#this isn’t the best mix of my stuff

[krustykrabfunfair]

friendship between two drummers with glasses can be so beautiful

[hana-bobo-finch]

erm…..posting about an OC via a rushed shitpost was not on my 2025 bingo card!! 😂😂😂😂😂😂get it??? 😂😂😂because his name is bingo??(GETS SHOT)

these are all things he has done or has attempted to do so consider this the full intro post for that freak for now. he’s still too undercooked to fully introduce but damn I love him

[amorremanet]

Man, I know I’m not the first to say so, but between the way that Davrin says so little that’s concrete about his backstory, the way it is suspiciously devoid of detail while also being pointedly Just Plausible Enough that no one can question it without looking like a nosy asshole, and the way he popped right to “The Thrill of the Chase” with the little Romantic Interest symbol because Elías chose ONE flirt option, ONCE, and the flirt option in question was just telling Davrin “I think it’s neat how passionate you are about hunting monsters,” not like anything deep or super emotionally resonant?

I have some Fucking Questions about what really happened there

[thesecondhandwoman]

MORNING AFTER

Jinx x f!reader

Synopsis: After a night of a different type of fun with Jinx, you experienced a chaotic morning filled with reminders of the aftermath. Jinx made sure to make it worth the while for a day starter.

A/N: Just wanted to say that this does bring up some sexual content, but doesn’t go much further than that.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the weight of an arm slung across your waist. The next thing was the mop of blue hair splayed across the pillow next to you, messy and wild, and impossibly vibrant in the dim morning light filtering through the cracked blinds.

Jinx was still asleep, her face relaxed and peaceful, a stark contrast to the manic energy she usually carried around like a storm cloud. Her lips were slightly parted, a faint snore escaping every few breaths. You let yourself take her in, from the freckles scattered across her nose to the way her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks.

God, she was beautiful.

Last night had been a lot, but the best way. You weren’t sure whether you should be more surprised by how utterly chaotic she was or how gentle she could be when she wanted to. That duality was Jinx in a nutshell—always unpredictable, always keeping you on your toes.

Your movement must have disturbed her, because she let out a low groan, her pink eyes fluttering open. A lazy grin spread across her face when she saw you staring.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, her voice raspy with sleep. “If it isn’t my favorite little snuggle buddy. Morning, sugarbomb.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her ridiculous nickname. “Morning, baby.”

She stretched like a cat, her body pressing against yours as she yawned dramatically. “So, was it everything you dreamed of?” she teased, waggling her eyebrows. “And more?”

You rolled your eyes, even as your cheeks burned. “You’re incorrigible.”

“That’s a big word for someone who was screaming my name a few hours ago.”

“Jinx!”

Her laughter was loud and unabashed as she flopped onto her back, one hand resting behind her head while the other reached for yours. She laced her fingers with yours, squeezing gently. Despite her teasing, there was a softness in her gaze that made your heart ache in the best way.

“I’m serious, though,” she said after a moment, her tone quieter. “You good? I didn’t, you know, go too far or anything?”

You squeezed her hand in return, touched by her concern. “I’m more than good, Jinx. Last night was amazing.”

Her grin returned, this time a little smug. “Damn right it was.”

You rolled your eyes again, but there was no hiding your smile.

She sat up suddenly, the sheets pooling around her waist, and turned to look at you with that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. “You hungry? I’m starving. I could totally make us some breakfast.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Can you even cook?”

She gasped, clutching her chest like you’d mortally wounded her. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know I make a mean pancake. Probably. How hard can it be?”

“Oh no,” you groaned, but you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up. “We’re going to burn the apartment down, aren’t we?”

“Only one way to find out!”

Before you could protest, Jinx was out of bed, stark naked and completely unbothered as she darted toward the kitchen. You buried your face in your hands, half-exasperated and half in awe of her sheer audacity.

A few minutes later, you followed her, wrapping yourself in one of the oversized shirts she’d stolen from some poor shopkeeper in the Undercity’s market. You found her rummaging through the cabinets, her hair somehow even messier than before, muttering to herself about flour and syrup.

“What’s the plan, Chef Jinx?” you asked, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

She turned to you with a proud smile, holding up a box of pancake mix like it was some kind of trophy. “We’re making breakfast! You handle the boring stuff like measuring, and I’ll do the fun part, aka flipping!”

“Uh-huh. And who’s cleaning up the mess?”

She winked at you. “That’s future Jinx’s problem.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

The next half hour was pure chaos, as expected. Jinx got flour everywhere, from the counters, to in her hair, and somehow even on the ceiling. She insisted on using way too much food coloring, so the pancakes ended up an alarming shade of neon pink. But they were edible, surprisingly, and the two of you ate on the floor of the kitchen, laughing and stealing bites from each other’s plates.

After breakfast, Jinx pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you as she nuzzled into your neck. “You know,” she murmured, her voice soft and almost shy, “I like this whole thing, being able to wake up with you. Feels nice.”

You leaned back against her, your fingers tracing absent patterns on her arm. “I like it too.”

She was quiet for a moment, her grip on you tightening just slightly. Then, in true Jinx fashion, she broke the silence with a cheeky grin. “So, round two in the shower?”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

She wasn’t wrong. She never really could be when it comes to you loving her.

A/N: I absolutely love jinx and her chaotic energy (I just hope I captured it well in this fanfic).

[james-bucky-barnackle]

I mean?

Synopsis: On a press tour with your co-star Sebastian Stan, the interviewer asks you a question about another film he did and the answer surprises him.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Actress!Y/N

Word Count: IDK I'm too sleep deprived to count.

A/N: Bro I am on a resurgence. Might just fuck around and continue writing more fanfics or whatever.

It’s another busy day promoting your new movie with Sebastian, The Road Trip. It's a funny romcom about two best friends going on a long trip to see another friend who your character is dating. Interestingly enough, the guy who plays him is Chris Evans. The interviews are currently being done in pairs, and you're with Sebastian.

You've always been candid, speaking your mind without feeling shy. Deep down, you're a bit of a pessimist, accepting things as they are. When you first heard from your agent that you were cast in The Road Trip alongside Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans, you laughed hysterically. The idea that you, an unconventional beauty, were chosen to be on screen with those two seemed surreal. You never really think about dating co-stars, which helps with acting in general. The media is impressed with how chill you are around A-list actors, and even though it hasn’t fully sunk in yet, the industry has started promoting you to that list.

The interview has been going on for about 15 minutes when another journalist joins, mostly asking about the experience of working with the cast.

“It’s my first romcom, can you believe it?” you say.

“First?!” Sebastian stares in mock disbelief.

“I know, right?!” You feign surprise.

The interviewer continues, “How does it feel to do something lighter and a bit comedic for once?”

“You mean, a movie where no one dies?” Sebastian covers his mouth at your response.

“I mean essentially,” the interviewer laughs. “Wait, no one dies?!” They nudge you playfully.

“I mean, I’m not sure, no spoilers,” you say, breaking the fourth wall and looking into the camera. Sebastian cackles. “It’s definitely refreshing. It feels like going to school for some reason. Like I don’t want to miss a class just because I might miss something wild happening.”

“What?” Sebastian glares. “What school did you go to?”

“I mean, aside from the learning stuff…” You grimace. “It’s fun, honestly. I’d love to do more romcoms. It’s very down-to-earth and just resonates with you so much. I don’t wanna get too cheesy, but I’m such a hopeless romantic—this is my jam.”

“Sebastian, how’s your experience working with Chris again, this time outside of the Marvel universe?”

“Wait, this isn’t in the Marvel Universe?!” you butt in. Sebastian again, fakes a loud gasp. You two laugh. This interview feels like it’s going nowhere.

“It’s totally fun, as Y/N mentioned—it really is like going to class. But most of my scenes are with Y/N, so she’s like the lab partner I’ve never had. Chris was always texting us, checking which location we’re going to be at, making sure we’re scheduled on the same day. It’s fun when we’re both on set.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got a good rhythm going. It’s like having a little family on set. Plus, Chris is always the one who brings snacks, so that’s a bonus.”

Sebastian laughs. “Oh, absolutely. Chris and his endless supply of trail mix.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Sounds like you all have a great dynamic. Was there a favorite scene you both enjoyed filming together?”

You think for a moment. “I really loved the scene where we’re stuck in the car during that rainstorm. It was so chaotic, but we had a blast improvising and just playing off each other.”

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that was a good one. The rain machine was going full blast, and we were just trying not to crack up the entire time.”

The interviewer smiles. “It sounds like it was a lot of fun. And the chemistry definitely shows on screen. Speaking of different roles, Y/N, Sebastian’s been in the movie Fresh where he plays a sociopathic killer who preys on lonely women pretending to be a genuine guy.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you say, laughing, as Sebastian shakes his head.

“Would you, like Noa, fall prey to Steve’s antics?” This question gets a louder laugh from Sebastian as your face shows pure shock. You hold him back with your hand and say,

“I’ve thought about this, to be honest,” you start, looking at Sebastian as he raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Oh, you have?”

You laugh and continue, patting his thigh and looking back at the interviewer. “Me and my friend talked about it a while back. And it’s frightening because I would’ve probably ended up on a chopping block.”

“Noooo!” Sebastian shouts, “I was rooting for you.”

“No! But, like, you are incredibly good-looking and charismatic. It would be hard not to give my number at the grocery aisle.”

He tilts his head at your response. “Surely not good enough to get yourself killed?!”

“You’d be surprised how far I’d even go,” you say, as the interviewer laughs with you both. “Oh god, I need to call my therapist,” you add, ending the topic with the three of you gagging.

“Might just have to talk to mine too, after hearing that.”

You can already feel TikTok saving this clip and turning it into a meme.

You notice, after you call Sebastian good-looking, he’s been eyeing you sideways and biting his lip. As if he’s suddenly gone bashful. You can’t help but feel a boost in your ego. Could it be that Stan is shy? You make it a point to tease him for the remainder of the interview.

“What’s something funny or unexpected that happened on set?”

“Oh, there were so many moments,” you start. “One time, we were filming this really serious scene, and out of nowhere, a bird flew into the set and landed right on Sebastian’s shoulder.”

Sebastian laughs. “Yeah, I had no idea what to do. I just froze, and then Y/N started making bird noises to try and get it to fly away.”

You laugh, nodding. “It took a good ten minutes to get back into character after that. Everyone was cracking up.”

The interviewer grins. “That sounds hilarious. It’s great to hear that you all had such a good time. Speaking of moments on set, were there any funny or awkward moments while filming the more romantic or intimate scenes?”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, plenty. Like the time we were shooting that kiss scene in the rain, and Y/N kept slipping on the wet pavement.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Hey, it was slippery! You were the one who can’t stop laughing during takes.”

Sebastian laughs. “True, true. But come on, we both know it was because you were so nervous about kissing me.” You notice him biting back.

You gasp in mock offense. “Excuse me, I was not nervous! I was just...distracted by how ridiculously good-looking you are. It’s hard to concentrate when you have that face right in front of you.” He smiles uncontrollably again, feeling defeated by your nonchalance. He wonders, how are you so good at this?

The interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. “So, who do you think had the hardest time keeping a straight face during those scenes?”

You both point at each other simultaneously, then laugh.

Sebastian leans back, shaking his head. “Definitely Y/N. There was this one scene where we were supposed to be having this deep, romantic conversation, and she just couldn’t stop giggling.”

You nudge him playfully. “Well, you weren’t helping with all your ad-libs! You kept whispering things like, ‘Is that your stomach growling or are you just happy to see me?’”

Sebastian laughs. “Hey, I was trying to lighten the mood! And let’s not forget the scene where we had to stare into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity. I swear, Y/N, you blink more than anyone I know.”

You smirk. “Only because I was trying to avoid getting lost in those baby blues of yours.” At this point, Sebastian was laughing hard, but feeling nervous at your jokes. He secretly wished it were all real, his ears were red and hot. He’s already thinking of how to approach you after the interview and get himself out of the friend zone which he didn’t even thought he’d be in, having found a new interest in you. 

The interviewer looks between the two of you, amused. “It sounds like you both had a lot of fun with it. Do you think all that chemistry will translate to the screen?”

Sebastian nods. “Oh, definitely. I think our off-screen dynamic really helped make the on-screen relationship feel more genuine. Plus, Y/N here is an amazing actress. She made it easy.”

You smile, feeling a bit bashful. “Well, Sebastian’s not too bad himself. It’s hard not to enjoy working with someone who’s so talented and, let’s be honest, ridiculously attractive.” 

Here she goes again .Sebastian grins. “Right back at you. But let’s be real, we’re both just incredibly good-looking people trying to make a movie here.” The internet is gonna have a field day.

The interviewer laughs. “Sounds like a tough job! Any last funny or romantic moments you’d like to share?”

You think for a moment. “There was this one scene where we had to dance together. Neither of us are professional dancers, so there were a lot of missteps and toe-stepping. But it ended up being one of the sweetest scenes because it felt so real and unpolished.”

Sebastian nods. “Yeah, that was a great scene. It was supposed to be this perfectly choreographed dance, but it turned into us just goofing around and having fun. I think it really captured the essence of our characters' relationship.”

The interviewer smiles, clearly delighted by your stories. “Well, thank you both for sharing these wonderful moments. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.”

As you and Sebastian leave the interview room, you head towards the lobby where a few other cast members are mingling. The energy is still high from the fun and laughter of the interview. Sebastian nudges you playfully as you walk.

“Hey, remember in the interview when you called me incredibly good-looking and charismatic?” he teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Oh, come on. Don’t let it go to your head, Stan.”

He chuckles. “Too late. I’m pretty sure I’m going to bring that up every chance I get now.”

“You would,” you laugh, shaking your head. “ It’s not like I was lying.”

Sebastian stops walking, turning to face you. “Well, thank you. And for the record, you’re pretty incredible yourself. Both on screen and off.”

You feel a warm blush creeping up your cheeks, putting a palm to your chest as if to continue the gag. “Thanks, Seb. That means a lot.”

He smiles, his eyes softening. “No, really, it’s been really great working with you. I think we make a pretty good team.”

“I think so too,” you agree, feeling a flutter in your stomach, you realize he’s actually serious now. There’s a moment of silence as you both just look at each other, the playful teasing from earlier now replaced with something more tender.

Sebastian breaks the silence first. “So, what do you say we celebrate wrapping up the promotion tour? Maybe dinner tonight?”

You raise an eyebrow, teasingly. “Is this your way of asking me out, Stan?”

He grins, a little sheepishly. “Maybe it is. What do you think?”

You pretend to think about it for a moment, then nod. “I think it sounds like a great idea.”

“Perfect,” he says, looking genuinely pleased. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

“Eight it is."

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[fear-is-truth]

finding out about your tumblr blog ─ 𝓻. cameron

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ this is definitely targeted… tw : allusions to sex

rafe never understood your obsession with “girlblogging.” sure, he thought it was cute—the way you’d curl up on the couch, your pink laptop balanced on your knees, a cup of milk tea within arm’s reach. the faint clicks of your keyboard always filled the air when you were lost in your own little world, sharing “self-care tips” and “moodboards” with your mysterious tumblr audience.

he didn’t think much it. at least, not until today.

you were sprawled out on your bed, legs kicking behind you as you typed away, completely absorbed. the salty breeze from the open window ruffled the curtains, and the sound of distant waves mixed with the soft hums you let out every so often. rafe stood in the doorway, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp and curling at the ends. he leaned against the frame, phone in hand, scrolling absentmindedly.

“what are you writing about now?”

“just blogging,” you said vaguely, not even sparing him a glance.

“girly tumblr stuff?” he teased, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward you.

“yeah, actually,” you replied, giving him a quick smirk before returning to your screen. rafe sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking from your focused face to the laptop. “you ever write about me?”

your fingers froze on the keyboard for a split second before you quickly recovered, brushing him off. “no.”

“really?” his eyebrow quirked as he leaned back against the headboard, his phone still in his hand. “sounds like something you’d do.”

“why would i write about you on my blog?” you scoffed, avoiding his eyes.

“dunno,” he said in a mock-hurt tone. “i’m a pretty interesting guy.” you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore him as you finished up your post. after rereading it once (okay, twice), you hit “publish” and closed your laptop, satisfied. rafe didn’t say anything else, and you thought that was the end of it—until you heard a quiet chuckle.

“what?” you asked, turning your head to see him grinning at his phone.

“you sure this post isn’t about me?” he asked, holding up his screen so you could see it. your stomach dropped. there it was—your freshly published post, complete with a vague (but not that vague) recount of what had gone down earlier.“rafe!” you shrieked, lunging for his phone, but he held it out of reach, laughing as you scrambled to grab it.

“‘he’s so unfairly hot it’s disgusting. the way he kissed me earlier,’” he read aloud, grinning as you groaned and buried your face in your hands. “‘don’t even get me started. my legs still feel weak, and i’ll never stop thinking about-’”“stop!” you whined, your face burning.

“so this is what you’ve been up to?” he teased, finally tossing his phone onto the bed and pulling you into his lap. “sharing all our secrets with the internet? naughty girl…”

“you’re the worst,” you hid your face in his chest.

“nah, more like ‘unfairly hot’,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you peeked up at him, pouting. “you’re never supposed to find my blog.”

“well, then maybe don’t write about how i give the best creampies,”

“ugh, i’m deleting it,” you mumbled.

“don’t you dare,” he said, holding you tighter. “i kinda like knowing you’re out here bragging about me. makes me feel special.”

“you’re insufferable.”

“and yet you’re still obsessed with me,” he shot back, leaning in to kiss your still-pouting lips.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[etheraltides]

BITTER SWEET ᥫ᭡࿔

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x kook!thornton!Reader

Summarize: Rafe Cameron, a rising name in the business world, desperately needs a date for the wedding of the year. With a major investment deal on the line and his image at stake, he finds himself reluctantly turning to the last person he ever expected for help: Topper’s little sister, a girl he’s bickered with since he could remember.

Warning(s): cursing, Rafe being Rafe.

A/N: English isn’t my first language and I did my best to edit it all - so if something escaped me, please, let me know. Feedback is more than welcome .ᐟ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Chapter two: shopping for disaster ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

Rafe Cameron sat in his car outside Topper's house, the black SUV gleaming under the midday sun. He glanced at his watch for the third time in less than ten minutes, annoyance bubbling beneath the surface. Rafe had dismissed all his meetings in the afternoon and a few in the morning to make sure he'd be there in time so she wouldn't have an excuse to back away from it. He hadn't expected her to take her sweet time, but he should have known better.

Rafe should've known you weren't be civil even if you accepted it. Which, to be honest, still surprised him. He was ready to have the door slammed on his face but it seems not even you could say no to some easy money.

His phone buzzed with a text and for a moment, he thought it was saying you'd be down in five, but it was just Topper reminding him about their gym session tomorrow morning, having no idea what his best friend and sister were plotting behind his back. He sighed, shifting in his seat, the leather creaking under his movements in a way that had his annoyance growing. Why was it taking so long for you to get ready? You weren’t going for some fashion show, just to buy stuff downtown.

"Fucking bitch" Rafe muttered under his breath, hitting the horn a couple of times. He was already regretting all of this. The longer he sat there, the more the idea of bringing you as his fake girlfriend felt like a terrible decision. You'd probably jump at every chance to mess with him like you were doing now.

Just as he was about to give up and head home to, hopefully, contact a few clients, he spotted a car pulling up. He hadn't seen this one around before and by the low price, it surely wasn't your family’s. From the rearview mirror, he saw the loser push his aviators up, leaning in to kiss the girl. Rafe's stomach twisted as Topper's sister slid out, your hair tousled and a satisfied smile playing on your lips. Gross.

The sight of her closing the passenger door sent a jolt of irritation through him, mixed with something he couldn't quite identify. You looked carefree, laughing at something the guy said, and for a moment, Rafe felt like an intruder on a private scene he had no right to witness.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, slamming closed the door of his truck. Were you hooking up while he was waiting in the sun?

You turned around towards the voice, your smile fading when you caught sight of him. His jaw clenched and his gaze sharp.

"Rafe?" you asked, surprise etching your features as you adjusted the strap of your bag, the casual air of confidence slipping slightly. You hadn't noticed his car when the touron parked. "You're early."

If Topper heard about this, you'd be dammed. You had told him you'd be sleeping over a friend.

"Or you're late.” he replied, crossing his arms, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "What was that all about?"

Your brows furrowed, the glint in your eyes replaced by defensiveness. "I had... plans. Not that it's any of your business."

"Plans? Is that what you call it?" Rafe shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface as he ran a hand through his buzzcut. "You said we'd leave at noon. Did you really think it was okay to keep me waiting while you were off with some random douchebag? I fucking canceled my meetings to be here on time because you wanted to go shopping for shit!''

"As if you care, idiot." you snapped, the challenge in your voice clear. "I'm doing you a favor, remember? You have no right to question me about my plans and he wasn't a douchebag."

"Because I thought you'd have some decency!" he countered, irritation lacing his tone as he struggled to keep his voice down, walking closer to you. He points towards the car was minutes ago. "That asshole didn't even open the door for you when he dropped you off."

"Well, it was better than sit around and wait for you!" you shot back, an eyebrow raised defiantly as you wrapped your hair in a messy bun, feeling too hot from all this arguing in the sun. "It's not like you're the perfect image of being on time."

He shook his head, trying to tamp down the rising anger and something deeper that he always refused to acknowledge. "Let's just go, alright?" he muttered, opening the passenger door for you with an exaggerated sight.

You arched a brow, starring at him while he stood there with the door held open, for you. Whatever. You shook your head, clenching your jaw as you moved to the passenger seat, only to realize a second too late that you needed to change into something… well, better. The door was already slammed closed and Rafe was already on his seat.

Rafe started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. The radio was off and you had your arms crossed over your chest, looking to the window with an almost unnotiaciable pount on your lips. He didn't even give you time to shower and change. How could you go shopping in a t-shirt and jean shorts? Rude. Brute.

"Do you even have a plan for this?" you asked after a few minutes in silence, watching the front of the boutiques.

"Yeah, I figured we'd just wing it" he replied, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Did Topper know you were hanging around with broken tourons now? If not, he'd make sure to tell him later.

"Wing it? You're kidding, right?" you laughed, but the sound had a sharp edge. A superiority that crawled under his skin. "People love to gossip at these events. If we just act like we're a couple, someone will definitely ask questions."

"Fine." he snapped, annoyance dripping in his voice as he parked the car in front of one of the many expensive stores of the island. "What do you suggest then, Mrs. Director of Fake Dates."

He hopped off the car and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag. You muttered a thank you as he opened the door for you, stopping in the sidewalk.

"Where did you say the wedding was again?" you furrowed your brows, not really remembering this piece of information. "Well, anyway. We need a backstory. Something believable. How about we say we've known each other since we were kids? You're my brother best friend. We had a falling out last summer and decided to give it another shot. Cliché. People eat that shit."

"Italy" He shrugged, following you as you decided which store would be first. You stopped in your tracks, looking at him with arched brows.

"Did you just say Italy as if in Europe?" you blinked, taking a deep breath as you nodded at yourself.

“How many fucking Italies do you know?” He snorted as his head turned to look at you, dumbfounded. You forced a smile, showing him the middle finger.

"Don't worry. It's just for one weekend, I told you." He held open the door of the boutique you stopped in front of, pushing you inside by the shoulder. "Let's keep the details of the story short, alright? The less people know, the better.”

“All right, Mr. Boring. Time to find me a dress that won’t embarrass you.”

Rafe followed you inside, mentally preparing himself for the impending chaos. The store was bright and stylish, filled with an array of dresses and heels. You immediately dove into the racks, pulling out pieces in vibrant colors and flowing fabrics, not sparring him a second glance.

Fuck, he could already feel his pockets hurting.

“Help me out here,” you called over your shoulder, an armful of dresses piled high. “You’ve got baby arms but let’s see if they can handle this.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he picked up a few dresses. “I don’t have baby arms,” he retorted, but the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement. Baby arms, really?

“Are you serious right now?” you teased, glancing back at him with a playful challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I should get you my workout plan instead of a dress.”

He shot you a glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a reluctant smile before he caught himself. “Just get what you need, and I’ll carry it, but don’t expect me to play your little games.”

You grinned, the mischievous light in your eyes making his heart race. Because you were infuriating. “Oh, but you’re going to play. It’s part of the deal.”

You’d already been through several rounds of dresses - each one met with a casual nod or a half-hearted comment from Rafe as he scrolled on his phone. A sleek black gown had caught his eye for a moment, and the deep red one had nearly made him lose his cool, but he managed to keep his reactions under control. He wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how much he was affected. You already were infuriating enough without him feeding your ego.

But then you stepped out in a blue dress. It wasn’t just any blue dress—it clung to you figure like it was made for you, the fabric flowing and shimmering as you walked. It hugged your figure perfectly, accentuating you curves in a way that made his breath hitch. The neckline dipped just enough to draw the eye, and the slit running from the edge of the dress to the top of you thigh was nothing short of provocative. Rafe felt his heart race, an unfamiliar heat burning in his veins.

He caught himself staring, quickly snapping his gaze back up to your face. Get it together, Cameron. She was annoying, infuriating, and the last person he should be looking at like that. Yet here he was, shifting in his seat, a strange heat building in his chest as you spun around and gave him a look that practically dared him to say something.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice teasing but soft, as if you already knew the effect the dress was having on him.

He cleared his throat, trying desperately to summon one of his usual sarcastic remarks. “It’s… fine,” he managed, though his voice didn’t carry its usual edge.

You tilted your head, eyes gleaming with amusement as you starred at him through the mirror. “Fine? Just fine?” You pouted and turned around. You stepped closer, and he could feel the air between you grow thicker. “You’re not even looking.”

“I’m looking,” he muttered, his eyes betraying him again by glancing down at your legs before he moved it to his phone. He hated how easy it was for you to get under his skin. Every part of him was screaming to look away, to say something snarky and put you in her place, but for once, he couldn’t find the words. You looked too good. He hated it.

“No witty comeback? Wow, I’m impressed,” you teased, taking another step forward, the fabric of the dress shifting with your movement in a way that only drew his attention more.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to remember why you annoyed him so much. You’re frustrating. You’re a pain. He forced himself to think of every little thing you’d ever done to irritate him, but the sight of you in that dress made it nearly impossible.

“At least you’re as hot as you are annoying,” he finally muttered under his breath, shaking his head in a vain attempt to hide the fact that his pulse was racing.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted with his response. A surprise chuckle escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Rafe huffed, trying to regain some composure. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, though the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

“Too much for your business crowd?” you asked, spinning around in front of the mirror, your tone laced with amusement.

“Nah, you’ll fit right in,” he said, though his mind was screaming the opposite. Too much. Way too much. Too much for his own sake.

As you turned back to the mirror, adjusting the slit in the dress, Rafe allowed himself one more glance, feeling a mix of frustration and something else bubble up inside him. He preferred you when you were just annoying.

“I’m not carrying you out when those heels become too much,” he tossed out, trying to steer the conversation back into a safer territory.

You laughed, not missing a beat. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself. But it’s nice to know you’re concerned.”

“Concerned?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “More like I just don’t want you slowing me down.”

But as you disappeared back into the fitting room, he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair in frustration. You were supposed to be his best friend’s little infuriating sister helping him with this. Yet with every passing second, it felt like you were becoming something else entirely. He couldn’t shake the way his gaze lingered on you, how he was beginning to dread the moment you’d step out of his line of sight. When did you turn human and stopped being a complete bitch?

Maybe it’s just been too long since Rafe got laid. Yeah, that was right. Between throwing his dad’s ashes and building a name for himself in the business world, Rafe barely had time to find some release. He’d fix it tonight.

Rafe was already at the counter, signing off on the receipt for all the dresses you’d tried on and decided that would be used in the weekend. His jaw clenched as he tried to ignore the numbers.

“Well, that was fun,” you quipped, an exaggerated smile as you leaned next to him, telling the lady that he’d be carrying all the bags.

Rafe shot you a look, muttering, “Fun? For you, maybe.”

“Come on, Rafe,” you teased, “one of the conditions for me agreeing to this whole thing was that you pay for everything.”

He scoffed, sliding his black card back into his wallet. “Yeah, trust me, I’m well aware. Still doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“Don’t be such a baby. We’re practically made of money,” you said, glancing at the bags filled with dresses for the wedding weekend. “Besides, you should be thanking me. You’re the one getting something out of this.”

“Yeah, I’m getting a headache.”

You rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully - a bit too hard. “You’re so dramatic.”

He offered you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen before shoving half of the bags to you.

As you stepped out into the street, Rafe hesitated. Against his better judgment, he found himself saying, “You hungry?”

You blinked, clearly surprised. “Why, Rafe Cameron, are you actually offering to buy me food after spending all that cash on dresses?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, starting to walk toward a small café nearby. “But since we’re supposed to be convincing everyone at this wedding, we might as well figure out the rules over lunch.”

You followed, a surprised smirk playing on your lips. “Rules? You mean besides the one where you’re my personal ATM for the weekend?”

“Yeah, that one too,” he said dryly as they found a table outside the café, placing the bags down not so gently.

You sat down, menus in hand, and for a brief moment, they both seemed content to sit in silence. Until you broke it.

“Okay, so first rule,” you glanced up from the menu. “No kissing.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why would think I’d kiss you? I’m not desperate”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” you insisted, tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“We can hold hands, lean in, whatever. But no actual kissing,” she insisted, her tone firm. “This is strictly business.”

“Strictly business, huh?” He smirked, shaking his head. “You say that, but you’ll be the one swooning if we get too close.”

You let out a laugh, clearly unimpressed. “Please, Cameron, if you were half as charming as you think you are, you wouldn’t need a fake girlfriend in the first place.”

“Oh, I’m charming enough. You’re just stubborn and blind.” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice. “Admit it - you’re at least a little curious what it’d be like.”

Your smile faltered just for a second before it was replaced with a disgusted face, “Curious? About you? Only to see how much more annoying you can get.”

Rafe’s gaze flickered down to your legs as you shifted in the seat, his jaw tightening as he caught himself. Annoying. Infuriating. But damn if you’re not hot, he thought, biting back a comment. His expression hardened, trying to snap himself out of it. He really needed to get laid, quickly.

You crossed your arms, leaning forward a little. “Second rule: no jealous boyfriend act. I don’t need you scaring off guys at the wedding.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Why would I be jealous? Get over yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” you leaned back in your chair. “Just remember, this isn’t real. No need for the possessive act.”

“I got it. Fake dating. No jealousy,” he repeated, the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“And no trying to use this as an excuse to annoy me,” you added with a pointed look. “Topper won’t be knowing about this. Ever.”

Rafe barked out a laugh. “Annoy you? That’s practically the only fun part of this arrangement.”

“Right, because you’re soooo fun to be around,” you shot back, rolling your eyes dramatically.

“Look, just follow my lead, alright? I’ll make sure we don’t look like complete idiots in front of my business associates,” he said, picking up his menu.

“I’m not the one who looks like an idiot,” you muttered under your breath, pretending to read the menu.

He snorted, clearly hearing you, but chose not to respond. The air was filled with silence again as they waited for the waiter.

Finally, you set your menu down and locked eyes with him. “Okay, but one more thing.”

“What now?” he asked, exasperated.

“No flirting with other girls while we’re there. I’m not covering for you if you get caught in some hotel scandal.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, half amused and half annoyed. “Please. I should’ve known you were the jealous type.”

“Oh, sure,” your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just stick to the plan, Rafe. We get in, play our parts, and get out without embarrassing ourselves. You can handle that, right?”

Rafe leaned in slightly, his smirk still in place. “I don’t know, princess. You seem pretty good at embarrassing yourself. Might be contagious.”

You glared at him but couldn’t hold back a small smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

You opened you mouth to respond, ready say that it made you the kindest person in the world, but the waiter returned just in time to take your orders. As you waited for the waitress to come back with your order, you pulled your phone to scroll, had seen enough of Rafe’s face for the afternoon.

You tried to think of the best way to survive this fake dating arrangement with as little emotional damage as possible for one weekend. Maybe you’d end up killing each other first.

“Can you…” you took a deep breath, nibbling on your bottom lip while you looked around before meeting his gaze. “Not tell Topper about what you’ve seen earlier?”

“The douchebag?” Rafe arched a brow, his jaw tensing as he remembered the encounter, your hair tousled.

“He isn’t a douchebag but yeah, that.” you let out a long sigh, sipping on your juice.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s see how you will do during the wedding, huh.” He offered you one of these smug smirks that made you want to punch his face. Of course he wouldn’t make things easy for you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ TAGLIST: @megiiite @melsunshine @maybankslover @wearemadeofstardust0 @lilithblackkk

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007

[melanchol1cs]

WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

[skelly-words]

Tentacles.. we have blue we have pink, what if one fucks our ass and the other our meow meow

(Bring your tentacles to work day request)

Ignore if u want but ILY and marry me 💍

I've been neglecting my account so bad, but you forgive me, right? <3<3<3

NSFW minors dni please

Anywayyyy, this is short, but I was thinking about using pink and blue at the same time. You're only supposed to bring the pink one to work. It cups your pussy so you can grind on the textured tendrils without making a mess of your office chair. But what's the harm in trying both?

It's the last step of your morning routine. Trying to fit the base of both tentacles in your ass at the same time is stretch, but the fat plugs are stuffed into place anyway. The slender blue appendage slips up and down your slit. The juices drooling from your cunt mix with the blue opalescence lubrication coating the tentacle. You watch with a whine as it stuffs itself inside you, writhing and wriggling to fit just right. It never stops moving like it can't get comfortable, and the constant twisting in your guts makes your legs a little weak.

Then the thick pink tentacle latches onto you. The lace of your panties covers it so neatly, almost looking modest when spit isn’t collecting at the corners of your lips. The little feelers bully your swollen clit, meanly pinching on the bud while you grab your purse and walk out the door.

It feels so good to have something to keep you full. Every bump on the bus ride fucks the squirming blue tentacle deeper. And you don't have to worry about your sloppy pussy leaving a gross mark on the seat.

The pink tentacle soaks you up so greedily, waiting for you to be ready to take its squishy little eggs. You have no idea how it's all gonna fit. The walk from the bus to your office building is short, and you make it to your desk before finding out. Your hips rock back and forth on the chair to rub the knot of pulsing blue into your g-spot. Little pink feelers tug at your clit. It's hard not to moan, and you have to bite on your palm to keep quiet.

You whimper as the sticky eggs get released, crammed into your cunt with the slender blue tentacle. Your poor hole is so stuffed full that you can hardly twitch and tighten when you cum. The pink tentacle pushes more and more eggs into you as the tiny tendrils clean up all your juices.

It stops after that, as if knowing not to overstimulate you too much. There's a long day ahead of you, so the little monsters are content to keep you stuffed up and grinding on the attentive feelers. Maybe the blue one will cum in you later, hopefully the eggs don't get fertilized 🤷‍♀️

And the best part is, still no mess.

These are so fun to write, like the perfect mix of silly and horny. I luv the support everyone is being so nice to me here

[greynatomy]

maybe this time

alessia russo x reader

i haven’t written in a few weeks, but i couldn’t get this song/idea out of my head

inspired by : maybe this time - sarah geronimo

———

Running out the door, paper in hand, she made her way to another house, obnoxiously knocking on the door. Getting impatient, she knocks a bit louder, the door opening seconds later.

“Hi! Bye!” She greets the woman, running past her and up the stairs, barging into a room like she owned it.

“Woah, Alessia! You can’t just come in without knocking! What if I was naked?”

“Oh, please. You’re acting like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

Your mouth opens and closes, speechless. “That was because you barged into my room! Like right now!”

“Anyway, guess what I got?”

“What is it?”

“You’re looking at the Tar Heel’s newest football player!”

“Tar Heel? What’s that?” You’ve not heard of a team called the Tar Heels in your neighborhood.

“It’s the school I applied for in the states and got  a full scholarship!”

“The states?”

“Did I not tell you? I applied for a school in North Carolina and I got in! Isn’t that just amazing?”

“Oh. When do you leave?”

“In a month.”

A month.

The weeks leading up to Alessia leaving home went differently than what she thought it would be. Normally being attached to one another, you were distant and she didn’t know why.

Sitting at the table, eating dinner with her parents, her mum speaks up.

“Are you sure you want to go all the way to North Carolina honey?”

“Yeah, why?”

“What about Y/N?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What about her?”

“How did she take the news?”

“Pretty well I’d say.”

“Really?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering cause you’ve both been talking about going to Uni together, living on your own together, but now she’s staying here and you’re going away.”

Alessia didn’t say a word the rest of the dinner, her mind occupied on thoughts about you.

‘Was that why you’ve been distant?’ She thought.

A week before she had to leave, you’re stood outside her house and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door opens, revealing Alessia.

“Hi.”

She looked shocked to see you. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know if you want to go on a walk with me?” Nodding, she puts her shoes on and follows you out. “I wanted to apologize. I haven’t been fair and started ignoring you. I just didn’t know what to think.”

“I should apologize too. I should’ve told you I was applying for schools out of the country.”

You both make it to the park, sitting on a bench facing the playground.

“Yeah. I don’t know when you decided on that because all our lives we’ve talked about going to University together, living together and all that stuff, but if you think it’s the right decision for you then I am okay with it.”

“I know it’s the right decision for me and I am sorry for leaving you here.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you’re all famous.” You nudge your shoulder into her’s. “I’ll text you everyday.”

“And I will do the same.”

You were back to being inseparable the whole week. Making up for lost times and the times you won’t have for a while in the future.

The week goes by fast. Here you are, standing at the airport, by her gate, watching Alessia embrace her family goodbye. Letting go of her dad, she turns to face you. 

Her best friend. Her almost something.

She approached you, dragging her suitcases behind her, eyes locked on yours with a mix of sadness and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“So,” she started, her voice soft, “this is it.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah,” you managed to say, throat tight. “I guess it is.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, silence heavy between you, filled with the unspoken words, the missed opportunities, the what-ifs. You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, your touch lingering more than it should.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alessia tried to smile, but it wavered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’ll miss you too,” she replied, and it was the understatement of the century. She would miss everything about you—your laugh, the way you always knew how to make her smile, the way you looked at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. She was.

Alessia took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “Y/N, I—” she started, but the announcement for her flight cut her off. You both jumped slightly, reality crashing down around you.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Timing, huh?”

Alessia nodded, biting her lip. “Always perfect.”

You pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapping around her like they never wanted to let go. She buried her face in your chest, breathing the familiar scent of you, trying to memorize it, to hold onto it.

“Keep in touch?” you murmured into her hair, still holding her close.

“Of course,” she said, voice muffled into your jacket. “But it won’t be the same.”

“No,” you agreed, pulling back slightly to look at her. “It won’t.”

You stood there for a moment, faces inches apart, the world around them blurring into nothingness. Your gaze dropped to her lips, and for a second, she thought—hoped—you might close the distance.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gentle, lingering touch that said all the things you couldn’t.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, though they both knew that “soon” was an unknown promise.

Alessia nodded, blinking back tears as you pulled away completely. You watched as she turned and headed toward the gate, every step taking her further from you. You wanted to call out to her, to ask her to stay, to tell her how you really felt—but the words lodged in your throat, too heavy to speak.

And then, just before she disappeared through the gate, she turned around one last time. Their eyes met across the distance, and in that moment, Alessia knew that things would never be the same.

But at least, she thought as you gave her a small, sad smile, they had this. This moment. This goodbye.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

As Alessia boarded his plane, you stood there, rooted to the spot, watching until the plane disappeared into the clouds. you finally let the tears fall, feeling the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

Maybe someday, you’d find the courage to tell her. But for now, you whispered your feelings into the empty space where she used to be, hoping that somehow, she could still hear them.

“I love you, Alessia. I always have.”

But the words came too late, carried away by the winds of time and distance.

And as you walked away from the gate, you felt the emptiness left behind by the goodbye that wasn’t quite enough, and the love that was never quite spoken.

You felt a presence behind you, a hind coming to rest on the back of your neck, gripping tightly.

“You’ll see her again soon,” it was Alessia’s dad making a promise you didn’t want to hear. “This isn’t goodbye.

Holding back tears, he pulled you close, walking back to the car park, trying to forget the words that went unspoken.

—

Practice just ended and Alessia was sitting on the grass with Lotte and Emily taking her boots off.

“Have you’ve read the news lately?” Lotte asked the two.

“No, why? What’s happening?”

“There’s this virus going around and we might have to go on lockdown.”

“What about football? Are we still able to play if we do go into lockdown?”

“That’s also unknown. Everything is crazy right now.”

Not even a few days later they get an email from the athletics department stating a cancellation of the sports currently in season, which unfortunately for Alessia, was her sport. 

Thankfully she had a backup plan just in case.

Grabbing her phone, she dials a number, waiting for the person on the other side to pickup.

“Mum,” she started, packing the last of her clothes in her suitcase, “I’m coming home.”

—

Alessia Russo stepped off the plane, her heart racing with a mixt of excitement and nerves. It had been three years since she’d left home for her scholarship in North Carolina. Three years since she had seen her family, her friends, and the person she thought about almost every day since she left.

The familiar chill of the English air greeted her as she exited airport. Her brother was waiting at the gate, waving enthusiastically. She hugged him tightly, comforted by his familiar scents and warmth. It felt good to be home.

The drive to her childhood home was filled with chatter about her time in America, her football team’s victories, and the memories they had missed sharing. But even as Alessia laughed and talked, her thoughts kept drifting to one person—Y/N.

You’ve had been her best friend, her confidant, and her first love. You both had spent countless hours together before she left, and parting had been harder than anything she had ever done. She had promised to keep in touch, and they did for a while. But life had a way of pulling them in different directions. Football was taking up all her time, throw in a few of her classes, she felt like she didn’t have time for anything. She didn’t mean to do it on purpose, as time went on, the calls became less frequent, the messages shorter, until one day, they simply stopped.

Alessia’s parents had thrown a welcome home dinner for her, and she was eager to see everyone again, but mostly she was eager to see you. She had imagined what it would be like a thousand times—how you would look, what she would say to you. She wondered if you had missed her as much as she had missed you.

The dinner was in full swing by the time they arrived. The house was filled with the laughter of her parents, aunts and uncles, the clinking of glasses, and the scent of home-cooked food. Alessia was enveloped in hugs and well-wishes, but as she scanned the room, she realized that you wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Y/N?” she asked her mum.

She exchanged a quick glance around before looking away, something unspoken passing between them. “I… I haven’t seen her in a while, Less.”

Alessia’s heart sank, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, okay. Maybe she’ll come by later,” she said, trying to sound hopeful.

As the night went on, Alessia tried to enjoy herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her parents eventually pulled her aside into the quiet of the living room.

“Alessia,” her mother began, her voice soft, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

Her father cleared his throat, his expression solemn. “Y/N isn’t coming tonight, love.”

“Why not?” Alessia asked, her voice trembling.

“They… they enlisted in the navy a year ago,” her mother explained, her eyes filled with concern. “She’s deployed now.”

Alessia felt like the ground had shifted beneath her. You had enlisted? The Y/N who hated violence, who always dreamed of traveling the world, who said they wanted to make a difference in a different way? It didn’t make sense.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We didn’t want to worry you while you were so far away,” her father said gently. “And Y/N didn’t want to burden you with it. They wanted you to focus on football and your future.”

Tears welled up in Alessia’s eyes. She had come back expecting to pick up where they left off, but now… now everything had changed.

“Do you know where they are?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Her parents exchanged a glance. “We don’t know the exact details, but they’re safe. They’re doing important work.”

Alessia nodded, though her heart was breaking. She had imagined so many different scenarios for this moment, but this… this wasn’t one of them.

She excused herself from the room, retreating to her old bedroom. Everything was just as she had left it, but it didn’t feel the same. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking out the window at the darkened sky. Somewhere, you were out there, and she couldn’t reach you.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through their old messages, the ones she hadn’t been able to delete. A tear slipped down her cheek as she re-read your last text from months ago: “Take care, Lessi. I’ll always be with you, no matter where life takes us.”

She didn’t get to reply back, not even noticing that you’d texted her and that being the last text you had sent. In a way, it was you saying goodbye, not knowing how long you’d be gone for.

Alessia held the phone to her chest, closing her eyes. She didnt regret many things, but pulling away from you was her biggest regret, wishing she could turn back time and not let things get in the way, no matter how important it was because to her, you were most important.

—

Alessia went to play for Manchester United with little to no crowds, but she loved it. She knew she made the right decision for her career coming back home early, but there was always a you sized hole in her heart.

These are milestones she wished that you were here for, but she can only blame herself for it.

A few years playing in Manchester, Alessia got an opportunity she couldn’t turn down and here she was in London, having unpacked her things from the countless boxes littered throughout the apartment.

Needing a break from all the unpacking, Alessia decided to take a walk through her neighborhood, through London to familiarize herself to her home the next couple of years. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. This has always been her favorite time of the day, but it somehow felt bittersweet. There was something in the air— a nostalgic feeling that tugged at her heart in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

She walked by countless people, not giving them any mind. It was crowded, people bumping into her left and right until one person’s scent filled the air around her. 

It smelled like home.

Quickly turning around, Alessia tries to find that familiarity, lightly pushing people away who blocked her path. She was lost, head swiveling around, hoping to find -what- who she needed, when she lays her eyes on the bridge. 

A loner figure leaning against it, staring out, back to Alessia. It was you. Still dressed in uniform, clean and crisp, contrasting the setting sun. Your once long hair was now cut short, looking more mature, more grounded. But even from behind, Alessia would recognize you anywhere. The way you held yourself with quiet confidence—it was unmistakable.

For a moment, Alessia felt like she was eighteen again, in the airport, walking away from you, unknowingly being the last time she’d ever see you, ‘til right now. She remembered the way her heart ached, the way she held her tears from falling down her face, wishing she would’ve turned back around and ran into your arms, and say that she wasn’t leaving after all.

But Alessia didn’t turn back. She kept walking, disappearing into the unknown future that didn’t include you.

Alessia’s feet moved on their own, carrying her closer to you, until she was just a few steps away. Her heart pounded in her chest, anxiety and anticipation radiated off her body. It’s been so long. Would you even recognize her? Would you care?

“Y/N?” She called out. Her voice was soft, almost drowned out by the noise of the city, but you heard it. She saw you body stiffen, almost scared to turn around, but you did, as if not daring to believe your ears.

When your eyes met, it was like time stood still. Your face was a mix of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. Alessia felt a lump form in her throat, feeling a bit overwhelmed with emotions.

“Alessia,” You said, voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, as if you’re trying to figure out of your eyes were playing tricks on you. “It’s-it’s you.”

“Yeah. It’s me. And it’s you.”

You took and step closer, your gaze sweeping over Alessia’s face, taking in every detail as if you were trying to make up for the years you had lost. “You look… you look good,” you stated, a soft smile tugging at your lips. It was the same smile that made Alessia’s heart skip a beat, and she felt it happen again now, after all this time.

“So do you,” Alessia replied, voice trembling slightly. “You look… different. Older. But still you.”

You chuckled. There goes Alessia’s heart again. 

“I guess the navy will do that to you. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Way too long.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with all the words that were left unsaid over the years. You wanted to say so much, to ask why she stoped replying to your messages, declining all your calls, but most importantly, to say that you missed her. But the words were stuck in your throat, too heavy to push past.

Alessia seemed to sense this, because she took another step forward, closing the distance in between. “Y/N,” she said softly, yourself melting from the way she said your name. “I-I never meant to disappear like that. I thought about you all the time, but… I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” You asked, voice cracking as you were finally able to ask the question that haunted you for so long.

“Of what I felt. So I distracted myself with more work, more football to block everything out,” Alessia admitted, not being able to look you in the eyes. “That you’d forgotten about me. I thought… maybe if I pulled away first, it would be easier to face you when I’d find out that you had moved on.”

Alessia felt a tear slip down her cheek, quickly wiping it away, but not before you noticed. Your expression softened, and you reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing the back of your fingers against Alessia’s cheek. She melted at you touch.

“I never forgot you,” You said, voice choked with emotion. “How could I?”

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to-to ignore you. I should’ve communicated better. I should’ve been braver. I…I—”

“—Hey, hey.” You interrupted her rambling:

“I was a coward.”

“No!” You gently, but firmly, grabbed her face with both your hands, pulling her close and forcing her to look into your eyes. “You are not a coward,” Your voice soft. “You were just afraid and that’s okay.”

“But I lost you even when I was trying to prevent that from ever happening.”

“Who said you lost me? Cause you haven’t.”

“You joined the navy when you had never mentioned being interested it it at all!”

“That’s not on you. That was all me. No matter how pathetic it sounds, I couldn’t go through with going to Uni without you when it was our-my dream to experience it with you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I forgive you even if you have nothing to apologize for. I mean look at you now,” You step back, gesturing your hands as if to present her, “Alessia Russo, European champion and back heel queen.”

“Stop it.” Alessia covers her face, not wanting you to see it reddening.

You hold your hand out towards her, hoping she gets the hint. Fortunately for you, she does. holding her hand, you lead her away from the bridge. 

“You know,” you started, leading her to a nice path with less people, “you didn’t leave me behind, no matter what you think. You were always with me, in here.” You placed your free hand over your heart, your gaze locked with Alessia’s.

Alessia looked at you for a moment, as if she was searching something in your eyes. And then, slowly, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. “Maybe this time… maybe we can finally get it right.”

You felt a warmth spread throughout your body at her words. “No more beating around the bush?”

“No,” Alessia answered, voice soft. She closed her eyes when she saw your face leaning more towards her’s. “I don’t want to let you go, not when we’ve been given a second chance.”

You felt your heart swell with hope, nodding, her smile widens. “Then let’s give this a go. Let’s see where this takes us.”

You led her away again, talking as you walked, catching up on everything that you missed in each other’s lives. You told her about your time in the navy, the places you had seen, the people you had met. And Alessia shared her own stories, how America was, her football career, the friends she made.

All the walking and talking, Alessia hadn’t noticed that she led you all the way to her apartment.

“Oh,” Alessia’s lips turned to a frown, realizing her time with you has come to and end. “I guess this is me.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for tonight,” Alessia said softly, voice tinged with a bittersweet note that tugged at your heart. Her blue eyes met your brown ones, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking out late at night to watch the stars .

“Yeah, it was… amazing,” You replied, shoving your hands in your pocket. You didn’t want to leave. 

Alessia turns to look at you, her face turning serious. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off,” she said, her voice gentle. “But I want you to try. I want to be in your life’s If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you. I want that too and everything more. I am yours Alessia. I always have been.” Silence filled the air around you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was a silence filled with comfort. 

“It’s late,” Lesia broke the silence, hands fiddling with her keys. “You should probably go.”

“I should,” You replied, but instead of leaving, you stepped closer to her, leaving no space in between.

The air between the both of you changed, and before she could think, before any doubt creeps in her head, you leaned in. Your lips hovered just above hers, giving her a chance to pull away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

You closed the gap, a gasp makes its way out of her mouth. Her arms make their way around your neck, pulling you closer. This first kiss tentative, almost fragile, as if afraid that one wrong move would break the moment. The kiss was deepened, pouring every missed opportunity, every hidden feeling into it. 

When you finally broke apart, breathless and hearts racing, you rested your foreheads together, the weight of your shared history and newfound hope settling around them. 

“We should’ve done that ages ago,” Alessia said with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, thumbs brushing across her cheeks. “But I think now was the right time.”

Alessia bit her bottom lip, hesitant to say what she wants to say. “Do you… do you want to come in?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’d like that.”

Walking through the threshold felt like the start of their new lives. Two old friends who met again after years, wearing older faces, finding the love they had from years ago.

And for the first time in a long time, Alessia felt like maybe, just maybe, everything was falling into place. 

[ontologicalmoki]

easy pan chicken! (soft, edible, tasty, not at all rubbery or chewy, you’ll wow your guests but also just like. Have some chicken, which is a cheap and easy and delicious protein)

this works best with about as much raw chicken as you can fit in the bottom of the pan you’re using. I really do cram it in there. If you’re only cooking for yourself, you can use a small pan, or just have leftovers, or just only put one piece of chicken in there, but I find it’s easier to burn it or make it too dry that way.

Also I like using boneless skinless thighs best, but it does work with any cut of chicken, bones or no bones. You can dice it before you start, stirring instead of flipping when you get there, but I find it easier to dice afterwards.

(your pan should be cast iron or enamelled or non stick. If you’re using one that isn’t, you will basically need to turn the chicken into a soup base to keep your pan from being a nightmare to wash.)

once you have obtained suitable chicken and a pan to put it in!:

Heat the pan over medium heat and put in enough butter to cover the bottom of the pan. Wait till the butter melts.

over the melted butter, put a layer of salt. You’re unlikely to do too much, meat needs a lot of salt.

add the chicken. You want it to sizzle when you put it in, but it’ll turn out fine if it doesn’t.

to each piece of chicken add a splash of vinegar. I like rice wine vinegar, but literally any works. So does vodka.

layer of seasoning. My favorite is a bottle of pre mixed “garlic butter and white wine” seasoning, but anything works. Chicken is not picky. Options include:

Paprika and garlic powder

Italian seasoning and garlic powder

tarragon, coriander, and garlic powder (noticing a theme here?)

curry powder

just garlic powder

garlic powder and parsley

whatever you feel like today

then put a lid on it. If you don’t have any lids that approximate your pan, a sheet of tinfoil works. Heck a plate works. Just cover the chickies loosely. then forget about them until they start to brown on the bottom. This takes like 5-10 min depending on how much chicken is in there and how thick your pan is. You’ll be able to smell it before it burns irreparably (it’s artistically blackened, thank you very much) and it’s fine if it fails to actually brown, so don’t worry too much about this step. Just leave the lid on for a little while while you do other stuff (boil noodles, make veggies, stuff like that.)

Flip the chickens over. Add butter or vinegar if the pan is for some reason completely dry, but this should not happen. Turn the heat down if it does. Cover it back up.

when you come back to it, again 5-10 minutes later, check if it’s done. Do this by cutting into the two biggest pieces and making sure the inside is white like cooked chicken and not at all pink like raw chicken. No pink is allowed. This is not burgers. Put the lid back on if there’s any thing that looks raw. If you’re paranoid about this and unsure, you can just like. Dice the chicken up in the pan. Or use a thermometer I guess.

your chicken is edible! If there’s seasoning stuck to the pan add a tablespoon of water or lemon juice or wine if you’re feeling fancy (do not use rice wine it caramelises. Which actually tastes ok) while it’s still hot and scrape the seasoning up. You can then mix it back into the chicken. This chicken can be served like this, or you can dice it up, or you can turn the heat down a little, cook it a little longer, and then shred it with a fork for shredded chicken.

tldr!:

medium heat

In order:

butter

salt

chicken

Splash vinegar

seasoning (whatever)

cover it

cool till brown, flip, cook till done.

voila, you can pan fry chicken! I have never yet made it inedible doing it this way, you really won’t mess it up.

[revelboo]

I've seen people talk about waiting impatiently for another chapter of a story. I've never actually experienced it myself until now.

I just want you to know that these little posts about Starscream and the little human are my first experience actually setting my tumblr to alert me when someone posts and then frantically scrolling to read it lol.

Your writing is phenomenal and I love the physical descriptions you use for sensory type stuff. Just..... BRAVO!

I genuinely get a jolt of endorphins with each post!

And I hope you are doing well and having a nice day!

Awww, thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! Starscream’s pretty fun to write.

Everything is Alright Pt 18

Starscream x Reader

• Venting loudly, he tips his head back against his berth. Can feel you still staring at him anyway, but he doesn’t look. Doesn’t need to see those pleading eyes, because his resolve will crumble. Just needs this contact, the warmth of your small form and the steady drum of your heart to ground himself. To prove you’re really okay. “No,” he growls, the word a firm warning that he couples with a gentle, but firm warning tap of a servo to the back of your head. “If you’d run into anyone smarter, you wouldn’t have survived.”

• Something he really doesn’t want to think about, but that his processor is delighting in torturing him with. You’re just so fragile. Breakable. With any luck, Scrapper immediately forgot all about seeing a human. With how many blows to the helm the mech has taken over the decades, his processor isn’t the most reliable. It’s honestly amazing he remembers his own name sometimes. “The cassettes kept me safe,” you protest, pushing up and he immediately pins you flat again under his palm. The cassettes. Why exactly you think they’re safe, he’s not sure. They certainly tossed you right at him on sight to save themselves. Denta working, he shutters his optics to keep from snarling. He’s not jealous of the fact that you seem to like their company. Of course not.

• He’s not sleeping or whatever passes for it in Cybertronians, just ignoring your protests. The hand laying across your lower body to keep you in place isn’t still. One single servo slides over the back of your head down between your shoulder blades again and again. Stroking almost absentmindedly, but it still slowly drains the tension out of you. And him, too you’re pretty sure. Cheek laying against him, you can feel the thrum of whatever it is inside him and smell him, a spiced scent with a metallic bite. Not unpleasant, just different.

• Blowing out a frustrated breath, you swallow a groan. You were so sure the cassettes are your get out of jail free card. Or at least, a day pass from spending the time he’s out and about doing whatever his alien robot job entails staring at the walls of his quarters alone. Pestering is just likely to make him angry and you don’t want to ruin this fragile peace. Or try to figure out what exactly you are to him, because it’s unlikely to make you feel better. And that brings you back to the look that has been on his face. That violent fury that had just fallen away because you were okay. He’d been worried. Maybe even terrified. And it makes your heart ache.

• He’s told you that he’s the second in command before while grumbling about his leader, this Megatron with a mix of sneering revulsion and an uneasy fear that’s only betrayed by his wings. What you know about the Decepticons is pretty sketchy at best, but you get the distinct impression that being second in command isn’t exactly glamorous. Maybe more like others constantly gunning for his spot by any means necessary. Which almost makes a sort of sense. If you are seen as a weakness of his, you might be targeted. It might be safer to be kept a secret. And trapped in his quarters for your own safety. Even if you hate it, you never want to see that stark fear on his face again.

Previous Next

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

My Honey ♡ My Bee (fic)

For Artists Who See Their Art on My Fics Link to Art: (credits go to @munchr00m (elaine !) on Twitter!): Sethos/Scaramouche

—

Summary: Wanderer and Sethos hang out, but Scara’s thoughts and uncertainty about their dynamic in the future end up eating at him. Sethos reassures him through convincing means.

A/N: SethoScara!! These two have me in a chokehold and the art and fanfics for these two are amazing. And here is my contribution :) Inspiration for this fic comes from this post. I did my best to retain Scara’s bratty attitude, but I also wanted to show a softer and vulnerable side to him. So, I’m sorry if Scaramouche seems OOC to you all. With that being said, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

P.S. There is a small scene that might be slightly NSFW to some, you’ll see it when you get to it, so you can skip the section until you don’t see any of the stuff you don’t want to see. Can’t reveal too much for spoilers. If anyone’s interested in me writing a smut fic (would be my first!) for these two, let me know! I’ll leave a poll :)

Word Count: 1965 Also on AO3!

—

The sky was a mix of red and orange hues as the sun set over the horizon. At the base of a tree outside of Sumeru City sat Wanderer and Sethos. The two of them have grown to like each other’s presence and made the tree their special spot to be with one another.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Sethos spoke.

“You have poor taste in beauty,” Scaramouche answered, making Sethos chuckle. “That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”

“Hehe, I know. I never get tired of your responses.”

“Hmph, weirdo.”

A comforting silence settled afterward before Scaramouche spoke again.

“Why…Why do you keep putting up with me?”

The seriousness in his tone made Sethos look at him with concern.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a nobody. Someone who tried to become a god. A puppet that was thrown away because they were useless. One that makes mean and snarky comments. Why? Why do you want to be with someone like me?”

A surprised look crossed Sethos’s face.

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I like being with you.”

Scara’s eyes widened as Sethos continued.

“I was curious about your mysterious past and kept pestering you until you told me. When you did, I didn’t turn away disgusted or begin to hate you. All it did was make me want to be with you even more.”

Conflicting emotions and uncertainty ran through Wanderer's eyes before they were stopped by a hand on his cheek.

“You dare-” Scara started, making a move to swat Sethos’s hand away before Sethos started stroking his cheek with his thumb. He went quiet as he made eye contact with Sethos who had an endearing expression on his face.

“I'll take care of you.”

I'll take care of you.

A flicker of light is shown behind Wanderer’s eyes upon hearing those words. But as quick as it came, his eyes darkened with uncertainty.

“It's rotten work.”

“Not to me.”

Surprised, stormy eyes met determined, loving ones.

“Not if it's you.”

Those words were an arrow to his heart as tears from decades of sadness, anger, and hurt threatened to fall. The world seemed to blur around him as his senses were solely focused on the man in front of him.

“The things you mentioned are in the past. It's time for you to move on and not let them plague your mind.”

Sethos leaned closer, accidentally making Scara’s hat fall off his head. The latter could hardly care as he felt Sethos comb his fingers through his hair and his breath on his face. Not to mention the soft lips that were barely a millimeter from his own.

“You aren't useless, Scara.”

Sethos’s warm breath hit him in the face as he spoke.

“You aren't a nobody either. Since our first interaction with one another, I was obsessed with you. Your hat. Your past. Your attitude. But most importantly, what hid behind those stormy eyes of yours. And the more I got to learn about you, I began falling for you. I wanted you. I liked you. I love being with you. Your sassy attitude, you calling me a busy bee, I cherished those moments. In my eyes, you are the perfect being and you have a place in my heart. I will go to the ends of the world to fight with you. To be with you. To…love you.”

Sethos pushed forward, softly planting his lips on Wanderer’s. He melted into the kiss, kissing back with fervor as Sethos took the lead.

“Sethohh- mmm~”

Sethos smiled into Scara’s mouth, taking pride in making him fall apart. Taking it a step further, he licked his lips asking for entrance. When he met no resistance and instead Wanderer parted his lips, he dove right in.

“Se- mmph! Mmhmm~”

“Mmm~”

Sethos sucked his tongue, making him roll his eyes in ecstasy as he tangled his fingers in Sethos's hair. Sethos deepened the kiss, gently pushing his back to the ground.

“S- ahh! Mmm~ Aah! Mmphahh~”

“Mmochi~ Hah! Scaraah~ Mmm~ You have hah~ too many ngh~ na- aah~ names~”

They continued their make-out session, drowning in each other's embrace and letting out their feelings for one another.

They broke for breath after some time. Sethos towering over Wanderer with his arms on both sides of his head and the latter laying his head back on the grass looking up at Sethos. His face was flushed, complimenting the pink and orange hues of the sky and Scara couldn't help but reach out a hand towards his cheek, caressing him.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out.

A red tint started to spread to Sethos's ears and a shy smile started to form.

“M-Me?”

“snort. Yes, you.”

He wrapped his arms around Sethos, bringing him down to his chest.

“I hate how you make me feel so mushy inside."

There's no bite behind those words. Instead, love and affection.

“It's my job now, honey~”

“Argh, Sethos.”

“What? You call me a bee, I call you honey. Plus, you are so sweet-”

“I am not sweet.”

“Yes, you are. Especially your taste. Sweet like honey. No wonder I am a bee that is so attracted to you~”

Scara just groaned, his face flushed red. “Where did you even learn to kiss like that?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, that. Heh,” Sethos rubbed the back of his head, rolling off him and laying beside him.

“You know how they say the quiet ones are the interesting ones? I'm far from being quiet, but since being in the Temple of Silence, I tend to be alone in my thoughts a lot and my imagination runs wild. And when I first laid my eyes on you, I never stopped thinking what it would be like to kiss those lips of yours.”

Wanderer’s heart fluttered in his chest, knowing that Sethos was thinking of him from the first time they met.

“And how did it feel?” he asked, turning to him.

“We both know the answer to that.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Sethos chuckled, facing him. “Alright, if you really want to hear it. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. The moment just felt right. When our lips touched, a pleasant tingling sensation traveled down my spine. Having your lips locked on mine, it just felt like we were meant to be together. Oh! Your moans. Don’t get me started on your moans. They were sweet as hon-”

“Okay, you are just teasing and trying to make me flustered.”

“Maybe~ Is it working?”

“Not even.”

“You sure about that? What's that reddening on your ears?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, you are asking for it, annoying bee.”

“I'll like to see you- ack! Ahahaha! T-Tihihickling is cheheating!”

Scaramouche smirked, hearing his giggles as he tased his sides with ease. “Aw. Sucks to be you then~”

“Wahahait! Nohohoho fahahair!”

Scara draped himself over Sethos, lazily tracing random patterns from his shoulder blades to his neck to his chest and back again.

“Doesn't take much for me to make you giggle, little bee.”

“Hahahaha! Mohohochihi! Gehehet off mehehehe!” Sethos tried to roll around to no avail.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” Scara put on a fake thinking face for a few moments before he began to knead Sethos’s hips making him choke on a surprised laugh. “Nah.” A smug look crossed his face. “I want to do this all day~”

“GAhahaha! Nohohoho! You ahahare- NAHAHAHA! Nohot thahat SPOHOHOT!”

Sethos shrieked as his lover dug his fingers into his armpits causing him to clamp them down.

“You are losing, my love~” Wanderer teased, rubbing deep circles into his lover's armpits causing him to howl with laughter.

“AHAHAHA! HOHOHONEY! IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAD!”

“Oh really? Here, let me help. Tickle tickle tickle~”

“THAHAHAT’S NOHOHOT HEHELPING! YOU’RE MAHAHAKING IHIHIT WOHORSE!”

“How about this? Coochie coochie coo~”

“STAHAHAP TEHEHEASING MEHEHEHE! AHAHAHA!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Scara said, playing dumb.

“YOHUHU LIAHAHAR! YOU- GAHAHAHA! NOHOHO!”

Sethos squealed as Scara used his thumb to massage his upper ribs.

“PLEheaSE ScahahARA!”

“Oh, my ticklish, little bee. Begging already? We are barely getting started~”

He decided to have a little mercy on Sethos, slowing down, so he could take a breather.

“Thahank youhuhu,” he giggled out.

“I’ll tell you what,” Scara started. “If you don’t laugh for 5 minutes straight, you win the challenge and get to tickle me to your heart’s content. If you lose, get ready to be tickled without mercy.”

“Pfft, 5 minutes. I can handle that. Challenge accepted!”

Wanderer inwardly grinned, his scheme working as he kissed Sethos with passion. Being caught off guard, Sethos quickly recovered, returning the kiss, unaware of the one hand that was inching closer and closer to his side until-

“MMPHAHAHA!”

Perfect.

“Noho! Youhuhu caught mehe off guahard!”

“I win~” Scara cheekily said. “Seems like that was your best… what a pity.”

“You planned that from the start!” Sethos pouted.

He stuck his tongue out towards Sethos. “Bleh, I win and that is all that matters. Come here and give me my prize.”

He lunged toward Sethos, leaving him no time to escape before he crawled his fingers under his clothes and attacked his tummy.

“I’ll geHEt yOUhu bahACK! AhAHAhAha!”

“Keep on dreaming little bee~”

After what felt like an eternity to Sethos of Wanderer skittering his fingers along his sensitive spots and teasing him to oblivion, his lover let up, lying right beside him.

“Mouchehe, you’re a ruhuthlehess tihickler.”

“Heh, that means that I’m still good at it or you are just too ticklish for your own good, or maybe both.”

“Scaraaa.”

They both fell into a peaceful silence as they stared up at the now starry sky, enjoying each other’s presence.

“Sethos?” Wanderer’s voice was soft when he spoke his name.

“Hmm?”

“Your words from before, I wanted to hear someone say those words to me for so long.”

“Which ones? You being sweet?” Sethos teased.

“Sethos,” Scara groaned. “I’m trying to be vulnerable here.”

“Hehe. Sorry sorry,” he chuckled, turning towards him and hugging him.

“I’m talking about when you told me you’d take care of me,” Scaramouche continued, snuggling into his embrace. “How it’s not rotten work to you and how you love me.”

He took a breath before continuing.

“It's all I ever wanted. Someone to say those words to me.”

A shooting star raced through the sky, lighting up his eyes. Sethos saw hope and a new spark of life in those mesmerizing eyes of his.

“I know I’m a bratty character and that’ll probably never go away, but I love you. I truly love you, even if I don’t show it at times. And…and I’ll go to the ends of the world for you too.”

Sethos could see the tips of his ears reddening and he inwardly grinned at how cute he was before going in for a quick peck on the cheek.

“Mochi, I love you so much. You are so freakin cute right now. But in all seriousness, I’m happy that you are in my life and I can’t wait to spend all of it with you. My sweet, honey love.”

“Archons, you are going to be the death of me you mushy bee.”

Sethos brought their lips together for a slow and soft kiss. Knocking their foreheads softly together, both of them stared into each other’s eyes, enjoying the moment before pulling away. Sethos was the first to stand up, grinning from ear to ear. Wanderer shook his head in amusement, picking up his hat and setting it atop his head before reaching out towards his lover’s outstretched hand. They started their way back into the city, hand in hand with fingers entwined.

My Honey.

My Bee.

—

Thank you for reading! :) -Perz ~Risus Amoris~

More questions are in the Google Form if you want to provide more feedback. Plus, the question for a potential smut fic. Thank you again for reading and your time :)

Link to Google Form

[shybluebirdninja]

Mood Ring

Summary: You gift Logan a mood ring that hilariously changes colors based on his feelings.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Gf!Reader

Note                : fluff

You had been seeing Logan for a while now, and though he was a rough-and-tumble mutant with a penchant for brooding, he had this soft spot for you that was downright adorable.

So, after a late-night infomercial convinced you that mood rings were the ultimate gift, you couldn't help but pick one up for him. The moment he opened the box, a mix of confusion and curiosity danced across his rugged face.

“Uh, babe, what is this? A fucking ring for teenagers?” he grunted, holding it up like it was a spider.

“Not just any ring, darling,” you replied, your excitement bubbling over. “It changes color based on your mood! Isn’t that cool?”

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over him. “You want me to wear some magic rock that tells you when I’m pissed off?”

“Exactly! It’ll help you communicate your feelings better, so I know when to back off or cuddle you,” you teased.

“Right. ‘Cause nothing says romance like a rainbow finger,” he chuckled, slipping the ring onto his finger. “This thing better not turn red when I’m hungry.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Let’s see what happens.”

As the day went on, the ring switched colors like a disco ball, and you couldn’t help but laugh every time Logan’s mood fluctuated. It was hilarious and adorable watching him try to figure out what the hell each color meant.

Later that night, you found yourselves snuggled up on the couch, flipping through channels. Logan, all muscles and gruffness, suddenly turned to you, his expression shifting to a slight frown. The ring went from a soothing blue to a fiery red.

“Uh-oh, babe, I think your ring is malfunctioning,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “Are you about to claw something up?”

“Yeah, well, I might claw a pizza if you don’t get off that damn remote,” he grunted, making a mock angry face.

“Good to know I’m the real threat here,” you laughed, pretending to shiver in fear.

As the night rolled on, Logan's ring shifted again, this time to a bright green, and you tilted your head, trying to decode what that meant. “What’s with the green? You feelin’ fresh or something?”

“Hell if I know, babe. It’s just a rock,” he said, shrugging, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

“Oh, come on! Green usually means envy! Are you jealous of my snacking skills or something?” you teased, grabbing a handful of chips.

“Yeah, ‘cause you really got that whole ‘master chef’ thing down,” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t let the ring turn yellow; I don’t wanna know if you’re sick.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I’ve got the perfect immune system thanks to all your healing factors rubbing off on me,” you said, grinning. “But yellow… hmm, maybe that means we need to get you a burger.”

He shot you a playful glare, leaning closer. “You just want me to put on some muscle, don’t you?”

“Muscle or not, you’re already my hunky cuddle monster,” you winked, leaning in for a kiss. You loved how he softened when you teased him.

“Cuddle monster, huh?” he murmured, that trademark smirk of his creeping onto his face. “I could get used to that.”

As the night deepened, the ring danced through colors, and you noticed Logan’s expression shift to a more serious tone when it turned a calming blue again.

“Alright, now I’m curious. What’s got you in the blue mood, babe?” you asked, your heart fluttering at the thought that something might be bothering him.

“Just thinking about stuff… you know how it is,” he replied, his voice low, a hint of vulnerability creeping in. “Sometimes I just don’t know if I’m good enough for you.”

You pulled back slightly, surprised by his confession. “What? Are you kidding me? You’re like, the best thing that ever happened to me. This ring is a joke, but you? You’re the real deal.”

“Yeah, well, this ring is saying I’m feeling some kinda blue,” he said, avoiding your gaze, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

“Okay, well, here’s the deal,” you said, your voice firm yet soft. “Whenever that ring turns blue, just remember you’re everything I want. You’re strong, tough, and you make me laugh like no one else.”

He looked at you, the weight of your words settling in, and you could see that wall of uncertainty start to crack. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely, babe. And trust me, that ring can say whatever it wants, but you’re stuck with me. So, don’t sweat it,” you reassured him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Alright then,” he said, cracking a grin. “Just don’t expect me to wear this ridiculous thing forever. My fingers are made for something more badass.”

“Like what? An engagement ring?” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder.

Logan laughed, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Let’s not rush into anything, dear. I’ve got claws, but I’m not ready for that kind of commitment just yet.”

You playfully shoved him back, laughing. “Yeah, but you know I’m already halfway there, right? This ring might just be the start of your colorful future.”

[cozage]

Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Law, and Ace with fem S/O with healing water powers. The catch is that whenever she uses those powers, she feels pain from the wounds she’s healing. And this isn’t a Devil Fruit ability. It’s sorta like water bending from Avatar.

A/N: I really debated on how to lay this one out, but I chose to have them find out about her power. If anyone wants a head canon follow up on how they act now that they know, send me an ask :) I maybe made this a bit too long, but those soft moments with each of these boys are my WEAKNESS. (Law may seem a little OOC but I truly believe that man gets tunnel vision when he sees you in pain)

Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Law, Ace

Cw: blood, pain, injuries, angst, all those fun things. Sanji’s contains slight spoilers for WCI

Total word count: 6.3k

The Pain of Healing

Zoro

Word count: 1.2k

“It’s only five more minutes until my Haki returns.” Luffy says between pants, trying to catch his breath. 

“Then I have five minutes to help you. Sit down.” 

Luffy collapsed onto the ground at your command, and you examined his body as he slept. It didn’t look good. His body was riddled with scrapes, scratches, bruises, and he was bleeding out from his side. Several minor injuries could be more painful than large ones, but Luffy had a mix of both. The best thing to do would be to focus on the large ones first, and if you have energy left, fix the small stuff as well. 

You guided water out of your flask and started with the hole in his side. You were used to the pain that came with healing by now, but it still made you flinch every time you started. You had to grind your teeth together to keep from crying out, not wanting to wake Luffy. He needed rest, and you didn’t want him to see the repercussions of your decision to help heal him anyway. 

After five minutes, you’ve taken all of the major injuries away from his body, and you managed to take a few small ones away from him as well. You wipe the tears from your eyes before you shake him awake. 

“It’s time, Luffy. Wake up.” You put on the biggest fake smile you can muster before his eyes flick open. 

“Aw man, that was the best nap in my entire life! I feel amazing!” You stay seated as he stands up, your body too riddled with pain to move. 

“Go get them, Captain!��� It hurts to even speak, but Luffy’s already up stretching, too hyped up to notice your exhaustion.

“Thanks for whatever you did to make me feel so great! Leave the rest to me!” Luffy calls back, bounding off to finish the fight. 

Once he’s out of sight, you fold your head into your hands and weep. The pain was immeasurable, and every time you helped Luffy recover, you don’t understand how he’s still alive. You sit there for a long time, crying until there are no tears left. And then you hear cheers from the village nearby, signifying Luffy has won and your work paid off. Knowing that you helped him win makes you feel a little better, and you need to see everyone again. 

You stand up, ready to go meet the rest of the crew, but your body seems to disagree with your movement. Your legs shake, and when you go to take a step, you can feel your body collapsing, falling to the ground. You brace for the impact of your worn body against the solid ground, too tired to do anything else.

It doesn’t come, though. Someone catches you as you stumble forward. Strong arms wrap around your back and your legs, scooping you up and pressing you into his bare chest. Zoro. 

“Easy.” His expression is stone as he stares at you, but you can see worry underneath. “You gonna tell me what the hell you just did to Luffy?” 

You avert your eyes from his gaze, running the tip of your finger along the scar on his chest. “I healed him.”

You can feel his body tense with your words. “That didn’t look like healing to me. And since when do you have a Devil fruit power anyway?”

You bite your lip nervously. Nobody had caught you healing someone before. It wasn’t something you flaunted, or even something you told people about. “It’s not a devil fruit power.”

“Woman, if you don’t tell me-” he breaks off mid sentence, and you look around for any sign of danger. But there’s nobody around besides the two of you. You risk a glance up at him, and you see his face is pained as he stares down at you with a form of understanding. “You took his pain from him, didn’t you?”

Your mouth falls open from shock. You’re not sure how Zoro was able to guess something so accurate after seeing your power one time. You nod, confirming his suspicions. “He’s got an incredibly high threshold for pain tolerance.” 

“How are you still alive?” Zoro shakes you a little when he asks the question, which causes you to groan in pain. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be more gentle. Do you want to sit? Stand?”

The thought of being upright makes you dizzy. “Can you just keep holding me for now?”

He nods, and returns to questioning you about your mysterious power instead. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yeah.” It hurt to talk honestly, but you didn’t want to tell Zoro that. 

“How often have you been doing this?”

“Only like three or four times for Luffy, I think.” You're certain it’s been more than that, but you can’t tell Zoro that right now. 

“Three or four times?? For Luffy?” You can feel him trying to figure out the meaning behind your cryptic words. 

“There’s been a few other people I’ve done it for too.”

“Have you done it for me?” He's scowling at you, like he already knows the answer you’re going to give and he's waiting to scold you for it. 

“Maybe once or twice,” you lie, and you feel your cheeks burning. He squints at you, and you know you’ve been caught in the lie. But he says nothing, he just readjusts you in his arms to hold you closer. 

He had been walking for a few minutes, and you had almost fallen asleep. He had managed to keep you mostly still while he walked through the destroyed city, and you were too tired to care if he was lost or not. “It’s a neat power,” he finally comments. “You gonna tell me more about it? Or do I need to keep asking questions?”

“Can I tell you later?” You mumble into his chest. Between the safety of Zoro’s arms, the warmth of the sun on your face, and the exhaustion that’s set in from all that pain, it's hard for you to stay conscious. 

Zoro doesn’t say anything for a few moments, and you struggle to stay awake while you wait for an answer. He was never one for mindless chit chat, but you could tell that something was on his mind, so you decide to indulge him.

“It’s not a devil fruit. I was born with it,” You start, and you feel a heavy weight lift off your shoulders with those few words.  You’re so relieved that you can finally tell someone about your secret now. “I was never supposed to let anyone see it being used. If the World Government knew…” You trail off, thinking of how the Navy would turn you into a weapon. You shutter at the thought, and continue on in your explanation. 

“The power isn’t perfect, though. I feel the pain of whoever or whatever I heal. It’s not permanent, but if it’s too much for my body to handle at the moment, I might die. I’m really not sure, I’ve never tried to heal a fatal wound before.”

Zoro is looking off into the distance with a faraway look in his eye. “Just like Kuma.”

“Who?”

“Back on Thriller Bark we met a Marine named Kuma,” Zoro begins to explain, and you focus all your energy into listening to him. “He took all of Luffy’s pain and told me if we wanted to save Luffy, I had to take his pain upon myself. It was just after his big battle with the warlord Moria, and the pain…” he trailed off, and you knew he was reliving the moment in his mind. 

“Does he know about your sacrifice?” 

Your question brings him back to reality, and he looks down at you. He chuckles at your question, and bends over to kiss your forehead. “Does he know about yours?”

Sanji

Some light spoilers for WCI arc

Word Count: 1.2k

You didn’t realize that your ability was keeping Sanji up at night. 

Anytime he had a cut, or a burn, or any other kind of injury, you waited for him to doze off before you pulled out some water and healed his hands. The injuries were never serious, and after a few times, you barely noticed the pain. 

You didn’t mind, and you knew how much your boyfriend valued his hands. It was your silent act of love to him, something you wanted to give him but could never tell him about. One morning after you healed a bad burn, you found him sitting up in bed, staring at his hands. 

“Is something wrong, Sanji dear?”

The cook was examining his hands thoroughly, flipping them over again and again. “I could’ve sworn I had a burn here yesterday.”

Your cheeks tinted at the thought of being found out. “Oh, well maybe you just have superhuman healing powers!” You laugh it off, trying your best to act natural. 

“Yeah, maybe…” You could tell something was bothering him, but he didn't say anything further. 

You caught him staring at his hands throughout the day, as if he was waiting for a bomb to explode. At dinner you noticed a particularly bad cut on the topside of his hand - a cut he must’ve gotten while chopping vegetables - and you made a note to heal it that night. 

He stayed awake later than usual that night, and he seemed more wound up with anxiety than normal. You peppered his face with a few kisses, trying to get him to relax some. 

“Sanji, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He sighed, pulling you into his chest and laying down to finally get some sleep. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

He fell asleep quickly with you pressed into him. His slow, even breaths signified he was finally unconscious, and you pulled out some water to cover his wound. It stung you a bit as his flesh stitched back together, and you let out a low hiss in pain, and you froze as Sanji stirred slightly in his sleep. This wound was deeper than his normal cuts and burns; he must’ve been really distracted when he hurt himself. He wasn’t usually so careless around knives, but you knew whatever was bothering him would be revealed when he was ready to talk to you about it.  

With his wound healed and Sanji’s breath returning to normal, you curled back into place against him, and fell deep into sleep.

You woke to a string of curses falling out of Sanji’s mouth, his body tight and tense against yours. 

“Hm? Sanji?” You rub the sleep from your eyes and open them to find him staring at his hands again. “Sanji, what’s wrong?”

“That’s impossible,” he mumbled, speaking mostly to himself. He looks panicked, staring down at the place where his cut was yesterday. “That’s not humanly possible.”

You feign innocence as you have in the past, but you can’t ignore the nervous look in his eyes. “What is it, Ji?”

“I had a cut here yesterday. It was deep.” His breathing quickened, and you could see that he was scared for some reason. “It couldn’t have healed overnight. It’s not…It can’t be…”

“I’m sure it’s just-”

“You don’t understand.” He cuts you off mid-sentence, something he’s never done before, and it takes you aback. He gets out of bed abruptly, his eyes never leaving his hand.

“Sanji?”

“I need to go. I need to get out of here.” He’s pacing the room now, his stress overflowing into the space between you. 

“Go where? Sanji, calm down. Talk to me-”

“I can’t be here! I can’t endanger you! Or anyone else, for that matter!” His face is contorted with such pain you’ve never seen before. You don’t know what’s going on with your boyfriend, but his reaction to such a small cut is starting to scare you.

You jump out of bed and stride over to him. When you reach him, you clasp his face between your hands, forcing his eyes away from his hands and up to your eyes. His eyes are wide with pure fear, and his breathing is rapid and shallow. You can feel his body shaking as you hold him. 

“Sanji.” You push down your own fear and speak to him in a soothing tone, trying to bring him back to you. “Talk to me.”

“I’m a monster, Y/N.” Tears fill his eyes, threatening to spill out as he speaks. “If my body is regenerating like this…I’m a threat to you all.”

“You’re not,” You whisper. “You’re not a monster, Sanji.” You stand on your tiptoes to try and kiss the space between his eyes, but he pulls away from you.

“You don’t know.” He backs away from you, fear returning to his eyes again. “I am a monster. And now that I’m-”

It’s your turn to cut him off now. “I healed you, Sanji.”

His brows furled in confusion, but his eyes looked less panicked now. “Wha..?”

“I have this power,” you explain. You walk back to the bedside table, gathering some water from a cup and suspending it in the air. “I can heal people with water. I’ve been healing your small injuries for a while now. I wanted to make your life easier, I swear. I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just…I wanted to help.”

You see him relax the more you explain your powers, which was not the reaction you were expecting. He watches you move the water through the air, and tears finally flow from his eyes. 

“Y/N-chan,” he sobs, running over to you, embracing you in a hug. He’s holding you tight, smothering you into his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why did you hide it?”

Your face burns against him, embarrassed that you had kept it from him for so long. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, and I knew you wouldn’t want me hurting myself for you, but-”

“Hang on.” He pulls back from you, peering down at your face with a frown of concern. “You’re being hurt?”

“Just when I heal people,” you rush to explain, seeing his frown deepen. “I just feel the pain of the injuries I’m healing, it’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he corrects, staring at you disapprovingly. “Promise me you won’t do it anymore.”

“Sanji-”

“Promise, Y/N.”

“No! Let me do this for you!” You’re pouting now, but you know Sanji won’t cave on this matter. You know he can’t let you hurt yourself at his expense. 

“I appreciate that you want to help,” he says sternly. You can hear the love in his voice as he speaks, and you know you’ll have to agree to his request.  “But there are other ways for you to help me without hurting yourself. Please-”

“Fine. Promise.” You give him a fake pout, but when he pulls you back into his chest and holds you tightly, you melt into him. “Are you sure you’re okay, Ji? You seemed scared earlier.”

“I’m fine, really.” He rests his chin on the top of your head, drawing in a long breath before he says more. “I just thought my past was coming back to haunt me again, that’s all.”

You all stand there for a long while, just enjoying eachothers closeness. You only break apart when you hear Luffy screaming for breakfast, and you give him one last kiss on each of his hands before you let him go. 

Luffy

Word Count: 1.1k

“Stay still, idiot.” You held Luffy down, looking at his wound in his foot. 

“I can’t! It hurrrtttssss!” 

“That’s what you get for wearing sandals in the jungle!” You could tell from the way the stick speared through his foot, Luffy wouldn’t be able to walk easily, and you still had another half mile before you made it back to the ship. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to heal people while they were conscious, but this was Luffy. He was the love of your life, and the Strawhats were your only family. If you couldn’t trust them, you deserved to be locked up anyway. 

You sighed, pulling water out of your flask in soft, flowing movements. Luffy was still writhing in pain on the ground, overdramatic in his reaction to his current impalement. It was possible that you might be able to heal him without him even realizing it. 

You surrounded his foot with an orb of water, and imagined the wound being stitched together, just like your mother had taught you. You saw his rubbery skin begin to mend together, and braced yourself for what came next. 

Your grip on Luffy’s ankle tightened when the pain came. It was sharp and fast, and it took the breath out of your lungs. You squeezed your eyes shut, but kept your focus on the wound and the pain that came with it. 

“Wooooahhhh!” You could hear Luffy’s sigh of amazement, and you knew he had caught you healing his wound. “That’s so cool! The hole is just closing up!!”

You didn’t speak, afraid that your voice would betray you. The last thing you wanted Luffy to know was that you were in pain because of the healing process. You could hear him freaking out about how cool it was that his injury was healing before his own eyes, but you did your best to ignore him and focus on the healing process. You kept your eyes closed the entire time, using the level of pain to guide how much longer you had to fix his injury. Finally, the pain dulled, and then disappeared. You dropped his foot and opened your eyes again, trying to ignore the lingering effects that your body was dealing with. 

Luffy was examining his foot closely, looking at it from all angles to see if there was any damage. He stood up, putting all of his weight back on his foot, and jumped up and down a few times. 

“It’s like brand new!” He shouted with glee. He came over to you and wrapped you in a hug. “You’re the best, Y/N!”

--

Over the next few weeks, Luffy offered up your services to others throughout the ship. You knew that Luffy was incapable of keeping secrets, and you had never explicitly asked him to keep that information to himself. You never minded healing your family though, and the injuries were always minor. Luffy sent Ussop to you when he got a burn on his hand, and Franky when he got a bad cut on his face. Chopper sent Zoro when he had a sprained wrist. It wasn’t until Nami came to you with a nasty cut on her shoulder that the secret of your healing was revealed. 

You smiled when she asked, and pulled water out to start the healing process. You coated the wound in a bubble of water, and clenched your jaw to prepare for the worst. 

You were aware of Nami’s eyes watching you. Everyone else watched their own wound magically heal, but her eyes remained on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort on your end. You had a feeling that she was suspicious of your powers already. She had been the most interested member of the crew from the start, asking about the stipulations and origins of your power from the moment she had found out about it. 

You kept your eyes on the gash, trying your best to mentally steel yourself for the pain that would come. You knew it wouldn’t be easy to hide the pain, but you were determined to make it look natural. When the feeling of pain ripped through your shoulder to match her wound, you gritted your teeth and kept your smile, but you could feel your muscles involuntarily twitch. 

If Nami noticed, she said nothing. When you finished, you looked back up at her and let out a shaky breath, smiling. She eyed you suspiciously, but thanked you politely and left you alone. Once the door swung shut, you collapsed back onto the couch you were on, desperately needing a nap after that performance. 

--

Luffy was awoken by a smack on the head. 

“What?” He asked groggily. “Are we at the next island?”

“Are you some kind of sadist,” the tangerine-haired girl scolded, shaking her finger at him. “Or are you just a moron?”

“What are you talking about, Nami?”

Nami rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, staring daggers down at Luffy. “Y/N’s power.”

Luffy rubbed his head, wondering if you could fix headaches. “What about it?”

“She feels pain when she heals people, you idiot. She probably feels whatever pain she’s healing.”

Luffy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that she just healed my shoulder. And she was in some serious pain while she was doing it. She hides it well, but I could tell she was hurting.”

Luffy bit his lip, trying to think back to when you had healed him in the forest. But he had been so amazed at watching his own wound heal, he hadn’t noticed your reaction while you were doing it. 

“She seemed kind of tired after mine, but that’s it. I felt great though, so I carried her back to the ship!”

“So you are just a moron!” Nami punched him again. “No more free healing! Stop taking advantage of her!”

--

You woke up from your nap to rubber arms wrapped around you and Luffy’s round eyes staring at you intensely.

“Good morning,” you groan, trying to pull away from him to stretch. 

He let you go enough to stretch out, but kept a tight grip on you. “Does it hurt?”

You freeze mid-stretch, silently cursing Nami for her hyper awareness. “It just makes me tired.”

“You’re lying.” He knows you so well. You move your fingers up to his hair, twirling his locks around your index finger.

“Yeah,” you sigh the word out. You’re painfully aware of his gaze, transfixed on your face.

 “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because Luffy, it’s not that bad.” Your eyes move back to his finally, and you can see the hurt and confusion that is held within them. “And I like doing what I can to help my family.”

He nods, accepting that answer, and snuggles up into your chest, holding you tightly against him. You let him lay there for a while, twirling his soft strands of hair around in your fingers. There are few quiet moments between you and Luffy, and you cherish every moment you can get like this.

“Nami said no more free healings, by the way.”

You laugh and give his forehead a quick kiss. “Guess I’ll have to charge you double.”

Law

Word Count: 1.2k

“Fuck.”

Law’s breath was ragged as you pressed into his stomach wound. Blood coated your hands as you tried to stop the bleeding, but it didn’t seem to be working very well. 

“I just need to...” Law coughed, and you could see red staining his lips. A small blue orb began to form in his palm, but it flickered out quickly. He was too weak to use his devil fruit powers.

“Fuck.” You repeated. There was only one thing you could do now. It meant exposing your secret and showing your captain your biggest weakness, but you’d do anything to save him. 

You pulled away from his wound, and let your hands guide water from your flask, maneuvering it through the air. “Don’t freak out,” you say, and you cover the wound in water. You let it sit for a moment, and then begin imagining the wound healing. 

It started as a dull, throbbing pain in your stomach. You began to think you were getting used to the pain, but then it began to grow, turning sharp and stabbing. You flinched at the sudden change in pain, but held your focus. 

Law watched you work for a few moments with wide eyes, unsure what was happening or what he could do. You wanted to scream from the pain that was growing rapidly, but you held your tongue, hoping he didn’t notice your facial expressions contorting into pain. Tears filled your eyes, and you finally felt Law move into action, his hand gripping around your wrists. 

“Stop,” he demanded, trying to push your arms away from his wound. You ignore his demand, keeping your arms locked against him, continuing the healing process at your expense. 

“Stop! Y/N-ya, Stop it!” His voice rose in pitch, and you could tell he sensed your pain. His efforts to push you away are getting stronger, proof that his energy is returning to him. You feel relieved in the fact that he is healing, even if it is exhausting you in the process. 

He finally succeeds in pushing you off him, and you fall backwards to the ground and lay there, dazed and stunned from your work. He quickly straddles you and pins your arms to the ground to ensure you’ve fully stopped whatever you had started doing to him. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Law stares down at you, angry and scared of what you’ve done. 

You know his rage is out of fear, and you give him a small smile, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “You okay now?”

He stares at you, baffled at your question. He has energy now, and his wound in his stomach is almost completely healed. He knows it’s due to you, but he doesn’t know how you’ve managed to heal him so quickly. Fear. Betrayal. Anger. So many emotions run through him all at once. He has so many questions that he doesn’t know where to start. 

He tightens his grip around your wrists, keeping you pinned down. “Explain.”

“It’s a power I was born with,” you say, closing your heavy eyes. “I can heal other people’s injuries through water.”

Law watches you carefully, certain that you’re hiding something. He squeezes your wrists tighter until you finally open your eyes again, looking anywhere but at him. 

You can’t make eye contact with him or you know you’ll tell him everything. You can’t afford for him to know your secret, it was bad enough that he knew this much. 

“You were in pain.” He says it as a statement, not a question.

You squirm from underneath him, trying to get free, but his grip doesn’t let up. He’s determined to get to the bottom of what you just did. He needs to protect you. He needs to keep you safe from all harm, even if that means protecting you from yourself. 

“Let go.” You say, still trying to get free. His grip is starting to become painful, and you try to pull your arms away from him again. “You’re hurting me, Law. Let go.”

His eyes stare down at you, unmoving from his current position. The more you squirm, the tighter his grip gets, and you know he won’t let go until he has an answer. “Y/n-ya, why were you in pain?”

“It’s a side effect!” You cry out in frustration, finally giving in. You suspect he knew the moment he saw it. “I feel the person’s pain as I heal them.”

In his shock, Law’s hands loosen their grip, and you finally pull free from him. You try to turn away from him, but he’s still sitting on your stomach, and you don’t have enough energy to push him off. You rub at your wrists, trying to get the sting from his grip out of your body.

Law is frozen, staring down at you with wide eyes. He grits his teeth, watching you massage your wrists. “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for your hands again, more gentle this time. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

You let him grab one of your hands, and he begins massaging your wrists gently, whispering apologies to you. You close your eyes and try to forget that you’ve broken your number one rule about your power: telling other people. You focus on his wrist massage for a while, his own way to apologize for his outburst.

“Y/n-ya?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you save me?”

You sigh, opening your eyes again. This time, you meet his gold eyes, radiant against the sunlight. “You never want anyone to save you, Captain.”

“It’s my job as a ca-”

“I saved you because I love you, you idiot.”

You can see Law’s eyes twitch in surprise; his hands freeze against your wrist. 

“You don’t get to decide what sacrifices I make for you,” you continue. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do to save you. That’s my decision. You’ve made many sacrifices for me, some extremely painful ones. Remember the incident at Low Sand Creek?”

Law doesn’t respond, but he slowly starts to massage your wrists again, which you take as a sign to keep talking. 

“I don’t get to criticize your decisions on sacrifice. And you don’t get to criticize mine either. I love you, and I know you love me. Do I want you to risk your life for me? No. But that’s just something I have to live with. And so do you. Okay?”

Your captain says nothing, and you can tell he’s sulking over your lecture. It wasn’t uncommon for you to have to do this with him. Law was one of the smartest people you knew, but relationships weren’t really his strong suit. It resulted in you having to do a lot of explaining and voicing your needs.

“Law, do you understand?” You insist, needing to stand your ground. He had a tendency of not responding when he didn’t agree with something.  

He huffs out an irritated breath. “Okay.”

You scrunch your face at him, shooting him a semi-fake glare. 

“I understand, okay?!”

You twisted your hand to intertwine with his, and grabbed his other hand with your free one so that both of his hands were now holding each of yours. You locked eyes with him, and you could see there was something else there, something that was bothering him. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

He was quiet for a moment, as if he were working up the courage to admit whatever he was feeling. His eyes moved away from your gaze and focused on one of his hands instead, still intertwined with yours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice comes out slightly choked, and you realize that you had forgotten to explain the most important part to him. 

Your cheeks redden, embarrassed at your oversight. His eyes snapped back to yours, and now it was your turn to avoid eye contact.  

“It’s… I was told to never tell anyone about it. Or let someone else see it.”

You can feel him staring at you, his eyes willing you to look at him, but you refuse. He waits patiently, and you know he’s asking you a silent question: Don’t you trust me?

“I trust you, I just…” Neither you or Law had really talked about your past much. You preferred to live for the now, for the future. The past was just too painful to think about. “People died protecting that secret. I didn’t want to add more names to that list.”

Law gave a dark chuckle at your response. “And after all that preaching about not deciding who gets to make sacrifices.”

Now it’s your turn to sulk. “That is not-“

He cuts you off, pulling you up to meet him, and his lips collide with yours. 

He pulls back briefly, basking in your beauty. “No more secrets. Promise?”

“Promise.” 

Ace

Word Count: 1.5k

Ace wasn’t used to being hit, and when someone made contact with him, it hurt. He grimaced as he limped from battle, blood dripping down his leg from the giant puncture wound in his thigh. You had your arm around him, helping him run, but his injury was slowing you both down, and the enemy was closing in quickly.

“Sit,” you commanded. “Let me help.”

“I just need to get back to Marco, he can help.” His breathing was labored, and you knew he was expending too much energy just speaking to you. 

“I can heal too.” You helped him sit down, and you could feel his eyes staring at you, trying to understand your cryptic words. You chose to ignore him for now, and examined the wound. It was deep, but manageable. You braced yourself, and summoned some water out of your flask, covered his wound, and focused on stitching it back together. 

Pain ripped through you, and you had to bite your lip to keep yourself focused. It wasn’t the worst pain you had felt, but the wound was deeper than you had initially thought, and you could feel your muscles tearing apart, just like Ace’s had when he was cut. You knew that it was just a phantom pain, no actual bodily harm was being done to you, but it was still pain nonetheless. 

You could feel tears pooling at the corner of your eyes, but you refused to stop until the job was done. You watched his muscle stitch back together, and when it was finally completely healed, you sat back and closed your eyes, exhausted and riddled with aches. 

When you opened your eyes again, you could see Ace in front of you, you could feel him shaking you violently. He was screaming something, but you couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying over the loud ringing in your ears. Slowly, your hearing returned, and you realized he was screaming your name. 

“Ace.” Your words were slow. You were still trying to come out of the fog of pain that always came with healing. “Stop shaking me.”

He finally stopped, but his hands were still tightly gripping your shoulders. He was staring at you in terror, fear spread across his face. 

“What were you doing?” His voice was loud and piercing, causing you to flinch. “How did you…What do…Where did…” He struggled to find the right words, and you stared at him with still-glazed eyes while he tried to form a sentence. You were struggling to refocus after the pain, and were thankful that Ace was tongue-tied for the moment. 

Ace took a breath, finally able to form a sentence. “I didn’t know you had a devil fruit power.”

“I don’t.” Normally you let people believe whatever they wanted in order to guard your secret, but this was Ace. If you couldn’t trust him, you couldn’t trust anyone. “It’s just an ability I was born with. I can heal people with water.”

Ace’s facial expressions had always been easy to read. Even in your dazed state, you watched as his concern turned to shock and then to confusion. You waited for the inevitable question to come, and it did. “If you’ve had this power, why haven’t you used it more often?” 

“I…” you hesitate. You didn’t want to tell him the weakness of your ability. Not because you didn’t trust him, but because you did. You knew that if Ace discovered the trade off of your powers, he would never want you to suffer for him or anyone else. 

You had told Marco about your power when you joined the crew, and the doctor had forbid you using your ability except in dire circumstances. Marco trusted you to make judgment calls on what you could handle, but you didn’t think Ace would feel the same way. 

You could hear the enemy's battle cries getting closer, and you take the opportunity to avoid the question. “Let’s go. We need to get back to the ship.”

Ace stands, and you follow to do the same. You take a bit longer to get to your feet, still light-headed from the trade off of healing Ace. His attention has shifted to the enemy pursuing you now, and thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice your sluggish movements. 

Ace’s fist becomes engulfed with flames, and he stands between the enemy and you. “Go back to the ship, I’ll hold them off.” 

“Idiot! That’s what got us here in the first place!” 

“Yeah,” He smirked back at you like the devilish fiend you knew he was. “But this time I won’t lose.”

You can feel your knees start to go weak, but you’re not sure if it’s from exhaustion or from the man in front of you. You hate to leave him, but you know you’ll only be a liability in this fight. With Ace’s energy replenished and the ability to fight in an open space, he’d finish off the enemy easily now. 

“You better not die.” Your words hang in the air, and you take off towards the Moby Dick. 

As soon as you got aboard the ship, you went straight to your room. You didn’t bother giving a report. Ace would do that when he returned. Sleep was what you needed now. 

—

You woke with arms wrapped around you tightly, and the warm body of Portgas D. Ace pressed against your back. You weren’t sure how long you had slept, but there was no longer any light coming in through the porthole in your room. You shifted, trying to get out of Ace’s grasp without waking up, but his strong arms tightened against you when you moved, keeping you close to him. 

For a long while you laid in the silence, unsure if Ace was asleep or awake. He wasn’t snoring like he normally did when he was asleep and he refused to let you move away from his grasp, but his breaths were even and he didn’t speak to you. You didn’t mind the quiet, your body was still exhausted from the fighting and the pain of healing today, and Ace’s warmth was almost therapeutic against your tired body.

“Your healing…” Ace's voice finally breaks the silence, making you tense from surprise. His voice was low and quiet in your ear. “It hurts you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

You can hear the sadness in his voice, and you know that he’s figured it out. Whether he solved it on his own or if Marco told him, it didn’t matter now. You’ve always been a bad liar, and you could never bring yourself to lie to Ace anyway.

He squeezed you tighter, pulling you closer to him. There was another long pause, and you let him hold you while he processed everything. 

“How bad is it?” His voice is level, but you can hear it beginning to grow thick with tears. 

“It depends on what I heal. I just feel the pain of the injury.”

His forehead presses into the crook of your neck, and his breath becomes shallow and ragged. You can feel his emotions coursing through him, and all you want to do is comfort him. You squirm, trying to flip over so you see his face while you talk, but his iron tight grip refuses to let you move. 

“Ace,” you speak gently, your hands pulling at his arms, and his grip loosens just enough for you to turn over onto your other side. You’re laying face to face with him now, but his eyes are squeezed shut. His freckled cheeks are wet with tears, and your heart constricts seeing his sadness. 

You press your forehead against his, and use your free hand to brush some of his hair away from his face. You continue softly sweeping your fingers through his hair, soothing him as you speak. “It’s not so bad, Ace. But that's why I don’t use it very often.”

His eyes are still closed, but you feel his hands ball into fists against your back, gathering the fabric of your shirt in them.

“Why did you use it to save me then?” His voice comes out more of a demand than a question. It’s harsh, and you know he’s angry. Maybe at you, maybe at himself, probably both. His question makes you freeze, your fingers still entangled in his strands of hair. 

You feel a slight prick of irritation at his question. You pull your head back and tilt his face up to look you in the eyes, but they’re still tightly shut. “Look at me,” you demand, your tone matching his from a moment ago. You feel him stiffen slightly at the intensity of your words, but his dark eyes open to meet your own. 

Your hands find his cheeks, cupping his face, and you press your forehead back into his. Your eyes never leave his, and you can feel his grip against your back finally start to soften as he focuses on you instead of what you’ve done. 

“I did it.” You pause for a moment, still staring at him. God, he was so stupid. You swipe your thumb across his freckles, wiping the tears from his sad, sweet eyes. “Because you deserve to be saved.”