to your role than you had initially thought. Maybe, just maybe, you could find a place here, earn their trust, and uncover the secrets that lay beneath the surface of their reign.

But for now, you would continue to serve, keeping your head down, your skills sharp, and your heart guarded against the enigmatic allure of the evil queens.

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

Your days as the personal maid to Queens Wanda and Natasha had settled into a demanding yet predictable rhythm. The queens were strict, their expectations high, and every task carried the weight of your continued survival. Yet, amidst the constant pressure, you had begun to notice subtle shifts, particularly in Wanda's behavior towards you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, you were summoned to Wanda's private chambers. Your heart raced as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. You knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, waiting for her permission to enter.

"Come in," her voice called from inside, smooth and commanding.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind you. Wanda was seated by the large window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight streaming in. She looked up as you entered, her expression unreadable.

"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?" you asked, keeping your head slightly bowed in respect.

"Yes, Y/N," she replied, her tone softer than usual. "Come here."

You approached her cautiously, stopping a few feet away. She gestured for you to sit on the nearby cushioned chair, and you obeyed, sitting down with your hands clasped in your lap.

Wanda studied you for a moment, her eyes intense but not unkind. "You've been here for some time now," she began. "You've proven yourself capable, resourceful, and... loyal."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," you said quietly, unsure of where this conversation was leading.

She stood and moved closer to you, her presence both intimidating and strangely comforting. "Do you enjoy your work, Y/N?" she asked, her voice holding an unusual note of curiosity.

"I take pride in my work, Your Majesty," you replied carefully. "I strive to meet your expectations."

She reached out, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet her gaze. "You've exceeded them," she said softly, her thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You felt a blush creep up your neck at her touch, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you, Your Majesty," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda's expression softened further, and she smiled—a rare and breathtaking sight. "You've done more than just meet expectations, Y/N," she said. "You've caught my attention."

You blinked in surprise, not daring to believe what you were hearing. "I... I'm honored, Your Majesty."

She chuckled softly, her eyes never leaving yours. "You've been so quiet, so diligent," she said. "But I see you, Y/N. I see your strength, your determination. And I find myself... intrigued."

Her words left you speechless, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. Wanda's hand moved from your chin to your cheek, her touch warm and tender. "Do not fear me," she whispered, leaning in closer. "I do not intend to harm you. Quite the opposite."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "What do you intend, Your Majesty?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

She smiled again, her lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I intend to show you my favor," she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. "To reward your loyalty and dedication."

Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, her lips capturing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you found yourself leaning into her, the world around you fading away.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "You are special, Y/N," she said quietly. "Remember that."

You nodded, still dazed from the kiss. "I will, Your Majesty."

Wanda's smile widened, and she gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good. Now, go and rest. You have earned it."

You rose to your feet, feeling a strange mix of emotions. As you left her chambers and made your way back to your quarters, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Wanda's affection was both a blessing and a danger, and you knew you would have to navigate it carefully.

But for now, you allowed yourself a small moment of happiness, the memory of her kiss lingering on your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

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

The days following your intimate encounter with Queen Wanda were filled with a peculiar mixture of anxiety and anticipation. You carried on with your duties as usual, but there was an underlying tension in the air, a sense that something significant had shifted. Wanda's affectionate gaze lingered on you more often, and you couldn't help but wonder if others had noticed.

One afternoon, as you were meticulously arranging fresh flowers in the grand hall, you felt a presence behind you. Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Queen Natasha. Her eyes were as cold and calculating as ever, but there was a new intensity in her gaze that made your pulse quicken.

"Y/N," she said, her voice low and authoritative. "Come with me."

Your heart pounded as you followed her through the labyrinthine corridors to a secluded study. Once inside, she closed the door with a quiet finality that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to a chair in front of a large, ornate desk.

You sat down, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. Natasha circled the desk and took a seat, her piercing eyes never leaving yours.

"I've noticed a change in Wanda," she began, her tone even but with an edge that made you nervous. "She seems... distracted. And I believe I know the reason why."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. "Your Majesty, I—"

Natasha held up a hand, silencing you. "Do not lie to me, Y/N. I am well aware of the kiss."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt a wave of panic. "I—"

"Do not be afraid," she said, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing. "I am not here to punish you. In fact, I have a proposition."

You blinked in surprise, the tension in the room thickening. "A proposition, Your Majesty?"

"Yes," Natasha replied, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper as she leaned closer. "Instead of simply being our maid, would you like to be our plaything?"

Your eyes widened, and your mind raced. The suggestion was both thrilling and terrifying. "Your Majesty, I—"

She reached out, taking your chin in her hand, her grip firm yet not painful. Her eyes bored into yours, making it clear that this was not a casual offer. "Wanda seems to have taken a liking to you that just won't go away," she continued. "And I will do whatever necessary to make her happy."

Her words sent a shiver through you, a mix of fear and desire coursing through your veins. How could you say no to them when everything about them made you want them? You took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Of course, Your Majesty," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "It would be the highest of honors to serve you and Queen Wanda however you need."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Natasha's lips. "Good," she purred, releasing your chin and leaning back in her chair. "You will continue with your duties as usual, but you will also be available to us whenever we desire. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," you said, nodding.

Natasha's smile widened, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Very well. You may go."

You rose from your chair, bowing your head respectfully. As you turned to leave, Natasha's voice stopped you.

"And Y/N," she added, her tone almost teasing, "do not disappoint us."

You nodded once more, then quickly left the room, your mind spinning. The proposition was both a dangerous game and an intoxicating possibility. As you resumed your duties, you couldn't help but wonder how this new dynamic would unfold, and what it would mean for your place in the castle.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the feeling of Natasha's intense gaze and Wanda's tender kiss. The queens had ensnared you in their web, and there was no turning back. You only hoped you could navigate their desires and demands without losing yourself in the process.

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

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of intense and secretive encounters with the queens. Each interaction left you more entranced by their power and allure, yet there was always a lingering sense of danger. Wanda's tender kisses and Natasha's possessive touches had become a regular part of your life, blurring the lines between duty and desire. But until now, your encounters with them had remained separate.

Today was different.

You were summoned by Queen Wanda, a call that usually filled you with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Her affection was addictive, and you found yourself craving her attention more with each passing day. However, when you stepped into their private chambers, the sight that greeted you made your heart skip a beat.

Both queens were there, their regal clothes splattered with blood. Panic surged through you as you rushed over to them, your hands trembling as you cupped their cheeks, frantically checking for any cuts or stab wounds. To your immense relief, you found none.

"You're not hurt," you breathed, your voice filled with concern and confusion.

Natasha's grip on your wrist was sudden and firm, pulling you towards her. Her kiss was rough, almost punishing, and you found yourself melting into it despite the intensity. Her other hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place as her lips claimed yours. The taste of her was intoxicating, and you barely registered Wanda moving behind you until you felt her soft kisses trailing along your shoulders and neck.

Wanda's hands slipped around your waist, holding you gently but securely. Her lips and tongue worked their magic on your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You were caught between them, their combined presence overwhelming and exhilarating.

"Don't worry, my sweet," Wanda whispered against your neck, her breath warm and soothing. "The blood isn't ours."

Natasha broke the kiss, her eyes dark and filled with desire. "We had some... business to attend to," she explained, her voice low and seductive. "And now we want to attend to you."

Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but all you could focus on was the sensation of their hands and lips on your body. Wanda's fingers traced patterns on your skin, while Natasha's grip tightened, a perfect balance of tenderness and dominance.

"You've been such a good girl," Wanda murmured, her voice like honey. "Always so eager to please us."

Natasha's lips curled into a predatory smile. "And now it's time for us to show you just how much we appreciate your devotion."

They guided you towards the large, luxurious bed, each movement coordinated and purposeful. As you lay down, Wanda climbed beside you, her hands never leaving your body. Natasha followed, her eyes never leaving yours as she leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate.

Wanda's hands roamed over your torso, her touch gentle yet electrifying. "Relax, my darling," she cooed, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let us take care of you."

Natasha's hand slid under your shirt, her fingers tracing the outline of your bra. "You belong to us now," she whispered, her voice sending a thrill of excitement through you. "Body and soul."

Caught in their embrace, you felt a surge of emotions—fear, desire, love, and a deep-seated need to please them. You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Your Majesties."

Their eyes gleamed with satisfaction at your submission. Together, they undressed you with a mix of urgency and reverence, their hands and mouths exploring every inch of your skin. The room was filled with the sound of your gasps and their murmured words of affection and desire.

Wanda's lips captured yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, her hand cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing in the world. "You're ours," she whispered against your lips.

Natasha's hands moved lower, eliciting a moan from you as she found your most sensitive spots. "Forever," she echoed, her voice a promise and a command.

In their arms, you felt a profound sense of belonging, a connection that went beyond mere physical attraction. They were your queens, and you were their treasured plaything, caught in a web of power, passion, and unspoken loyalty.

As the night wore on, you surrendered yourself completely to their touch, their love, and their power, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be—at the mercy of the queens who ruled your heart and soul.

@dorabledewdroop

#ley writes #ley writes requests #evil queens!Wandanat #wandanat x y/n #wandanat x fem!reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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calumfmu · 8 months ago

Text

sugar coated melting.

Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

Famous!Steve Harrington x Assistant!reader (modern!au, with 40's Steve) 7.5k+ words

cw: older Steve Harrington, smut, loss of virginity, inexperienced!reader, AFAB reader, angst (what's new), mentions of death, swearing, 18+, mdni

Working with one of the most famous actors in the world was draining, exhausting, taxing, everything you could negatively describe. He was such a high maintenance person, he made your job seem like a constant boot camp run for the Navy Seals. Your best friend had cackled at that supply of information.

Steve wasn’t a bad person, no. He was handsome (obviously, he had been voted most handsome of the previous 2 years in a row), kind (to most people—who weren’t you), and compassionate (he let you eat his leftovers that one time you had gotten stuck on set for 16 straight hours). You were getting paid to say nice things about him if anyone had asked.

Life working as his head assistant was just a drag. It was everything you had dreamed of doing when you were a kid, working in Hollywood with big A-listers, attending red carpets, seeing the way movies worked. The job wasn’t the problem, it… was him.

A script was shoved into your hands as you thought of giving it to the man. The look on his face was burned into the back of your mind, irritation crossing his features as you imagined giving him the bad news. He always took things out on you, attitude forward as he said some slick remark.

Last minute script change, typical of productions like these. Something that anyone could expect while working on these things. Anyone with a normal level of patience would handle it well, take it with stride.

Your fingers rapped against the trailer door, aluminum warm to the touch from the sun beating down on it. Movement sounded behind the door, mumbling a few words out at you.

The door swung open, Steve rubbing at his eyes with his hair sticking in every direction. Fuck, he was asleep. It made it so much worse delivering the news.

“Heyyy, boss,” you beamed, voice raising a few octaves. You held out the script to him, cringing slightly. “Nothing too crazy, just a sliight chan-”

“No,” the door slammed in your face, your eyes closing as the bright reflection shone on you. Your smile immediately dropped, the reflection of your face on the white aluminum door looking back at you.

Red seethed through you, frustration prickling at the back of your neck. You knocked again, this day becoming even longer with each passing second.

“Mr. Harrington.” You were met with silence, ear pressing to the door to hear any movement. You waited a beat, knocking more urgently.

“Don’t want it, tell them no,” he grumbled behind the door, his voice sounded across the trailer, muffled through the closed door.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the patience to not go off on him. You were his assistant, not his agent, not the director of the film, not anything else. What did he realistically think you were going to do about a script change?

“‘M just delivering it, Mr. Harrington.” Your voice was level. “I don’t even think it’s your lines that changed.”

A faint note of music came through the door, Steve deciding to tune you out. Looking towards the sky, you squinted, finding prayer between the clouds.

“Mr. Harrington!”

Another PA walked by you, speaking into the earpiece she had with a clipboard in hand. You raised a hand to greet her, faux smile crossing your lips as you pretended everything was okay. She waved back, making her way in between the trailers and out of your eyesight.

As soon as she disappeared, your fist came up to bang at the door, louder than before.

It opened in the middle of your fit, you nearly stumbled into the trailer. You cut your eyes at your boss, biting your tongue at the swear words that threatened to come out.

The man was well past 30 years old, but still acted like a spoiled brat.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth, grabbing the stack of papers from your hand. He barely glanced at it before tossing it on the small couch behind him. Your eyes followed it, noticing the mess of bottles on the floor around it.

He followed your gaze with his own eyes, stepping into your eyesight as he closed the door slightly.

“Anything else, Yn?” A pinch of attitude at your name. Typical.

You smiled at the man, frustration disappearing as you were just grateful this episode of his didn’t last as long as it did last week.

“No, sir, that would be it for me,” you gave him a slightly bow, clasping your hands in front of you before swiveling on your heel. Descending the mini set of stairs, you rolled your eyes, back to him as you descended. “Fucking twat.”

“I heard that!” His voice was far behind you, your feet moving fast across the blacktops. You smiled back at him, waving as confusion crossed your features.

“Sorry sir, I said it was fucking hot!” You lied straight through your teeth. “Outside, you know? Pardon my language.”

You rolled your eyes once more, turning back on your mission to get back inside the building. You and him both knew what you said, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Nothing you did would get you fired, trust, have you tried.

It was like you were in your own personal Purgatory. You assumed Steve liked you, he wouldn’t fire you even on your worst days. You had fucked up many times, forgetting things, slipping up on his to do list, calling the wrong people for the wrong events. More recently, he had heard the rude nicknames you had for him, and he just didn’t seem to care.

You had heard him one time, whisper under his breath about “best help in Hollywood”. It was sarcastic of course, his eye roll you’ve been well acquainted with to follow.

The last few weeks have been more of a hell for you, Steve becoming more temperamental and moody, you becoming the worst employee on planet Earth. You begged to be fired at this point, your shot at unemployment looking more and more appetizing.

A sudden ring cut through the air, your back pocket buzzing. Pulling it out, you nearly ripped your hair out, Steve’s contact popping up on the screen. I could ignore it, you thought. This could finally be my chance at escaping him.

Your thoughts were cut short, the phone ringing again as Steve's name popped up. He didn't even let the first one finish before trying you again.

"Oh, Mr. Harrington," you breathed, hand pressed into your brow as you answered. "Hi, sorry, sir. Did you need me?"

"Need you to come back," you heard him say, voice muffled as he seemed to be doing other things on the other side of the line. Your feet responded before your brain did, autopilot in motion. "Script's not fucking working, and I just-"

Something fell in the background, and your footsteps faltered. You ignored it, rolling your eyes yet again at his antics.

"Are you okay, sir?" You asked, seeing his trailer in the distance. One of the trailer windows had its blinds half up, he paced back and forth.

You approached it, listening to him as he rambled on the phone, speaking about how much he hated this director and his damn agent for giving him these roles. Fighting back laughter, you cosigned with him, not choosing to mention that this stupid role was worth $13 million.

You raised your fist to knock at the door, it swinging open before you could even make a noise. The three dial tones of the phone call ending rung in your ears, Steve grumbling at you to enter.

"A-are you sure, sir?" Hesitation filled you, you weren't used to stepping into his trailer. You think you'd been in it once during the last seven months of production, grabbing his left behind cell phone before they traveled to location.

Steve didn't look at you the whole time, just muttering words under his breath as he held the brand new scripts in his hand. He was pacing, feet burning holes in the carpet of the trailer.

You slowly stepped in, apprehensively closing the door behind you. Hands clasped in front of you, you stood in close proximity to the door, eyes shifting over the large trailer.

He had clothes thrown over one end of the vehicle, previous scripts sitting on the makeshift table, and a half full glass of a dark colored liquid next to it. You eyed it, brow furrowing as you swore this man had been sober for the past few years--or at least, that's what the news outlets said about him. Not like you kept up.

"Sir," you interjected his thoughts, causing him to stop in place. He still didn't look at you. "Why am I here?"

Curt answers were the easiest way for you to pretend to be nice to him. You knew you couldn't be outright rude, this was your boss after all. Saying stuff under your breath and if he accidentally heard was another thing.

He ignored you.

"How is this supposed to be the Oscar nomination when they have me acting like this?" He exhaled a small shout at the end of his words, your eyes squinting at the volume. "Does this make sense to you? It's like they want me to make a fool of myself, no?"

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, sir."

He waited a moment, sighing loudly as he collapsed on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes. You looked at him then, seeing the way his chest heaved as he shook his eyes. The sun was setting now, golden hour lighting inching through the windows over his figure. His bed head was still wild, even more messy than it was previously.

"W-what would you like me to do, sir?" You asked, arms crossing over your chest as you felt the awkwardness creep into the air. This was the longest you had been in a room with him, at least, with no one around.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you took note of your 'shift' being almost over. It was a quarter to seven, your freedom lingering in the distance.

"Sir?"

"Enough!" He cut out, breaking his silence. You jumped at the words, ducking your head as his outburst came. This was the Steve you knew, the short tempered boss who was always so moody whenever things didn't go his way.

You opted for silence, not daring to speak as you awaited his next choice of words.

His arm left his face, palm running down his features as he stared into the ceiling of the trailer.

"Sorry, I just," his voice was significantly lower. He sat up on the edge of the couch, his palms resting on his thighs. "I just need you to take me home."

Your eyes closed briefly, irritation quickly crossing you as you realized this was going to be a longer day than you imagined. If Steve had needed you longer than you were scheduled, then so be it.

"Why?" The word wasn't supposed to come out, replacing the 'okay' that sat on the edge of your mouth.

His gaze cut to you quickly, searching your face as you stood there. Eyes burning slightly, you felt tears prickling. The pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and Friends rerun marathon looking further away from you could bring you to tears.

"Because I employ you, do I not?" The harshness in his words did nothing but fuel the 'Hollywood Tell All' feature you planned for the day you quit.

"You do, sir, yes," You muttered, hands dropping to your side in defeat. "I just thought you'd drive yourself like normal. You know, day ends, and I'll see you here the next day, eight sharp like normal."

"I can't--no," he answered, standing up as he gathered his things. "I don't have to explain myself to you. You just need to take me home. You can drive my car."

The words to protest him were lost in your throat. You complied with his actions, eyes to the floor as he finished gathering his things. Following him out of the trailer, you sighed, feeling like you were walking into a lion's den.

The walk to the private lot was silent, Steve grumbling to himself as he texted someone on his phone. You noticed his phone ringing several times, his thumb finding the red button to end it each time. Curse words came out of his mouth every few seconds, a few from your own mouth being added to the mix as you thought of ways to leave.

As the two of you came across an old school beemer sitting deep in the parking lot, he threw the keys at you, settling into the passenger seat. Reluctantly, you slide in the driver's seat, feeling the leather interior beneath your fingers.

"Nice car, boss," You whispered, checking out how the car didn't even look a day out of 1985. Steve side eyed you, nodding at the compliment before returning to his phone.

"Get us there in one piece, yeah?"

You sucked your teeth as his comment, shaking your head before starting the car. It was like it was impossible for him to be a decent person. Here you were, doing something for this man which may or may not be in your contract, and he couldn't even say thank you to a compliment about his car.

The ride was silent save for an old tape that played in the car. Some band from the 80's you noted, a little too old for your taste. Steve's fingers tapped away at his phone, not focused on the LA traffic you sat in for most of the drive. He gave you directions to his swanky high rise, ignored you as you struggled to keep up with him.

You pulled into an underground garage, valet men coming immediately, opening the door for you as they took the keys. Everything happened in such fast motion, you barely noticed he was half way to the elevator. Jogging to catch up with him, you turned your own attention to your phone, thumb hovering over the Uber app.

Steve took a call, fingers rapidly pressing the elevator button as he spoke (yelled) at the person on the other end.

"No, Robin, I'm not doing that, okay?" He said, voice gruff as he glanced at you. You heard the static voice of the person on the other line, seeming to be yelling at him too.

The elevator dinged, the two of your bodies stepping in as the doors opened. The transportation app on your phone lagged, loading bar stagnant on your screen.

"No, I get it, it's been years. Fine, I-" Steve groaned in frustration, eyes repeatedly shifting over to you as you tried to tune out the phone call. You stared at the numbers the elevator passed, the first floor blinking by before you could say anything. Your phone remain in your hand, screen dimming as it began to time out.

"Robin. I know."

The voice on the other line picked up, the woman's voice growing even louder. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, grimacing at the volume. The elevator stopped at a floor labeled 'P', doors opening to a mini lobby that ended in double doors. He went over to unlock them, key fob in his hands as a beep sounded through the empty room.

As he stepped through them, phone balanced on his shoulder with his ear pressed to it, he looked at you. You stood right outside the elevator, doors closing behind you as you didn't know what to do.

He held open his front door, hand waving at you in frustration. "Well, are you coming in?"

You pressed your lips together, another wave of irritation pulling at your teeth. Eyes half rolling, you nodded, entering the doors as he closed and locked it behind you.

Steve moved fast, throwing his jacket over a couch that lay in the middle of the giant room, toeing off his shoes by its side. You stood in place, not sure what to do as your boss made his way around his home.

You took note of the place, not picturing that he would live in a place like this. It was modern, with a touch of old school fashion. Retro furniture, expensive nonetheless. Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city. However, not a touch of life, no personal pictures, no sign of family, or anything personal that may shine light on what type of person he truly was.

You stepped in further to the place, watching as Steve made his way to a cabinet in his kitchen. Observing him over the breakfast bar, you saw into the open kitchen, watched him as he grabbed a rocks glass and a bottle of something pushed far back into a cabinet.

He continued on the phone, placing it on speaker as he began to open the bottle. He struggled at first, face turning up as his hands twisted on the cap.

Slowly making your way around the room, you glanced around, expecting him to yell at you for even being here, despite inviting you in.

"Steve," you heard the voice on the other line say. His eyes drifted towards the phone, pouring a hefty shot. "All I'm saying is, I miss you. And care for you. I love you. I want you to be okay today, alright?"

Steve grunted in response, not noticing your proximity to him. You cleared your throat slightly, wanting to gain his attention.

The woman on the phone waited for more of a response. Once it was clear she wasn't going to get one, she sighed. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Yeah sure," his tone was rude, eyes boring into the glass of dark liquid that sat in front of him. His fingers danced at the rim.

"Eddie would've wanted you to come."

Steve's body language immediately stiffened, finger moving to hang up the phone before throwing back the shot of liquor. His face grimaced at the taste, slamming the glass back on the table.

You didn't know what to say, looking anywhere but at your boss.

"Fuck, I forgot you were even here," he suddenly said, hand running through his hair. His hand was on his hip, eyes glossy as he looked at you. You chewed at your bottom lip, nodding as he stared at you. He pointed to the alcohol, shrugging. "Drink?"

Declining, your head shook. "I don't drink, sir."

"Ahh," he said, grabbing the glass and bottle as he headed towards the couch. "Good girl."

He threw himself down on the furniture, exhaling loudly as he stretched out. His eyes were closed as you stood across the room.

"Hey, I-I think I'm gonna go," you said, beginning to walk towards the exit. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As you crossed the room, Steve's voice called out to you. Your movements stopped, turning on your heel to look at him.

"Stay?" He asked you, eyes huge as they looked in your direction. You took note of his features, blinking at him as he awaited your response. Your boss was approaching his 40's, however, in this moment, he looked just like a little kid. Pictures of him in his teen years you had seen on the Internet were pushed to the forefront of your mind.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Harrington," you muttered, wanting to leave the scene.

His eyes fell to the floor briefly before he spoke out, "Steve."

"Huh?" You were confused, this sudden change in his attitude.

"You can call me Steve," he said, shifting his body as he relaxed into the couch. "We've known each other for a few years now, figured we should might as well be on a first name basis."

Fighting back the eye roll, you were reminded in the ways your boss had made your life into chaos.

"I bet you a million dollars, you don't even know my name, sir."

His gaze softened, laughing out loud as your hard exterior slowly came back.

"Yn." He muttered, smile dancing at his mouth.

You didn't know what to say, stuck between dashing out of his apartment or staying and seeing what type of Steve Harrington you were going to get today.

"I figure I should apologize for the way I've acted today," he said, turning forward as his gaze left your way. You didn't know why, but your feet followed it, walking closer so you could sit next to him. Lowering your self on the couch, you felt self conscious, like he was going to snap any second.

You snorted, "Today?"

He was staring at the bottle of alcohol in front of him, smile still on his face. Laughing at your comment, he shrugged.

"I have been a dick, haven't I?" He whispered, shaking his head as the smile slowly dropped from his face. His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes unfocused as he stared in front of himself. "Such a fucking dick."

You didn't know why, but you felt the need to comfort the man. He was clearly going through something at the moment, if the look alone on his face was any tell.

"Hey, not too bad of one," you wanted to reach out to grab him.

"Don't lie," he laughed, head turning your way. His eyes met yours, deep brown staring into the color of yours. You noticed moles dotting his face, slight lines of aging covering his features. He was still youthful, his eyes telling the tale of a once young boy who was within. "I've been terrible. And you don't deserve that."

A pang hit your heart, feeling the weight of his words. You didn't really deserve his treatment. No matter if he paid you or not.

He continued his words, eyes staring past you. "And yet here I am, sitting here with my assistant. Drinking for the first time in years." A laugh bubbled out of him, hands running down his face as he leaned further back into the couch. "You know I'm supposed to be in Indiana right now?"

You shook your head, not wanting to interrupt him. Making yourself comfortable, you took off your shoes, slipping your feet underneath yourself.

"Well, I'm supposed to be in Indiana, it's the 20th anniversary of, uhm," his voice cracked, eyes welling up with a tear that was blinked back. "It's the anniversary of one of my friend's dying, and I'm not there."

Breath catching in your throat, you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry, sir," you muttered, hand reaching out to rest at his thigh. The touch was inappropriate, but so was this interaction you could say.

He looked down at your hand, watching your thumb as it brushed over his jeans.

"It's okay," he responded, eyes finding yours again. "It's been so long."

You nodded, eyes scanning his face as he forced the corners of his mouth to be turned into a smile. You saw right through it, recognizing the pain of a lost loved one straight through. "I don't think that matters."

His face dropped, sincerity crossing his features as he dipped to glance at your hand once more. Silence over took the two of you, the faint sounds of the streets of LA below you, Steve's staggered breathing as he willed himself not to cry. You were patient, finding comfort in the air as he found his words.

"We were all so young, and it feels so long ago, almost like it doesn't exist anymore," he finally said, voice even. "But I know it does. I just have to face it, I've been running from it ever since it happened."

He gestured to his surroundings, and the puzzle clicked into place. This fame and jerk persona that Steve carried himself in, hid the real him. He ran from all of his problems, like anyone else would, especially when dealing with something as traumatic like he had.

You didn't know the details, didn't care to ask, since it seemed to affect him so much. All you knew was that person who had passed so long ago did matter to him, in ways that you couldn't imagine.

Letting him continue his mumblings about the person he used to know, you found out that his name had been Eddie, the one you heard on the phone before. Robin, long time best friend of his, was trying to get him to come out to reconnect with everyone, he hadn't seen much of them since the 'accident', as he had called it. He kept in touch with everyone over the phone, but seeing them in person was a whole different story. It opened up old wounds that he was afraid of what it might bring out.

The story was slightly confusing, him mentioning something about how they all had nearly lost their lives, details that would leave you wondering what this man had gone through. None of this information was available about him in the public, his childhood always being a vague story that never connected.

"So you have kids then?" You questioned, confused on how you never picked up on this detail. There had to have been at least five of them, names you had never heard before now.

Steve laughed suddenly, shaking his head as his hand rested on your own thigh. The two of you were much closer now, as his story unfolded. Your thighs were touching, each other's hands on resting upon each other, mere inches away from your faces.

"No, I don't have any. I guess, I should stop calling them kids now, you know?" His laugh was low in his throat. "They have kids of their own at this point, so they're far from it."

"Oh..." You were dumbfounded, all of this information being at a loss to you. You weren't here to understand, just here to listen.

"You know what, I'm sorry," he suddenly said, removing his hand from your leg. You wanted to whine at the absence, cold replacing his warm touch. "Maybe you should go, actually. This is pretty, uhm..."

"Unprofessional?" You supplied, inching closer as your boss sat there, wide eyed looking at you. In the dark light of his apartment, you could see the way his brown eyes glimmered at you. "I guess we're even then, me calling you a twat earlier."

Steve cackled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the events earlier.

"I knew you said that!"

You blushed, fighting back your own smile.

"It's not my fault, you were acting like one." Your lips pursed together, observing the older man in front of you.

Silence crept over you, the first break in conversation since his phone call ended earlier. Steve stared at you, eyes darting over your features as his teeth scraped over his bottom lip. You felt shy under his gaze, not knowing what to think of the moment as your boss was closer in proximity than he had ever been in your life.

"Can I make it up to you?"

His voice was low, and you were nodding before you even knew what he meant. Grabbing your cheek in his hand, the man leaned forward, capturing your lips into his. The gasp in your throat was lost in his mouth, a shuttering moan coming out instead.

His lips were soft, slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Fluttering your eyes closed, you leaned into the kiss, moving your hand so it rest at the curve of his hip, belt loop curling in your fingers.

He tasted of whiskey, the remnants of the few shots he had earlier lingering on his tongue. Steve pulled away slightly, muttering, "This okay?" against your lips as you nodded, pulling him in by his hair with your other hand.

Your breath grew more shallow as the kiss continued, leaning back as Steve began to tower over you. He shifted in his seat, covering your body with his own as he began to push you back into the couch. His figure was large over yours, scent of vanilla and cedar nearly suffocating you.

With your back flush against the couch, Steve removed himself from your lips, pressing a slight kiss against your jaw. You arched into the touch, palms running over the tight muscle of his back.

"S-steve," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as his lips kissed over your neck. Each press of his mouth sent fireworks down your spine.

He returned his lips to yours, moving with a passion that was lacking previously, confidence replacing the apprehension he once felt.

Your legs spread, inviting him to nestle in between, the thick material of his jeans rubbing against your own. A bulge was present, the thought of what lay underneath sending goosebumps over your skin.

Steve was lost in the kiss, his mouth nipping at yours as he reached down to unbutton your pants, slipping a hand to run over the front of your panties.

"W-wait," you muttered, grabbing his wrist as you pulled away from the kiss. He was confused, mouth red and swollen. His fingers pressed at your covered clit, a small shot of pleasure running through you.

"What's wrong, Yn?" The hand connected to his elbow that propped him up, ran through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. Concern crossed his features, searching your face as doubt crossed it.

"I just, uhh," you felt shy, avoiding his eye contact as the words stumbled out. "I've never really done this before?"

His eyes bulged out, sitting up suddenly as he leaned over you. Closing your eyes in embarrassment, you pressed the palm of your hand to your forehead. Way to ruin the moment.

"Oh," he breathed, eyes wide as he scanned you. "We don't-- fuck, sorry. I'm so, uh, wow."

He stood up suddenly, leaving you laying on your back as embarrassment colored your cheeks. You didn't know what to say as the older man panicked.

"Maybe, uh, maybe this was a bad idea," he shook his head, hand reaching down to palm at the front of his pants. Your eyes followed his hand, noticing the prominent bulge.

You spoke out, shaking your head as you didn't make any effort to move. The turn of events tonight made you realize how much you did want the man who stood before you.

"No, we can, it's okay," you said, reaching out to grab his hand that hung by his side. He looked down at your grasp before bringing his eyes to meet yours. "It's alright."

He hesitated, sputtering over something to say.

"Steve, it's okay," you pulled him down, his knees straddling the sides of your hips as he reluctantly settled into the couch. His eyes ran over your body, lingering at the spot where your pants were unbuttoned, cotton panties exposed.

"A-are you sure?" He questioned, moving to lean back down over you. You nodded, leaning up on your elbows to press a chaste kiss to his lips. His tongue darted out, wetting your bottom lip.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth, palm caressing the front of his shirt.

"I want to, it's fine."

You knew it was now or never, this moment with your boss being an opportunity that you couldn't have passed up. You always had a crush on him growing up, the face of Hollywood you would see in your teen magazines, posters covering the room of your friends. Working for him would've never had you imagining that it would lead to this moment.

Steve took control of the situation, kissing down your neck as his hand returned between your legs, pants thrown across the room somewhere. It had happened so fast, you barely noticed the cool air that pulled goosebumps from your skin.

"Tell me if you want to stop, okay?" He muttered, freshly shaved stubble prickling against your chin. You could barely get out a moan as your underwear was pulled down your legs, catching at the crook of your ankles.

You felt his fingers brush over your folds, pressing lightly at the slick entrance. His thumb rubbed in small circles over your small bundle of nerves, an eye-rolling feeling that spread your legs apart. His fingers pushed inside, his own moan coming out over yours.

The feeling of the intrusion had you panting, spreading your legs wider while his thick fingers worked you.

"M-more," you begged, throwing your head back as his fingers found a rhythm. He stretched you out over two fingers at this point, thumb collecting slick as it rubbed over your clit.

Steve's fingers curled inside of you, brushing against your sweet spot deep inside. The look on his face was one of admiration, mouth slack as he looked down at you falling apart under his touch.

"That's okay?" His voice was husky, deep with arousal as your hips began to move in time with his fingers. Your orgasm was approaching, hips moving on their own accord as you chased that high.

"God, yes, Steve."

Pushing your shirt up past your bra, Steve gaped at the sight before him, your fingers dipping inside your bra to toy at your own breasts.

"You look so perfect, angel," he muttered, leaning down to capture your lips into his as you fell apart. That white blinding of your orgasm crept in, starting at the base of your spine and blossoming through your entire body. Against his mouth, you shouted out, squeezing your eyes shut as he fingered you through the high.

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, legs spasming from the shocks of the orgasm. You hissed at the over stimulation, Steve pressing into your clit one last time before removing himself from you.

You felt shy suddenly, the haze from the orgasm clearing as you realized you had just done unimaginable things with your boss. Seeming to read your mind, Steve pressed small kisses around the perimeter of your face.

"It's alright," he said, hovering over you. Against your thigh, you could feel his bulge rub against you. "How are you feeling, good?"

You nodded, words at a loss in your throat. You reached up to place a hand on his neck, the other at his waist as you played with the hem of his shirt. His eyes fluttered close briefly before glancing down at where you were slightly tugging his shirt up.

He made eye contact with you, chewing on his bottom lip. "I need words, angel. Gotta make sure everything is 100% okay, okay?"

"I'm alright, Steve," you gasped, looking down where your own hand rubbed at the exposed part of his abdomen. You needed more, wanted to feel him all over you. You began to pull his shirt over his body, watching as he glanced down at you with hooded eyes. "Just need more of you."

He slowly nodded, sitting back on his knees as he unbuttoned his own pants and slid them down his legs. You giggled at him as he struggled to get them off, the smoothness he had previously disappearing as he nearly toppled off the couch.

You pulled your own shirt and bra off of you, dropping them on the floor next to the couch. "Nice own, old man," you laughed, returning to your spot against the couch.

He frowned at you, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout. "Heeyy, I still got it."

You were left breathless, the laughter disappearing at the tip of your tongue as his figure returned to cover your body. The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, the wetness pooling at the head leaving you gasping.

Steve reached down to rub his cock against the length of your cunt, spreading the slick all over as you arched into him.

"Fuuckk, Steve." You hooked your ankle over his hip, warmness pooling in your belly at the thought of him being inside you. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your nipples as they shook with each moan you gave.

"You sure about this, Yn?" He asked, leaning down to dart his tongue over the skin of your breast. It sent shivers down your spine, another wave of heat rushing to your core. "I don't want to do anything you'll regret."

"'M not gonna regret this," you gasped, feeling the way the head of his cock slightly pushed at you. It burned, fuck, he was big.

The slight intrusion had you gripping at his back, leaving crescent moon marks in the skin. Your breath came out ragged, a whine scratching at the back of your throat.

Steve grunted at you, pushing in slowly as he buried his head into your shoulder. He stopped every few inches, hips stuttering slightly as he fought back to urge to fuck back into you full force.

Being an all new feeling, you couldn't help but mewl at every burn of the stretch, a fullness you had never experienced before.

He pressed to the hilt, hips flush against yours as Steve gasped for air in tune with you. He pulled his head back to make eye contact with you, forehead resting against yours. You felt the slight grinding of his hips against yours, the fullness becoming too much as you were stretched over him.

"You gotta bare with me, baby." The nickname had you moaning, fingers reaching down to dig at the plumpness of his ass. You could barely keep your eyes open, senses overwhelmed with Steve. "'S been a while for me."

Nodding, you gasped as he reared his hips back before they stuttered into you again. The movement sent a wave of slick between your thighs again, pleasure blinding you.

He found his rhythm, hips fucking into you slowly, languidly as you fell apart beneath him. You rocked with every movement of his hips, hands running over the tan skin of his body above you.

Finding his lips, you moaned against his mouth, savoring the feeling that was building up in your abdomen as the two of you moved in sync.

Steve gave you words of affirmation, hips drilling into you over and over as his cock brushed over your deep bundle of nerves. Bliss approached you once more, wetness dripping all over him as you were brought to that high again.

"Gonna cum, Steve," you whispered against his mouth, back arching into him. He reached down between you, fingers toying at your clit as they began to rub in small circles.

"Cum for me baby," he breathed, voice low as your eyes rolled back. His voice brought you over the edge, high shout escaping your lips as that pleasure took over you again.

As he fucked your through your orgasm, his own approached, hips losing their rhythm as you felt his release deep inside you. A low groan of his came out, a breathy fuck being the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes.

Your body felt light, head foggy as you came down from your orgasm. It was pure bliss what you felt, heart pounding in your chest as sleep took over you.

You shot out of bed, frantically searching for your phone as you realized the sun was creeping through the curtains. Crisp, white sheets were pooled around you, swallowing you up whole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered, trying to search for your device in the darkness of the room. The dark curtains were drawn, only allowing a sliver of light in, but enough for you to realize how late in the morning it was.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, anxiety crept over you, realizing you weren't in your room. A tossing figure lay next to you, his body half covered as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, everything from last night came crashing back, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

"Hey, Yn, what's wrong?" Steve's voice was groggy, as he blinked in the darkness of the room. He glanced towards the curtains and then to you, noticing the way you covered your frame with the corner of the sheet.

"What time is it?" You half shouted, looking on the bedside table for your phone. Steve was no help, slowly stretching out his limbs as he yawned.

"Too fucking early for you to be that loud," he muttered, sitting up on his elbows. The sheet pooled around his waist, exposing his bare abdomen and a deep V that cut below his waist.

You quickly looked away, blush deepening on your face. "We have to go, Ste-Mr. Harrington. We're gonna be in so much trouble."

You heard him chuckle at you, sighing as he relaxed once again in the bed. His arms circled your waist, pulling you down into him as you continued to panic. He lay behind you, your head resting on his chest as he buried his face into your shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered, tightening his grip on your waist. "Called in today, came down with something apparently."

You shook your head, resting your hands on his where they rested on your stomach. "Can you even do that?"

"What are they gonna do? Fire me?" He laughed, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. The anxiety that built up in your spine disappeared at his touch, the familiarity of his body replacing it. You turned in his arms, now chest to chest with the man.

His eyes were closed, sleepiness still evident over his features.

"Are you going to fire me?" You whispered at him, watching as his brow furrowed before he squinted open his eyes at you.

"What? No, what are you talking about?" He seemed genuinely confused at your question, hand rubbing at your waist. Relief took stake in your chest.

"I slept with my boss last night," you laughed at yourself, voice dropping even lower as you saw a smirk cross his face. He was smug, shaking his head with laughter as you playfully slapped at his chest.

"Pretty sure I'm the one with a lawsuit pending if anything," he said, laughter dying as you placed a small peck to his lips.

As you pulled away, he leaned into it further, tongue darting out to lick at yours. A wave of arousal pooled in the pit of your stomach.

He towered over you, mouth nipping at you as you sighed into the kiss. The two of you moved in sync, you moving onto your back as Steve leaned over your figure. A breathy moan escaped your lips, only to be cut off by his phone ringing.

"For fuck's sake," he grumbled, separating himself from you as he reached for it on his side of the bed. He answered it quickly, realizing it was his publicist as he placed it on speaker. "What d'you need, man?"

His lips returned to yours briefly, before kissing down your neck. The sheets were slowly pulled off of you as he made his way down, nipping at your chest, then your nipple, and soft kisses pressed to your stomach.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, trying to stay as quiet as possible as his publicist droned on about some appearance he had to make in the next week. Steve was staring up at you, making small confirmation 'mhm's' in response to the phone call. A coy smile was on the corners of your mouth as you looked down at him wide eyed.

'Stop' you mouthed through gritted teeth. He nipped at your hip bone in protest, shaking his head at you.

You couldn't tell if it was Steve's mouth pressing to your heat or the next word's of his publicist that made your stomach drop.

"While we're at it, Steve, how about we talk how Page Six has pictures of you with a mysterious somebody in your apartment building?" They grumbled, voice staticy as it came through the phone. You felt Steve smirk against you, tongue lapping between your legs. "Aren't we a little too old to bring people back to your own place like that?"

A moan escaped you as you gripped at his hair. Steve looked up at you, wide eyed as he reached up to slap a hand across your mouth. 'Shhh', he mouthed, his own laugh threatening to spill out as his publicist's voice faltered at the noise.

"St-steve?" It said, apprehension in the tone. "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Really, man?"

Steve laughed as his hand remained over your mouth, muffling the sounds of your own laughter. They would recognize it if they heard it. He grabbed the phone from where it lay abandon, speaking into it as his thumb hovered the 'end call'.

"Something came up, gotta take care of it," he grimaced at you as you licked his hand. "Bye!"

He hung up right as the voice protested, tossing his phone aside as he leaned over you once again. His long hair hung in his face, eyes raking over your naked body.

"Now... where were we?"

an: I had to sneak in a line from All of Us Strangers because that movie was so moving. If you know, you know. I promise one of these days, I won't make Steve an asshole right off the bat, he'll be lovable.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open!

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #fanfic #my writing #writing my dark fantasies and praying they come true to my alt universe self

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 2 months ago

Text

Master of Mischief

Word count: 472

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris and Y/n, the notorious pranksters of the grid, pull off a hilarious stunt on Carlos Sainz's, leaving the paddock in stitches.

________________________________________________________

Lando Norris and Y/n had built quite the reputation for being the pranksters of the grid. The two were inseparable, and their antics had become legendary, keeping the paddock on its toes every race weekend.

It was Friday, and Lando had texted Y/n early that morning with a simple message: *“It’s time.”* They both knew what that meant — a new prank was brewing.

The target this time? None other than Carlos Sainz, Lando’s former teammate. Carlos had been getting a little too comfortable with his perfect hair and charming smiles. It was time to humble him — in the most ridiculous way possible.

Y/n met Lando at the McLaren garage with a duffel bag full of supplies. As soon as Carlos left for a media session, they sneaked into his hospitality room. The plan? Replace all of Carlos' hair products with bright blue hair dye. Harmless, but effective.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Lando whispered, barely containing his laughter as Y/n popped open a bottle of hair gel.

“Trust me, I’ve done the math,” Y/n replied with mock seriousness, expertly swapping the contents. “By the time he realizes, it’ll be too late.”

With the final bottle swapped, they quickly left the room, trying to look as innocent as possible. A few hours later, the results of their masterpiece were on full display.

Carlos walked into the Ferrari garage, looking completely unaware of the situation. Then, slowly but surely, the whispers started. His hair looked… different. The normally sleek brown locks now had a subtle blue tint under the fluorescent lights.

Lando and Y/n could barely keep it together. They stood off to the side, pretending to look busy, but every time Carlos walked by, they caught each other’s eye and had to suppress their laughter.

Carlos, completely oblivious, continued his day until he finally caught his reflection in a mirror. He froze. His face twisted in confusion as he ran his hands through his hair.

“What the—?” he muttered, inspecting his now-blue fingertips. Panic spread across his face, and in true Carlos fashion, he shouted, “¡Dios mío! What happened to my hair?!”

Lando and Y/n could no longer hold back. They burst out laughing, clutching their sides as Carlos spun around to glare at them.

“Was this you two?!” Carlos demanded, though his exasperated tone gave way to a smile.

“Let’s just say,” Y/n started, wiping a tear from their eye, “you’ve been blue all along, Carlos.”

“You look great, mate. Blue is definitely your color!” Lando added, giving him a cheeky grin.

Carlos shook his head, a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You two are impossible.”

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mydearlybeloathed · 6 months ago

Text

── 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐑… 𝐍𝐎. 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were once a feared name on the sea--once, but not anymore. your downhill life takes a turn when you decide to rob a pirate ship, and it happens to belong to one of your big brothers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy's sister!reader x strawhats

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: smoking, mysterious backstory ooooo ahhhh, fluff and minimal angst, not enireeeely satisfied with this but its left off kinda open-ended so ill likely return to this scenario later

Now, the Strawhat Pirates were used to not knowing much about their captain’s past. He has a brother with flame powers? Sure thing. A Marine Vice Admiral for a grandfather? Okay, that’s fine. Monkey D. Dragon is his father? Whatever, they’ve heard crazier.

But really, at this point, they might want to just sit him down and get all of it out in the open.

Usopp wandered through a busy marketplace, Luffy’s shirtsleeve in his tight vice. Sanji tailed them as an extra precaution, one eye on his supply list and the other on the ready-to-bolt captain.

Luffy huffed indignantly, tugging at Usopp’s grip. “I wanna explore.”

“And we want to get out of here in a timely manner,” Usopp quipped back.

And they just might have done just that, if not for the hooded figure running right through Luffy and Usopp, parting their hands. A street vendor shouted curses after them, shaking a fist. “S-Stop! Hey!”

It was no use; the thief was too far away, and the man was too old to have the energy to chase them. He slumped his shoulders and pinched his brow, raising his gaze to find the stares of Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp zeroed in on him. “What? You plan on robbin’ the old man too?”

Sanji removed his cigarette from between his teeth with a shake of his head. “Sorry. What’d they steal? Maybe we can get it back for you?”

The old man shook a dismissive hand, frown deeply set on his face. “Agh. Don’t bother. You kids don’t get yerself wrapped up with her.” That was all it took for their prying curiosity to close in on him, and suddenly the man was surrounded on all sides. “Hey, now…”

“Who?” Luffy demanded first, head cocked to the side.

Lips agape, he shook his head and jabbed a thumb at the wanted poster pinned up to the wall beside his fruit stand. “That’s her, if you’re so curious. Been robbin’ us blind all month! The marines tried to catch ‘er, but no one can touch the bitch.”

Usopp rushed over and swiped the poster down, skimming it over with a hum. “Doesn’t look too tough. I bet we can take ‘er.”

The man rolled his eyes. “That’s what we all said.”

Sanji peeked over the sharpshooter’s shoulder as he let out a puff of smoke. He blinked, cheeks growing warm the longer he gazed at the woman pictured. “She’s… beautiful.”

Usopp squinted at the slightly faded writing scrawled under the picture. “Wanted dead or…” He snorted. “Nope, that’s it. Just dead for 40,000,000 berri.”

“Lemme see!” Luffy sidled up to Usopp and stared right at the poster’s center, recognition settling in instantly. You looked older, but that wasn’t the biggest change—joy had returned to your smile, your beaming expression showcasing a side of you he hadn’t seen since before Sabo died.

An unbridled laugh left him as he took the poster roughly, shoving Usopp aside. “Hey! That’s my little sister!”

“Oh,” Usopp hummed, taking a moment to process before his brows vaulted and he shot Sanji a look. “WHAT?!”

જ ⁀ ➴

You slinked through the streets toward the docks, hood hung low over your face, cheshire grin shrouded by shadow. You rolled a slice of mango around your tongue, sighing now that your hunger was satisfied.

You wanted to pay the guy—honest! But being an enemy of the state didn’t exactly pay well, and a mercenary’s gotta eat.

Waiting for a donkey cart to roll past, you bolted over to the wooden boardwalk just in front of the port. Nobody paid you any mind, assuming you to be one of the street urchins that made up the local gangs. You only meant to play a small joke on the young sailor you’d grown acquainted with, make his life just a bit more difficult, when your path was halted by the sight of a new ship docked at port.

It was a pretty caravel, a little rough around the edges from weather and climate, with a masthead of a goat peering out at the city. A pirate ship, for certain. A grin itched its way up your face. A pirate ship meant treasure, and there wasn’t much in this life you liked more than treasure.

Well, there was one thing, but unfortunately, your brothers were scattered across the sea—two alive, one not so much. The thought had you stumbling over your own feet, righting yourself swiftly before you headed for the caravel. You mumbled pathetically to yourself, like you had been since you left your home village some years ago. The life of a mercenary is a lonely one.

“Wonder what they’ve got, huh, Sabo.” Gazing up at the clouds, you grinned. The wind whistled through your hair, and your coping mechanism fell through. It’d been doing that a lot lately. Sighing out your troubles, you shook out your shoulders and crept up the gangway.

A girl stood watch, facing the sea on the other side of the ship. At the helm, a swordsman lay sleeping. Other than that, it was empty. Just a skinny-limbed girl and a lazy warrior. Perfect.

You slipped on board without a sound, living up to your title as The Silent Death. Well, nobody had called you that in a few years, not since you were twelve and stormed Marine Headquarters looking for your grandfather. You hadn’t found the Vice Admiral, but you had given them a reason for renovation. You possessed the Terra-Terra Fruit, and the earth rumbled at your command. At least you still held the name Earthshaker.

Your first wanted poster had been a shot of you sailing away, laughing in the face of the destruction. A force of nature, they called you. Hired by pirates, warlords, and royalty to do their less than noble deeds. But that was a long time ago. Now, you were nothing more than a petty thief, loneliness and grief taking its toll after so long repressing it.

But never the matter! After this last loot, you’d have the money to buy back your ship, get off that godforsaken island, and finally restore yourself to your former glory. Then Ace would never call you on your little snail transponder and laugh at your series of failures.

“Hey.” You glanced up from where you were crouching behind a barrel, locking eyes with the girl as she blinked surprisedly. Her hand itched toward a weapon at her side.

“Shit.” You cursed yourself and your inner-monologuing tendencies. “Bye!”

You darted up and made for the edge of the ship when a sword whizzed past your faze, narrowly missing your chin. The swordsman rose, alert as ever, two more swords ready at his side. You scoffed, huffing, “Why do you need three?”

Three… Two… One.

Eyes widened, you realized you knew that lazy swordsman (whose swords probably overcompensated for something) just as he started to recognize you as well. He jumped down to the deck, approaching warily as the girl came to stand beside him.

Roronoa Zoro muttered your name like a curse. “What’re you doing here, huh?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you murmured back, genuinely curious. “What’re you doin’ on a pirate ship, pirate hunter?”

“Change in career path,” he snapped. “We don’t appreciate stowaways. Especially not a backwater odd-job dog clinging to her glory days.”

You tsked. “Now, now. I was just having a look around. No harm done.” You swept a bow, flicking your wrist as you searched out the sea floor far down below. “I’ll be going now.”

With your head bowed, they didn’t catch your growing smirk until it was too late; the oceanic crust spread across the floor, magma exposed to the salty sea at an unnatural speed. The water rocked the ship and all those around, the nearby sailors murmuring worriedly.

“Hey, I may be a loser,” you admitted, picking at a cuticle as their glares shifted to concern. “But I’m still the Earthshaker, Roronoa. Now, how about some financial compensation for my bruised pride, before I capsize this sorry excuse for a boat.”

The girl scoffed in reply, brows vaulted. “Yeah, no thanks. We’re very attached to our beri.”

“You are,” Roronoa yelped. “Give her something before we lose the ship!”

Lips pursed, the girl looked ready to either attack you or give up, so you worsened the sea’s uproar just to give her a scare. A relent was on the tip of her tongue when her gaze darted over your shoulder, relief flooding her features. “Luffy!”

The sea floor closed up in an instant, the color leaving your face. “Luffy?”

A body flung into your back, tackling you to the deck. You bit back curses, wriggling free, when that laugh hit the back of your neck. A million repressed memories surfaced like the magma you controlled, and you were suddenly twelve years old, leaving your last brother in the dead of night to set off on an adventure you thought would fix everything.

Falling still, you slowly shifted to roll on your back, staring up at the beaming face of Monkey D. Luffy. You pushed up on your elbows, blind to the careful stares of those around, and gulped down some air. “Luffy?”

He chuckled gently, murmuring your name in turn, and you lurched forward to wring your arms around his neck. A tiny piece of your heart was put back in place (only a third of it, and you figured it would only be whole when you died and rejoined the brother lost).

Leaving home so young was a shitty miscalculation on your part. You’d fled Dawn Island some time after Ace, and some time before Luffy. Your not-so-big-more-like-twin brother always said you’d set out together, that one day he would be Pirate King and you would all be happy. But you left without ever saying goodbye, joined up with a crew of mercenaries, ate a devil fruit, and searched out Grandpa Garp for some answers about where you came from. And years passed and you could never admit your mistake—not until you spotted Luffy’s smiling face in the wanted poster he always thought you would share.

You leaned back and caught his eye, scurrying to sit on your knees. You wiped at your eyes as embarrassing tears started to well up. “I… I dunno…”

He knocked his head against yours, eliciting a sharp ow! from you. Luffy grinned cheekily as you nursed your temples. “You owe me an apology. So you can start there.”

And the fire sprang up in your throat all over again. Pathetic, you choked it all down with a nod. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. With S-Sabo gone and Ace gone… I thought for sure you’d be gone too soon enough… so I left you before you could leave me.”

You looked away sheepishly, rubbing at your arms. Luffy just flicked the side of your head and offer you the same bright expression he always did; it was the expression that gave you hope your life wasn’t totally screwed over, not yet anyways. “It’s okay—S’ long as you know it was stupid.”

You rolled your eyes and stood as he did the same. His hand never strayed far from your shoulder, holding you there like you might bolt away. Luffy gave a laugh and turned to face his friends, and only then did you remember you weren’t alone. You pivoted to face them all, locking eyes with a less-than-pleased Zoro.

“What’d going on, Luffy?” Zoro grunted, and if possible Luffy’s smile grew.

He took both your shoulders and shook you a little. “This is my little sister!”

You scoffed. “Little my ass! We’re the same age!”

Luffy held up his palm to his own height, then dipped it down to around your collarbone. “But you were always little-er, and Ace got to call you little!”

“Because he’s older than me!”

“Wait,” Zoro butted in just as you prepped to launch yourself at Luffy. “Sister? You never mentioned a sister.”

Luffy nocked his head to the side, lips pursed. “I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Huh.” He laughed it off. “But this is great! We saw Ace a while back in Alabasta, y’know.”

Nodding, you twined your hands behind your back and rocked on your heels. “Yeah, I caught ‘im a few months ago.”

The reunion met a halt when Luffy asked, “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

Nami jutted out a hip and settled you with a look. “She threatened to take down the Merry if we didn’t hand over our beri.”

Luffy’s brows vaulted, lips a thin line as he turned to you. You chuckled awkwardly. “That is something I did, yes.”

But that wasn’t what occupied him. “How did you nearly sink the ship?”

“Oh.” You swirled your palms, gathering the granules of rock and dirt scattered around the deck and collecting it all in a tiny twister. “I got the Terra-Terra Fruit a few years ago.”

His eyes brighetend like stars. “That’s so cool!”

Usopp faced Sanji with a slack jaw. “What is it with their family and devil fruits?”

“Hello?” Nami waved a hand between you and Luffy. “She tried to rob us, Luffy.”

You inched away from her with a small smile. “Sorry about that. Desperate times, yeah?”

Despite the frowns set on everyone’s faces, you had a good feeling you would win them all over. You were just too charming, after all. Casting a look around, a familiar ache gnawed at your stomach. “Uhm, have you got any food?”

જ ⁀ ➴

The crew quickly decided that Ace was their favorite of the family.

While Ace was polite, generous, and charming, you and Luffy were cut from the very same cloth. Messy and loud, the only difference was that you were slightly more aware of your surroundings than your brother.

“Yeah, she and Luffy were always tied at the hip,” said Ace, his voice crackling to life from the transponder snail Sanji pulled out one late night. “Just… don’t be too harsh on her. She’s had a rough few months.”

Sanji had no clue what that meant, but he almost wanted to find out, not just because you’re pretty. A shadowy look always eclipsed your face, no matter how big your smile got. Over the few weeks you’d spent on the Going Merry, Sanji tried to get to know your story, but you never answered more than a few sentences before disappearing the whole afternoon.

“You knew her from before,” he said to Zoro one morning, stopping the swordsman as they traded spots for the night watch. “Do you know anything?”

Zoro adjusted his swords at his hip, chewing at his cheek. “All I know is a couple years ago, she was one of the most wanted mercenaries on the East Blue. Now, she’s a shadow of that person on the Grand Line. Isn’t that just what this place does?”

“Maybe…” But Sanji knew better. Maybe he was so concerned because he knew that sometimes, on days darker and gloomier than the rest, he had that same look in his eye. So he caught you one night watch when you had no choice but to lean against the ship rail and deal with his company.

He took a long drag from a cigarette, preparing what he’d say, when you nudged him and reached out to take the smoke from him. Sanji scoffed a laugh as he handed it off, watching you inhale deep and expel it in a puff, your eyes heavy. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?” You took another drag.

“Whatever it is you thought of.”

From the way your face darkened, Sanji thought you might stub the cig on the deck and leave him there to take your watch, but you only stood there, head hung between your shoulders. You gave him back his smoke hesitantly.

“For the longest time,” you sighed, “I wanted so badly to know where I come from.” Sanji tilted his head in unspoken question. “Me and Luffy aren’t reallys siblings. We’re adopted, I guess.”

“Ah.” That made all your similarities a little more uncanny, but it made sense. You didn’t really look like Luffy anyway. “And… you found out?”

You nodded shortly, picking at a splinter in the rail. “Not to long ago. I always imagined that my parents loved me, and that we got separated by some tragedy that left me on Dawn Island.” Your voice broke off hollowly. “But that’s not it at all.”

He didn’t say anything when you started crying, and he didn’t ask what exactly plagued your past. Sanji just… stood there, offered you a cloth from his pocket, and waited till you compeod yourself to give you his cigarette.

“Thank you,” you whispered as the sun peeked up over the sea.

“No need. I’m here if you want to talk. All of us are, really.”

You doubted that, but you sent him a smile and descended to the girl’s cabin for some sleep. Nami and Robin remained sleeping softly as you slipped into bed, staring up at the ceiling wide awake. Your slammed the heels of your palms to your eyes, silently screaming into the air.

“Why,” you hissed. “Why did I cry?”

Sheets rustled across the room, and suddenly Robin’s eyes glinted at you. “You were crying?”

“Who’s crying?” Nami yawned as she pushed up on her elbows.

You just about buried yourself in your blanket and suffocated yourself, face warming over. “No one! Go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Nami snapped back. “You practicality stomped in here. I’m thoroughly awake.”

“Same here.” Robin and Nami shifted to face you from their beds, sleepy eyes hooded as they gazed upon you. “What’s the matter?”

You sat quiet as a mouse, eyes wide and caught, until you flopped over on your side and pulled your blanket up to your chin. “Sorry I woke you.”

The two Strawhats locked eyes, brows equally raised. They’d been conspiring to figure you out ever since you joined their adventures, and this certainly added fuel to their investigative fire. Because as much as you laughed and played and made messes everywhere you went, a great shadow lurked behind you—and everyone could see it.

Like a lingering ghost of a past you’d rather forget, something haunted followed your every move. From the way you cast glances over your shoulder at every port to how you fell into frightening silence at certain points in conversation, the entire Strawhat Crew felt the way darkness pulled at you.

And they would find out why—Whether you liked it or not, they would find a way to help you.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

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