#tree company long island

[charliemwrites]

Part 1

Finally finished this! I think I put way too much pressure on myself to get this just right and it gave me some major writer's block. Anyway, please enjoy!

Content: Wet dreams, Somnophilia (sort of), Identity Porn, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy (through dreams), Uncomfortable Situation, Pushy/Predatory behavior (brief)

“Bad dreams again?”

Drowsy and sluggish, you blink at your aunt. She’s as sleek and coiffed as always, pressed business attire and shiny hair. Shoulders back, spine straight. A woman people respect and heed without question.

Your mother’s voice whispers in your ear, that lovingly patronizing tone. See how professional she looks, dear? Isn’t that nice?

It’s not Aunt Katie’s fault though. She does look professional, and it is nice. It suits her.

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “They’re not bad, really. Just… intense.”

She hums, elegant fingers tracing the edge of your borrowed desk. “They can’t be very good if they’re keeping you up.”

You’re tired enough that you almost correct her a second time. The problem is that the dreams are too good. You wake up panting, sweating, halfway to – well. You’re not about to discuss the finer points of a kinky wet dream with your CIA aunt. Besides, it’s silly to get so defensive of something that affects you seemingly negatively.

“Maybe,” you reply, rubbing at your heavy eyes. It feels like you’re trying to look through clear jelly.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Aunt Kate suggests.

You frown, a pang of guilt striking your empty tummy. “No… no, I’m okay. It’s not even lunch yet.”

She smiles at you. The same fond smile she’s always graced you with, on holidays and birthdays, whenever she could escape the secretive walls and red tape to be with family.

“You’re already ahead on paperwork. You’re not a bad employee for getting a little sun.”

Your eyes flick longingly to the door.

Apparently, the government doesn’t believe in things like windows or sunlight. Your little desk is at the very end of a long, half-empty hallway in the middle of a concrete cube and drowning in awful blue fluorescence. You can’t even bring yourself to drag a plant to this crappy little island because you’d feel too guilty putting it through this.

“Okay… maybe just for a few minutes,” you allow.

Her smile widens as she nods for you to follow. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. I think the dogs will be free for some enrichment.”

Well, that certainly gets you out of your squeaky office chair.

Honey sunlight drizzles over your neck and shoulders, dripping syrupy-slow down your spine. It diffuses through your chest, chasing away the artificial chill of the office. The sleepy haze retreats like frost melting from glass.

You sigh into the fresh air, ignoring the tang of gunpowder lingering on the breeze, and turn your face to the sun. Summer is coming to an end, the heat broken into mellower warmth. There won’t be many days like this left before autumn bites down and shakes the leaves from the trees. A shame you’ll likely waste most of them in your administrative prison. 

The dogs stretch out in the grass around you, tongues lolling and eyes bright, keeping you company. A furry bouquet of black and tan in the manicured grass, their ears and tails like stalks to strange plants.

You bury your fingers in Zeus’s coat and get a fuzzy white tummy for your efforts. He’s a young and handsome thing, the newest addition to the K-9 unit, still a bit fluffy around the ears. You try not to think of how that will fade and harden, just like the older dogs in the unit, just like his human counterparts. Just scratch at that itchy spot by his ribs and smile when his hindleg kicks.

Friga stands and stretches on your right side, leaning her shoulder into yours. Then picks her way around the others to sniff at Zeus. Offended by her interruption, he flails onto his stomach and nips at her, one big forepaw thumping the ground.

She goads him into playtime, and you watch with the older pack members as they begin to romp. They tumble and grumble around you, heedless of bumping into any of the others. You laugh, bright and loud—

The back of your neck tingles.

You glance around, not even sure why. Until you see a figure across the field. He’s standing by the track where about two dozen men are jogging. Recruits, you guess. But he’s not observing them or barking orders. No, he’s clearly turned to face you. It’s too far to make out any features, apart from what seems to be an unusual haircut.

You quickly glance away, surreptitiously trying to determine if the man’s attention was on something else that happened to be in your direction. But there’s little else but you and the dogs in this field, the kennels noticeably off to the left.

Then again, someone sitting in the grass with half the K-9 unit is a bit unusual. He’s probably trying to decide if it’s something that needs investigation. You hope it’s not.

Still, you can’t shake the discomfiting sense that he’s looking at you.

You ignore him until it’s time for the dogs to go back - but that prickly feeling of being watched never subsides.

That night, in the guest room of your aunts’ house, the dreams take on new life.

It starts as it always does. A dark room. A lush bed. Silky sheets. Moonlight seeping through blinds like smoke. And him.

He’s behind you. A broad body so solid you’d think he was a wall if not for the heat. It’s so intense this time, like a wildfire raging out of control, crawling from his skin beneath yours. You sense more than feel the big hand around your jaw. Rough fingers clutch at the plush of your thigh. Hot breath fans across the back of your neck, rippling shivers down your spine.

There’s a voice in your ear. No words you can discern, just a thunder-deep rumble with smoky edges. Stubble scrapes the delicate skin of your neck and catches in your hair.

A thick, heavy cock is buried deep inside you, kissing the entrance to your womb. Your pussy twinges a sweet-sharp ache with each deliberate grind of his hips. He’s spreading you open to get as deep as he can, throbbing balls pressed up tight to your sopping entrance.

Your own hands are all but useless. One twists desperately in the sheets, the other clutches at the meaty swell of his ass. Pleasure upends anything like sense or thought, even hazy dream logic. There is just this man fucking you like he owns you, two of his fingers in your drooling mouth, petting your tongue. A ring clicks against your teeth.

“Found you,” he whispers.

You jolt, eyes flying open. The powder blue ceiling of your borrowed room greets you. You’ve kicked the cotton sheets into a tangled mess around your ankles, tiny shirt ridden up your chest. Your panties are soaked.

The taste of metal lingers behind your incisors.

It’s a busy day. For once, you’re free from the confines of your sad little nook. Aunt Kate must have taken pity on your sorry state the day before and has procured busy work. Files that need hand delivery, or physical reports for you to gather. You don’t care if it’s just something to get you out of the office, you relish the stolen moments outside between buildings.

If there’s a downside, it’s the glances you attract. Everything about you projects civilian, despite the access card prominently pinned to the lapel of your blazer. It draws curious once-overs at best and suspicious scans at worst – or speculative appreciation at the very worst. Every time a fresh-faced recruit or overly decorated middle-aged man lingers as you pass, you hear your mother’s voice again.

Don’t you know what those military men are like? Practically animals. I couldn’t possibly let you be exposed to them.

It’s long ingrained to keep your eyes forward, head level, and try to keep your hips from swaying as much as possible. You’re grateful for whatever bit of paperwork you can clutch to your chest, just to hide your figure and have something to do with your hands.

You’re picking up some personnel files from the infirmary, smile brightly at the receptionist as she passes them over. Mallory is only a couple years older than you, and she’s been working here a year already.

“Lunch in the mess today?” she asks, spinning a pen between her fingers.

“As if you even need to ask,” you tease. “Noon?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

She blows you a kiss as you leave, counting the number of files to be sure you have them all. Your eyes skim over one of the names, a white label on the folder fin. “MacTavish, J.” in blocky typewriter font. You shuffle them back into a neat stack and pivot for Aunt Kate’s office.

You’re not in the moonlit bedroom this time. A half-moon grins down from a starry sky, wearing smoky nebulas for lipstick. Beneath you lays cool grass and soft earth, rich and loamy in your heaving lungs. Petals blooming in the dark kiss your overheated skin, little relief for the burn in your veins.

The change in scenery is almost as dizzying as the man between your thighs. Almost.

But it’s not the dew-saturated breeze that muddles your bewildered thoughts. It’s the hot, wet, clever tongue lavishing your drenched pussy. He licks in broad stripes from your aching hole to your throbbing clit, only ever pausing to indulge a slow suck to the bundle of nerves, before resuming that hypnotic circuit.

One thigh is hooked over a wide shoulder, your heel dug into the flexing muscles of a broad back. The other is spread by a big, calloused hand, giving him unfettered access to the softest, neediest parts of you.

You mewl desperately, hand darting down to his bobbing head. Your nails scrape shorn stubble, eliciting a gravelly groan that sends electricity up your tingling spine. It’s nothing compared to the growl you earn when your fingers twist into the longer, soft strands at the top.

For the first time, you’re able to voice more than helpless moans and wanton whimpers.

“Please,” you sob softly, “please.”

You feel him smirking, a wicked curl against your fluttering cunt. Then he focuses the tip of that awful, dexterous tongue on your clit, flicking in purposeful little strokes.

M-A-

“S-so close,” you whine, hips twitching. He pins you flat, pace never faltering.

V-I-

You shudder as your pussy clenches and spasms, finally, finally—

You wake with a sharp sound, head spinning. Your orgasm washes away like the tide, leaving disappointment and exhaustion behind. You nearly scream into your pillow as you press your thighs together. Still half asleep, it even feels like you have beard-burn.

You’re in line at the mess with Mallory, listening to her complain about some rude colonel that just had to share his opinion about her acrylics. She does the best impressions, and you’re grinning and laughing as the two of you shuffle through the options. You’re reaching for a scoop of rice when the conversation behind you catches your attention.

“—came in a couple days ago.”

“The whole squad?”

“With Braveheart himself.”

A snort. “You better not let MacTavish hear you say that. He’ll—”

“Helloooo?” You blink at Mallory, who arches her brows and waves a bagel at you. “Want one?”

“Oh, uh… sure, why not,” you answer.

“Atta girl!” she cheers, tossing it in the toaster. “Carbs for days.”

You giggle but can’t help glancing behind you. The two men have already moved on though. Not that it was any of your business – or anything interesting. You’re not sure why that caught your attention. Men are just loud, you suppose, snatching a couple to-go packets of cream cheese.

As you’re leaving the mess, you happen to glance over your shoulder. A pair of sharp blue eyes catch yours from one of the tables. A group of men, just about to sit. Mallory tugs your shirt to keep you from clipping the doorjamb and you hurry after her.

There’s heat at your back. Not from a body this time, but a fire burning low and hot in a hearth. No, the body is in front of you this time, filling up your watery field of vision. Peachy skin and coarse dark hair, an old scar slashing across a sharp hip, miles of lean muscle.

Not that you have much opportunity to ogle with tears blurring your sight. The fat cock bullying the back of your throat makes it hard to do anything but choke. You dig your nails into a thick thigh and pull back, writhing your tongue along a puffy vein as you go. The leaking head rests on your drenched tongue as you catch your breath. Smoke and leather and musk saturate your lungs, cloud your empty head.

He smells so good; you don’t even like cigars.

A rough thumb caresses your cheek, a silent request for you to continue. You can practically feel the lust-drunk moans vibrating in his chest – so deep, they’re barely audible over the crackling fire.

You hiccup as deep a breath as you can manage and swallow him down again. He’s silky on your tongue, you sigh softly through your nose as the blunt head flirts with your gag reflex. You slacken your jaw despite the ache already crawling into the joint. Even then, your teeth scrape the base a bit, but that only makes him twitch against your soft palate.

“Look here, love.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to focus your gaze, scrolling your eyes up his body. Most of the details are lost either in the haze of desire or the vagary of dreams, but the blue eyes that greet you are sharper than real life.

You jolt back to consciousness with a dry cough, the scent of him still haunting your senses. You stumble to the restroom for water. Don’t even realize that you’re glancing in the mirror over your shoulder, expecting someone to be there, until you realize you’re alone.

Oddly bereft, you trudge back to bed and try to focus on the clean soap smell of your aunts’ detergent.

In moments like this, it’s hard not to blame yourself.

Not because you’ve done anything wrong, or even feel like you have. It’s because the situation is so frustratingly out of your control that it’s almost easier to tell yourself that one decision or another would have avoided this outcome. A sharper response, a frown instead of a smile, a different walking route.

(There’s also your mother’s voice, always. Saying to be smart, to pay attention, to not “put yourself” in a vulnerable position. You silence that voice viciously this time.)

Still, the fact of the matter is, there’s no personal choice you could have made to keep Corporal Callahan from cornering you in this supply closet. You just wanted a box of tissues.

“Look, I know you’re Agent Laswell’s niece, but I don’t see why we can’t go out because of it,” he reasons. As if that’s the reason you’ve been trying to gently dissuade his attempts.

“It’s not that—” you begin, shifting. He’s standing too close, but you refuse to back yourself any deeper into this tiny space. The doorway is right there, he’s just taking up all of it.

“Then just say yes,” he chuckles. His tone is all smooth and easy, meant to be charming maybe? “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking.”

Except you’re not asking, you think with helpless frustration. The sharp words get trapped behind your teeth, cutting up the roof of your mouth. Your heart is beating so hard and loud you can barely hear his “romantic” overtures.

“I’m not really…” You’re not even sure what to say this time; you’ve already told him you’re not looking to date. He’d said some vaguely predatory line about changing your mind.

In the absence of a finished statement, Callahan takes the opportunity to continue cajoling.

“C’mon,” he sing-songs, “I’m not letting you out of there until you say yes.”

You pry your jaw open, about to agree to it just for the sake of getting free. Deal with the fallout later.

There’s a rush of air and suddenly the doorway is empty. You briefly see Callahan against the opposite wall, face blank in unpleasant surprise. Then a big body blocks your view of him. Broad, bunched shoulders and thick thighs. A shock of brunet hair shaved close at the sides and long at the top. Your entire body locks up.

“You come near her again, they won’ stop findin’ pieces of ya, aye?” A growl, low and rough, Scottish accent thick. You shiver.

Callahan stutters something, a few garbled syllables through a strained and winded voice. You think you might hear “captain” in there somewhere. The bigger man shifts, you hear a muffled thump – Callahan hitting the wall again, you think. Then, with seemingly no effort, your savior tosses Callahan to the side like trash. He stumbles, catches himself.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid.”

Callahan flicks one last frightened glance your way then hurries off, proverbial tail tucked between his scrawny legs. You don’t even watch him go, eyes glued to the stranger’s muscular back. He rolls his wide shoulders, cracks his neck, and finally turns.

Familiar blue eyes pin you in place as he steps closer. The scent of cigar smoke and leather teases your nose.

A voice you’ve known for months rumbles in his chest. “Found you.”

Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .

# with roronoa zoro.

when one labored feelings for another, there were a few ways to proceed. to zoro, coaxing you into an aphrodisiac mist was not the worst of ideas.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day twelve. smut (mdni!). aphrodisiacs. corruption kink. edging. virginity!loss. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

he could not quite pinpoint the exact moment in which the trees began to mingle, a mortar of wood, frail vines and leaves that gave him no indication of where he was headed whatsoever. deserted, forest-like islands were not as common in the new world as they were on the grand line, so one for sure could expect the appearance of, at least, ancient beasts and odd plants. venture by oneself was far from the wisest decision, yet it hadn’t been one zoro thought much about beforehand. the perv-cook offered — rather insisted — to be your escort, professing love-coated compliments and promising to be your ever-so-diligent knight. zoro turned on his back and strived towards the first direction he faced right thereafter, lacking the self-restraint not to snap then and there.

that had been twelve hours prior.

according to the witch, the log-pose would take three days to settle their next route. without a closer deadline, zoro doubted they would waste time searching for him — not when that land offered fruits and herbs for re-stocking, as well as served as a hunting ground for their captain. he could handle himself well-enough for the time being, a half-burnt rabbit fed him just as much as those fancy meals the cook prepared and his swords could slice an opponent within the second. he grew quite used to a lonesome state of life, yet the crew undid that decade-crafted tendency, and those wandering hours without company had him quite melancholic.

zoro itched for you, and failed to contain the tendon of jealousy that wrapped itself around his heart. where were you; why haven’t you searched for him? perhaps the cook had you far more entertained than anticipated. the thought had him slicing the large trunk of a tree in four pieces, sheathing wado with a harshness uncommon to the usual treatment he spared to his swords. yet again, not his brightest idea, for he, too, seemed to have sliced an odd plant.

zoro’s nostrils were filled with spores, burning his throat and bringing tears to his eyes. he cursed, trembling fingers wrapped around the wild pulse of his wrist. his flesh grew scalding, sweat trailing down the muscles of his back. he half-expected to crumble, to have his throat constrict and cease the path of air to his lungs. poison. it must have been. he would soon be dead, punished for his own recklessness. his thoughts traveled to you, regretting the fact that he had not confessed. yet, his breathing remained — wild, ragged, there still. and the image of you ensued in greater heat, a pit of molten fire that threatened to ignite every organ; consume every particle of air. his cock was throbbing, aching, and zoro clutched own heart in agony, desperation feeding off his every thought.

the weather was tropical. it had forced you to leave the ship wearing nothing but a bikini-top and pants. zoro grunted at the reminder of those breasts, all but partially covered, frail fabric that he could snap with the simplest touch. he lost himself in his thoughts, tearing the waistband of his pants. spores embraced his aching member, and it was as though he had dipped himself into a sea of lava. zoro fisted himself, although the touch neither soothed nor brought comfort. instead, he fell to his knees, chasing a release that did not find him.

“zoro!” you shouted through the mist. “was that you, cutting through the tree?”

the sound of your voice had him shouting, pleasure coursing through his veins. haze of spores clouding his sights had him struggling to catch on the lines of your figure, lingering outside that clouded nightmare. he yearned for you — had been yearning for as long as memories could tell. yet, whenever he dared muse the prospect of confessing, courage failed him, and he was forced to retreat to his usual corner; to watch as the cook swirled around you.

that urge of pleasure brought by the plant, could it be shared? perhaps if zoro lured you into it, you, too, would burn — for it; for him. he was not the brightest tool in the shed, mind more often than not too slow to wrap itself around certain concepts. if zoro was to call you in, submit you to those spores, no one — perhaps the curly, but he did not care whatsoever — would dare blame him. he’d state he hadn’t noticed; hadn’t known; and in the aftermath of what he planned on doing to you inside that fog, if those feelings were not reciprocal, the pair of you would merely pretend. put the blame on the spores. it was a plan of no honor, but lust clouded his better judgment. the desire for your touch, which would present itself as the cure for the self-inflicted disease; the illness he planned on sharing with you.

“zoro?” you tried again, your voice strained.

he called out your name, straight into the lion’s den. his eyes grew more focused at your approach, ears perking up. you started to cough in sheer shock, yet zoro was conscient of the fact that it was but temporary. once your throat grew used to the burning, the spores would settle and you’d be conditioned to want him — perhaps as much as he wanted you.

“i’m here,” he coarsed, hiding his cock from your sight.

zoro beckoned you in, containing the grunt at your approaching figure. you were such a loyal, preoccupied crewmate, ignoring the warning signs for the sake of his protection. tear-pooled eyes met his wide ones as you caught on the state of him — kneeling, trembling. sweat glued the fabric of his shirt to his chest, and he marveled at the realization of your lust. hardened nipples, hands gripping the fabric of your pants. he could see you trembling, struggling to keep yourself together as you drowned in the sight of his sweat-covered figure. your mouth watered; your fingers fidgeted.

“come,” he told you, his voice coated with a sensuality unusual to him. “need your help.”

a faux plea. an encouragement to have you fall into his well-placed trap. when you grew closer, enough to witness the loose state of his pants, he allowed you to have a glimpse of his cock — tip red and leaking; shaft tortured around his bruising grip. he smirked, feeling it twitch as he shifted and offered you the entire view.

zoro called out your name, and you jumped as though a terrified deer caught in the woods. “yes?”

his self control slipped within the second, yet zoro would not dream to push himself past the boundaries of your consent.

“touch,” he rasped out, grunting as his thumb teased his tip.

you leaned forward, as though intoxicated; eyes dazed, chapped lips coated with your saliva. “it’s so big, zoro. i don’t—”

he threw himself at you, pinning you to the ground. his breathing pattern was ragged, and droplets of his saliva fell from his parted lips to your face. the second his hands wrapped around your wrists, zoro was moaning at the contact, the shared heat enough to cover his vision with black spots.

“shit,” he cursed, rutting his hips forward. you mewled, biting your lip, seeming embarrassed at the sound.

“zoro,” you moaned, squirming under his touch. “i won’t know what to do.”

he stopped, observing you as though you were a free-course meal. zoro licked his lips, daring to drag his nose into your chest, drunk in your scent. he wrapped his teeth around the strap of your bikini, glancing at you through his eyelashes, refusing to relieve the pressure around your wrists. “how so?”

your frustration surfaced; your hips rolling against his own. zoro’s pre-cum stained the fabric of your pants, and you bit down your lower lip, avoiding his gaze. “i’ve never had sex,” you admitted, pressing your cheek against the grass. “it won’t help you.”

his brain short-circuited. zoro trembled, threatening to come undone. the act of luring him to that haze of spores gave him the claim to your innocence, for he would be the one to maculate that inch of your body. he teased the waistband of your pants, drooling at the realization that you had no idea on how to behave whatsoever. the movement of your hips was erratic, inexperienced. your nails scratched against the back of his hands. your legs trembled; fought a losing battle against the weight of his own.

“you’re a virgin,” zoro breathed out in ecstasy, dragging his tongue down your stomach, never once daring to break eye-contact.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, voice broken due to both lust and despair. “i just want this to feel good to you. please, zoro, touch.”

he clicked his tongue, using both hands to lift your bikini top. the plant spores teased your nipples, and the broken sound that escaped past your tortured lips had him twitching. zoro’s tongue swirled around a pert bub, fingers pinching the other one as he used his other hand to force your pants down. he had no time for foreplay whatsoever, much too desperate due to the effects of the plant.

“it will be,” he promised, excited to ruin you.

his eyes glued at the pale-rose, lacy underwear of your panties. when he teased the strap, snapping it against your hip, you moaned. zoro’s own voice betrayed his desire when he tore the fabric and opened your folds with his fingers, exposing your cunt to the effects of the aphrodisiac. you were soaked wet; clit swollen; hole clenching around nothing. your essence dripped down on the grass; coated his nails. zoro refused to believe that had been all from the effect of the spores. you were so sensitive; so easy to arouse. he smirked, reveling in the sight of your disheveled state, forced into the aphrodisiac fog.

“can’t handle it,” he grunted, teasing your entrance with his tip. you teared up with a whimper, and zoro hissed as his cock stretched you out, walls swallowing him whole. “need to move.”

“please,” you begged, squirming. the burning sensation at the pit of his stomach all but exploded, and zoro started to pounce into you, thrusts fast-paced and rough. he slid with abnormal easiness, his tip numb due to the spores.

you struggled under his weight, and zoro snapped his hips as a response, gripping both your wrists with a single hand. his index reached your clit, rough digit drawing hectic, desperate circles. zoro constricted your movements and latched his lips around your breast, ignoring your sounds. he failed to see past the haze of pleasure, ignoring your sounds and squirming. you were but a ragdoll at his mercy, victimized by the restless pace of his thrusts.

“zoro!” you shouted, coughing thereafter for you had inhaled a considerable amount of spores in the process.

he bottomed out without warning, biting your nipple harshly. you followed-in-suit, yet he continued, the orgasm useless to satisfy his hunger. your cum mingled with his own, soaking his still-hardened cock as he persisted, ruthless and rough, his wrist growing numb due to the prolonged movement required to tease your clit. he felt you struggle, back arching and head moving to the sides. the instance thereafter, your hips moved in a failed attempt to match the pace of his thrusts — his chaste, inexperienced crewmate sheepishly baring fangs after the first orgasm.

zoro retreated his head off your breast with a pop, brushing his nose against your chin before biting on your lower lip. the aphrodisiac cloud began to lose its density, and he breathed it in; mouth slack as if to collect most of it before its disappearance.

“open it,” he demanded, collecting saliva during the process needed for your consent. the second the external world cleared, zoro spat on your mouth, forcing you to swallow the remaining spores that lingered on his tongue.

he pumped the previous round of his load inside before busting yet another one unannounced, glaring to where your bodies connected, enamored with the sight of his white-stained tip shoving itself in-and-out. zoro removed his finger from your clit, shoving it inside your mouth.

“cum,” he demanded, fucking his essence deeper, sensitive tip prodding at your walls.

without the aphrodisiacs numbing his flesh, zoro doubted he’d last longer — yet he refused to leave you hanging. your tongue stilled around his finger; a reminder that you had much to learn still. he teased your g-spot, his digit muffling the moan of your high, and zoro bit back a broken whimper when your essence drowned his tip.

zoro lowered his head to regain his breathing, attempting to swallow down the embarrassment at what he had done. the absence of spores, too, had him aware of your compromising position, and he released the grip on your wrists with a clear of his throat, fixing the top of your bikini.

“zoro?” you whispered, placing your hand above his own. “did it feel good?”

he dared face you, reading the lines of both bliss and hesitation in your expression. zoro smiled ever-so-slightly, unable to contain his adoration. “felt amazing.”

you cleared your throat, averting your glance as your fingers toyed with his. zoro was still sheathed inside, fearing the moment he’d need to retreat. he was lost in thought, struggling to find the proper words to convey his feelings. would you fancy an “i love you”? would it be too soon?

“can we do that more often?” you broke the silence, staring at him. “with a kiss next time?”

has he not kissed you yet? zoro softly guided your chin, pressing his lips against yours with a soft, victorious sigh. “can do it as many times as you want.”

you smiled, whimpering the second he removed his soft cock. perhaps a bit of recklessness could sometimes be rewarded.

— 🐈‍⬛ : a bit late today but time is a concept i’m sure it’s the twelfth day somewhere still!

[dorabellingham]

Honeymoon

warning: smut; +18

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you have your first time only after marriage

request: yes

may contain spelling and translation errors!

After a charming ceremony and a reception surrounded by friends and family, Jude and you finally embark on your honeymoon in Hawaii. The trip was long, but full of laughter and anticipation, each moment together feels like a new promise of the future that awaits you.

When you arrive on the island, you are greeted by a clear sky, palm trees dancing in the wind, and the soft smell of the ocean all around you. The hotel where you will be staying is a private retreat, with a stunning view of the sea and the relaxing sound of the waves breaking on the beach.

—Jude, this is so beautiful.

You murmured in ecstasy as you gazed at the crystal clear sea.

—It’s up to you, babe!

He spoke in a joking tone, but you could feel the hint of seriousness in his words. The boy was focused on getting the access card to the room’s door, but at times, you could feel his gaze burning into your flesh.

As you enter the room, decorated with exotic flowers and soft lights, you feel your heart race. The reality of being officially married, alone and at the beginning of a new phase brought out a mixture of excitement and nervousness. You were a virgin and Jude knew it very well. By a choice you made as a teenager, you had decided to wait until the day a golden ring slipped on your left ring finger. You just didn't expect that day to come so quickly. Jude noticed this and, with a welcoming smile, took your hand. He gently pulled you to the terrace, where a cool breeze enveloped you. The day was warm, the sun shining mercilessly over the hawaiian territory. You remained silent for a while, just enjoying each other's company, the sea in the background and the tranquility that surrounded you.

—Are you okay, babe? —He asked, his voice low and soft. With a shy smile, you nodded, but he noticed the slight tremor in your hands. He laughed, but not in a teasing way, it was a warm laugh, of someone who understands what you feel and wants to comfort you. —Hey, it's just us here. You don't need to be afraid or in a hurry for anything.

He whispered, pulling you into a hug, where you felt the comfort of his touch, the warmth and support.

—I want to be yours. —You began, your voice trembling and low. —I want you to make me yours, Jude. To make me see our love with different eyes, to make me feel a touch, a shiver, a different desire for everything we have. I want our love to not be as pure as they say, I want it to be made of everything we have the right to, and today, I feel ready for you to make me yours. To touch me, feel me, explore me in every way you want.

His eyes widened in surprise, it wasn't like it was a surprise to know that they would have their first time there, but your words, the way your hand brushed his forearm, messed with his head much more than he could have expected. He wanted you, he dreamed about it whenever he could or whenever his thoughts allowed him to, but having you there, telling him that his deepest desires could come true, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. Not only for giving yourself to him, but for the trust he had.

—I can make you mine, Y/n. Just like I want to become yours, body and soul.

—Then do it, darling.

The connection between you was palpable, and little by little, you felt your nervousness diminish, replaced by a feeling of peace and security. Jude kissed you softly, a slow, unhurried kiss, as if each second had its own meaning.

When they returned to the room, he still maintained that care. Every gesture Bellingham made was attentive, and he made sure to make you feel at ease, respecting your pace and making sure you felt safe and loved. He laid you down on the bed, skillfully unbuttoning your satin shirt. You watched his hands working, and wondered if you would get to know the famous paradise that night.

—Can I take it off, sweetheart?

He asked sweetly, trailing kisses from your mouth, down your neck to the collar of your shirt, which made a shiver run down your skin.

You just whispered something that resembled a 'yes', but it was a little incoherent. The warmth of his hands, the wet kisses covering your skin and the small hickeys he left on your already bare skin. Jude took off your blouse, followed by your bra, which practically gave up holding onto the clasps as soon as he touched you. There you were, exposed from the waist up, with Bellingham staring at you as if you were the most beautiful monument in the entire world.

—Jude Victor, stop staring me like that! —You laughed as you spoke, you weren't as nervous as you expected, just embarrassed to show yourself like that. —I'm going to get shy like this, be more discreet. I'm going to get shy like this, be more discreet.

—I want you to call me Jude Victor later, when the words barely form in your mouth, when you're completely mine, huh?

He said as his right hand vaguely played with the tip of your breast, he stared at it with great desire, as if he had been waiting for this his whole life. And when a small moan came out of your mouth it was as if the whole world exploded before his eyes. That moment had really arrived.

Your hands tried to take the shirt off his body, but you were so immersed in the sensation his mouth was giving you that it felt like an impossible mission. Jude quickly unbuttoned the denim shorts he was wearing with his free hand, and there you were sure that the moment would come true, that it would be his.

—Honey, let’s get on with it...

You asked eagerly, the feeling of pressure between your legs was new and torturous. You wanted your husband there in the middle, you wanted him to solve the problem.

—But is it already like this, Y/n? —He laughed as he slid your panties down your leg. —I want you to enjoy everything, I want you to relax and not be afraid of this, but you want to rush everything... Do you want me that much?

—I do, Jude... I want you so much.

He looked you up and down, arranged your legs on either side of his body and settled himself, his broad shoulders preventing any attempt to close your legs when he was doing what he wanted. You felt exposed, but in a good way, with the man you loved, and who loved you back, making you feel cared for and even with all his size, Bellingham seemed the most careful person at that moment, almost vulnerable.

—Let me know if at any time you don't like something or if I hurt you. I don't want that to happen, so I'll be very careful. —He placed a chaste kiss on your intimacy, which drew a surprised moan from you. —I want to make this night unforgettable, babe.

His fingers soon entered the wet area and you could hear the sound of things happening, you didn't know what to feel, there were no words for that moment, it was just you and Jude. Just a husband and a wife giving yourselves completely to each other.

A slow "fuck" came out of your mouth and Jude felt that you were enjoying it as soon as your hands sought his hair, he smiled and leaned over you, putting his mouth on the most sensitive area, at that moment, you felt his warm tongue exploring everything, and there, you knew you had discovered paradise.

Everything in him worked in tune, his fingers going in and out of you as if he knew exactly the right moment, his tongue and the little giggles he gave as you moaned for him, with his name or just begging for more contact.

Heat began to rise through your body, a strange tingling appeared at the bottom of your belly and your vision slightly blurred, you felt Jude, you felt him too much at that moment. Gathering the strength to speak, you announced what he wanted to hear most at that moment.

—I'm going to......I'm going to cum, Jude....

Your back arched on the soft bed at that very moment and you felt the man pull away from between your legs, his face slightly damp and a naughty smile on his face.

—You're delicious, sweetheart.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐇𝐒

summary: it’s said that, on the shortcut of a common trading route, there lives a fearsome kraken and all those who want to cross have to part with some of their valuables. so, take a gulp and take a breath, then go ahead and pay the toll….

pairing: kraken! azul x gn! reader

warnings: fluff; mentions of drowning, allusion to death, tentacles (it is a kraken after all), softie azul (someone’s in loveee)

a/n: a small idea i had that i thought would be perfect for halloween; i thought it was a fun premise and works as a neat cross between azul’s unique magic, ursula’s “you got to pay the toll” and the superstition of neptune’s toll; happy halloween ♡

twisted wonderland masterlist

The salty breeze bit at your skin and your hair whipped against your cheeks. Absentmindedly you pushed the loose strands from your eyes in repetitive motions, useless as they were. However, your focus was elsewhere entirely. On the horizon, landmasses contrasted with the vast ocean surrounding you, the steep cliffs on one side and the wide- stretched cluster of islands on the other leaving only a narrow gap for your ship to navigate through.

It was beautiful against the deep red of the sinking sun.

“Nasty sight yer pushin’ on us, cartographer.” A gruff voice joined you at the railing, grating as it always was. You couldn’t say you liked the captain of the Triton Trading Company much, a man withered by decades of seafare and about as stubborn as the cliffs coming up ahead. “But cuttin’ days worth of journey with that might be worth listenin’ to a guppy like ya.”

“I assure you, Captain, I’ve made this trip safely on numerous occasions,” you sighed, trying to suppress the urge for a pettier response. “As long as you remember what I’ve told you before our departure, the price for—“

“Yeah yeah, I heard ya perfectly fine the first time,” the burly man grunted, waving you off like a bothersome fly. “Still, yer so green behind the ears, I first thought ya were growin’ algae there. Makes it hard to believe ya, ya know.”

“And if you don’t it’ll cost us all greatly,” you hissed back, fixing your eyes on the horizon again. “In any case, I suggest you think this through carefully, it’s almost time to make your decision.”

“Hah, as if I needed advice from ya,” the captain scoffed before stomping down the deck again. You exhaled more forcefully than necessary.

Either way, you could soon part ways with him again, pockets lined with a hefty sum of gold for charting a course that shortened trading routes significantly. You’d also see your beloved again. Those thoughts comforted you and kept you from decking one or the other member of the crew. Sea spray reached all the way over the railing to sprinkle your face with thousand kisses from the ocean and you smiled fondly.

By the time the cliffs loomed high over the ship, the only natural light source illuminating the deck was the pale moonlight, intersected by the shadows of clouds travelling with you. The few lanterns people were holding floated like wisps in the fog. Since daylight, the temperature had dropped steeply, a chill creeping from the sea onto deck, wafts of mist licking and coiling around your ankles. 

“It’s time to pay the toll, Captain,” you announced, voice strong even among the uneasy shifting of the crew. “Let me see what you chose.”

Arms like tree trunks crossed over a wrinkled uniform, the skin around his elbows grey and dry from years of being exposed to salty air. His bushy eyebrows were knit tightly together in what could only be a foreboding omen of trouble. “Now tell me why I wouldn’t throw ya overboard for even suggestin’ something so ludicrous. Reckon ya’d be enough to pay yer nonsense toll?”

“While you’re right that me and my skills are worth quite a lot of gold, you need me to navigate your way through the waters up ahead.” You mirrored his stance, determined not to budge either. “Though if you want to crash against a wall of rocks and sink your ship, be my guest. Well, if something else doesn’t sink it first.”

“Pah, as if I’d throw valuable treasure overboard because of some little fairy tale you’ve spun, guppy.” The captain’s voice was a mixture of amusement and a scoff as he made the biggest mistake of his life. “I won’t part with a single coin to appease your little—“

A cry cut him off, the head of a crew member slamming against the grimey wood before his nails scratched along the deck as he was dragged backwards and overboard by his ankle. It happened again. And again. And again.

All around you, crew members were pulled into the endless abyss of the sea, screams of terror and dread following them into the depths. The captain’s eyes wavering with regret as his gaze trailed along the shadows eclipsing the moon, reaching higher than the ship’s mast, curling and uncurling languidly as if savouring the moment before crashing down on the deck.

“Kraken! It’s the Kraken!”

The crew’s shrieks broke whatever daze their disbelief had them in and panic broke over them like a wave against a cliffside. Not that any of their running and crying could save them now. Wood splintered under the assault of tentacles that stretched longer than the ship by far and more men were caught in coils of inky black. The ship started to dip where the bow had been crushed mercilessly, water now pouring in.

You watched on in apathy, a hand on the railing where you could feel the sea spray against your skin. The scene did not come as a surprise to you. Honestly, you had expected it when the captain first hired you.  In all fairness, you had warned them, had made it abundantly clear that the condition for passing through this shortcut was that the Kraken’s toll had to be paid if you wanted to sail on unharmed.

It didn’t take long until it was only the captain and you left tumbling along the wreck of the former deck. His face was contorted in an expression that could only be described as pathetic and it robbed you of every urge to gloat. You couldn’t hear his stammering over the crashing of the waves, and you didn’t care for it either, as eight winding appendages ensnared the ship whole and pulled it underwater for good.

Closing your eyes, you embraced the familiar caress of the ocean as you held your breath.

You awoke in the soft blue glow of a rocky lagoon, the bioluminescence of flowers growing in the dim light reflected in the vast pool of water murmuring gently just a few steps away from you. Sitting up somewhat groggily, you checked for any injuries, certain as you were that you had none, and only found pulsing marks littered across your skin, some the size of dinner plates. You reached your hand into the water, speaking fondly.

“A little eager, were we, darling?” 

Water rushed down in streams from the figure emerging from the depths of the sea, pearling on his lilac and onyx skin and making him glitter like a million jewels. Shells and corals adorned his body in elegant clusters and perfectly framed the golden sundial shell dangling around his neck. However, nothing compared to the gorgeous pair of sea-blue eyes shining down at you.

“My apologies, beloved.” His voice echoed around the cave, melodic and more beautiful than any song, as he swam closer to you, submerging himself back into the water up until his neck, so he could be at least somewhat on eye-level with you. “But it has been so long since I last saw you and I missed you dearly.”

“Well, I can’t blame you,” you mused, stretching out your arm so he could lean his face against the palm of your hand. It hardly covered his cheek at all, yet you still stroked along the smooth skin adoringly. “Azul, I love you.”

“And I love you more, my pearl.” The giant octopus merman gently returned your affection by coiling a tentacle around the length of your leg, the width of which thicker than your own thigh. Its tip slipped under the hem of your shirt, mirroring your soft caress against the dip of your lower back. “Even if that foolish captain had thrown three chests of gold overboard, I might have sunk the ship anyway just for the way he spoke to you.”

“You heard that, huh?” Smiling you let yourself be pulled closer to the water by the alluring tug of the tentacle massaging the flesh of your thigh. “Though it wouldn’t exactly help our business model if you also drowned the people actually giving you their valuables.”

“Dead men tell no tales,” Azul simply said, shrugging his beautifully sculpted shoulders as he closed his eyes in faux sympathy. “You could have just said they did not listen and paid the price.”

“Mhm, and it wouldn’t be suspicious at all if I am always the only one to miraculously survive these attacks of the scary, merciless Kraken,” you teased, sliding your hand up to push some of his silvery strands out of his eyes so you could admire more of his beautiful face. “Besides, people would start avoiding this area again if nobody made it out alive anymore.”

“Must you always be right about these things, my dear?” His sigh was one of deep sorrow, a melancholic air to the way he slowly rose and sank in the lagoon’s pool. Another tentacle slowly curled around your middle as two strong, human arms encircled you, clasping together behind your back, so your lover could lean further onto land. “Is it so wrong of me to wish that you would never have to part from me again? That I could appreciate and hold your lovely form whenever I wish to?”

“But you said it yourself, didn’t you? That I came up with a very efficient way of generating wealth,” you reminded him, playful lilt to your voice as your hands wandered over his slick lilac skin. “And it has been pretty effective, hasn’t it? Word of the Kraken’s toll has spread far and wide from what I’ve heard.”

“It’s true, most ships passing through here have thrown some of their prized possessions overboard,” Azul admitted. Something flickered in his gaze and the appendage around your middle tightened its hold on you, though careful not to hurt you. One of its smaller suckers latched onto the exposed skin of your collarbones to leave a possessive mark, soothing your partner even if he was the only one who knew of its existence. “Don’t you think your work is done now? You’ve successfully planted the scheme in people’s heads, there’s no need for you to sail with them now. Stay by my side, don’t return to the ports.”

The rippling of the water was comforting to your ears, moving with your lover’s languid movements, inky tentacles unfurling and curling around you. Never had you believed that you would survive your first meeting, let alone come to love Azul. Now, however, his presence was soothing and safe, knowing full well he would never hurt you, nor let you come to any harm.

“Are you sure?” Your hand slid down his shoulder, then stroked along the smooth black limb still holding you close. “You know I hate to be away from you just as much, but I also want to help you wring the most profit out of this.”

“I’d rather lose out on some of that gold, it’s pocket change in the grand scheme of things anyway. But I don’t want to see you leave again, waiting for you while not knowing if you’re safe, whether some sleaze is trying to steal you away,” he gravely confessed, sliding closer to you than he already had been. Soft lips placed a kiss on the crown of your head, light as sea spray, though it covered far more than just that. “You’re the one treasure I can never part with.”

Something heavy draped around your neck, droplets of water hitting your face as you angled it to look at the octopus arm hovering over your head. When you glanced the other direction, a pearl necklace gleamed up at you, soaking your shirt. You felt more tentacles wrap around your wrist, your waist, your ankle and even sliding gently over your ear, slowly and intimately leaving gleaming golden accessories in their wake, tickling the pads of your fingers in parting.

“You’re so beautiful,” Azul whispered meaningfully, oceanic eyes drinking you up with the reverence people usually reserved for deities. “I’d lay the world down at your feet and pluck the stars from the sky if you asked me to. If you say the word, whatever you long for shall be yours. As long as you stay with me, I’ll gladly grant every one of your wishes. Just don’t leave me again.”

The jewellery clinked as you moved, equal parts gift and claim staked on you. Standing on your tiptoes you started trailing kisses over his shoulders, avoiding shells and corals, his skin slick and cool under your lips. With equal rapture as he bestowed upon you, you charted a course from his collarbones, over his throat and up to his jaw, a path you had mapped out multiple times before. A soft sigh grazed your ear as your kisses reached the corner of his lips, the beauty mark you adored so much receiving special attention. 

With the utmost care, your affection was returned, the pads of human fingers brushing over the curve of your back and down the slope of your arms, making Azul hum as the various valuables adorning you clinked pleasantly under his ministrations. The lagoon’s blue luminescence reflected off the pieces and bathed your skin in a soft azure glow, reinforcing his supposition that you had never belonged with those humans, but that it had been preordained for you to be a part of the ocean; a part of him. “What’s your answer, my pearl?”

“Well, when you ask me like that…” You trailed off playfully, leaning against the comfortable pressure of the hands holding you, knowing he’d never let you fall. Languidly, you ghosted your fingertips along the sable appendages embracing you, then lifted your gaze to meet his, a smile coiling around your lips. “It’s a deal.”

It was always a welcome sight to see his bright eyes go wide in surprise before a smug smile illuminated his face. Clearing his throat, which did nothing to dispel the flush of colour dusting his cheeks, the merman swiftly swept you up into the palm of his hand to bring you to his eye-level. Azul hadn’t always been so comfortable with touching you or being touched himself, so the fact that you could now lean in and flutter kisses against his eyelids, and he let you without any complaints, warmed you from the heart out.

“You know what that means, right? The contract is binding now.” His eyes were positively sparkling now, more dazzling than ever as he slowly reclined backwards, slowly drifting towards the open sea with you. However, instead of drinking in the splendid grandeur of the sun rising over the waves, the two of you were completely enchanted by the other. “I never break my contracts, as you are aware. And I can only hope that you are much the same, my love.”

Grinning fondly down at him, you were certain you could put all his worries to rest. Meeting Azul had been a mercy granted on your poor soul, so until the song of your heart ended and the sun set on the two of you, you were more than happy to bind yourself to him. It was a deal you would honour for the rest of your life.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit; do not copy into an ai

if you like my writing, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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[tagging @marigoldendragon too bc this is the one i was telling you about ^^]

[iovebarca]

hello hello:) i love your fics! how about a fic where gavi and the reader go on vacation together (like the maledives) and just spend sunny days by the beach, relaxing in each others arms after a stressful season? maybe they go to a fancy dinner in the evenings or something like that, just fluff of a cute romantic couple on holiday:) thank youuu🫶🏼

Sun-Kissed Serenity - Pablo Gavi

Authors note: only 2 exams left! and i listened to the song SAND by SABA while writing this, such an underrated eurovision song!

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me

WC: 800 ish

Summary: In the serene paradise of the Maldives, Pablo and the reader find solace from the stresses of his football season with Barcelona.

send me requests! or just anything if you want to talk:))

The gentle lull of the turquoise waves washes over you as you recline on the pristine white sands of the Maldives, the sun painting golden hues across the horizon. Beside you, Pablo's presence is a comforting anchor, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders as you both bask in the warmth of each other's company.

It's been a long-awaited vacation—a much-needed respite from the whirlwind of stress and pressure that Pablo endured during the football season with Barcelona, compounded by the setback of his recent injury. But here, in this idyllic paradise, time seems to stand still, allowing you both to leave your worries behind and simply embrace the serenity of the moment.

"You know," Pablo murmurs, his voice soft with contentment, "I don't think I've ever felt more at peace than I do right now."

You turn to him with a gentle smile, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you. "I'm glad we could escape here together," you say, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. "You deserve this, Pablo. You've worked so hard."

Pablo's expression softens at your words, gratitude shining in his eyes. "And having you here with me makes it all the more special," he replies, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

As the days unfold, you and Pablo spend your time lazily exploring the island, indulging in leisurely walks along the shoreline and exhilarating snorkeling adventures in the crystal-clear waters. Each evening, you dress up in your finest attire and venture out to enjoy romantic dinners under the stars, savoring the exquisite flavors of the Maldivian cuisine and the intimate moments shared between just the two of you.

But it's the quiet moments spent in each other's arms that you treasure the most—the whispered conversations beneath the canopy of palm trees, the stolen kisses as the sun dips below the horizon, the simple joy of being together in a world all your own.

Pablo had spent the afternoon building sandcastles on the beach. With childlike enthusiasm, Pablo had dug trenches and piled sand, his laughter echoing across the shoreline as he sculpted his masterpiece. He had created quite the castle, if you say so yourself.

"You're still a kid at heart, aren't you?" you teased, a fond smile playing on your lips as you watched him adding the finishing touches to his artwork.

Pablo looked up from his sandy creation, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, shut up," he retorted, a playful grin spreading across his face. "You know you love me."

And indeed, you did love him—with all your heart and soul. It was moments like these—simple, carefree, and filled with laughter—that made you fall deeper in love with him each and every day.

As the night falls over the Maldives, painting the sky in a canvas of deep blues and purples, Pablo suggests a spontaneous late-night swim beneath the shimmering moonlight. Eager for the adventure, you both slip into your swimsuits and make your way to the deserted stretch of beach.

The warm embrace of the ocean welcomes you as you wade into the gentle waves, the water cool and refreshing against your skin. Pablo's laughter rings out in the night air as he splashes you playfully, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Come on, mi amor," he urges, his smile infectious. "Race you to the buoy!"

With a playful grin, you accept the challenge, kicking off from the shore and propelling yourself through the water with all your might. Pablo's laughter fills your ears as he swims beside you, the thrill of competition mingling with the exhilarating rush of freedom.

But as you reach the buoy, the mood shifts, and the playful banter gives way to something deeper—a quiet intimacy that binds you together in the stillness of the night. You tread water side by side, the only sound the gentle rhythm of your breathing and the soft lapping of the waves against the shore.

In the moonlight, Pablo's features are illuminated with a soft glow, his eyes reflecting the depths of his love for you. Without a word, he reaches out, drawing you into his arms with a tenderness that steals your breath away.

And there, beneath the canopy of stars, you share a moment of pure magic—a moment that transcends time and space, a moment that speaks volumes without the need for words.

As you found yourselves immersed in the tranquil waters of the ocean, you couldn't help but reflect on the playful antics of earlier in the day. With Pablo by your side, every moment was an adventure, every memory a treasure to hold close to your heart.

[spooky-bunnys]

Title: The (Last Name)'s

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Sebastian x M.R x Sam

Warnings: None

Everything was normal in Pelican Town. Well, until the new farmer moved into Pelican Town. Everyone was confused on why someone from the big city would move to their small town. Especially considering someone people wanted to leave the small town to the big city! They just didn't understand why.

Until they met the new farmer that is. According to Robin, the new farmer was Old (Last Name)'s grandson who had gotten tired of the big city, and wanted to finally wanted to settle down away from the nose and people. Everyone had many expectations and thoughts on how the new farmer would be. Although they were pleasantly surprised when they finally met him.

It didn't take long for (Name) to quickly become the biggest bachelor of Pelican Town. Everyone who was single wanted to be with (Name). They loved how sweet, generous, kind-hearted, and over all his bubbly and helpful personality quickly mad him the town favorite. (Name) was always willing to lend a helping hand to whoever needed it.

He even helped remodel the Pelican Town Community Center. Which ultimately sent the Joja Company packing. Saving Pierre's business from Bankruptcy. He also helped Willy fix his boat, that originally belonged to Willy's grandfather. So you can imagine how happy he was when it was fixed.

Since the boat was fixed the people of Pelican Town was even able to start going to Ginger Island. Where (Name) found the sweetest little boy. That he later adopted with the permission and help of Mayor Louis. When Leo was comfortable enough he moved into (Name)'s farm house.

Although he had a tree house beside Linus's tent in the mountains. Leo also visited the Island some days. Luckily due to all the hard work, (Name) also has a farm and house on the Island. So they went to the Island quite often together.

Something nobody expected was for Sebastian and Sam to end up with the new farmer. It came to a huge surprise to the town people when the trouple got together. They had seen (Name) was close to them, but to think they were all three technically dating? It was something else honestly. They didn't mean anything bad about it.

They'd just haven't had something like this happen in Pelican Town before. But everyone saw how happy they were whenever they were all together. Especially (Name)'s best friend Abigail. She was even their best woman at their wedding. Which was honestly hard to do since you usually can't marry more then one person.

But Mayor Louis made it happen. (Name) had become something of a grandchild to Mayor Louis. Seeing how much happier Pelican Town has become thanks to (Name). He did all he could to help the boys dream to come true. The wedding was small but beautiful.

In a matter of month the new (Last Name) family had three parents and three children. Leo was extremely excited to be an older brother to a pair of twins that the trio adopted. They'd found the twins after one of the bands concerts in the city. There was a boy with blonde hair and (eye color) eyes, and a girl with (hair color) hair and brown eyes.

They were greatly surprised on how they looked like the trouple. It warmed their hearts. They thank Yoda everyday for the life they're living. Because they wouldn't change any of it for the world. Although they maybe wish Leo would stop teaching the twins how to speak bird. Becausenit was cute at first, but who wants to hear that being screamed into your ear at six in the morning.

Not them at least.

[lenaisagirl]

Pomni X Ragatha

Disclaimer! I wrote this on company time. Also this is the first time I've ever shared art online so be nice k thx bye! <3 As Pomni walked around in the second day of her own digital hell, she finally got a chance to note the smaller peculiarities. Music seemed to play no matter where she was. Her footsteps sounded like a royalty-free sound byte, and everything had an unnatural, plastic-y sheen to it.

This only compounded with her other anxious thoughts. What causes abstraction, anyway? How far could she indulge her insanity before she lost it completely, becoming a monster in Caine's cellar?

“Hey, Pomni? You listening?” Ragatha interrupted Pomni's internal monologue, frowning slightly with concern.

“Y-yeah I’m listening. Something about… the concession stands?” Pomni said, shocked out of her stupor. She glanced nervously side to side, looking at the landscape around her. They stood in the middle of the theme park, which was unusually empty for what it was supposed to be. The only presence was a few concession stands manned by empty-faced mannequin NPCs.

Ragatha frowned, unsatisfied with the answer. Moving to Pomni’s front, she crouched down to meet her eye level.

“Hey, new stuff?”

“I know this takes time to get used to… So if you don’t wanna do this, it's okay!” An earnest, sewn-on smile followed her words.

“No, no! This is great. And, um… I really need the company.” said the little jester, as she let out a nervous laugh. In return, Pomni received a soft pat on the head.

“Alright Pomni. I’ll be here as long as you need.” With that, she stood back up, and took a few steps back, holding out her hand to Pomni.

“R-right. That’s – I mean. Thank you.” With a tilted smile, she tentatively reached to accept her hand. While she expected Ragatha’s hand to be a dull, unnaturally smooth surface like everything else - it wasn’t? Beneath her gloves, Pomni could feel real texture, as if she was truly grabbing a ragdoll’s hand. It was a nice change of pace, and brought to her face the first genuine smile she’d had while here.

And so they exited the theme park, quiet at first. Looking towards the night half of the skybox, one could almost be convinced it was a starry night. That is - until you spun around and saw the bright-as-day portion of the skybox.

“Um… Ragatha? Where exactly are we going?” Pomni asked tentatively. It's not that she was distrustful, just shaken up from the past “adventure” and as the lakeside forest of smooth plastic looking trees grew around her, thoughts of losing her tracks crept into her mind.

“Just a little spot out in the forest. Just somewhere away from Jax – er, I mean, the stress of it all. You know.” She held her hand up to her face and chuckled.

“Just - keep it a secret, okay?” She turned around to face Pomni, smiling ever so awkwardly. A kindred spirit, Pomni smiled just as awkwardly in return.

“Well. Here it is.” Letting go of Pomni’s hand, she gestured broadly at the space around them. Really it was just a rock, one of the few bits of decoration that even existed within the forest. Oddly enough, it was actually about chair-shaped. Being so close to the island's edge, Pomni wondered if this was an unfinished overlook.

“It's nice… I think!” As far as cartoonishly digital worlds went, it wasn’t that bad of a place to be. Ragatha walked over to the rock, plopping dramatically on top of it and patting the space beside her.

Pomni, much shorter, had to jump slightly, crawling on top of the rock before taking a seat. For a moment, they simply looked onward into the skybox.

“What… what do you think you were like? Y’know. Before all this?” said Pomni cautiously. It was probably a sore spot, but nevertheless she was curious about her new friends.

“Who knows? I don’t think about it too much, uncontrollable insanity and all that.”

The jester nodded. Like she thought - a sore spot, likely for all of them. Ragatha turned her gaze away from the cliff’s edge and toward her friend.

“Maybe… A waitress? Oh, or a dancer. I'm really good on my feet!” Ragatha kicked her legs as she spoke to add emphasis.

“How about you, new stuff? Gee, I hope you don’t mind me calling you new stuff all the time.” She folded her arms, and glanced to the side.

“Nah, I kinda like it. I mean – it's nice to have a friend, is all.” Pomni looked down at her legs, kicking them slightly as she thought of who she might have been.

Did it matter? Would she ever find out? Did she want to know what kind of life she was missing out on? Her pupils started to dilate as panic rose in her system.

“Pomni? We don’t have to talk about it.”

Ragatha interrupted her panic attack – this time with a hand on the shoulder. Looking up from the ground, the poor jester's eyes welled up slightly, reflecting Ragatha’s face back at herself.

“You okay…? Need a hug, new stuff?” Looking in Ragatha's eyes, she saw a worried expression. At least if she was stuck here, there was someone who cared. Merely nodding, Pomni leaned forward, clinging to her raggedy dress fabric. Slightly surprised, Ragatha smiled, wrapping her linen hands around the poor girl.

“T-thank you.” Pomni squeaked out.

“Hey don’t even worry about it. We gotta stick together, right?” Patting Pomni on the head, she softly ruffled the jester hat.

“Right… It’ll be okay.” And for once, she believed it.

[jungle-angel]

Morning Makeouts (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: The Bob Floyd Fuckfest Saga continues (lol)

Tagging: @floydsmuse @attapullman @sylviebell

Warnings: SMUT!!!! No minors allowed.......like ever (lol)

You and Bob were immensely enjoying your little vacation as always, taking every opportunity to enjoy it at its fullest as well as each other's company. Never in your lives had you and Bob felt so close as you did on that little island paradise in the Florida Keys. Of course you missed being at your home in Montana, but you had desperately needed a break from the mundane, every day goings on.

"Alright, look at me," Bob instructed, adjusting his camera. "There we go sweetheart, PERFECT!"

There you were, right in the ferns in the backyard of the beach cottage where no one stood a chance of seeing you, butt naked with Jimmy, your blue and yellow parrot perched on your wrist. He flapped his wings, just as Bob had begun snapping one photo after another, capturing the perfect image for your new photo album.

"Thank you my sweetpea," Bob said, taking you right in his arms and kissing you.

"Anything for you Bob," you answered, kissing him back. "Truth be told, that was actually alot of fun."

You and Bob were both a giggling mess as you kissed each other, unaware of how far you were stepping back until you both tumbled into the soft little sand pit in the middle of the bushes.

"Sorry baby," he apologized.

"Nope, you're ok Bob," you laughed as he looked down at you.

You could see his eyes darkening as he leaned his head down and kissed you sweetly, drawing a moan from your throat. It wasn't long before you felt his weight on top of you, the kissing growing more heated as something fell from the tree branch and hit the ground with a *THUMP!*.

"No worries (y/n), just a mango," Bob chuckled.

You laughed, but the look in Bob's eyes told you he was up to something, especially when he bit into the mango. "Bob what are you doing?" you laughed.

"Shhhh, just let me for a second?" he whispered.

You felt the cool, sticky juice dripping onto your sternum and down your exposed breasts. Before long you felt Bob dragging his tongue all over your curves and down to your navel where he licked up the mango juice, leaving little love bits and kisses in its wake. The pleasurable moans that came from you were what kept him at it, working his tongue like an artist's brush, swirling around your nipples and up to the soft spots on your neck.

"Mmmm......my turn," you purred.

Bob's eyes went wide but he gladly obliged as you helped remove his shirt and his jeans. You couldn't get over how perfect he looked in the early morning sunlight, his pale skin made soft in the glow of the sun. His boxers were the only thing left that had imprisoned his throbbing hard-on, coming off and being tossed aside with the rest of his clothes. You had almost forgotten how big your husband actually was until you saw his cock standing hard and ready.

"There we go sweetpea," he cooed. "Just.....just a little bit.....oh....there we go......there.....oh honey look at you, taking me so well......that's it, there's a good girl......right there now......good girl."

You moaned happily as his cock gently eased its way into your aching entrance, one little inch at a time. Soon you were sitting pretty right on him, your hips adjusting to his length.

You watched with pleasure as Bob's features took on a scrunkly, laughing look as the mango juice dripped onto his chest. You gladly returned the favor he had given before, licking up the juice as Bob pushed his chest a little closer to your face. Your tongue swirled around his nipples until they became hard, pointed little peaks, kissing the undersides of his tits.

You both came at the same time, Bob thrusting his length as deep in as he could possibly go. You lay skin to skin with each other on that warm patch of sand, gently feeling each other's bodies beneath the warm Florida sunshine.

"Think we should go for a sea bath later?" Bob asked.

"If it gets the ungodly amount of mango juice off of us, then I say yes," you laughed.

Bob kissed you sweetly, holding you against him. It was mornings like this that he lived for most, when it was just the two of you.

[dragonrider9905]

Midnight Dances

Summery: You and Wrecker have a dance at midnight; accidental spilling of feelings. Warnings: None that I can think of; pure fluff.

Celebrating You Prompt List

Celebrating You Masterlist

@rinksu-no-joo here you go!!!!!! Thank you so much for taking a chance on my writing!!!! I really hope you enjoy this little drabble :) I never wrote Wrecker before this so I hope I did him justice. I really enjoyed doing it. He's such a sweetheart! Without further ado, I present....

It was nearly twelve. 

You looked at the chrono on the wall of the Marauder and sighed, sinking further into your seat and settling your head in your rest-folded arms, being careful of the long tails that fell from your head. The ship was quiet. The air was still and warm. The summer waves just outside your walls softly rolled onto the beaches of Pabu and you could hear from the open door the soft whooshing of water and swaying of trees. A soft breeze whispered through the night inviting you out.

If montrals could twitch with delight, yours would be. You didn't know where the Batchers were, but you knew they were safe and happy like they ought to be. They’d gone to dinner at Shep’s again so you figured they were still there. You stayed behind to enjoy the time alone while you still could. You loved the boys but sometimes being around them ALL the time could be a bit much…especially if you wanted to spend time with just one of them…Sometimes being alone helped you forget the loneliness you felt.

Smiling to yourself, you straightened. Time be darned, you’d go for a walk! Pabu was always gently lit with warm light and on a night like tonight, so perfect and still, why not?

You pushed yourself up in a heartbeat and skipped down the stairs of the Marauder, an alluring adventure awaited!  

You always enjoyed being out at night on the island. The cold light of the moon and the warm lights of the fire danced on your orange skin in such a way you'd always felt beautiful. The odd mixtures of light illuminated and highlighted the markings on your face. The teal and ocean blue almost looked green and purple in the deceiving truth of certain angles. Lines of two strips that ended in swirls landed where most human eyebrows were. Three diamonds centered on your forehead while thin lines swirled in and around them, retreating to your hairline, crowning you like a princess. On your cheeks, two distinctive but simple swivels that matched your head tails made their way from your temple across your cheeks, stopping right before the chin. You'd like to think the moonlight made you look like a sprite while the fire made you a fierce warrior. 

At least, that's how you hoped a particular someone viewed you.

The Veranda was beautiful at this time of night. It was empty but not devoid. Instead, life sprouted from everywhere! Flowers and trees and music! Music? Where was that coming from?

 “Shep thought some strings would be a good way to celebrate the beginning of swordfish season. Whatdaya think?” 

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you yelped.

“Wrecker!”

“Haha I knew where to find you. Miss me yet?”

Yes, actually.

You smiled bashfully. 

“I–” 

Wrecker cut you off before you had a chance to finish. 

“Well I missed YOU. Dinner was great, as always, but the company wasn't the same without ya. So I thought I'd find ya. Having fun all by yourself?”

You hummed. “Yes, but, I'd have more fun if you joined me.”

“Great! What are we doing?”

You paused for a moment. When by yourself, you usually liked to think and look at the stars or the nature around you. You rarely got to spend time alone with Wrecker to know what to do with only him. Omega or one of his brothers always trailed along. You’d often dreamed of the chance but never got it. You came up with so many scenarios and now you couldn’t recall one. 

You doubted you'd get any thinking in, that weren't thoughts of Wrecker. Plus, if you were going to be alone —together—, you should do more than just think! You should do something! Something that could involve talking! You loved talking to Wrecker. He was always cheerful, finding any way he could light those around him in a glow of happiness. Making you laugh when you were down and giggle in delight when you were happy. 

What would be a good idea….? 

Think think think. Come on! Think of something fast.

Wrecker waited expectedly and patiently, like he always did with you when he asked you a question that made you pause and consider. His head was cocked to the side and a crooked smile graced his face. He looked like he was enjoying something immensely but you had no idea what. He started rocking back and forth from his heel to his toe in a very impish manner. You had to say, you loved that about him. 

Wait…something about the movement…

Then a lightbulb went on.

“Say big guy, wanna dance?”

You held out your hand, cheeks pulled upward in the tightest grin you could make. 

“It'll be fun! Trust me!”

Wrecker hesitated

“I, uh,” Wrecker rubbed the back of his head uncertainly, “I don’t know how to dance.” His face turned red and he looked away, embarrassed. 

“Oh come on, I’ll teach you!”

“I don’t want to hurt you. Stepping on your feet…I’m too big and clumsy and…” he trailed off. “I’d do some damage.”

By the look of complete and utter disappointment on his face, you could tell he wanted to. Wrecker was an open book and you could read him like a page lit by the Tatooine suns…for almost everything. The only thing you couldn’t tell was how he felt about you. 

That was irrelevant though. Right now, what mattered was he wanted to dance.

But he didn’t want to hurt you. 

Sweet, considerate Wrecker. Always thinking of others. 

You hummed thoughtfully, cocking your head to the side in thought, your head tails swaying with the motion. An idea struck and a smile spread across your face into your eyes. 

“I got an idea.”

Lifting to your tiptoes, you delicately stepped onto the tops of his steel toed shoes. Your feet, the fraction of a size of his, fit perfectly on top. 

You were close to him. Closer than you'd ever been before. You were practically in a permanent hug and you were grateful for the armor he was wearing so he couldn't feel how hard your heart was beating. It wouldn't take Hunter's enhanced senses for anyone to notice at that range without the chesptlate’s obstruction. 

Taking a deep breath, you gently guided one of Wrecker's hands to your waist and the other, you weaved your fingers through his, squeezing softly in assurance. 

“Ok, now just let the music guide you. Lift your left foot and step forward. Lift and step to the side. Lift and step back. Good! See!…there! We're dancing!”

Wrecker swayed slowly to the music, fully concentrating on the steps he took lest he'd knock you over and you both would lose your balance. But he held on firmly, like a rock in the sea. Never once did you doubt. Never once did you feel you'd sink. Never once did you think you'd crash and burn because you were on a cloud of heaven being carried away by its angel. 

It was slow. Not even good, clumsy almost. But it was perfect. 

After a few moments of silence, you decided to say something. 

“So, Wrecker, do you believe in love?”

Well that was stupid. Cringing inwardly and repressing an eyeroll to yourself, you felt your face flood with heat. Looking down to let the moment pass, you nearly missed his response. 

A quiet “yes.” Almost a whisper. A very uncharacteristical tone in his voice that made you look up. 

“Good.” You smiled at him. “It’s a beautiful thing. Ever think you’ll fall in love?”

Silence.

Well that was stupid. 

“But I have to say,” you continued to cover your blunder, “love at first sight doesn’t exist.” You rolled your eyes and continued. “That’s just some silly notion a card and gift store made up so they could sell holofilms.”

Wrecker did a full stop. He lifted his head as if surprised, leaning back so as to look you in the face, searching your eyes and questioning your soul. 

“Then how else do I describe the feeling I got when I first saw you?”

It was your turn to stare agape. 

“Wait…You…love me?”

“Apparently not, according to you.”

Time froze around you. The birds stopped chirping their early morning calls, the ocean silenced it’s waves for you, and the wind stopped its whispers. 

“You love me.” The words came out confident but only in a hushed voice. The realization settling into your bones. You nodded, tears coming to your eyes, then you laughed. 

“You love me?” You nearly shouted this time, throwing your arms up and around Wrecker’s neck. 

Your laughs wrapped you both in a blanket and broke the spell around you. Wrecker wrapped his arms tighter around you and spun with a laugh of his own. 

Setting you down, he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“I do. I love you.”

You could shout for joy, but that wouldn’t be a good idea considering the lateness of the hour. Instead, you cuddled closer to him, tightening your embrace.

“I love you too, Wreck. So, so much. You made me so happy.”

Wrecker rested his head on yours, careful of the tips that rose gracefully from your head, and started the steps you taught him again. After a moment of silence, he spoke: 

“Say, I like dancing lessons. Maybe we can learn more tomorrow night?”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Dividers by @djarrex and @ve-ti-ver

[clone-anon]

CROSSHAIR IN SEAON 3 IM ACTUALLY SO DEAD WE GOT BIG BROTHER CROSS

I thought we would get some big brother Crosshair content this season, but I am thrilled we are getting much more than I could have hoped for!

Here's a little blurb with big brother Crosshair x Pabu kid.

Crosshair noticed every time you helped someone around the island. Someone was down and needed company? You were there. Someone needed a babysitter? You were there, making sure the parents could get some away time. Someone needed help moving crates? You were the first to volunteer with as much gusto as Wrecker, despite your smaller size.

He sat under a tree, leaning against a wall, arms and ankles crossed with his eyes closed. You walked by on your way home. It'd been a long day trying to find something to do, or if someone needed help.

"You don't have to do everything for everyone, you know." It was more than you'd ever heard him say.

"I know," you replied. You searched him, but it took a moment for him to open his eyes and look at you. He nodded to the empty space on the bench next to him and you sat down.

"You're still a kid," he said.

"From what I understand, you never got to be a kid. What do you know about it?"

Crosshair looked a little hurt, despite your question being steeped in genuine curiosity.

"You should get to be a kid."

"I didn't mean to upset you," you replied.

He shook his head in understanding and his eyes softly regarded you. You thought for a moment before responding.

"I guess I just want to be useful. I don't really have anyone anymore and want to do my part now that I'm in this community."

"You don't have to prove your usefulness," he said. It was a lesson he was having to learn himself.

The next morning he, Omega, and Batcher showed up at the home you shared with some other refugees. Crosshair smiled and nodded toward the beach. Omega packed some food and it was going to be a beach day. Naps in a hammock, wading in tide pools, swimming, and playing. Even Crosshair got in on the playing, splashing and pretending to be overly irritated when splashed. It was the first of many days with your new siblings. Sometimes, working could wait.

[leakyweep]

Smoker x Afab!Reader: Forbidden Romance

A/N: thank you @smokersbaby for this amazing idea! I loved how it came out; and writing this really pushed me out of my comfort zone! I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: violence, oral (m receiving), fingering, penetration, creampie, nicknames (love, baby, darling), very lightly proofread

MINORS, DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

Words: 3.0k

Sabaody Archipelago; Grove 32 was alive with the sounds of amusement rides and food frying at different stands; yet all Smoker could focus on was the note that burned hot in his pocket. It was a piece of information intended for you, though he wasn't sure you'd even be here.

Your pirate crew was quite infamous for their impressive strength and abominable members, so Smoker at least had an excuse to know your whereabouts. He had heard through the transponder snail your crew would likely be running amok in the lower groves of the tree island-- though he knew well enough to stay away from the first twenty or so groves at risk of being decapitated by the pirates and bounty hunters there.

So here he was, fiddling with the paper in his pocket as his eyes scanned the crowds. Knowing you, he figured you'd come by with no company to secretly enjoy a ride or two; your sense of fun and child-like wonder was something Smoker realized early on that was something that made him attracted to you, though he was quite a serious man himself. So why was he so nervous?

He was asking a lot, after all. You were a pirate for fuck's sake; he could never be caught alone with you like that, lest he be kicked out of the Marines for the rest of his life.

He shook his head, focusing back on each of the faces in the crowds from behind his black shades. However, the features he had spent so long memorizing in the short exchanges he had with you before wasn't what caught his eyes. It was that laugh, like a ringing bell in the recesses of his mind. His neck snapped over to a teacup ride, where you were spinning wildly and tipping your head back in a joyful giggle.

As you stepped off the ride, your mind dizzy from the way you whipped yourself around, you almost didn't notice the tall, silver-haired Marine standing just outside the theme park. Your heart dropped at the sight of his gruff face, a little more stubbly than the last time you saw him, his lips set in that harsh frown, his teeth adorned with the usual double-cigar combo.

To avoid hurting the civilians in the park, Smoker waited for you to approach him. As you did, his lips set themselves up into a smirk. As far as everyone else knew, you were a bounty-heavy pirate that Smoker was trying desperately to catch. To the two of you, your constant meetings were much different.

"We meet again, it seems," you laughed as you were now standing in front of the man, not breaking that steely gaze of his even as your hands fiddled with the sword in your sheath, "It looks as if you were expecting me."

Even with how stoic the man was, you didn't miss the twitch in his brow and you smirked. He began to pull his weapon from his back, pointing it towards you with an intimidating stance.

"You do have quite the bounty," he replied, quickly charging towards you shrouded in smoke.

In a flash and a loud clang, the Marine was in your face, smirking with those annoying cigars in his mouth. You had to fight the urge to lean forward and connect your lips to his, almost forgetting you were fighting in front of many surprised bystanders.

"Is that all you see in me, Smoker?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed but your lips upturned. He chuffed as you pushed him away with your sword, taking a step before seemingly teleporting towards him with one more step after the other. His senses were heightened, trying to think of how he was going to slip this note to you.

"I'm hurt," you continued, your voice from behind him causing him to gasp and turn, but it was too late. You sliced him, clubbing his side with the blunt side of your sword. The wind knocked from his lungs and he found himself kneeling in the grass, your feet just out of his fuzzy gaze.

With a laugh, you walked towards him, your sword pointed towards his forehead. How could this happen? I got distracted! Smoker mentally cursed himself for getting caught off guard by some stupid piece of paper. He lifted himself to his feet, his large Jitte slung over his shoulder. He spit out the cigars, stomping the fire out before setting his attention to you, his eyes grazing every inch of your beautiful curves and dips. Getting distracted again!

Silently, he turned to smoke, slowly dissipating into the tendrils of grey. You glanced around, a challenging gleam in your eyes as you thought about the effect you had on him. Hiding in the smoke to conceal his face... it made you smile.

Suddenly he was next to you, the pommel of his weapon digging into your spine and making you yelp, your body falling towards the ground. You hadn't even sensed his presence, and his legs were replaced with a cloud of smog.

He caught your now aching figure in his strong arms, that cocky grin you knew so well adorning his features. He was eclipsing you, his body almost three times the size of your own.

It made a fire deep within you light, triggering those memories of dark, abandoned rooms, pushing things to the side as you shoved him onto whatever surface you could, limbs and tongues entangled passionately and hurriedly, unable to go further than heavy makeouts due to time and circumstances. His large hands, though rough, were always so gentle with your delicate body, holding you as if you were made of glass or marble- a statue made just for him to admire.

"Got ya," he taunted, his fingers caressing your hips, down to your thighs. Luckily, and you were sure he did it on purpose, there was smoke that he could use as cover as he graced his nails over the exposed skin of your legs. They rounded back up to your torso before you felt something being stuffed into your pocket. You looked up at him, a puzzled look on your face.

"What're you-" you were cut off by a gruff grunt as he finished whatever he was doing, dropping you to the ground. You knew he had to do this to save face, but you knew he would always give you a chance to run before his men could arrive.

You quickly scrambled to your feet, rubbing your back. You had returned your sword to its home, focusing on disappearing before anyone could know what happened. Your steps were quick and methodical as you seemingly vanished into the air, Smoker feigning a shocked look as you left, meeting the rest of your crew in the neighboring groves. After seeing the blossoming bruise decorating your back, they all cursed at you for getting caught by the Vice Admiral yet again.

After getting checked out by the ship's doctor back at the inn, you sighed, sitting on the edge of the lumpy bed. You were thinking back on the way Smoker's touch felt against your skin, goosebumps raising on your legs as if he were doing it again. You shivered and shook your head, standing and kicking the pair of shorts you had been wearing that day.

Something crumpled under your toe, and suddenly you remembered the item that the man had shoved into your pocket. You pulled it form the jeans, uncrumpling the tired piece of scrap and reading it with heated cheeks.

Wanna see you. All of you. Shakky's - 11 pm.

His writing was scratchy and hard to read, as if he had scrambled to even etch the words onto paper. It made you smile thinking about that, but it made you smile even bigger thinking about what the words meant. You quickly realized how late it was and snapped your head to the clock, which read 10:45. You could make it if you booked it now.

The moonlight seemed to cast a spotlight on you as you snuck away from the inn where all your crew members were drinking and carrying on in merriment. You were sure they were paying no attention to the entrance so you made your way out and to the rip-off bar groves away.

Upon arrival, the smell of beer and sweat filled your nostrils, making your nose crinkle. You looked around, giving a small nod to the tall, beautiful woman behind the bar before seeking out the Marine.

You were positive that the man would be disguised, as he usually had to be due to his status. If anyone caught a Vice Admiral sneaking around with a wanted pirate, it was game over for both. His height always gave him away to you as well as the two thick cigars hanging from his lip.

He was wearing a hooded jacket that shadowed his face, his strong nose casting darkness across half his face as he looked down into his drink. You approached him with a devious smile, stopping with your breasts basically on the table. His head lifted, the lights from above casting a warm glow onto his pale face and making him seemingly luminate from his skin.

Eyes fixed on your breasts for a beat before flitting up to your face, Smoker smiled tightly and motioned to the chair across from him. "Good to see you again. You look..." a breath escaped his mouth, "gorgeous. Really."

Your cheeks dusted pink and you covered your mouth with a hand dramatically. "You don't look too bad yourself. I'm diggin' the 5 o' clock shadow."

With a laugh on your lips, you reached over and held his face, thumb rubbing circles into the stubby skin there. You felt him tense, pulling away when the waiter came by to get you a drink.

A moment of tense silence followed the delivery of the drink, and you couldn't help but look at him expectantly. He was staring at you, his tough face set in a gentle expression as he gazed upon your face, your shoulders, any exposed skin seemingly whispering his name and begging to be touched. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"G-5 has to leave early morning tomorrow. It's going to be a while before I can see you again, love." The nickname always made your head dizzy, heart beating in your ears as he leaned closer and whispered, "I need you. Need to feel you and hear you scream my name."

You had never guzzled a drink so fast in your life. Not much was said, just a few updates on one another's journey. Quick feet and pulling hands between you both, you were alone in the private quarters of the Marine's ship. It was risky, yes; but you were covered with a cloak and Smoker dared one of his men to question what- or rather who- he did in his bed.

Clothes were forgotten, passionate lips connected, hands roamed across hot skin. You were left in your lacy bra and undies, a matching set you had thrown on in haste before you had bolted to Shakky's. The man took a moment to admire every part of you; his gaze slowly tearing through you from head to toe. The look in his eyes was anything but holy, pupils dilated and irises clouded with desire.

You dragged your fingers from his collarbone, down to his abs, your tickling fingers making him inhale sharply. Your lips danced across the sensitive skin of his neck, leaving purple marks in your wake. Your nails dragged up and down his abs. His hands were traveling up and down your curvy waist, hands gripping the plush skin of your hips. His palms engulfed you, his size clear as his broad chest hovered above you. Your legs tried their best to wrap around his torso, though you could barely hook your ankles together.

"Shit-" Smoker grunted, your sinful mouth now leaving bite marks on his chest, driving him crazy. He could feel his cock twitching in his boxers, need coursing through his veins. "Need ya- hah- to put those pretty lips around my cock."

"Do you need it?" you asked sweetly, your hands making their way to the hard-on imprinted in his underwear, giving it a soft squeeze. He groaned, his eyes falling closed, chin tipping upwards.

"Yes-" his breath was labored, having dreamt of this for so long and jacked off to the thought of you looking up at him from between his legs, batting your eyelashes as you swallowed his cock.

Your smile was cat-like, hands working his boxers off and freeing his swollen dick from its confines. The girth and curve of it was enough to make your mouth water; a large vein ran from the base to halfway down his length on the topside of it, and his tip was red and pitiful, almost begging to be sucked.

You engulfed his swollen head in your wet mouth, tongue swirling around the slit and collecting the precum from it. A shaky call of your name left his mouth, large hands grabbing the sides of your head to push himself deeper into your throat. Sounds of chokes and wet squelches filled the man's ears, and he looked down to admire the sight before him.

Your eyes were glossy, pupils fixed on his own through your thick eyelashes. Your dainty hands dug into his muscled thighs as your mouth worked down his length, pausing for a moment to squeeze his tip in your throat before lifting back up, tongue dragging along that thick vein. You grabbed his balls with one hand, massaging them with your fingers.

"Fuuuck- love, just like that, so good-!" You smiled around his length as Smoker encouraged you.

His hands were now controlling your pace, your cheeks puffed to suck him in and tighten your mouth around his weeping cock. A strained grunt left his mouth before he was spurting down your throat, head tipped back and hips pushed against your face. His pubes tickled your nose, and when he pulled out, a thick string of cum and spit connected you to him.

Heavy pants left his mouth as he admired your face; cheeks pink, faint tears running down them, your eyelids droopy as you looked up at him lustfully. He smiled at you gently, thick fingers gripping your chin to pull you towards him.

"Did so good, my darling," he breathed, your breaths mingling. "Now I'm gonna take care of you..."

His fingers were like heaven in your dripping cunt; they worked you methodically and slowly to find just what made you tick. By the time your orgasm washed over you, only two of his thick digits had stretched you, prodding mercilessly at your pulsing cunt until you were creaming and writhing around his fingers, tasting yourself when he was finished as he pushed your slick into your mouth.

"Taste so good, huh baby?" He asked lovingly, your head nodding around him. "That's right, my love... now, how do you want me to fuck you?"

He pulled out from your mouth, eyes sparkling as he waited for your answer. Your mind was swimming with all the different naughty positions you had imagined yourself taking him in, but one stuck out to you. You wanted to watch his face contort in pleasure as your cunt pleasured and swallowed him whole.

"Wanna ride you," You whispered, guiding him to lay against the headboard, back upright as you climbed into his lap. Your breasts were now free from the bra you had on, and Smoker cupped them in his hands, engulfing them completely and giving them a squeeze.

You had no idea what you did to him; he felt as if he were gazing upon a higher power, like you were telling him all the secrets of the world and all he could do was listen and stare in awe.

You carefully lined up the man's aching cock with your entrance, burying him in your wet heat while the stretch of his cock pulled a long moan from the back of your throat, until you were impaled completely on his dick.

"F-fuck, so big-" you sighed, forehead resting against his muscled shoulder. You began to bounce your hips against him, his mind hazy and his hands still gripping your breasts as they recoiled in time with your pace. Hands planted against his chest, you savored the way his cock pressed against your sweet spot, poking at your cervix each time your cunt swallowed him to the hilt.

"You're so tight- so good for me, just like that baby-" His praises filled your ears and encouraged you to quicken your rhythm, fingernails leaving crescent shapes in his muscled chest. He could feel his dick pulsing, begging to release any second.

Your pussy clamped around him, the shockwaves from his fingers pinching your nipples causing your orgasm to wash over you like a tsunami wave. Your ass connected to his hips, your lips singing his name. He pushed up into you, painting your walls with his semen, pulling out and watching the creamy fluid pool on his abs.

You looked up at him, your chest heaving in time with his as you basked in the feeling of being fucked by the man you could never admit you loved. He was smiling at you, grinning like you had never seen before.

"That was..." he started between breaths, rubbing his chin thoughtfully to think of a word to describe the previous fornication.

"Exquisite? Magnificent? Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?" You finished, a chuckle lacing your words.

Smoker just rolled his eyes playfully, pushing your cheeks together and leaning up to kiss your squished lips.

As he held you and pet your hair gently, you couldn't help that empty feeling in your chest as you thought about how you wouldn't see him again for a while. You only smiled, taking a deep breath and letting the thought go.

That was a problem for tomorrow. For now, you relaxed in the Marine's arms, talking about everything and nothing with him, taking in the way the glow of the moon bathed the two of your nude bodies in pale light.

[anonymousewrites]

Pearl of the Sea Chapter Seven

Found Family! PoTC Cast x Teen! Reader

Platonic! Will Turner, Elizabeth Swann, Jack Sparrow, Tia Dalma x Reader

Chapter Seven: Stranded on an Island

Summary: Abandoned on a deserted island, Jack, Elizabeth, and (Y/N) console themselves, and Elizabeth plots.

            (Y/N) waded out of the water and sat down on the sandy shores of the island. They took deep breaths. Behind them, Elizabeth—burgundy dress gone—and Jack struggled to land after an exhausting swim. (Y/N) wasn’t tired, but they were nervous—scared—about being stuck on an abandoned island without fresh water or food. This could and probably would be their doom.

            Jack stared back at the Black Pearl as it sailed away. “That’s the second time I’ve watched that man sail away with my ship,” he said, frustrated. He turned and stalked into the grove of trees.

            “You were marooned on this island before!” said Elizabeth, following him. “We can escape the same way!”

            (Y/N) nearly followed, but, feeling more secure where they sat, they remained by the sea. Behind them, the argument continued, and (Y/N) sighed. They just wanted to think.

            “To what point and purpose, young missy?” said Jack. “The Black Pearl is gone! Unless you and the laddie have a lot of sails hidden in your clothes, young Mr. Turner will be dead long before you can reach him.”

            “But you’re Captain Jack Sparrow!” said Elizabeth. “You vanished from under the eyes of seven agents of the East India Company! You sacked Nassau Port without a shot. Are the pirate I’ve read about or not?”

            (Y/N) sighed and ran their hands through the sand, trying to calm themself as the threat of death hung over their head.

            “How did you escape the last time?” demanded Elizabeth.

            That had (Y/N) glancing back. They were curious about that since sea turtles felt pretty much impossible, even if magic and curses existed. Jack frowned and turned away from Elizabeth. (Y/N)’s intense gaze bore into him, and he hesitated before speaking again.

            “Last time I was here a grand total of three days, alright?” he said. “Last time…” he opened up a hidden cellar door. “The rumrunners used this island as a cache.” Jack avoided their gazes and went into the cellar. “They came by, and I was able to barter passage off.” He grimaced as he lifted a bottle of rum out. “From the looks of things, they’ve long been out of business.” Jack huffed. “Probably have your bloody friend Norrington to thank for that.”

            (Y/N) sighed. It was more than a little disappointing that Jack didn’t have a way off the island, but at least they had a better explanation than “sea turtles.”

            “So that’s it, then?!” said Elizabeth. “That’s the secret, grand adventure of the infamous Jack Sparrow!” She narrowed her eyes furiously. “You spent three days on the beach drinking rum.”

            “Welcome to the Caribbean, love!” said Jack cheerfully. “Now, who wants a drink before we die? Laddie?!”

            “I like to keep my wits,” said (Y/N).

            “What a depressing idea,” said Jack, swaggering off towards the sea to get wasted.

            Behind them, Elizabeth looked at the bottle of rum, and an idea came to her. She looked back at (Y/N) and Jack and decided to keep her plan to herself. For one, she didn’t trust Jack. For two, she didn’t want to give false hope to (Y/N) in case her plan didn’t work out and they got stranded.

            “(Y/N),” said Elizabeth.

            “Yes?” said (Y/N), looking at Elizabeth.

            “Thank you for coming,” said Elizabeth. “It was extraordinarily brave of you.” She hugged (Y/N). “I’m so sorry you got stuck here.” She held them tightly. “I’m going to get you out of here. I promise.”

            “Of course I came for you, Lizzie. You’re my sister,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Elizabeth held them tighter. She really loved this kid. “Come on, (Y/N). Let’s go celebrate that we’re alive right now.”

l

            “We’re devils, we’re black sheep, we’re really bad eggs!” Elizabeth, (Y/N), and Jack danced around a bonfire on the beach. They sang as they went, and Jack was completely wasted. (Y/N) had drank a bit to keep from being thirsty, and Elizabeth was slightly tipsy. However, despite the varying states of inebriation, they were having a great time. “Drink up, me hearties, yo-ho! Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me!”

            “I love this song!” said Jack.

            Elizabeth laughed, and (Y/N) whooped and spun. Jack copied them and swayed on his feet. He fell to the sand, and (Y/N) sprawled back with him.

            “When I get the Pearl back…I’m gonna teach it to the whole crew!” declared Jack, his words slurring. “And we’ll sing it all the time.”

            “You’ll be a singing pirate,” laughed (Y/N), letting free for once on the seashore. “Feared in all the Caribbean!”

            “Not just the Caribbean—the entire ocean! The world!” said Jack earnestly. “I’ll go wherever I want to go, I go!” He grinned at (Y/N). “That’s what a ship is, you know. It’s not just a keel and hull and deck and sails. That’s what a ship needs. But what a ship is…What the Black Pearl really is—”

            “Freedom,” said (Y/N). They gazed at Jack, eyes bright. “It’s freedom.”

            Jack grinned at them. “You’re a bright one, laddie.” He tilted his head and waved his bottle of rum. “You want that freedom, don’t you? The sea air, the waves, the lack of rules…” His face twisted in disgust at the idea of being confined by “polite” society.

            (Y/N) groaned. “I hate the rules. They make no sense.” They sat up and looked out at the sea. “I like it much more out here. With the sea.” They took a deep breath of the salty breeze. “I like freedom.”

            Jack looked at (Y/N), the words cutting through his tipsiness. That was a spirited speech awfully reminiscent of his own thoughts, of his own self when he was their age. Yes, his father had been a pirate so he had always been one, but he, too, had looked at the world and decided that the rules and limitations weren’t for him. Jack wanted freedom; the sea gave it.

            And now a kid was looking at him with that very same look in their eyes—the glint of freedom. (Y/N) had a taste for it, and now nothing would ever be enough if they didn’t have it.

            Jack smiled at (Y/N) and raised his bottle. “To freedom!” A small part of himself, beneath all the drunkenness and braggadocio, hoped that spark wouldn’t be smothered.

            (Y/N) grinned back. “Aye!”

l

            (Y/N) awoke to a terrible heat on their face. They groaned and sat up from where they had found the shade of a tree to rest. Their eyes widened, and they jumped to their feet. Elizabeth was throwing barrels of rum into a bonfire, and a dark smoke was flying into the air.

            “What the—Lizzie, what are you doing?!” said (Y/N), alarmed at the sudden actions of their usually rational sister. That was the only liquid they had to drink.

            “Saving us,” said Elizabeth firmly.

            “No! Not good! Stop!” Jack ran up from the beach at the sight of the flames, also awakened by the smell of burning alcohol and trees. “What are you doing?! You’ve burned all the food, the shade, the rum!”

            “Yes, the rum is gone,” said Elizabeth.

            “Can you actually explain your thinking?” said (Y/N).

            “Why is the rum gone?” bemoaned Jack.

            “One, because it is a vile drink that turns even the most respectable men into scoundrels,” snapped Elizabeth to Jack. She looked a lot kindlier at (Y/N). “Two, that signal is over a thousand feet high. The entire royal navy is out looking for us. They’ll see it, there’s no chance they won’t.

            “But why is the rum gone?!” said Jack.

            (Y/N) sighed, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She sat down on the beach and looked out over the water.

            “Just wait, Jack Sparrow. Give it out hour, maybe two, keep a weather eye open, and you will see white sails on that horizon,” said Elizabeth.

            Jack looked ready to draw his pistol and shoot, but a glare from (Y/N) made him freeze. He hadn’t been on the Interceptor when the pirates attacked, so he hadn’t seen the fury their eyes were capable of. Now, that exact storminess was turned on him, and he knew if he tried to harm Elizabeth, (Y/N) would fight to the end. Jack wasn’t interested in that. So, instead, he turned and stalked off in a huff.

            “Do you really think it will work?” said (Y/N), sitting down next to Elizabeth.

            “There’s a very good chance it will,” said Elizabeth, smiling at (Y/N). “And then Norrington and my father will find us, we can save Will, and then we can all go home.”

             (Y/N) smiled up until the final statement. They faltered and looked back at the sea. “Right.”

            Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

            “Yes. I don’t want to be stranded here. It’s just that…” They trailed off and shifted uncomfortably. “I liked sailing. I liked being away from Port Royal.” I liked the sea. The freedom.

            Elizabeth’s gaze softened. “You enjoyed not having my father’s expectations on your shoulders.”

            (Y/N) let out a dry laugh. “I can’t quite live up to them, can I? I can try, but I’m not what ‘civilized’ society wants.”

            Elizabeth smiled at them. “I know.” She nudged them and looked at their clothes. “You left behind the dresses the moment you could, the first bit of polite society you were pushed into.”

            (Y/N) smiled. “Yes…” Their smile fell. “But I must return. I know that. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t stay on the sea.”

            “I’d prefer you to be somewhere safer, yes,” said Elizabeth. “But don’t worry. I’ll be with you. I promise.”

            “…Even if your father wants you to marry Norrington? You won’t leave me?” said (Y/N), looking at Elizabeth.

            “Never,” said Elizabeth, hugging (Y/N) tightly. “You’re my family. I’m not leaving you behind.”

            (Y/N) hugged Elizabeth back. “Thank you.”

            “Even if you are the stubbornest, most reckless child I’ve ever met,” teased Elizabeth. “Running off with pirates for me.”

            (Y/N) laughed sheepishly.

            Elizabeth smiled as their good spirits returned and looked out at the sea. She froze and stood. A grin split her features. “There!”

            (Y/N) scrambled to their feet and peered over the slight hill of the island. There, beyond the curve of the tiny isle, white sails of the British navy flew against the bright blue sky.

            They had been found.

l

            “We’ve got to save Will!”

            Elizabeth wasted no time in declaring her intentions to help Will against Barbossa. She, (Y/N), and Jack had been brought aboard the Dauntless where Governor Swann and Norrington awaited them, and she was instantly on the offensive and trying to get them to help her.

            “No,” said Swann. “You and (Y/N) are safe now. We will return to Port Royal immediately.” He looked at (Y/N) harshly. “And we will be having a long discussion about your actions, young lady.” (Y/N) winced at the word and held their shirt tighter. “Helping a pirate escape jail, stealing a ship?! What were you thinking?!” Swann groaned. “You even stole the clothes of a pirate.”

            “Will and I paid for these,” said (Y/N) quietly. Already, they felt the press of polite society and social rules closing in around them, strangling the freedom they’d had.

            “And that makes it alright to go gallivanting after pirates with other pirates?!” snapped Swann.

            (Y/N) flinched. Jack narrowed his eyes. Elizabeth pulled (Y/N) to her side protectively.

            “(Y/N) and Will saved me!” said Elizabeth. “I would have been lost if not for their actions. We cannot leave Will behind now. If we do, we condemn him to death.”

            “The boy’s fate is regrettable, but so is his decision to engage in piracy,” said Swann.

            “To rescue me! To prevent anything from happening to me,” said Elizabeth.

            “If I was in Will’s place, would I be left behind, too, for going to save Lizzie?” said (Y/N), eyes raising to face Swann and Norrington.

            “I—Of course not,” said Swann. “You’re my ward. You are a misguided child.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes narrowed as they slid to Norrington. He hadn’t reacted. For a moment, their eyes were stormy with barely contained fury, and they spoke coldly. “But Will isn’t important enough for you?” Norrington and Swann didn’t respond, and (Y/N) knew what the response was. No. Will wasn’t important enough to save. “You’re willing to throw away a life just because he isn’t of high-enough status for you.” (Y/N)’s hands clenched into fists, and Elizabeth saw the same storm stirring within them as it had against the Black Pearl. “Disgusting.”

            “I would watch your tone, young lady,” said Norrington. “It is the grace of your father that excuses you from the harshest consequences of your actions.” He looked at Swann. “Clearly, they have been quite misguided by the pirates. I’d suggest a boarding school to teach them proper manners, but it is your choice, Governor.”

            “Manners? I’ll teach you—”

            “If I may be so bold as to interject my personal opinion,” said Jack, moving between Elizabeth and (Y/N) and the two men.

            After (Y/N)’s speech about throwing away lives due to status, Jack was reminded of the one time he tried to live a “proper” sailor’s life. He remembered what people had deemed cargo fit to buy and sell—other people. Jack had refused to allow that, refused to believe in such a disgusting view of human beings. And now here was the kid, the same one who chased freedom, being pushed around and wanting to help those being thrown away like Jack had. Something in his cold black heart thumped, and he decided to finally speak up.

            (Obviously, it wasn’t so that Norrington and Swann would stop speaking so cruelly to (Y/N). No, it was just so Jack had a chance to escape and get the Pearl. Or maybe it was both. He decided not to consider that).

            “The Pearl was listing after the battle,” said Jack, continuing before anyone could stop him. “It’s unlikely she’ll be able to make good time. Think about it—the Black Pearl. The last real pirate threat in the Caribbean, mate. How can you pass that up, eh?”

            Norrington narrowed his eyes. “By remembering that I serve others, not only myself.”

            (Y/N)’s heart sunk, and they looked at Jack. They hoped he could see they were thanking him for trying to get them to go after the pirates and Will—even if it was just for his own gain since he was undoubtedly going to try to get the Pearl for himself.

            “Commodore, I beg you,” said Elizabeth, moving forward before Norrington left. “Please do this. For me.” She swallowed. “As a wedding gift.”

            Norrington whirled. (Y/N) sucked in a breath. Swann stared at her in shock.

            “Elizabeth?” he said. He was pleased. “Are you accepting the Commodore’s proposal?”

            “I am,” said Elizabeth. To save Will, she’d do anything.

            “A wedding!” said Jack. “I love weddings. Drinks all around!” The air was too tense for him. Norrington glared at him, and Jack cleared his throat. “I know.” He held out his wrists. “ ‘Clap him in irons,’ right?”

            Norrington’s jaw tensed. “Mr. Sparrow, you will accompany these fine men to the helm and provide us with a bearing to Isla de Muerta. You will then spend the rest of the voyage contemplating all meanings of the phrase ‘silent as the grave.’ Do I make myself clear?”

            “Inescapably clear,” said Jack.

            (Y/N) frowned as Jack was pulled to the helm by two guards and Norrington went with him. They knew he’d try to bargain for the Pearl, and that would lead them into danger. However, they had a feeling Norrington was aware of that. That being said…they also knew Norrington had no idea just how dangerous the crew of the Pearl were. (Y/N) did.

            They exchanged a look with Elizabeth, and they found her gaze was as determined as their heart felt. They knew that they’d have to be the ones to ensure Will escaped. They couldn’t leave his fate in anyone else’s hands.

            One more adventure until they lost their freedom—Elizabeth to marriage and (Y/N) to society. They’d have to make it count.

Taglist:

@slytherinroyalty16

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@dmitrytherat

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[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 2

So, I have vague plans for this fic now but the first two chapters are just dabbles, trying to find a way to write a reader insert and to write Frankie Morales. I'll have to think of a good title for the fic as I get the story together, for now it's just a bunch of scribbled ideas in a notebook. I'll update and give more of a summery once it's taken shape in my head I guess? Until then, I hope you enjoy a second date with Frankie and some fluffy flirting with our sweet soft boy.

Edit: making this easier to navigate- Chapter 3

Waking up late the next morning you catch up on the gossip from last night in the bachelorette party chat thread. It’s filling up with groans and promises to never drink again as your friends wake up across the city. You’re feeling fine, you’d only had a couple of cocktails last night, and now you’re poking fun at your friends while Lizzy curses at you for letting her do too many tequila shots. 

Steve’s future wife: “Seriously, you should’ve stopped me, you were supposed to be my guardian last night!” 

“I stopped you from ordering Long Island Teas for the entire club at 1am, your head and your credit card should be very grateful, Lizzy!”

Steve’s future wife: “My head doesn’t feel very grateful right now…”

Your phone suddenly pings with a new message and as you tap out of the party chat you see Frankie’s name on your screen. You can’t help but feel a little jolt of excitement as you pull up his message.

“morning. i was wondering if youd maybe like to get some coffee today, seeing as i didnt get a chance to buy you a drink last night?”

Your mouth pulls up in an inadvertent smile as you see the text, you’d been hoping he’d get in touch soon.

“Morning, yes I’d like that, I definitely need coffee this morning! 

You hit send but instantly regret it, maybe that message sounded like you only wanted coffee and not that you were happy to see him again? You quickly type out a new message. 

“Sorry, I hit send too fast… I meant to say that I definitely need coffee. But I'd also like to get some with you.” 

The second you hit send you see the innuendo and bite your lip, fuck! 

…

Frankie can’t help but chuckle as he sees her message come through. He knows she means coffee but he sees her typing away as the three dots move on his screen and guesses she’s trying to back track from the “get some” innuendo. He waits while she types, still smiling to himself. He’d been nervous about asking her out for coffee so soon but he wanted to give her a chance to get to know him a bit before he asked her out for dinner, less pressure for both of them he figured. When her instant yes came back he’d felt heat flash through his body, he really wanted to see her again and she seemed to feel the same way. 

“Shit, ignore that last message completely, I mean, yes, I’d really like to get some coffee with you this morning, Frankie.”

Frankie chuckled again and typed his reply. 

“no pun intended then?”

“Shut up :)”

And then; 

“Where do you want to meet, and when? I’m free the whole day. My only plan was to recover from last night.” 

Frankie suggests a coffee shop in a part of the city close to downtown. The area is good for weekends and has lots of places to hang out under the trees that line the river that runs through the neighbourhood. She knows the place and agrees to meet there in an hour and Frankie gets in the shower to get ready. For all the flack Pope had given him last night about making him pay up the one hundred dollar bet he’d also seen that Frankie was really into this girl. He’d spent the ride home telling his friend to not worry, that he was a great guy and that this girl would like Francisco Morales if he only gave her a chance. 

“I know it’s a tired old line but just be yourself, Fish. You’re charming when you want to be and good looking, you know the girls always line up for you when we’re out, even with that damn cap shoved down your forehead. She’s into you so just relax and enjoy the company of a beautiful woman.” Pope had slapped his friend on the shoulder before getting out of the truck and now Frankie tries to force himself to feel some of Pope’s confidence as he scrubs himself down in the shower. “Just relax, he tells himself as his stomach flips at the thought of the way her lips had felt against his cheek last night. “You’ve got this, Frankie, you got her number, she replied, she wants to see you again, just take it from there.” 

…

The second you’ve confirmed to Frankie that you’ll meet in an hour you rush out of bed and into the shower. Butterflies are back in your stomach and you’re kinda surprised at the effect this guy is having on your nerves. It’s not like you to get so nervous about a guy you’ve barely spoken to, even if he was cute and broad as a barn door. Something about Frankie’s shy approach, the way his face seemed to soften when he smiled, made your heart melt a bit. But there was definitely something more confident lurking under the surface, you could tell from his teasing replies to your messages. It gave you the feeling that he was probably hiding a more assertive manner under his initial shyness and you couldn’t wait to make him comfortable enough to bring it out. You were looking forward to getting to know him better and so far it didn’t seem like you’d regret your snap decision to give him your number last night. 

The coffee shop Frankie suggested is right on the river and as you’re walking towards it Frankie texts saying that he’s got a table out back next to the water’s edge. You make your way through the building and see him sitting at a table looking snug in a dark green hoodie, the cap still firmly on his head. His unruly curls are poking out around his neck but it looks as if he’s made the effort to contain the ones around his ears, they are tucked in under the edge of the cap, still threatening to escape. He’s sitting relaxed, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed, looking out over the river where two crews are rowing past. As you get closer he seems to spot you from the corner of his eye and his gaze finds yours, his handsome face splitting into a warm smile as he gets up. 

“Hey, good to see you,” he says, stepping forward to drop a kiss on your cheek before stepping back, still smiling. Your butterflies make themselves known as his warm smell washes over you, that same warm cotton smell from the night before, mint from his toothpaste and something that has to be his body wash. His lips are soft as they brush against your skin, a sharp contrast to the light scratch of his beard. He seems to pause for a second against your cheek as his hand lands on your waist and when he pulls back you feel the cool tip of his nose on your skin. 

“Hi, good to see you too,” you smile as you try to squash the butterflies, letting him pull out the chair opposite his at the small table as you sit down. He gets back to his own seat and leans on his forearms on the table, making it shift slightly as it takes his weight. You bite the inside of your lip as you suddenly feel very shy at the way his eyes are focused on yours and he seems to notice the movement, his eyes dropping to your lips as you worry at them. 

“You’re gonna draw blood, hermosa,” he says with a soft voice and you feel his thumb smooth over your bottom lip, making you let go of it. His gesture is gentle and calming and as he drops his hand back to the table you find yourself wishing he’d continued, your face leaning into his hand. His crooked smile makes your own creep back as he captures your fingertips between his own on the table, gently tugging them towards him, as he leans closer, dropping his eyes to your lips again. Your breath catches in the back of your throat as you watch the pink tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as he moves closer. 

“Morning, early birds! Let me guess, some coffee to start off with to wake you up, huh? And then let me take you through our specials today. Ya’ll are gonna love our seasonal pancakes!” 

You all but groan when the server’s chipper voice cuts through the moment you’re having, Frankie immediately pulls away from you and your fingers slips through his as he clenches his jaw before picking up the menu card on his side of the table. The server continues to rattle through the specials and you scan the menu in front of you. 

“Do you wanna start with coffee, maybe?” Frankie asks, ignoring the server’s chatter. 

“Yes, please, that sounds good. I don’t know what I wanna eat yet,” you say and flip the menu over to look at the huge drinks menu on the back. 

“Black coffee for me, thanks,” Frankie says to the server who has finally covered all the specials. “Know what you want, hermosa?” 

“A double shot cappuccino, thanks,” you reply, looking up at the server who takes your orders and walks away with a nod. 

“Rude,” Frankie smirks as he leans forward again, capturing your fingers in his, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His shyness from last night seems to have disappeared in light of your own and his eyes are warm and soft as he gently tugs you forward, his gaze flicking down to your lips and up to your eyes. You feel heat pooling in the pit of your stomach as he gets close enough for you to smell his toothpaste again, his lips pulling up in a small smile as he gently strokes his thumb over your bottom lip. 

The sharp signal of a phone suddenly cuts through the air and Frankie actually drops his head on to his hands and curses in Spanish under his breath before he leans back and pulls the offending item out of his back pocket. 

“I’m about to toss this damn thing in the river,” he grumbles, throwing you an apologetic look. But looking at the screen his eyebrows pull together in a deep frown. 

“I’m really sorry, I have to take this, it’s work but they usually don’t call on a Sunday.” 

Frankie gets up and steps away from the table. You watch him retreat, realising you don’t actually know what he does for a living. You go back to studying the menu and after a couple of minutes Frankie sits down again, a disappointed look on his face. 

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go,” he says, his hand shooting up to the back of his neck in that same gesture from last night, his face looking crestfallen and apologetic. “There’s an emergency at work that I have to deal with, the guy who’s on call this weekend is stuck in traffic behind some big pile up and can’t get to the airfield.” 

“Oh,” you say, disappointment washing over you, feeling your stomach drop, and it must’ve shown on your face because Frankie’s hand shoots forward and grabs yours. 

“Please don’t think I’m trying to get out of our date, I was really looking forward to hanging out with you but,” Frankie’s fingers are rubbing across the back of your hand, his eyebrows knitted together over his worried eyes, “it’s a medical transportation, some transplant organ that I have to pick up from Mount Hope and fly over to General, it can’t wait.”

“Wow, I didn’t even know you’re a pilot. You fly airplanes?” 

“Helicopters,” he replies proudly as he pulls you up from the chair, still holding on to your hand. “I did it in the army for years but since I left I’ve been working at a local airfield, doing different transportation assignments.” His large hand feels like it dwarfs your own with how easily it fits inside the warmth of his and you hold on to him as he walks you across the patio into the coffee shop. “Maybe we can get the coffee to go?” he suggests, “And some pastries too? They do really good little hand pie things here.” He smiles down at you and you feel a bit better about the sudden end to your date, at least it doesn’t seem like he’s running off just to get away from you. 

When you get to the counter Frankie asks for your coffee order to go and pays for a couple of hand pies while you pick them out, cherry for you and Frankie immediately goes for the same one when you point it out. While he’s waiting for the pies he suddenly looks over at you with a quizzical look. 

“What?” you ask, his face suddenly mischievous. 

“Are you afraid of heights, hermosa?” 

“No, but I’ve never been in a helicopter if that’s what you're asking?” 

“Do you wanna go up in one today?” Frankie grins, his eyes definitely looking like he’s about to get you into trouble.

“Can you do that? I mean, are you allowed to take someone up just like that?” 

“You’re my new co-pilot in training now,” he beams, delighted with his idea. “I’ve got to fly from the airfield to Mount Hope, pick up the box, fly over to General and then back to the airfield. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours if you’re up for it?” His smile is infectious and the excitement in his body is palpable as you feel his hand squeeze yours, you can’t refuse him. 

“Sure, I guess I’ll sign up to be your co-pilot, Frankie,” you laugh and he pulls you in under his arm, dropping a kiss on the top of your head as he grabs the bags with coffee and pastries. “You’ll love it, I promise.” 

Frankie guides you out of the coffee shop and shows you to his truck parked across the street, taking you round to the passenger side door and opening it for you like a gentleman. It makes you smile at him as he gives you a hand up the high step and he grins back at you, making your heart flutter at the sight of his eyes lighting up. In the short time you’ve spent with Frankie, his eyes have definitely become your favourite feature, the dark brown irises changing as his smile comes and goes on his face. When he smiles they seem to soften, his eyebrows coming together as the corners crinkle, when he’s nervous or awkward he drops his head and looks up at you from underneath the peak of his cap and his eyes mirror the worry in his head, now they’re really sparkling with mischief and glee as he all but bounces around the front of the truck before pulling himself up into the driver’s seat. 

“Your coffee, hermosa,” he passes the take away mug to you before placing his own in the cup holder. The truck has been sitting in the warm sun and Frankie pulls the hoodie over his head, tossing it in the back before starting up the truck. The white t-shirt underneath does nothing to hide the sheer width of his shoulders as he turns in his seat, hooking his arm round the back of the bench seat as he manoeuvres the truck out from the tight spot at the curb. You try not to stare at how his chest flexes as he twists half way around in the seat, his muscular arm resting right next to your head. You follow the line of it up underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt, it’s ridden up high on his deltoid and you can see the dark smudge of his armpit as he grunts, twisting around again. 

“Admiring the view, cariño?” Frankie chuckles as he catches your eyes on his chest and you feel heat rushing to your face, quickly slapping your hand over your eyes, stifling a giggle. Frankie laughs loudly and pulls your hand from your face, tugging you closer to him across the wide seat. 

“Come here, hermosa, you can look as much as you want,” his chest is rumbling as he laughs but he pulls your hand up to his mouth and presses his lips to the back of it before setting it down on his leg, moving his hand to the gear shift and pulling out into traffic. 

“So, never been in a helicopter?” he asks, glancing over at you. “Ever been up in a smaller plane?”

“No, nothing like that, only regular commercial flights. Is it very different?” You’re slightly nervous about the idea but Frankie’s excitement is infectious, this is clearly something he loves. 

“It’s very different from a commercial flight but I’ll make sure to go easy on you, no loops or flying upside down.” He moves his hand on top of yours as the traffic starts to flow smoothly, lying warm and solid over your own. 

“I’ve never seen a helicopter fly upside down, you can do that?” Your limited knowledge of helicopters makes Frankie break out in a big grin. 

“Only on special occasions,” he glances away from the road for a second and gives you a wink and you roll your eyes as you catch on. 

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, you’re a regular comedian,” you pull out your hand from under his and punch him lightly on his upper arm, but you can’t help but smile as he chuckles and pretends to duck his head to get away from you. 

“A few helicopters can fly upside down but not this one, unfortunately, I’d like to see your face when I do it,” he laughs again and takes your hand back, placing it on his thigh but holding on to it this time. “Really, don’t worry, hermosa, I’ll take us up and down and fly straight as an arrow, no fooling around.”

“At least not in the air.” It slips out before you know it and Frankie immediately snorts loudly and you feel laughter bubbling inside you as he breaks out in a wide grin, shooting you a mischievous look. 

“At least not in the air,” he agrees, looking at the road again but his eyes are wrinkling at the corners as he smiles. “I’m gonna have to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re not touching any of my buttons.” 

“Ok, that one was too obvious,” you giggle as he tries to contain the way he’s chuckling at his own joke. 

“Yeah, I know but I couldn’t help it,” he smiles, tugging at his cap and looking over at you as the truck comes to a stop at a red light. His brown eyes are warm and happy, the sunlight shines into the car from behind him and his unruly hair has escaped from under his cap and is curling around his ears again. You hesitate for a second but the urge is too strong, you reach up and graze across them with your fingertips, feeling the soft strands brush against your skin. Frankie inhales deeply and the smile slips from his face, replaced by something more urgent. He leans in and the rich aroma of the coffee he’s been drinking washes over you. 

“I really want to kiss you,” he mumbles close to your lips, “but not in my truck at a red light, so please, hermosa, do that again when I won’t crash any vehicles we might be in.” He stays close for a beat longer and drops his gaze to your lips before pulling back with a small groan just as the light changes to green. 

You feel like the atmosphere in the truck is about to reach a dangerous boiling point so you try to calm yourself down by sipping on your coffee and reaching for one of the pies, handing the other to Frankie. 

“I feel like I'm tempting fate by eating a cherry pie with one hand while wearing a white t-shirt.” he says as his first bite drips cherry juice down his fingers. “This is so good though,” he catches the trickle down his pinky with his tongue which makes you swallow and quickly look away. 

He’s right, the pie is very tasty and you both fall silent as you try to capture every flaky crumb that falls from the pie as you bite into it. The filling is sweet and tart and gone far too soon. 

“Fuck, I wish we’d bought three each,” you moan as you swallow down the last bite. Frankie is still juggling the last of his as he turns the truck on to a smaller road on the outskirts of the city, steering with one hand and keeping the pie away from his, miraculously still white, t-shirt. 

“Here, have the rest of mine,” he offers, holding out his hand to you. 

“You sure? You’re not one of those people who offer their food and then get offended when I eat half your fries?” 

“No, I’m smarter than that, I always order a large fries when I’m eating with a woman,” he grins. “Just take my pie, I’m gonna need both hands here anyway.” 

“I’m gonna test you on that,” you say as you gratefully take the last bit of pie from him, “this damn pie really is too good.”

“You wanna share my fries, hermosa?” Frankie smirks, the truck now rumbling down a long straight road, air hangars in the distance. “That must mean I’m getting a second date out of this?”

“That still depends on how this helicopter ride goes, you make me airsick I might change my mind.” You scrunch up your nose as the hangers come closer. “I’m actually kinda nervous, I don’t wanna fuck up your assignment by throwing up in your helicopter.”

“Do you usually get carsick or seasick?” Frankie asks. 

“No, not usually.” 

“Then you’ll be fine, that kind of sickness has got something to do with the balance system in your ear so if you don’t get seasick you’ll be fine in a chopper.” He reaches over with his clean hand and squeezes your thigh, giving you a warm smile, “Don’t worry, hermosa, I’ll take care of you.” 

Frankie pulls up next to the hangar and parks the truck, grabbing his hoodie from the back, quickly coming round to the passenger side as he tugs it over his head and gives you a hand down.

“This is the place,” he says and waves in the general direction of the open hangar doors. “I’ll just get the paperwork from my boss and then we’ll be off.” 

With a hand on the small of your back he guides you towards the hangar where you’re both greeted by an older man who introduces himself as Denny, Frankie’s boss, as Frankie explains that he’s taking you with him on the assignment.

“Sorry to commandeer your date, miss,” he says with a friendly smile as he hands Frankie the paperwork and a set of keys. “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy the trip, Frankie is one of my best pilots.” 

You look over at Frankie who’s looking pleased about the praise as he flips through the paperwork Denny handed him. 

“Thanks, boss, I’ll remember those words next time we talk about my pay raise,” he grins and closes the folder. “Come on, cariño, let me show you the chopper and get you strapped in.”

Frankie’s warm hand rests on the small of your back again as he takes you towards one of the helicopters parked outside the hangar. He’s rattling off facts about it and the technical specifications, you’re trying to keep up but most of it means nothing to you, and he soon breaks into a chuckle as he sees your confused face trying to comprehend what he’s talking about. 

“Don’t worry about it, sorry, I get a bit carried away, even the guys in the army would tell me to shut the fuck up when I got too technical.”

“It’s really cool that you fly helicopters for a living but I genuinely have no idea what any of that means,” you smile at him, “I’m just happy you’re happy to let me tag along today.”

“Of course I am! It was my idea after all, I’d feel too shitty about ditching you before I even got you a coffee.” You’re at the chopper and Frankie unlocks it, sliding open the door and helping you up into the passenger seat. He picks up the seat belt but pauses, looking at your torso. 

“You’re gonna be cold in just that t-shirt and jacket,” he says. You’re wearing the same jean jacket you had on last night with a fresh t-shirt underneath and as you watch he tugs his hoodie off again. “Put this on, I’ll run over and grab something from the locker room.” 

You take the hoodie from his outstretched hand, “Thanks, Frankie,” and he gives you a quick smile before turning and jogging back towards the hangar. 

You slip his dark green hoodie over your head after shedding the jacket and tossing it on to one of the seats in the back. The smell of him overwhelms you the second you pull it over your face, still warm from his body. It smells clean, like fresh detergent and something woody and spicy that might be his body wash. You stop for a second to inhale the scent that seems to be inherently his before pulling it all the way down. The hoodie is far too big for you and you have to roll up the sleeves just to have your fingertips showing. 

You’re wiggling into the seat belt, hooking your arms through on either side, when Frankie comes jogging back with black hoodie on. This one is decidedly more well worn, the fabric fraying at the edges around his arms where he’s pushed it up to his elbows. Down by his hip you can see the white of his t-shirt shining through a hole that looks like something burnt through the hoodie. 

“Comfy?” he asks as he steps up into the cockpit on your side, checking your seat belt and clipping you in securely. 

“Yeah, very. Thanks for lending it to me,” you smile up at him. He’s very close suddenly, as he bends down and pulls on the straps, you feel the tension locking your body into the seat. Frankie looks down at you as his hands still on your waist, you’re holding your breath, his eyes seem to be fixing you in place as much as the seat belt and you hear him slowly exhale, almost in a shudder. 

“Remember what I said about not crashing any vehicles?” he asks, his voice dropping into a low whisper, dark and rich. You nod slowly, the hoodie suddenly feels much too warm. “Please remind me about that when we come back here.” He stays locked on you for a few more breaths until he finally pulls away, caressing your waist as he lets his hands slip over you.

As he steps down and walks around the chopper to the pilot’s side you slowly exhale, trying to calm your racing pulse. That’s four times you’ve been close to kissing and the tension is building inside you to the point where you just want to grab his face and pull him down to your lips. Frankie’s presence is both comforting and rousing, his easy smiles make you feel happy and warm, but the tension that builds when he comes close is exhilarating and almost paralysing. 

Frankie swings into the pilot’s seat and straps himself in, starts going through the pre-flight checks and hands you a pair of headphones to put on. He slips a pair over his own ears and soon you hear his voice coming through them as the helicopter's engine roars to life. It’s loud, much louder than you expected, and you’re glad for the headphones protecting your ears. 

“You ready?” Frankie’s voice comes through the headphones with a slight distortion and you give him a nod and a thumbs up and he smiles back. His face shifts into a more serious look as he looks over the instrument panel and readies everything for flight before he pulls back on the stick in front of him and the helicopter slowly rises off the ground. You feel your stomach plummet as the tarmac drops away beneath you, the cockpit of the chopper seeming impossibly small. It makes you feel like you’re sitting on a tiny chair with nothing but sky around you as Frankie makes the helicopter climb higher. You focus on a spot on the floor between your feet to get your nerves under control and only throw quick glimpses out the window as the surrounding buildings fall away and are replaced by blue sky.  

“Hey, you ok?” Frankie’s voice comes through your headphones as his warm hand lands on your leg and you glance up at him. His eyebrows have knitted together and he’s got that sweet worried look again. 

“Yeah, I’m good, I think I just got a bit of vertigo as we took off,” you huff, drawing a deep, slightly shaky breath. 

“We won’t be climbing anymore, I’m just gonna keep us straight and steady to Mount Hope now. Just keep breathing, hermosa.” He rubs your leg a few times and smiles before he grabs the stick with both hands again. You watch him as he checks the instruments, hailing Mount Hope Hospital to let them know his ETA and then corrects the chopper’s course slightly with a small movement of his hand. He’s moving with an easy confidence that makes you relax, he looks so comfortable in the pilot’s seat, so sure in every move he makes, never hesitating as he checks the instruments and manoeuvres the helicopter. This is the most confident and assured you’ve seen him yet. You trust yourself to sit up a bit straighter and start looking around, carefully glancing outside and actually admiring the view. 

“Feeling better?” You look over at Frankie as his voice comes through your headphones again, he’s smiling as you nod and smile back. 

“Everything looks so different from up here, I can’t even pick out any landmarks,” you remark, looking out over the city again. 

“That’s city hall over there,” Frankie points at a large domed building in the distance. “And there’s General Hospital where we’ll drop off the cargo. And there’s the river,” he points at the long watery snake that glints like silver as the sun hits it from above. 

Frankie continues to point out landmarks to you as he pilots the chopper towards the first destination and pretty soon you feel comfortable enough to lean closer to the window and let your gaze drop down below the chopper. Your stomach clenches at first but then you get used to the view and start enjoying yourself and Frankie’s easy company. He seems so happy flying, so in his element, that it’s hard to not get affected by his good mood. The shyness from your first meeting last night is gone and when he looks over at you it’s with bright eyes and a big smile. 

“I love that I’m the first one to show you all this,” he grins as you get braver and turn in your seat to get a better view out the window. “Your very first helicopter ride, it’s a big deal.” 

“I see why you love it so much, it feels addicting, to be able to fly above everything like this.” 

“Yeah, I always knew I wanted to be a helicopter pilot, used to watch the traffic reports on the news, just to get to see how the pilots flew, even when I was just a kid.” He chuckles at the memory. 

“And then you did it in the army you said?” 

“Yeah, I joined up with the intent to train as a helicopter pilot, I was in Delta Force for years before I left the army.” You see his face change into something darker as he seems to fold in on himself a little. “It wasn’t exactly the experience I thought it would be, it…it was maybe…it left me a bit..I don’t know…” he falters and you see the light go out in his eyes as looks down on his hands for a brief second. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, you don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to,” you regret bringing it up as you see how it changes his mood, but Frankie shakes his head, giving you a small crooked smile. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just…I wanna tell you about it but not now, it’s maybe something for a date much further in the future, if you still wanna have me around then.” He says the last thing with a look over at you that melts your heart, that soft smile that transforms his face. 

“We’ll see,” you smile back at him, “if you stay true to your word about sharing your fries with me.” 

He chuckles and takes your hand, giving it a quick kiss, before grabbing the stick again.

The radio crackles through your headphones and you hear someone from Mount Hope hail the chopper and Frankie responds, starting to prepare for the descent down onto the landing pad outside the hospital. It takes a few minutes and your stomach flips a few times as Frankie steadily brings the helicopter down towards the ground. 

When you’re on the ground a hospital worker in scrubs and a jacket walks over to the helicopter holding onto what essentially looks like a big cooler with a red cross on it. Frankie quickly unbuckles himself and jumps out to slide the door to the back seat open. The middle aged woman with grey hair grabs his hand as she climbs into the back, giving you a quick nod, while Frankie checks that she’s safely strapped in and gives her a pair of headphones.

Soon you’re up in the air again, this ascent was much easier to handle, and Frankie turns the helicopter around and radios to General Hospital to let them know the ETA of the transport. With a stranger in the back of the chopper, the woman has the cooler on her lap the whole way, your conversation with Frankie is minimal. You keep looking out the window, trying to spot places you know, and at one point Frankie nudges your shoe with his boot and points down at a building ahead of the chopper. “The Outback Bar” is painted in large letters on the roof and he gives you a quick grin as you spot it and smile back at him. 

This trip is longer but time still passes fast and soon Frankie is bringing the helicopter down towards the bigger hospital. This time the landing pad is on the roof of a tall high rise and Frankie’s eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as he parries the side winds and slowly makes the descent. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he gently shifts the stick and works the pedals to correct the position. You can’t help but wonder how different this must be from his experience in the army. You try to imagine doing this while at the same time being under threat of enemy fire, but you can’t even picture it. 

When the helicopter touches down on the landing pad you barely feel it, just a slight sway. The lady in the back immediately unbuckles herself as Frankie gets out and slides open the door. You hear her yell a thank you to him over the roar of the rotor blades before walking with brisk pace towards the medical team waiting for her. Frankie swings himself back into the pilot’s seat and straps himself back in. 

“That’s it, mission accomplished, back to the airfield for us.” he says through the headphones and gives you a bright smile before pulling back on the stick and making you rise into the air again. 

“I feel bad,” Frankie suddenly says. “I just realised I never asked what you work with? I’ve just been going on about helicopters.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh, “My job is nowhere near as exciting as helicopters, if I took you to my office you’d fall asleep in a corner before long,” you smile back at him.

“I doubt it, I’d be stealing snacks in the break room, isn’t that what office work is all about?” he smirks back at you. “What kind of business do you work in?”

 “I work in publishing, with academic books mainly.” 

“Really?” Frankie says, his eyes widening as he looks over at you. “That’s pretty damn impressive though, sounds like a job you need to be really smart to do.”

“I don’t know about smart, often it feels like I mainly baby sit grumpy professors who don’t understand why their thirty year old dissertations can’t be printed unedited as a text book,” you sigh, “my people skills are very often tested to the max.”

“But still, you’ve got a college degree right?” he asks, as you nod he continues, “I went from high school to the army and then on to this. I know nothing about anything except flying choppers.”

“That’s still pretty impressive to me though,” you smile at him. “If we had one of those Deep Impact situations, you know, where they have to select the important people to save to keep the human race going? Book editors would not make that cut but I’m pretty sure pilots would be needed.” 

Frankie chuckles, “I fucking loved that one, with Elijah Wood and Morgan Freeman, right? I liked that the meteor actually hit earth, and they showed the destruction and the panic, most movies build up to it but then disaster is avoided at the last second..” 

“Yeah, I really liked that too, in a messed up kinda way,” you say, ”and how they showed how that kind of event brought out the worst in the human race.”

 “What kind of movies are you into?” Frankie asks as he corrects the chopper and sets a course towards the airfield.

“Uuhm…most of them, I guess? I love any kind of historical drama, makes me feel like I have a time machine. And although I’m not crazy about superhero movies I love all Spider-Man movies, really looooove,” you emphasise the love, pulling out the o while Frankie chuckles. 

“I didn’t take you for a Spider-Man girl but that’s good to know.”

“What about you, what are your favourites?” you ask him. 

“I’m pretty predictable, I love action movies, and superhero movies,” he laughs, “and any good horror movie, especially at home with all the lights out, really scare the shit out of myself.” 

“Oh no, I can’t handle horror movies, Frankie!” you protest. “I get so scared I can’t sleep after them. I saw Gremlins when I was like nine and it scarred me for life, I haven’t watched anything scary since I think.” 

“You never watch horror movies?” Frankie asks, his eyebrows raised, looking shocked. 

“No, never really, I avoid them if I can.” 

“Not even classics like The Shining, Psycho, Halloween?” Frankie’s looking over at you, rattling off horror films you’ve heard of but would never dream of watching.

“No, nope, never ever, absolutely not,” you shake your head firmly, you know exactly where Frankie is going with this. 

“I think I need to plan a movie night for our second date,” Frankie chuckles. 

“That’s one sure fire way of not getting a second date, Frankie,” you warn, crossing your arms and pressing your lips together in a firm line, “absolutely not happening.” 

Frankie giggles and leans over, tugging at your arm, trying to uncross it, “Come on, hermosa, I’ll protect you, keep you safe from all the monsters, I’ll let you hide behind me when you get scared.” 

“Why would I even wanna get scared in the first place?” you protest, his giggles making you smile as he tugs your arm free and pulls it over towards his seat. 

“Because then you can hide yourself in my arms and I can feel like the brave guy protecting you from the imaginary monsters,” Frankie smiles and does that thing where he pulls your hand to his lips for a kiss while his warm brown eyes stay locked on you.

You smile back at him, his lips are warm and soft against your skin, and you wish you were back on the ground already. “I’m happy with you just being the brave helicopter guy who’s great at keeping me calm during flying.” 

“Yeah, really?” he smiles and you recognise the way his eyes shift to something more mischievous, “wanna try something scary up here?” 

“Uhu, what do you have in mind, Frankie?” you ask cautiously, “no crashing any vehicles please.” 

“Just hold on to your seat belt, like this,” he lets go of your hand and motions you to grab on to the straps just below your shoulders.

“Why, Frankie?” you ask nervously. 

“Just hold on,” he grins and you grab hold of the straps, watching him intently. He hails the airfield on the radio and tells Denny you’re almost back but that he’s going to try out something before landing. “We’re just gonna have some fun up here,” he says to his boss while grinning over at you. 

“Frankie….” you plead, but you can’t stop yourself from giggling too as the all clear comes through the radio from Denny. 

“Alright, here we go,” Frankie grins and you suddenly feel your whole world tipping sideways and you all but scream as the chopper suddenly tilts, Frankie pulling hard right on the stick. After a few seconds he straightens up again, only to bank hard left as you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut. Your stomach drops as you feel gravity pull you down, only the seatbelt keeping you in your seat. Next to you Frankie is chuckling happily as he pulls the chopper back up horizontal again. You press your head back hard against your set, trying to catch your breath. 

“You alright, hermosa?” Frankie’s voice comes through your headphones, you can hear his grin and you open your eyes and look over at him. “I fucking hate you, Francisco Morales,” you huff but you can’t hide your smile creeping up. The rush had been exhilarating and Frankie laughs at you. “Wanna do it again?” he asks and when you nod, he looks delighted, “knew you’d like it. Hang on then, cariño.” 

As Frankie puts the chopper through a number of skilled manoeuvres, the world around you tips and tilts until your head is spinning, adrenaline flowing through your system. It’s like being on the world’s best roller coaster and you can’t help giggling and squealing as you’re running out of breath. Until suddenly, out of nowhere, the air sickness hits and you feel nausea crash over you. 

“Frankie,” you cry out, “please stop, please stop.” 

Frankie immediately brings the chopper up to hover steadily and leans over, one hand on the stick, the other on your shoulder. You breathe in and out of your nose and try to control the panic in your chest. 

“Just breathe, hermosa, just look at the horizon and keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over your arm, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done so much, I’m so sorry, hermosa.” He keeps rubbing his palm up and down your arm and the warmth from his hand and his calm voice in your headphones brings your breathing under control and the nausea dissipates slowly. Eventually you can look away from the horizon and over at Frankie, he’s still leaning over as far as his seat belt will let him, his eyes worried and guilty looking under the cap. 

“Feeling better?” he asks, moving his hand up from your arm to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over the soft skin. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you air sick, cariño.” 

“I’m feeling better now,” you give him a small smile, “I don’t know what happened. I was having fun and then it just hit me all of a sudden.” 

“I think I went a bit overboard on the banking, I should’ve been more careful with you, I’m really sorry.” Frankie’s pained expression tugs at your heart and you reach up and put your hand over his on your cheek. 

“It’s fine, Frankie, I really had fun, it was like being on the best roller coaster. I guess it just got a little bit too much suddenly.” 

Frankie looks a little bit less guilty and gives you one of those warm, soft smiles that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

“I think I’ll get us down again now, get some solid ground under your feet, hermosa.” 

“Sounds like a good idea,” you smile back at him, thankful for his calm way of getting your freak out under control. He leans back into his seat, reluctantly letting go of your cheek, and starts the descent. 

As the helicopter smoothly descends towards the airfield tarmac you see Denny approach from the hangar. Shielding his eyes from the dust whipped up by the rotor blades he waits until Frankie safely puts the aircraft down and turns off the engine, the silence almost deafening after the constant roar in your years. Frankie gets himself out of the pilot’s seat before coming round the chopper to help you out, gently taking the headphones off your head and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Easy there,” he says, taking your hand and helping you to find your footing. Your legs are surprisingly jelly-like after being in the chopper, a bit like stepping off a boat when the ground still moves under you. “Don’t want you falling over, hermosa,” Frankie tucks his arm around your waist as Denny comes over. 

“Thanks for handling that, Morales,” he says as Frankie hands over the paperwork and the keys to the chopper. “Head on out of here, I’ll finish up, go enjoy your date.” The last thing he says with a smile at you, still safely tucked in with Frankie’s arm around you. 

“Thanks, boss, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he gives Denny a nod and guides you back towards the truck. You’re fine on your feet now but Frankie’s arm feels good around you, so you let your hand slip around his waist and with a little tug Frankie pulls you closer, you catch his smile as you glance up at him. 

As you get back to the truck Frankie walks you over to the passenger side door but doesn’t open it. Instead he moves so that your back is against the side of the truck, with him standing close in front of you. You feel a shiver run through your body as you see the look in his eyes, his brown eyes almost black as he leans closer to you. 

“Remember what I told you to do again, back when we were at the stop light?” he asks, his voice dropping low and dark. 

“Yes,” you breath out, pulse racing so fast you can feel it in your throat. 

You lift your hand and caress your fingers through the unruly dark brown curls poking out around his ear. Frankie inhales and briefly closes his eyes before opening them again as you let your hand slip down his neck, caressing the soft skin behind his ear. You stroke your thumb over his jaw, fitting your thumb against the bare patch. 

Frankie steps in closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, slotting them around your face. The pink tip of his tongue pokes out, wetting his bottom lip briefly. 

“Can I finally kiss you now?” he whispers as his eyes flick down to your lips before looking up at you again. 

“Yes, Frankie, please,” you whisper back at him. 

His lips are soft, warm, supple, as he gently presses them against yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and his scent fills your nose. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him closer and he steps in eagerly, pushing you up against the warm metal of the truck. His tongue darts out and runs along your lips, making you open up and taste him willingly. He deepens the kiss, tilting his head to savour more of your mouth as you feel his tongue slide along your own. A small moan escapes you and in response Frankie slides a hand behind your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer. 

You’re bunching up the sides of his black hoodie with how desperately you’re hanging on to him as he licks deeper into your mouth, the gentle kiss quickly turning into something a lot more eager. Frankie’s pressed up against you fully and as he shifts his stance you feel the ridgid thickness between his legs press up against your stomach. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you and heat pools at the apex of your thighs as Frankie moans into your mouth, shifting his weight again. With a groan he pulls away from your lips, both of you panting, out of breath. 

Frankie drops his forehead against yours and closes his eyes, you can feel his chest rise and fall against yours. 

“You drive me crazy, mi hermosa,” he whispers, “wanted to do that since I first saw you last night.” You smile up at him even though his eyes are still closed. 

“Probably would’ve let you do it last night too, Frankie,” 

“Should’ve asked Pope for a bigger bet,” he grins, opening his eyes and looking down at you. You smile and reach up for his lips, he meets you eagerly and you lose yourself in how soft he feels as lets his tongue slip into your mouth again. 

Chapter 3

[kaihuntrr]

part twenty-four: burning red.

Martyn asks Pearl a question.

Rain slid down the window behind Martyn. He could only watch the shadows of the droplets slipping down as he remained in uneasy silence. He didn’t know how long he had been in there, or how long he was going to stay there for. The old, dusty air filled his lungs, making him feel like he himself had gone stale. There was no sound but the soft pitter-patter of rain that fell and danced on the rooftop. Martyn kept his head down. There was no point in looking around the room aimlessly. 

All this time he’d been imagining his flawless escape plan. But his limbs were numb. His body ached. His throat was sore from screaming in desperation. His heart yearned for company, even if it was that stupid Scarlet Witch– it was despairingly lonely in here!

His eyes were weary, but he dared not to close them. What if he had another nightmare? What if he dreamt about Scott dying before his eyes again? It wasn’t worth it. Any rest he’d get would be negated by the exhaustion from the nightmare. 

The world fell silent as the rain slowly subsided, leaving Martyn to watch the last few droplets of rain slide from the glass window and listen to the whispers of trees rustling in the night air. What he wouldn’t give to get himself out of these ropes, to reunite with his friends, and to get some answers from Pearl. 

At this point, he felt like he deserved them. 

His mind wandered, thinking of what to ask the witch once she returned. How did she meet the sea princes? What kind of treasure did she take? How did she survive staring at one and not feel the way he was feeling? Was it normal to think a sea prince was beautiful? Should he be–

Martyn shook his head. Maybe not those last questions. 

Martyn swung his head up and down out of boredom, moving however he could to feel blood returning to his limbs. The motion. The movement. Something to do instead of just sitting there and waiting for help to arrive. 

That was when he looked up at the wooden beams.

And saw a singular blue eye stare at him from above. It was glowing, just like Pearl’s. 

But it wasn’t Pearl.

Martyn’s skin paled as he felt ice prickle over his skin. How long had that person been there? Were they just watching him? He could see the sole of a boot highlighted by the edge of the moonlight. Someone was definitely there.

“Hello?” Martyn squinted his eyes against the darkness as he looked up at the stranger. “Can you help me out? A crazy witch trapped me in here.” He jerked his body, proving that the ropes were tight and unmoving. 

The stranger, in complete silence, stood up and walked along the wooden beams, away from Martyn.

They couldn’t just leave him there!

“Wait– please don’t go!” Martyn shouted desperately. The stranger stopped and stared at him. “I need to get back to my friends, back to the island where I belong. I promised someone important to me that I’d stay alive….”

He could feel the warmth of Scott’s memory over him. The ginger’s smile burned in his mind’s eye. He remembered the promise they made not too long ago. It felt like an eternity now, as Martyn recollected everything else that had happened in just the past few days. Now he had to grapple with his feelings about the sea prince, the terror that was Pearl, and his longing for Scott. 

Scott was everything to Martyn. His anchor. His reason for hunting. The fire that kept him burning all this time. He needed to come home. He needed to come home to Scott.

“It’d kill him if I broke my promise,” Martyn’s voice quivered, trying to keep himself from picturing what-if scenarios and Scott’s heartbroken face as his own heart twisted and tightened around him. He chuckled weakly, “It’d kill me too…. I couldn’t stand myself if I made him cry....”

A round of silence passed. Martyn stared at the floor in defeat. He felt so stupid, so weak. He’d poured out his heart to a stranger who wasn’t going to help him. He’d be alone again, this time stewing in all these awful thoughts–

The stranger sat on the wooden beams again. They appeared to be shuffling around with what little sounds they made, until eventually, they pulled out a knife, the blade glinting in the pale moonlight, and sheathed it. Were they going to cut him out?

Instead, they spoke, their voice a mumbled whisper as a singular word escaped from their throat;

“Catch.”

The stranger dropped the sheathed knife behind Martyn, the blonde catching it before it could fall on the floor. The handle was cold. Martyn held the grip of the blade tightly. He could cut himself out of the ropes! It would save him from Pearl, but a part of him wanted to stay a little longer to find out what’s happening in that witch’s brain.

He was saved.

“Th-... thank you,” Martyn looked up at the stranger and beamed, relief rising in his chest. The stranger nodded and stood up, walking along the wooden beams again as Martyn called after them. “Wait-! May… may I see you?”

The only response Martyn got was the stranger’s light footsteps leaving the room and the distant sound of a window opening then closing behind them. The stranger was gone, and Martyn was left to his own devices once more.

At least now, he had hope. 

Martyn could leave whenever he felt like it, but he wanted to get some answers from Pearl. Actual answers. If he pretended to be stuck and hopeless, she might be more inclined to answer anything he asked. If she thought he was unable to escape, she might just tell him more than she intended to. He could even catch Pearl by surprise if she turned her back on him. 

Plus, if his friends were on the way to get him, he could stall Pearl and distract her long enough for the Canaries to set up an ambush. Martyn nodded to himself. It sounded like the perfect plan. 

Hopefully his friends would come and find him soon. He wanted to see their dumb, smiling faces again. It’d only been a day, but he missed them so much. He wanted to hear them laughing, talking about stupid things, doing stupid things together. 

Martyn flinched as he heard the sound of something splashing into some deep, large body of water behind him. What was that?! It didn’t matter. Martyn shook his head. He needed to focus. 

Martyn unsheathed and maneuvered the knife between the ropes that tied his hands together. He tried to position it carefully so it wouldn’t cut any part of him but also so he wouldn’t drop it. He took a breath, gritted his teeth, then jerked his torso forwards as he pushed the knife backwards. The knife must have been wickedly sharp because it sliced straight through the ropes with barely any resistance. Martyn caught his breath, moving his arms around to the front. He went to slice the ropes off his torso, but hesitated. Instead he wiggled it over his head, relieved that he could actually feel his arms again. Then he bent forwards to cut the ropes off his legs, swinging them a few times before he stood up. 

He looked at the scraps of rope on the ground. Pearl would definitely notice those if she saw them. So Martyn carefully picked up all the scraps of rope, then quickly stowed them in the shadows behind the couch before returning to the chair. Martyn strapped the knife’s sheath to the back of his belt, so it sat over the small of his back. 

He kept the knife in his hand though, sitting back down and pulling the remaining loop of rope back over his head and settled it in the same position over his torso, crossing his hands behind him, and pressing his legs against the legs of the chair. He slipped the knife under the loop of rope around his torso, so he could cut it off him when he was ready.

Martyn let out a long breath, back in the same position as if he’d never moved.

Perfect. Now he just had to wait.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

…Playing a damsel in distress was really boring, wasn’t it?

Martyn wanted to move around some more, but he’d be risking Pearl catching him if she came back without warning. All he had to do was sit around and pretend to be the same moping, sad self as earlier. He stared at the floorboards, looking at the light from the window. What time was it? How long would it be until morning? Maybe when they all got out of here, off this stupid island, the sun would rise like those fairytale endings. He chuckled at the thought.

But how were they supposed to outrun a sea prince? There had to be some way to escape. There was no way the Canaries were going to die on this island. The Kites too. They were all going to make it out whether Pearl liked it or not–

Martyn jolted up as he heard the sound of a door slamming open.

Seemed like he didn’t need to wait anymore.

“I’m back!” Pearl announced in a cheery, light tone. She entered the room with a bright smile on her face and a little giggle. “Did you miss me?”

Just act. Act like you’re still stuck here.

Playing pretend a little more wouldn’t hurt. If he asked the right questions, he could learn something from Pearl. Martyn expected it to be a bit difficult, though. He suspected that a lot of people had spent a lot of time hounding her for some type of answer over the years. 

Martyn rolled his eyes. “I was making friends with all the little bugs around,” he glared at Pearl with his eyebrows raised. “So no. I didn’t.”

“Bugs making friends with other bugs, how cute,” Pearl crossed her arms and strode into the room. “Speaking of friends, I don’t think they’re coming to save you anymore.”

Martyn blinked. “Why’s that?”

Pearl motioned behind her, towards the outside. “On my way back home, I noticed a couple of footsteps,” she sat on top of the dusty couch and shrugged. “It looked like they were leaving.”

She… she didn’t think Martyn would actually believe that, right?

Martyn laughed. “You seriously think I’ll believe you?” he shook his head. Pearl could have chosen to lie about anything, but that? There was no way the Canaries would just leave him there. He’d be fine. “I know my friends. They’ll save me.”

His friends were probably plotting something while Martyn was stuck here. Maybe it was some elaborate distraction, something to lure Pearl away from him. The Canaries would risk anything to get one of their own back, so Martyn was certain they were going to do so here, too.

Martyn felt the urge to lurch forward and sever the rope already, just because of that lie.

“If you still want to believe that, sure,” Pearl shrugged, shaking her head. “I’m not stopping you.”

“I will, thanks.”

A brief silence washed over the two until Martyn shook his head, glaring up at Pearl. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I want to wait a little longer,” Pearl glanced at the window then looked at Martyn with a small smile. “When your friends try to leave and die in the process, I’ll play a game with you.”

It made Martyn’s skin crawl to think Pearl sounded so downright gleeful when talking about death.

Keep acting.

“What kind of game?”

Pearl shrugged. “A game of tag, hide and seek, just anything simple and fun. I’m sure Hunter would love that,” she chuckled. Pearl’s gaze faltered, her voice slipping into a muttered sigh, “But I’m also sure Chromia wouldn’t really enjoy it….” 

Chromia. That name was familiar. 

That was the name Pearl uttered the night Martyn had left his room. She’d been talking to someone else and had briefly mentioned that name, among the other weird statements of hers. 

“Who’s Chromia?”

Pearl blinked, seeming surprised that Martyn had heard her muttering. Her expression was unguarded as she looked at him, but eventually she began to talk.

“...He’s my best friend.” Pearl’s expression softened as she looked at the ground, a warm smile on her face that was unlike any expression Martyn had seen her make so far. She sighed, raising one of her wrists to stare at a bracelet, which was just a shell attached to a piece of string. Martyn squinted at it. The shell was small, about the size of his finger, but… it had a strange blend of colors that he’d never seen on a shell before. It was orange and blue, the particular hues reminding him of Scott’s eyes. 

“I’d do anything to make him happy,” Pearl murmured. Her eyes rose to meet Martyn’s, her gaze sharp and dangerous, “even if I have to do some… unsavory things.” 

“Like making deals with sea princes?” Martyn tilted his head. Now was the best time to start questioning her. “How did you even do that?”

Pearl’s expression twisted into a sneer, she looked at Martyn with an eyebrow raised. She crossed her arms, effectively hiding the shell from his view, her hands gripping her arms tightly. “Are you always this fanatical when it comes to them?”

“Well,” Martyn leaned further back into the chair, silently hoping the knife wouldn’t fall on the ground if he moved too much. “If all you’re gonna do is wait, and I don’t have anything to do, why not talk about it?”

Pearl glanced from the cased opening and back to Martyn, thinking to herself. She hummed and raised an eyebrow, likely skeptical of Martyn’s motives.

Come on, take the bait. 

Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a strange one,” she muttered. She sighed and shrugged, placing her arms on the sides of the couch as she tilted her head. “But fine, I’ll bite. Ask away.”

I’ve got you now. 

“How did you get a sea prince to guard the island?”

“Simple,” Pearl closed her eyes and shrugged. She opened them and wiggled her fingers in front of Martyn, “Magic.”

Figured. 

Martyn bit his tongue. She wasn’t going to give him direct answers. It probably would’ve gone a lot better if he had her pinned the same way she’d had him before. Though, even then she’d probably still be purposefully vague just to mess with Martyn’s head.

“The treasures,” Martyn found his voice, tilting his head, “what are they?”

“You think I’d tell you that easily?” Pearl raised an eyebrow. She chuckled before continuing, “They’re priceless, that’s for sure. You can’t even touch them.”

“Then how were you able to see them?” Martyn raised an eyebrow. She had to be special or something…, right? “The residents said you’ve seen what the princes’ treasures looked like, and the sea princes made a deal with you, after.”

“I have my ways.”

Martyn tried to look annoyed as he could, glaring at Pearl with a disgruntled expression as she laughed.

“What? Did you think I’d give you actual answers?” Pearl pantomimed wiping a tear from her eye and sighed. She stood up from the couch and dusted herself off. “It’s funny how you think I’d do that. You hunters are unbelievably dumb.”

High on her ego. 

An idea tugged on Martyn’s mind. If he could catch her off guard, maybe she’d let something slip.

Any other question would render the same response, and Pearl would likely go off and do something else. Martyn needed her to stay, at least for this last question. He was sure she would have some kind of reaction to this one.

Pearl began to walk away, a dramatic sigh escaped her as one of her hands held the wooden frame of the door. “You know, I might just step out for a little–”

“Why do sea princes look human?”

That caught her off guard.

Pearl turned slowly, her eyes wide and smile dropped. “...What?”

Pearl gripped the cased opening, Martyn tried not to flinch as the wood cracked as the witch’s hand tightened.

“I saw what one looks like. Nothing like any beast I’ve ever seen,” Martyn said seriously, leaning forward. “Why do they look like that?”

Pearl was silent. No response, no smile or laugh. Pure silence.

The moment dragged on.

Suddenly Pearl’s eyes were looking everywhere but at Martyn as she forced a grin onto her face. “What- what are you talking about?” she muttered, waving her hand dismissively. “You can’t have seen–! The sea princes don’t look like that! You’re- you’re lying! You’re lying! They–!”

“You’re the one who’s lying, Pearl,” Martyn snapped. He had her now. “The one I saw fits every single description from the old legends; adorned in a crown more elegant and dangerous than any king, and bearing the heartbeat of the ocean itself, it is a mythical creature that looks different from any other beast, the largest thing in all the oceans, a god in flesh. That is the Prince I saw.”

It was a deafening silence.

“...I’m right, aren’t I?” Martyn muttered. Pearl’s expression remained the same. Wide eyed and shocked. Martyn pressed her, “So answer me. Why do they look human?”

Martyn’s final question lingered in the air as Pearl hissed, like she tasted something sour.

“...Who?”

Pearl was across the room in an instant, slamming Martyn to the floor with a hand on his throat. The knife severed the rope as he jerked while he fell, but ended up pinned in his hand, dangerously close to his back, his arms pinned beneath him by the wooden back of the chair. 

“Who?! Who showed themselves to you?! Who let themselves be seen and let you walk away from it?!” she roared, her nails digging into Martyn’s neck. Her scream was a deafening roar like thunder and lightning crashing into a turbulent sea, her nails like claws prying into his skin. “I shouldn’t have entertained your little questions. I’ll crush you like the bug you are right here and now–”

Martyn and Pearl froze as the door in the adjoining room slammed open. A set of heavy footsteps charged into the room revealing–

“CLEO!”

Martyn’s heart did somersaults in his chest. They were here! Cleo had their gun out and was aiming it at Pearl, but they dipped their head in response to Martyn and smiled. 

Pearl blinked. “How did you– tsk, never mind,” she sat up, though kept her hand cinched around Martyn’s throat. Somehow, in almost an instant, she slinked back into her eerily calm persona. “It’s a pleasure seeing you here, but I’m a bit busy with your little bird.”

“Don’t even try it,” Cleo was focused, her eyes narrowed. “I’ll shoot you.”

Pearl rolled her eyes and smirked. One of her eyes twitched. “And that worked out so well last time, didn’t it?”

Cleo shot at Pearl, hurriedly pulling out their second gun as Pearl moved past each bullet like a rhythmic dance. Bullets zipped over Martyn’s head and struck the wall on the far side of the room, causing the old wooden boards to splinter. Pearl glanced between them and the broken wood.

“Aw, my poor walls!” Pearl laughed, unbothered. She pulled out her sickles, walking closer to Cleo, and farther from Martyn. “I thought you’d remember those little toys of yours don’t–!”

Cleo fired another shot. Pearl smoothly dodged, a smirk crossing her lips.

“I don’t care what you said,” Cleo hissed, “give me Martyn now, and I won’t hurt you.”

“You… you can’t be serious, right?”

Martyn could see the grip on Cleo’s gun shake as Pearl walked closer. He wriggled his arms out from under the chair and pulled the loose rope off him, silently thanking the stranger who gave the knife to him as he sheathed it at the small of his back. Martyn carefully stood up, careful not to make a sound but making sure Cleo saw him moving into the line of fire. She tipped her head a bit, deliberately not making eye contact, but indicating that she could see him. Martyn grabbed the chair by the legs and lifted it, taking a few slow steps creeping up behind Pearl.

“You hunters are all the same,” Pearl swung one of her sickles around in some egotistical display, then pointed it at Cleo. “All so annoying, all so–!”

Martyn dug in and swung the wooden chair over his head. It hit the back of Pearl’s head with a heavy wooden sound.

Pearl crumpled to the ground.

Martyn stared at Pearl’s unconscious body for a couple of seconds, his hands hovering over the sheathed knife in case she’d sprang from the floor.

So he waited.

He could hear his breaths coming in and out, the calming sounds of his heartbeat, and the rushing of footsteps–

Martyn let out a small yelp as Cleo held him in a hug.

“It’s good to see you again,” Martyn murmured as he hugged her back. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time until Pearl stirred. “We should get going.”

Cleo nodded, “Definitely.” They broke the hug and moved swiftly towards the door, Martyn following close behind. Cleo got out first, looking back at Martyn as he glanced at Pearl’s body again. 

His eyes narrowed as he saw an odd glittery stain on her hood. That was where he hit her, so that should be blood, but… blood wasn’t glittery.

Martyn shook his head. He couldn’t focus on that.

“Scar, Bek,” Cleo called out, “Martyn’s here!”

Martyn jogged out of the house as he could smell smoke. A fire? He turned to see Scar and Bek coming from other sides of the cabin. Scar grinned widely as he approached, and Bek let out a relieved sigh. 

“Martyn! You’re alright!” Scar cheered happily. Cleo motioned for the others to follow them as they made their way back into the woods. Scar looked at Martyn’s wrists and tilted his head, “Were you tied up?”

Martyn looked at his own wrists. Though it hadn’t really been visible in the shadows of the house, there were some noticeable marks of rope. “Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing his wrists, then he shook his head at the whiff of smoke. Something’s burning. “But there’s no time to be talking about it now, we have to go!”

Cleo ran forward, with Martyn, Scar, and Bek following behind. As they entered the woods, they were greeted by Grian, Krow, Puffy, and Katherine. 

“Martyn…,” Grian breathed, smiling wider as he looked at Martyn. Martyn could see the tired look in his eyes. Grian must’ve been restless in searching for him. Something in his chest warmed. Just like he knew they would. “Let’s get going.”

Martyn nodded. They had to leave, to get out of this island– now.

“This way!” Katherine ran forward, motioning to the others as they hurried inside the forest. 

Martyn stayed behind for a moment to stare outward at the burning cabin. Bright flames blinding the serene darkness of the night, the winds stoking the embers. He squinted against the bright light, expecting Pearl to burst through the flames, expecting an outburst as fiery as the burning cabin–

But nothing came.

Only the breeze of the evening brushed against his skin, the hairs on his arm standing on end as a chill settled over him. 

Did he just-.... 

Martyn’s skin paled.

Was Pearl dead?

Martyn took a shaky step back.

Was Pearl dead because of him?

Martyn knocked her unconscious. She didn’t stir even as he and Cleo left. And now the building was engulfed in a blaze. Martyn thought he could feel the heat of it from where he stood.

She-.... She’s…!

“Martyn!” Grian called out. Martyn’s body went rigid. “We have to go!”

Martyn turned and ran straight into the forest.

The clouds parted, revealing more of the moonlight for the hunters to see by. The hunters dashed through the forest, pushing branches and bushes out of the way, jumping over fallen logs as they made their mad dash out. How far was the exit? Just how long did they need to run?

All Martyn knew was that his friends knew where to go, and they’d make it out.

Katherine led the group in panicked breaths, shaking her head to try and remain calm. 

Martyn tried to think. There was no way Pearl died then and there, she was powerful enough to possess magic and make deals with the sea princes. She was quick. Martyn wasn’t sure what the plan was, but it wasn’t a plan to kill her… right?

The earth shook.

“DID YOU REALLY THING THAT WOULD KILL ME!?”

Pearl’s voice boomed unnaturally, shaking the trees and the ground around them. 

She survived. Of course she survived. Martyn only ran faster, hoping the numbness of his legs wouldn’t kill him as he struggled to keep up with his friends.

Martyn felt his heart drum against his chest.

Grian turned back and motioned to Martyn. “Faster, Martyn, come on!”

I know! Martyn wanted to snap back, but he only nodded and tried to force himself to go faster. There was no time to argue. His chest heaved as he frantically tried to keep up with the others, determination burning through his chest as he tried to motivate himself to get out.

Keep your promise, Martyn echoed in his head. Stay alive for Scott.

Martyn finally began to run faster.

Martyn heard a distant sound of something being uprooted and… smoke. 

Smoke!

Fire!

It was spreading to the forest!

Martyn glanced behind him, seeing glimpses of dark smoke rising into the air, blotting out the stars as distant orange lights danced in the distance. As if Pearl wasn’t a threat enough.

Multiple footsteps rattled the earth as the hunters made their escape. Left, right, up and over, down under. Martyn was getting lightheaded from all this running. Did the forest need to stretch so long?

“YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER.”

Pearl’s voice was distant, but it was bellowing in anger and… some other emotion Martyn couldn’t describe. It was jarringly loud despite the distance. All he could do was focus on the path and allies ahead of him.

One word kept repeating in Martyn’s head as his heart pounded out of his chest and his nose filled with the smell of smoke. Fire enveloped the trees, blazing and blinding as it chased the hunters through the collapsing forest. One word rang in his ears long after all the others.

Run.

[fatehbaz]

Because most medicines were produced from [...] plants [...] these early “pharmaceutical monopolies” required full control of the production and trade of a species. Russia successfully managed the rhubarb trade in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, while Spain controlled the distribution [...] from Spanish America, mainly cinchona from Peru, in the same period. “True” cinnamon grew only on Sri Lanka, so whoever controlled the island could dominate the cinnamon trade. The Portuguese were the first to create a monopoly on the cinnamon trade there in the early seventeenth century. That monopoly was later optimized by the Dutch in the late eighteenth century [...].

“True” should indeed be in quotation marks here - the term reflects the historically contingent tastes of Europeans, rather than any botanical category [...]. The rarity of cinnamon in the early modern period made it one of the most coveted spices of that era, and European countries without direct access to the cinnamon trade tried to imitate, substitute, steal, smuggle, or transplant the “true” product from Sri Lanka. [...]

---

In the early modern period, cinnamon was also important both as an exotic commodity and as an important therapeutic substance. The Dutch East India Company (VOC), which controlled Sri Lanka between 1658 and 1796, was well aware of this. The VOC vigorously exploited the Salagama - [...] specialized Sri Lankan cinnamon peelers - to supply enough cinnamon, which for a long time was gathered from forests. Only after the peelers rebelled, leading to a war that lasted between 1760 and 1766, did the company revise its production policy. 

Experiments with “cinnamon gardens” (kaneeltuinen in Dutch) led to enormous successes, and the company eventually grew millions of cinnamon trees on plantations in the final decades of the eighteenth century. Meanwhile, competitors of the Dutch had come up with their own solutions [...]: Spain had started growing other Cinnamomum species on plantations in the Philippines, while France and Britain succeeded in transplanting cinnamon to islands in the Caribbean. But the Dutch monopoly was not simply threatened by outside competition. Smuggling, by peelers or VOC personnel, was strictly forbidden and severely punished. [...]

---

Hendrik Adriaan van Rheede tot Drakenstein (1636–1691) was the VOC administrator on India’s Malabar Coast when he started experimenting with cinnamon oil in the 1670s.

He concluded that the oil, which he extracted from the roots of local cinnamon trees, was of better quality than oil from cinnamon trees on Sri Lanka. Van Rheede reported these results in his entry on cinnamon in volume 1 of the Hortus Indicus Malabaricus, the twelve-volume book that was produced by a team of local and European scholars, and supervised by Van Rheede himself.

Van Rheede’s assessment of cinnamon - in fact, the very publication of a multi-volume work about the flora of Malabar - infuriated the governor of Sri Lanka, Rijckloff van Goens, who had secured the cinnamon monopoly of Sri Lanka for the Dutch. Van Goens insisted that Van Rheede stop his medical experiments, claiming that the monopoly was at risk if the cinnamon trade was extended beyond the island of Sri Lanka. 

But Van Goens was not so much concerned about the therapeutic efficacy of cinnamon from either of the two regions. He was motivated by an imperial agenda and regarded the natural products of Sri Lanka as superior to anything similar in the region.

The experiments of Van Rheede, who was his former protégé, threatened not so much the botanical quality of the product, or the commercial interests of the Dutch East India Company, but rather the central position of Sri Lanka in the Dutch colonial system and the position of Van Goens as the representative of that system.

---

Even when Sri Lanka still only produced cinnamon that grew in the wild, the Dutch harvested enough to supply an international market and were able to dictate the availability and price level throughout the world. The monopoly, whether defined in commercial or pharmaceutical terms, was not easily put at risk by efforts like Van Rheede’s. Those involved in the early modern cinnamon trade were motivated by various reasons to defend or undermine the central position of Sri Lankan cinnamon: botanical, medical, commercial, or imperial. These motives often overlapped.

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All text above by: Wouter Klein. “Plant of the Month: Cinnamon.” JSTOR Daily. 17 February 2021. “Plant of the Month” series is part of the Plant Humanities Initiative, a partnership of Dumbarton Oaks and JSTOR Labs. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]