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a-write-for-soreeyes · 8 months

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Yes, Chef [OPLA Sanji x Afab!Reader SMUT]

Pairing : OPLA Sanji x Chef (AFAB) Reader

Summary : Sanji is the only one you call 'Chef'. One night when you're the only ones working the late shift he finally confronts you about why.

Warnings : 18+ !!!!!!, NSFW/SMUT, Semi-public sex (kitchen), Oral (fem receiving), some slight dirty talk?, the apron stays ON during foreplay, Use of the term 'Chef' in a sexual way, Top!Sanji, Bottom!Reader

Word Count : 3685 (good lord)

A/N : I have never written smut before but I think this went really well! I had one quote (that quote from Fleabag the hot priest says) and a dream (sanji brain rot and my sexy playlist), so please feel free to leave your thoughts! <3

“y/n I think we’ve known each other long enough you can stop calling me ‘Chef’.”

“Yes, Chef I know” You said, carefully placing the garnish on the plate of steak and seared vegetables at your station. It was the last call of the night and of course a group had walked in right as you and Sanji had finished clearing your stations for the night.

Placing the final plate on the counter you hit the bell, one of the servers came through the doors to the kitchen grabbing the plate and turning on their heel pushing through back to the rowdy group of pirates in the dining room. Turning back to your station and beginning to stack your pots and pans, placing the used utensils inside the pot and carrying them over to the sink, ready to re-wash them.

A comfortable quiet had washed over the kitchen, only broken by the boisterous chatter from the last table of the night. “You can head out if you’d like. I’m going to put together a new dessert I’ve been practicing for these gentlemen, hopefully get them to tip better after coming in right before closing.” Sanji had called from across the kitchen while grabbing ingredients from the pantry.

“Chef, if you don’t like my company you can just say and I’ll get out of your hair.” You joked,

“Ay don’t you ever say that gorgeous, you know I love your company,” Sanji flirted pausing next to you, “Someone with good looks and good conversation, how could I not want you around?” He winked, continuing his stride back to his station.

“I think I’ll stick around once I’m done with these if it’s all the same to you, Chef. You know how much I love to taste whatever new recipes you put together.” You replied with a smile. You really did enjoy being able to be the first person to taste all of Sanji’s cooking, and you suppose being the only person in the kitchen late at night, with your criminally good looking coworker wasn’t so bad either. Rolling up your sleeves and plunging your hands into the warm water of the sink you began to scrub at your dishes.

You scrubbed in silence for a few moments, washing the grime and the stress of the day away. “Really y/n, you can go home I really don’t mind,” Sanji walked next to you leaning his side against the counter stacked high with plates and cups that would need to be washed during tomorrows slow hours, “You’ve already stayed late enough, just finish up your dishes and turn in for the night.” Out of the corner of your eye you could see him looking over your face,

“It’s fine, Chef you know I would probably be awake anyw-” Your sentence and scrubbing stopped as Sanji reached forwards wiping a smear of some ingredient from your cheek, letting his thumb linger on your cheek for just a moment, your face heating at the intimacy of the moment.

“Sorry love,” He said, pulling his hand away from your face and placing it back on the counter next to you, “Couldn’t focus on your beautiful face with something covering it.”

This has always been the game between the two of you. When you had joined the Baratie’ crew almost 3 years ago, Sanji had started working his charm on you from day one, flustering you everytime causing you to always avoid his flirtatious gaze. Although it had taken you about two months to get comfortable with the pleasure he takes in flirting with you, (leaving you mildly excited each time he had thrown a nickname your way) the day that you did start flirting back was possibly the best day of Sanji’ life, (although he wouldn’t be admitting that to anyone anytime soon) and possibly the worst of yours. The embarrassment you felt every time you gave a flirtatious response, effectively causing you to never have the guts to look him in the eyes.

And although his flirting was nothing new, something about being the only people in the quiet kitchen after a busy Friday night, had the soft way Sanji was speaking to you to have a new feeling behind it.

“Sanji, I’m fine really. I’ll finish these up and then I want to taste whatever you’re supposed to be cooking over there, for our lovely guests.” You softly broke the tension, not looking up at him from the murky water. Sanji chuckled and pushed off the counter, making his way back to his abandoned pastry mix. Resuming your washing the both of you working contently in each other's presence.

—-

Placing the last of your now clean dishes back at your station and wiping your hands on the towel you always had draped over the string of your apron. Slugging your way over to Sanji's station, you hiked yourself up onto the counter next to him, huffing out a quiet “Whatever you’ve got baking smells amazing Chef. I can’t wait to taste whatever it is.”

Sanji chuckled, continuing to whisk whatever he was whipping up for a “quick dessert”.

“They’re strawberry macarons, with an easy butterscotch drizzle on top.”

“Ah yes Chef, a very simple dessert, definitely not a complicated pastry that can take years to master.” Laughing, Sanji put down the bowl and grabbed his dish towel, turning towards the oven behind him, taking hold of the hot baking sheet in his covered hand. Turning back to you he gently swatted your side, placing the hot tray down where you had been sitting.

“For your information the pastry is not the hard part for me. It’s the filling that always gets me.”, Using his one hand to pull the macaron shells up from the pan, Sanji stuck his finger in the bowl on his right swiping up some of the filling he had been whipping up on his finger, and held it out to you, “Here give this a try, I know it’s missing something I just can’t quite place it.”

Seeing Sanji hold his finger out, covered in the pink buttercream filling, you made the conscious decision that this was going to be your winning move in this game of cat and mouse you and him had been playing for the past years. You leaned forwards and wrapped your mouth around his finger, the taste of the sweet icing flowing over your tongue. Swirling your tongue around his finger to get the last of the filling off of his digit.

“It’s good. Could maybe use a little more powdered sugar, get it to thicken up a bit more.” You shrugged.

Sanji was silent. Not even a flirtatious remark about how ‘you’re all the sugar I need sugar’ just silence. Looking at Sanji directly (for possibly the first time in months) you were shocked at the way he was looking at you. So gently, so full of love and something else you couldn’t quite place. Surprise? Uncomfortability? You weren’t sure, only assuming the worst, regret flooded your body immediately. Sanji opened his mouth to speak but you beat him to it, hanging your head,

“I-I’m so sorry Chef, I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I just thought it would be funny considering how much we fake flirt with each other, but I’m now realizing that that was WILDLY inappropriate especially to someone who is a much better chef than I am- I’m so so sorry Chef-”

“Ah, fuck you calling me “Chef” like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it.” Your head snapped up to look him directly in the eyes.

“Wha-what?”

“You heard what I said.” He smirked at you, blond hair falling in front of his left eye, “The way you say it any moment you possibly can, ‘yes Chef’, ‘I’m sorry Chef’, ‘Of course I can Chef’. You think I haven’t noticed how I’m the only one you call that?” Sanji stalking around the counter, placed one hand on the counter at either side of you.

He leaned into you, his hot breath fanning over your neck, “Everytime you say that stupid fucking title,you know what it does to me. What it makes me think of.”

Shivering at the feeling of his breath you turned your face towards him, “And what does it make you think of, Chef?” A low rumble reverberated from Sanji’ chest, now pressing up close to you.

Sanji tilted his head, lips just barely ghosting over yours, “Would you like me to show you?” You gave an embarrassed nod.

His lips were soft against yours, tasting of cigarettes and the mint he used to try and cover the previous. Pushing himself up against you, you could feel your underwear beginning to slick. Teeth clashing together you ran your hand up Sanji’ back, neck and up into his blonde hair. One of his own hands wrapping around your waist, the other sliding up the front of your apron and giving your breast a soft squeeze. You gasped, and fast as lightning Sanji slipped his tongue into your mouth exploring it with a small groan at the feeling.

Using the heated kiss as a distraction Sanji began to unbutton your uniform, pausing every few buttons to bring his hands up to your face, deepening your make out before going back to his main mission of releasing you from your shirt.

Finally undoing the final button of your uniform Sanji reached into your shirt with one hand swiping over your tit, causing it to harden under his calloused hand, even with the fabric of your bra separating them. Although Sanji made quick work of that issue, easily reaching around you and unclasping the irritating bra pulling it down under your breasts, allowing them to bounce slightly with the force of your making out. Removing his other hand from your waist Sanji roughly cupped your breasts in his hands bringing them out from behind your apron. Squeezing them with his large hands, your apron roughly scraping against the soft flesh, you moaned into the unstopping kisses. Hiking you up onto the edge of the counter Sanji gave himself better access to your chest, leaning down to your right tit and taking it into his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple, leaving kisses, nips and hickies all around. His left hand grasping at your other tit Sanji pinches at the bud for a few moments before switching. Moans leaving your mouth, you bit your lip nearly drawing blood, as you used one hand to pull his head closer into your chest, the other pulling off his ascot, apron and starting on the snap buttons of his uniform.

“Please, Chef please.” You whimpered, beginning to roll your hips on him, the feeling of his warm mouth on your chest with no friction on your lower parts starting to take its toll on you. Feeling Sanji groan and roll against the counter he pulled back looking at you, hair a mess, eyes glazed over in arousal he ripped the apron and top from off your body, bra following immediately after. During the moment of separation you ripped his now crumpled shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the kitchen out of your vision, which was now focused solely on taking in Sanji’ gorgeous figure.

Grabbing his face and pulling him towards you hungerly you continued to make out. Sanji began to press his body against yours reaching behind your figure to swipe the forgotten baking sheet off the counter creating room for him to be able to push you back into a lying position, the heat of the counter where the hot pans of pastries had just been only seconds earlier caused you to let out a gasp, arching your back to get away from the heat pressing your breasts right into Sanji’s hard chest, his hand going behind you to pull your torso as close to him as possible.

Pulling back from the kiss, Sanji gently laid you down fully on the counter. Running his hands down your sides he began to kiss his way down your body stopping to leave small nips around your chest and hips. Pulling away Sanji started work on your belt, unbuckling it and immediately going for your buttons. You begin to fuss at the feeling of his hands being so close to where you need him but he has yet to touch you.

“I know love, don't worry, I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he whispered out, pressing a kiss to your thigh as he finally slid your pants off, leaving you in just your panties. Groaning at the sight of you trying to hump the air to get any friction to quell the desire you feel, Sanji brought a finger up to your covered mound, gently ghosting it along causing you to let a loud whimper escape from your lips. “Darling you’re soaked. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you want me to make you feel good?”

Gripping the edges of the counter whimpered “Yes. Yes yes please Chef, please make me feel good.”

Sanji smirked up at you, already fidgeting and he hasn’t even started yet. “Well, when you put it like that. I guess I have no choice.” He pulled your panties down grabbing them in one hand and used the other to grasp your hip bringing your soaked pussy right to him, immediately beginning his assault, licking up your folds and once he reached the top starting to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around the small bud. Your hand shot down for Sanji’ bleach blond hair, fisting it and using it to pull him right into you, wrapping your legs around his head when he stuck his tongue right into your pussy.

“Oh fuck! Yes, god please!” You moaned, at the sound of your moans and whimpers Sanji could feel the tent in his pants straining, he beginning to slightly hump at the air, getting pleasure from just the motions he made.

Feeling the knot begin to form in your stomach you started to pant and hump his face faster. Sanji getting the message stopped tongue fucking you to resume sucking on your clit bringing his right hand down to your entrance sticking 2 fingers in you easily between the slick and spit that had been pooling there. The pleasure assaulting your senses caused you to lurch forwards, nails scraping against Sanji's scalp causing him to moan against you.

Between the feeling of Sanji sucking on your clit, his fingers rapidly pushing in and out of you and the vibrations of the moans he was letting out you felt the knot in your stomach snap, shaking your felt yourself release all over his face, practically screaming out into the echoes of the kitchen,

“Yes, yes fuck, yes Chef! Fuck!” When the feeling of your first orgasm of the night finished and your clit started to become overstimulated you leant back against your arm, releasing your hold on Sanji's hair to run one hand through it and tried to pull yourself away from his mouth still licking up your wetness and kissing around your nub.

“Uhh, Chef- Chef please too- too much” Pulling himself off of you Sanji leant back on his heels, a string of spit and cum connecting him to you. You took a moment to admire him as he caught his breath. He looked beautiful, face covered in your cum with strings of it and drool connecting the two of you, hair sticking in all directions from your harsh pulling and his eyes, god his eyes he had a look in them you’d only ever hoped to see, he was so drunk on your pussy you’re not even sure he knew where the two of you were right now.

Grabbing his right wrist from where his fingers were still brushing against your pussy lips you pulled him up to you, locking your lips in another kiss, this one much more gentle and soft than the previous rough make out you had. Pushing your tongue into his mouth you could taste yourself on his tongue, occasionally kissing around his mouth and along his jawline to collect more of your slick from his face. Sanji let out a gasp as you kissed up his jaw and to his ear, giving it a slight nip before whispering to him, “You made me feel so good Chef. I wanna do the same for you.”

Standing to his full height Sanji started to work on his belt, hands shaking in anticipation at finally being able to feel you around him. You started work on the button on his bottoms, purposely brushing your hand against his erection feeling it twitch at every touch you gave him. Reaching your hands up to his waistband Sanji pulled down his pants and underwear in one swoop as he stepped out of the pool of fabric now at his feet. Cradling your face in his large hands Sanji ran his thumb down your cheekbone and swiped it over your lips.

"I wanna make you feel good, let me make you feel good.”, You looked up at him with half lidded eyes, your hand lazily wrapping around his hard-on, stroking him and running your thumb over his head using the precum that had begun to bead there as lube for your lazy motions. “Please Chef.” You felt his cock twitch at the title and his breathing hitch.

“We can feel good together love. Just let me take care of you this time.” At that Sanji guided you back to your lying position against the now cold countertop of his work station. Taking a moment to admire you splayed out before him Sanji ran his hands down the backs of your thighs pushing them up to give himself access to your wet cunt.

Rubbing the head of his cock against your folds he collected some of your slick before he watched his cock disappear into you. A growl coming from him as he felt you tighten around his shaft.

Keening at the feeling of yourself stretching around him, your eyes rolling back as he pushed further finally bottoming out. Sanji paused allowing you a chance to adjust to his size he could feel you tighten around him.

Slowly, he began to pull almost all the way out of you before rocking back in, the both of you groaning at the feeling. Sanji looked up at your face, eyes almost completely closed and mouth open gasping in pleasure. He reached forwards grasping your soft hand in his own rough one giving something for you to ground yourself on through the pleasure.

“Chef please-!” you whimpered at the feeling of his thrusts starting to pick up speed.

“Fuck love, you feel so good squeezing around me.” Sanji groaned into your ear, leaving sloppy kisses around your jaw and down your neck, his cock burying into you at a rapid pace.

Your moans and huffs at the overwhelming feelings you were experiencing getting louder with each thrust, to the point you were almost crying out in pleasure. Sanji captured your lips again roughly making out with you in an attempt to quiet you, although between your moans and the squelch of his cock pistoning in and out of you it was nearly impossible to do so.

Sanji could feel his high approaching with each thrust, “I-I’m close, fuck darling you feel so good-” he sighed pressing your foreheads together.

“I-I’m so close, please Chef. Please let me cum please!” You blubbered against his lips, tears beginning to form and run down your cheeks, you could feel every inch of him in you, stretching you, pressing against every part of you, his head kissing your cervix.

“Just a little more baby, just give me a little more.” Pounding into your cunt, slick running down both of you, you wrapped your legs around his back pulling him impossibly closer, the hand that was resting coming down to rub furiously at your clit, “come for me love, come all over my cock.” Your mouth opened in a silent scream as you felt yourself release all over his cock, your pussy clamping down, you cried out,

“Fuck! Chef!”

At the feeling of you cumming around him Sanji knew he just needed a few more before he to came undone, or- “Fuck Sanji!” your eyes rolling back, and that was his breaking point. At the sound of you crying out his name, his real name for the first time since you’ve met, not some title he’d heard a thousand times before, Sanji came. Ropes of his cum painting your insides with his release he shuttered, his vision blanking at the overwhelming bliss he was experiencing from cumming inside you for the first time.

The air between you two hot and heavy as you both stayed still just enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Sanji gave a few final sluggish thrusts to help you both ride the end of your pleasures before the feeling became too much. He pulled out gently being sure not to overwhelm you, the sound of your mixed cum quietly dripping from you both onto the tiled floor beneath him.

Basking in the afterglow of the scene, foreheads pressed together you tilted your head up locking your lips in a tender kiss. Bringing your hand that was not clasped in Sanji's up to caress his face, taking in the way the soft light reflected off his glistening forehead and the beads of sweat that dripped from his disheveled hair down the curves and lines of his face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s supposed to say that to you, Love.” He chuckled, allowing the seriousness of the moment to fade away into comfortable giggles. “I love you.” He breathed out, gazing at you, trying to memorize everything about you in this moment, from how your messy hair splayed out behind you to the dried tear tracks down your face. Looking back into his blue eyes,

“I love you Sanji.”

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#sanji x reader smut #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #opla sanji x reader smut #smut #opla sanji #one piece live action #one piece netflix

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emo-gremlin · 16 days

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SFW Mr. Puzzles x Reader!

PDA IS A MUST. He's always holding your hand, hugging you, tapping his screen against your forehead, arm around your waist (only after you've made it clear that he can do so)

Was never in a real relationship (platonic or romantic) until you. He definitely pulls stuff he saw in romcoms when you first got together. You admired his gestures, but you did eventually sit him down and explain not every romantic relationship is like the stuff on TV.

After you guys have that conversation, he tones it down a little, but he's still quoting the cheesiest lines and he will not be stopped

Tries to spend as much time with you as he can.

Have a dream of stardom? He's doing everything he can to help you get there. Prefer to stay in the shadows? He's fine with that too.

An absolute doting sweetheart.

Very nervous about touching you at the start, he knew enough from TV that consent is key in a relationship, and didn't want you uncomfortable. So once you clarified PDA to him, he never breaches those boundaries unless you say it's OK.

He still has his temper, but has not, and WILL NOT use his power OR raise a hand against you. He told you at the beginning if he ever does that to kill him, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did that. He usually holds himself up in his office. You can tell he's upset if his voice glitches and he reeks of cigarette smoke.

It takes a while before he opens up to you about his childhood, and what drove him to the 'Transformation' as he calls it. It's an extreme sign of trust that he tells you about it. He tries to remain a puzzle to his audience, you are the first to get the tools to solve it.

Watching anything with him has stages.

1st time watching something: Remains quiet unless you don't understand a plot point, or need help identifying an actor.

2nd time: Fun facts about production, the tricks they used to get certain shots, gets more in depth with the Lore and explains symbols if there is any.

3rd time: Starts pointing out errors, plot holes, starts talking about how HE would have done it if he had been on the crew.

He usually stays in these guidelines unless the movie is GODAWFUL or is TRYING to be so bad it's good.

Loves having your input on his scripts, costumes (you may end up being a living mannequin for him at times if he's having trouble), set design, etc.

Will list you in the credits, but if you prefer a nickname to be used, he will use that instead.

CUDDLEBUG. My boy didn't get much physical affection as a child, and it shows. He's also a big spoon.

Absolutely adores everything about you, and it shows when he talks about you. Smiling wide, very energetic, so in love with you that you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret.

Loves being able to just slow down and enjoy being with you. Even if he's working on a script at his desk, he loves hearing a soft giggle while you look at memes on your phone on the couch.

Wanna watch something but afraid that there's content in it that might trigger something? No problem! He has no issue listing off what it includes for you. (If you still have interest in the plot, but wouldn't be able to see the media, he'll spoil the plot so it saves you the trouble.)

Always up before you, and definitely a malewife when he isn't working. He tries his best to be there when you wake up before he goes to work. If he can't, he leaves a note and fresh made coffee/tea in the pot.

You have to pull him away from watching the negative reviews, otherwise he WILL obsess over them and work himself to death trying to make them happy.

He's ready to commit various warcrimes if anyone so much as looks at you funny if you asked him to. You're the first person to actually stand by him and he's not letting anyone hurt you.

Definitely will set up private dates on his more romantic sets for the two of you. He turns all the cameras away from the set, as a way to show that this is all for you and you alone.

Will bring you with him if he's filming something in an exotic place. He makes sure you two get enough time together to see the sights.

Has invited at least one of your favorite actors/directors/writers to a birthday party. If you ask him not to, he will be a little disappointed, but respects it. (As long as he can AT LEAST get you their autograph)

Gets invited to an award show? You are going with him, but will try to convince the cameras not to point in your direction if you feel uncomfortable. He wants to share his success with you.

While he can't get props from your favorite movies, if you show interest in a particular prop from his sets, the second filming is done, it's yours. Same with costumes.

I love him your honor

#gremlin writes #smg4 mr puzzles #smg4 puzzlevision #mr puzzles #smg4 x reader #mr puzzles x reader

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icaruspendragon · 9 months

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someone asks me my favorite show and i have to tell them it’s supernatural, much to my chagrin.

we get to talking and they find out that i have a near encyclopedic knowledge of it. i can recite the names of the episodes in the first six seasons from memory. i didn’t even try to learn that for the worlds lamest party trick. i’ve just seen them enough that it’s floating around in my noggin. i have the dialogue for entire scenes memorized. entire episodes, even. yet again, accidentally learned from repeated watchings. i know about the actors. i’ve met the actors. i know about the cast and crew. i know timelines and theories and why this went that way. i have characters and quotes (both from the show and fanfic) tattooed on my body. one of the things i’m best know for to an audience of 370k+ online is my passion surrounding this show and its characters. this hypothetical person says “you must be a real big fan.”

and i am. i love this stupid little show that’s objectively not very good with its silly little characters that i love so much it often keeps me up at night.

and you wanna know what always surprises the hypothetical person in these hypothetical conversations that are an amalgamation of real conversations i’ve had with real people the most? it’s not how much i know about the show or what it represented to me in my adolescence or even my love for the characters.

it’s the fact that i haven’t seen the last five seasons.

that i haven’t finished the show.

i started watching in 2013 and stopped in 2015. i didn’t pick it back up again in earnest until early 2022. i’ve been rewatching since then and despite watching it literally every single day, i’ve only made it to the end of season eight in my rewatch.

there’s always some form of indignation on the other party’s behalf. and they always ask me “why? if you love it so much, why not watch all of it?”

and the answer is simple.

because i don’t want to.

i know what happens. i was online nov 5th 2020. i know how it ends. and i don’t want it to end. i don’t like the ending. so i’m not gonna make myself watch something i know is just going to make me upset.

and does that mean i’m less of a fan?

spoiler alert: the answer is “no.”

despite what other people and fans alike like to say, it doesn’t make me less of a fan. just like watching the show in its entirety doesn’t make them more of a fan.

fandom allows for flexibility of enjoyment. and that’s what i’m in fandom to do.

enjoy.

to enjoy the same thing with people who enjoy the same thing as me. to share my joy with these people.

so no. you’re not less of a fan or more of a fan for consuming media a certain way.

if you enjoy something, you’re a fan.

and if you’re a fan, there’s a place in fandom for you.

#fandom #fanfic #can you believe people have literally said that ‘i’m not a real fan’ of hit cw monstrosity supernatural?#bc they have said that #but this ain’t a competition #and i’m not trying to win #so i’m gonna enjoy my media how i wanna enjoy it #and if i wanna enjoy it by living in a bubble of delusion?#that’s what i’m gonna do !! :)#it’s my escapism and i can do what i want!!

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morgana-larkin · 2 months

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hi, I think I have a crazy and [loooong] prompt baskdjskkaka. From Melissa's line 'no women? nobody else?ever?'

The staff is reminiscing the little bickering a year ago or two about Janine's love life, only then the staff realize what has Mel said, that she's like into women too. Barb knows tho and Mr. J because ofc he knows everything what has happened in those hallways. So Ava, Janine and Jacob being themselves + Greg surprisingly, began to interrogate Mel about it and in some point she got tired of the constant questioning so she just admitted that she had a relationship with a woman before, particularly a teacher too at Abbott few years before the new teaching staff and principal arrived at the said school. She goes to describe the woman with a little smile on her face without realizing it, did not mention what happened saying they should take what she offers about her private life,the truth is, she still feel guilty of what has happened realizing she's wrong and it's too late. At that, she thought the staff will finally leave her alone but no, since she's single again after the failed proposal, they're like encouraging her to date and maybe try again with a woman. Ofc she declines, then one day Ava burst into the break room grinning, saying a new member of the district is around to help the school, but the top of the icing, as she quote, is she had finally found a match for Melissa not knowing who's r really is, then introduces r to the crew. And man, best believe Melissa almost threw herself out of the window when she sees the very woman she had a relationship before and apparently who she had managed to hurt that still haunts her at night, r is no different from the redhead as she is aslo shocked to see the woman, still there and stunning as ever, because last time they saw each other, the woman cursed that she doesn't think she can stay in a place where she knows r had lingered or stepped a foot with. So basically it's the queue for r to left Philly and never go back, but she's God's favorite and he decided to send her back to the very place she avoids the most. [The breakup is ugly, as it is a big misunderstanding, the redhead saw the other woman kissing, or rather being kissed by a man, against her will which she doesn't know since she became real irrational that point and didn't even listen to the plea of the other woman]

And bc of the weird and awkward reactions + interactions from the two women when they're in a room together, the staff slowly put 2 and 2 together that the new district member that has been sent to the school is the very woman who Mel had a past with.

That is so long I'm so sorry, I just need to let it all out or else I'm gonna combust

Anon it’s perfectly alright, let it all out. This took me so much longer to write and it’s just under 5,000 words😅. There’s so much fucking angst and as someone who hates seeing Melissa upset, I was literally glaring at myself for writing that Melissa is going through it. So I hope you enjoy it! As always not edited in the slightest!

As a side note I wanted to thank @janeyseymour for helping me out, I had no idea what former teachers do at all and she let me know a bunch of them!

Want You Back

Warnings: swearing, Melissa crying, smut

Words: 4.95k

“No women? Nobody else? Ever?” Melissa said 2 years ago.

“Wait, what did Melissa mean by that?” Janine asked Gregory and Jacob one day when they were walking into work and talking about the conversation they had in the library a couple years ago.

“I don’t know, but it is weird that her first instinct was to immediately ask about women first instead of men.” Jacob says, contributing to the conversation.

“Do I even want to know what you nerds are talking about?” Ava asked them.

“It’s about Melissa, from something she said 2 years ago.” Gregory said and Ava looked at them.

“Melissa has said a lot of things 2 years ago.” Ava said.

“It’s when we were in the library and I said that I’ve been dating my boyfriend since 8th grade and you all questioned it and Melissa said ‘no women’.” Janine explained to Ava and this caught her interest.

“Oh ya, I remember that. I say we question her.” Ava said but the trio stopped her.

“No, this is Melissa we’re talking about. She won’t tell us something about her life so easily.” Janine says.

“Good point, we could annoy her until she gives in.” Ava suggested.

“Maybe another plan where we don’t put our lives at risk.” Jacob says.

“Oh come on. Melissa likes us too much now to kill us.” Ava says proudly and they all look at her like she hit her head. “I did say now, 2 years ago she definitely would have killed us.”

“That’s true, but we can’t ask her multiple times in one go, it’ll have to be a couple to a few times a day.” Jacob says.

“Ok let’s start now.” Ava says, excited about this plan and heads towards the break room. Ava enters, drawing attention as usual with the trio in tow behind her. “Melissa, question.” Ava asks as she pours some coffee in a mug. Melissa glances up at her from her phone.

“What do you want Coleman?” Melissa asks and looks back to her phone, typing something.

Ava smiles at her as she pours an unnecessary amount of sugar in her coffee. “Have you ever dated a woman?” Ava asks and Melissa freezes.

She looks up from her phone, “what?” She asks.

“Have you ever dated a woman?” Ava repeats. Melissa looks at her and sees the trio looking at her waiting for a reply.

“It’s none of youse business who I have or haven’t dated.” She says and goes back to her phone.

The trio and Ava look at each other and smile a little. They have a feeling that Melissa actually might have dated a woman due to her freezing.

*At lunch*

“So you have dated a woman haven’t you?” Janine asks her at her table.

“I thought I told you this morning it’s none of your business.” She glares at her. Janine gets the hint and goes to her own table.

*after school*

“Melissa, we just want to know if you’ve dated a woman before.” Jacob tells her as they all leave the building together.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Melissa asks them, annoyed.

“Because you never tell us anything about you.” Janine says.

“Ya we just want to get to know you better.” Gregory says.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “What brought this up all of a sudden?” She asks them.

“Well remember when Janine made us play that annoying game and write something about ourselves on a card and then we guess who it was.” Ava asks, earning a ‘heeeey’ from Janine for calling her game annoying.

“Vaguely.” Melissa says, very short with them right now.

“Well, after Janine said he’s only ever dated one guy since grade 8, your immediate response was ‘no women?’.” Ava says and Melissa looks at them.

Melissa then proceeds to walk to her car. “Like I said , none of youse business.” She says and reaches her car and turns to look at them. “So stop asking.” She says and gets in her car.

*the next morning*

The trio keep glancing over at Melissa. They want to ask but wondering if it’ll be dangerous to ask her.

“I feel you guys looking at me.” Melissa says looking at her phone, unimpressed by them. And at that Ava comes in.

“We just want to know the answer.” Jacob tells her.

Melissa sighs and turns around and glares at them. “Ok fine. Yes, I’ve dated a woman before, last one was a few years ago before youse started working here.” She told them and they all beam.

“Omg this is so exciting!” Janine squeals.

“I can’t believe you never told us you were bisexual.” Jacob says.

“What was she like?” Gregory says, and they all look at him then back to Melissa.

Melissa immediately starts thinking about you and she smiles. “She was a teacher here, she taught 3rd grade and left 4 years before you guys started.” She says pointing to Janine, Jacob and Ava. “She was beautiful and smart and brave. She was funny and sarcastic as well and able to keep up with my wit.” Melissa continues. And they all listen as Melissa describes you. And unknown to Melissa, she was smiling the entire time. The only thing Melissa refused to say was your name and why you broke up.

“Why don’t you want to say her name or why you broke up?” Ava says.

“How about youse people take what I give about my life and shut it.” Melissa says and turns back around to go on her phone. Barb looks at her concerned. Of course she knows what happened since she was there and knows how guilty Melissa feels about how it ended.

“Have you ever thought about dating again, specifically a woman?” Jacob says.

Melissa turns to look at him. “No, I’m not going through it again.” She says with a slight voice crack.

Of course none of them listen to her and keep on the lookout for a woman that’s Melissa’s type. And then one day, Ava does. She bursts into the break room, full grin on her face and immediately looks at Melissa then back to the full group, she thinks she found a match for Melissa. Melissa gets up to get herself a coffee and pours it into her mug.

“Hey nerds listen up! The school district sent us a vice principal to help out around the school and they’re paying for it.”

“Really?” Janine says.

“Yep, oh here she comes.” Ava says “and her name is y/n y/l/n.” She says as you enter.

Before anyone can say anything, the sound of a mug breaking is heard near the coffee machine. They all turn to see Melissa with her hand out, as she just dropped her favourite coffee mug full of coffee and it broke on the floor. She’s standing there looking at the new woman who entered in complete shock, completely unaware that she just dropped her mug. They all look towards you who’s looking at Melissa with an expression that can mirror Melissa’s.

“Melissa, r u ok?” Jacob says, and Melissa glances at him briefly before looking down at the floor.

“Uh, u-um y-ya ya, I’m fine, I’m just gonna let Mr Johnson know about the mess.” Melissa says and books it out of the room. A minute later Mr. Johnson appears and sees you , then shakes his head, muttering ‘this will be interesting’.

They all introduce themselves to you , except for Barb. Once the trio and Ava leave, you look at Barb then at your feet, not knowing what to say to her.

“It’s nice to see you again dear.” Barb says and you look up at her.

“I had no idea that Melissa was still working here. I also didn’t really have a choice, the district sent me saying this school needs a vice principal and I needed a job.” You tell her.

“It’s alright, I understand.” Is all she says.

“I-I’ll avoid Melissa as much as possible while I’m here, to avoid any drama as I’m sure she’ll do with me. So you don’t have to worry about that.” You tell her then leave.

After that Barb leaves the break room and goes to check on Melissa. And sure enough, just like she thought, Melissa is having a full on crisis in her classroom. Melissa is at her desk writing something harshly, then gets angry at her pen for not working properly then throws it across the room.

“You’re handling it better than I thought.” Barb says after she sees Melissa throw the pen. Melissa whips her head at Barb and looks at her with anger in her eyes that quickly turns to tears. Barb immediately goes and comforts her the best she could.

“I can’t believe after all these years, she’s here again.” Melissa says, crying into Barb’s shoulder during a hug.

“I know dear, I know.” Barb says, patting her back.

“I thought I’d never see her again, after 6 years I still feel guilty about what happened.” Melissa says, still crying.

*6 years ago*

You and Melissa were at a club, drinking. Celebrating the end of another school year.

“Hey Amore, can you go get us some more drinks?” Melissa asks you, as she got the previous ones.

“Of course beautiful.” You tell her and give her a quick kiss on the lips with a smile. You then get up and go to the bar to get some drinks. You order a drink for you and Melissa’s favourite drink, then a man comes up next to you as you're waiting, and starts chatting you up.

“Hey there pretty lady.” He says and you glance at him and sigh, you just ignore him.

After your drinks are done, the guy is still trying to talk to you. Before you can reach for your drinks, he gets up and goes behind you and kisses you, blocking any possible exit. The guy is twice your side, you try pushing him off but he wouldn’t budge.

Melissa is wondering what’s taking you so long as it’s been 5 minutes. She gets up and goes to the bar and sees you with a man’s tongue down your throat, pressed up against the bar and Melissa sees red. As soon as the guy gets away from you, you see Melissa standing there about 10 feet away, looking pissed. Melissa stomps over to you, grabs your wrist and drags you out of the club.

“WHAT THE HELL Y/N!!! WHY WERE YOU KISSING HIM!” She yells at you and you’re taken aback.

“Did you think I wanted him to kiss me?” You ask.

“Well it sure as hell didn’t look like you weren’t enjoying it!!!” She yells at you.

“Melissa I didn’t…” You try to explain what happened but she cuts you off.

“I don’t fucking care what lame ass excuse you’re about to give!!! I want you and your shit out of my house and nowhere near me again!!! In fact!! Why don’t you leave the fucking city! I don’t want to see you and your cheating face ever again!!!” She yells at you and then turns around to go to her car. You run up and grab her arm to try and get her to listen to you. She shoves your hand off of her and you try again. “Let go of my y/n!” She tries to shove your hand off of her again but you hold on.

“Please Melissa! Just listen to me!” You tell her with tears in your eyes. “He kissed me! I didn’t…” she doesn’t want to listen to you anymore and pushes you off of her and you stumble and fall back on the ground. You look at her full of hurt and tears. She just turns back around and walks to her car and drives away.

You end up staying at a friend's house for a few weeks. You end up telling the principal of Abbott Elementary that you quit and won’t be coming back, you get all your stuff from Melissa’s house when she told you she won’t be there so you can come pick it up. And after 2 months, you end up finding a place out of Philly and get a job at the school district. You feel hurt and abandoned by Melissa. Your friend told you to forget about her if she wasn’t willing to listen to what happened and fight for you. You left a note at her place, explaining what happened at the bar as she blocked your number after telling you when she won’t be there for a whole weekend to come get your stuff. You left her place with your things, completely heartbroken, you thought Melissa would be it for you but you guess you were wrong

Melissa on the other end wasn’t any better, when she got back from her weekend trip, she saw your note and read it. Full of tears in her eyes as she realised her mistake. She immediately unblocks your number and a bunch of messages you tried to send her appear. She read them all, she wanted to send you a message, saying she got your note and wanted to talk, and then she saw your last message.

You: I know you won’t get this Melissa but I’m really sorry about what happened. I’ll be changing my number today and moving out of Philly soon so you won’t see or hear from me again. Love, y/n.

She saw that the message was sent yesterday, she was too late. She has no idea where you are and no way of contacting you.

*back to present day*

“Melissa, what if this is your chance to fix that mistake?” Barb says. “You told me that if you got a chance to apologise then you would take it.”

“It’s been 6 years Barb, she’s probably moved on and doesn’t care about me anymore.” She tells her. Barb doesn’t push her anymore, knowing she needs time and space right now.

At lunch time, you finish talking to Janine in the break room and go to leave. At the same time Melissa is coming in and you walk into each other. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, not knowing what to do or say. You then walk around her and leave the break room. Melissa stands there for a few more seconds in shock. She then looks over at everyone and they’re staring at her confused about what just happened. Melissa doesn’t say anything, she just gets her lunch and eats in silence.

The second period after lunch, Melissa has a prep period as her kids are in art class. She’s marking some tests when you knock on her door. Melissa doesn’t look up as she’s finishing up marking a question.

“Just a sec.” She says.

“That’s fine, I can wait.” You say and Melissa freezes and looks up. “I’ll just sit in one of the students' chairs. I’m sure they won’t mind.” You say with a chuckle.

Melissa quickly finishes marking the question and then looks up at you. “Hi y/n” she says and you look at her.

“Hi Melissa, long time no see.” You tell her.

“Ya, 6 years.” She says, embarrassed.

“Barb told me what happened with the vending machine guy, sorry about that.” You tell her and she nods.

“Y/n was there something you wanted?” She says.

“I wanted to make sure that me being the vice principal here won’t cause any…conflicts.” You tell her.

Melissa freezes, she’s caught in between, she wants to say yes so that you’ll leave and she won’t have to feel guilty every time she sees you but a bigger part of her wants to say no, she missed you and it was nice seeing your face and smile again. Melissa knows what she has to do, she can’t be selfish but she can be careful.

“No I don’t see why it would.” And you look at her and Melissa feels the need to get it over with. “I mean I moved on and you moved on, the past is the past right?” She says and if she’s honest, it hurt her to say that to you.

You were in a similar spot. It hurt to hear her say that she’s moved on from you but what would you expect. It’s been 6 years and you guys ended badly and you assumed that more than likely she didn’t read your note, probably threw it out.

“Ya, we’ll keep it professional.”

“Ya professional, exactly.” She agreed and you got up.

“Oh I’m supposed to introduce myself to all the teachers and ask if there’s anything they need.” You tell. “I got to know the principal more and while she’s nicer than the one that was here when I was a teacher, this one also doesn’t do anything.” You say and she chuckles.

“Ya I have a feeling you’ll be doing most of the principal duties as well.” She says.

“Yep, more than likely. So was there anything you need? Paper? Glue sticks? Pens?” You ask her.

“No no, I think I’m good for now but I’ll let you know if that changes.” She says and you nod.

“Alright.” You say and go to leave then turn back around. “Btw love the rugs. Am I correct to assume you had something to do with that?”

Melissa smiles and puts her index finger over her lips “shh” she says and you smile and mime zipping your mouth. After you leave , Melissa looks at the doorway and sighs. “What I need is you.” She says quietly.

Over the next month, the trio and Ava slowly start to figure it out. You and Melissa barely are in the same room together, barely speak to each other, and when you do, it’s very awkward and uncomfortable. Then they see Melissa’s face when she sees you, full of guilt and sadness. And when you see Melissa, your face is full of hurt.

“Melissa, how do you know y/n?” Janine asks Melissa after a month of watching the awkwardness.

“She’s the vice principal, so we all know her.” Melissa says to them, the trio not convinced for a second and she doesn’t even believe it herself.

“Come on Melissa, it’s obvious you knew her before she got here.” Jacob says. “I mean you’re interactions with her are awkward and tense. And when she first got here you dropped your favourite mug. I mean the only reason I would act that way is if…’’ Jacob doesn’t finish it as he put it all together and he gasps. “Omg y/n is the woman you dated!” He squeals out and Melissa whips her head around in shock since he figured it out.

“How the hell did you figure it out!” Melissa says and immediately her eyes go wide and covers her mouth with her hand for accidentally confirming what he said.

“So wait he’s right? She’s the one you told us about?” Janine says and Melissa rubs her temple with her hands.

“Ok fine, yes he’s right. Y/n is the woman I dated 6 years ago. But it ended badly and I don’t want to talk about it any further.” Melissa says and then walks out of the break room.

“What’s the matter with Melissa?” Ava says as she enters. “She seems grumpier than usual, I just said hi to her and she told me to go to hell.”

“Y/n is the woman that Melissa dated 6 years ago.” Jacob says and Ava has a shocked expression.

“Omg really?” She says. “Barb, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because Ava, it’s not my secret to tell, it’s Melissa and y/n’s.” Barb says to her. “What I will tell you is Melissa feels guilty and is too afraid to apologise and y/n is too busy thinking that Melissa hates her. I’ve been trying to tell each of them to talk to each other but they’re both so stubborn.”

“Maybe we can trap them somewhere together and force them to talk to each other.” Ava suggests and they all agree, including Barb, that it’s not a bad idea.

“Ok but that requires a door that can lock from the outside and you can’t unlock it without a key from the inside.” Gregory says.

“I know just the place.” Mr Johnson says and they all turn to look at him on the other side of the room, not knowing he was there.

“You’re willing to help us with this?” Janine asks him.

“I was rooting for them 6 years ago when y/n was a teacher here.” He says and they look at him. Of course he knew, they honestly are not surprised at this point.

They put their plan into play, the next day during lunch they were gonna lock you two in the janitorial closet and Janine was gonna take Melissa’s kids with hers and go to the gym and then do a big art project in her classroom.

So when Melissa was going to get her kids, Janine asks Melissa if she could help her reach something from the Janitor closet and Mr Johnson went to ask you if you could help him with something in the closet. Melissa was grabbing the item when you walked in and then the door shut. You ran to it and tried to open it but it was locked.

“Did they just lock us in here?” You ask her. Melissa was too stunned to see you that she didn’t even realise what happened until you spoke.

“Ya I think they did.” She said.

“Why would they do that?” You ask her, annoyed.

“Probably for us to talk.” She says and you look at her.

“What is there for us to talk about? There’s absolutely nothing for us to talk about” You say and cross your arms.

“Actually there’s something. ” Melissa says and sits on one of the chairs that’s in there, while you sit on the other.

“What is it then?” You ask her and she takes a deep breath.

“6 years ago.” Is all she says but you understood.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about. You said it yourself, it’s in the past and we’ve both moved on.” You said and you look at her and she looks hurt. “What?”

“Have you really moved on?” She asked and you look at her.

“It doesn't matter, I know you moved on though. ”

“Ya a failed proposal is definitely not moving on.” she says.

“But you were in a serious enough relationship with him for him to propose.” You tell her and she looks down.

“Ya I guess so.” She gets her phone out to text Barb to come let them out and gets a reply back.

Barb: not until you talk to her.

Melissa: no, it’s too painful, please let us out.

Barb: I’m sorry Melissa but I know this was hurting you. Seeing her everyday is hurting you.

“They’re not gonna let us out anytime soon are they?” You ask her.

“I don’t think so.” She says and then looks at you. “I’m sorry.” She says.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t lock us in here.” You say, totally missing what she was apologising for.

“That’s not what I’m apologising for.” She says and you look at her.

“Then what are you apologising for?”

“For 6 years ago, making a big mistake.”

“Wha-”

“I read your note.” She says, cutting you off. “I should have listened to you but I was just so angry that I couldn’t think.” She tells you and looks at you with guilt. “The real reason I said no to Gary is because I didn’t want to be with him because I still have feelings for you. And I felt so guilty about how I reacted and I unblocked your number when I got home after reading your note and read all the texts and I wanted to find you or contact you but I had no way of doing that.” And a few tears slip down her cheeks.

“I haven’t moved on, you know. I’ve forgiven you for that night but I haven’t gotten over you.” You say and Melissa is looking at you with wide puffy eyes. “I tried, I ended up living with a girlfriend for a year. But then she broke up with me when she wanted more and I didn’t. Said I was emotionally unavailable. Which I guess is true, you can’t develop big feelings for someone if your heart belongs to someone else.” You said and the look on Melissa’s face said it all.

“Who does your heart belong too?”

“You.” Melissa sucked in a breath. “When I saw you standing there in the break room after 6 years, I couldn’t believe it, and you still look beautiful and stunning.” She let out an airy laugh.

“You as well, you still look so damn beautiful. My heart belongs to you too.” Melissa then gets up and walks over to you and crouches next to you and holds your hand and you look down at her. “I want to be with you again, if you’ll have me.” She says and you tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and smile at her.

“Of course, I want to be with you again too.” You said and Melissa beams. Then she gets up and leans in and kisses you. After 6 years Melissa finally felt back home again, like her lips are supposed to be on yours and no one else’s. You pull back after needing to breathe and you look at Melissa who’s smiling at you.

“You know I don’t think they’ll let us out until it’s the end of the day. So we still got… 2 and a half hours.” Melissa says, looking at her phone. You then get up and make her walk backwards and get her to sit on her chair and then straddle her lap.

“I think I want to know how to spend that time.” You tell her with a smile then go to kiss her again.

Melissa kisses you back passionately with her hands in your hair and yours are on her hips. Melissa’s hands travel down your body and land on your chest. She then puts her hands under your shirt and cups your boobs and you moan into the kiss. She then moves her lips down to your neck and starts sucking on it and you gasp before placing your mouth on her shoulder to muffle your sounds. Melissa giggles at your actions before unclipping your bra and lifts your shirt so she can put her lips around your nipples. You try to move your body so you can grind her leg but Melissa keeps you where you are and you whine.

“Patience, I don’t want to waste you on my leg.” She tells you and flips you both so you’re the one on the chair and removes your pants and underwear. She then immediately dives down and licks your pussy and you cover your mouth with your arm to muffle your moan. Melissa then puts her tongue in your entrance and begins tongue fucking you and you bite down on your arm as it feels so good.

Melissa tastes you again after years and thinks of how you still taste so good. She moans and it vibrates on your entrance and you gasp. She moves her tongue out of your entrance and goes for your clit and sucks on it. You’re moaning into your arm like crazy right now as Melissa is fucking magical with her tongue.

Melissa looks at you trying your best to muffle your sounds and gets up and kisses you. While kissing you, she slips a finger into your entrance and a thumb to your clit and you clutch her hair. She slips another finger in and pushes them in and out of you quickly while rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long until you’re shaking and Melissa knows you’re about to come.

“Go on Tesoro, come for me.” Melissa whispers into your ear and then goes right back to kissing you just in time for you to come. “As soon as they let us out of this closet, I’m taking you to my place. I’ll cook us something and then it’s to my bed. How does that sound?” Melissa asks you after removing her fingers out of you.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell her, trying to catch your breath. “I honestly miss your cooking, and your body.” You say and she smiles as she kisses you again. She helps you get dressed after kissing you and then she sits down on the floor with you curled up on her.

And that’s how the Abbott crew finds them after they go to unlock the door after the students leave. They unlock it and see you on Melissa with her hands wrapped protectively around you and they all have their mouths open in shock.

“Oh finally.” Melissa says and you get off of her and help her up. “Come on.” She tells you and grabs your hand and begins sprinting out of there and you’re both giggling.

“Was that a hickey on y/n’s neck?” Janine says and they all look at her then back at you two running out of the building.

And when the two of you get to her place, Melissa keeps her word of making a meal then spending the rest of the evening in her bed.

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frank1nsaint · 4 months

Text

Franklin Part 3

Warnings: Use of curse words and N-word

“Why you been dodging me?” Franklin asks you as soon as you open the door to your house

You step out “I have no idea what you’re talking about”

“Oh so those pages and calls to your phone?” he points towards the inside of your house “They didn't happen?”

You shrug “I don't know maybe you dialed the wrong number” you had no plan to explain to him why you hoped he would just take the hint and let you be, it had been 3 weeks since your first date

He throws his hands up “Come on Y/N what happened? We were just good not too long ago I was gonna take you on another date’n shit”

“I don’t think we would be good for each other Franklin”

“Why you say that? we just talked about you not sabotaging” he points between both of you “this”

“Im not”

He leans in “You are” he argues

“Franklin we aren’t good for each other just accept that” you state matter of factly before you turn to go in

He grabs your arm gently “Nah you owe me an explanation”

“I don’t!” you answer defiantly snatching your arm away

“Yes the fuck you do. I’m puttin’ my best foot forward and you fuckin’ it up on purpose cuz of what? you fucking scared of the shit I do? Aint nobody gon touch you Y/N they dont touch Wanda and her dope head ass what make you think they gon fuck withchu?”

You sigh “Franklin”

“Nah fuck that Y/N”

“You really wanna know?”

He nods “Yes I do, enlighten me”

You pause “I can’t trust you Franklin”

His face holds a confused look “What are you even...?”

“After our date, some of your henchmen came up to me. Guess what they said to me?”

Franklin held his breath he feels his heart beat start to increase. You start to mock the mannerisms and voice of the men “shit I heard you and my boy Saint had a date last night” He shrugs “So i told them we went on a date big deal” praying that's where the story ends

You continue “Men I lost my $200 and my boy came up on a smooth couple grand” you pause and look at him “ha-ha my man Saint he a G tho” you return to a normal voice “then he proceeds to tell me that there was a bet between you and your fucking crew, you got two grand if i actually went on a date with you?” you scoff “if you were that hard up for money Saint all you had to do was ask I could have given you that and we wouldn’t be having this conversation”

“Y/N let me explain” this was not as it seemed

“Not even 24 hours passed after our date and I’m hearing you went rounding up your niggas so they could pay you!" you paused "And OH! if I fucked you it would have been an additional $3000” you say sarcastically

“Y/N” he calls

You start mocking another guy “My girl Y/N, my sunshiiinneee yo yo yo shit if i had known all i had to do was ask you all proper and shit you would be my girl now. May I take you to dinner Y/N, miss congeniality” you tilt your head “they said you looked pretty in that green dress last night wish it was me instead of that nigga!”

“Who approached you?” he asked with a deep scowl on his face.

“I’ll give you that Saint. You played me good. You played a good game” you begin to walk away

“Hold up, hold up, hold up, who came up to you?” He asked again You return his mug “I’m not telling you Franklin! It doesn’t matter anyway you up 1 grand right?”

“Y/N listen I will explain later but who told you that? They are a liability to my shit!”

You shrug “what that got to do with me?”

“Tell me their fuckin’ names Y/N!” he demands

You sigh “you betted on me”

“Y/N”

In a soft tone you say “$2000 for the date, additional $3000 if we fucked, had people follow us, Big Saint, The Man, The Myth, The Legend show you lil niggas how its done” you pause “right?...... Saint?”

He looks up and runs his hand down his face feeling like his heart was going to explode word for word you quote what he had that night (“show you lil niggas how its done”) “Y/N please just tell me who told you that and I will explain everything” he begs

“If you wanted the money all you had to do was ask Franklin”

“Y/N, I don’t care about the money” “But you still made sure to collect, right?” you pause “Then you got the nerve to get annoyed at the fact that I was sabotaging the date!” you scoff in disbelief and begin to walk into your house

Franklin grabs your arm “Y/N listen!”

“Don’t Franklin!” you warn removing yourself from his grip

He blocks the door with his body “Y/N This aint a fucking game who approached you?! I need to know!”

You shook your head, you look him in the eye “I’m not gonna tell you Saint”

He tilted his head and pauses with an offended tone he says “Don’t call me that, I'm not Saint to you it’s either Franklin or any other fucking thing else but I’m not Saint to you!”

You go to say something else but decide not “Fucking Asshole!” you mutter looking down at your sweater pulling small knots that had formed

He released a deep sigh “Fine I’ll take that but you need to tell me who approached you.” he moves his head trying to get you to look up at him. You remain silent. “Tell me Y/N”

You shake your head “I’m not gonna tell you Franklin”

“WHY?!” he pauses to gather himself “You know how serious this shit is?” “SO YOU CAN GO KILL THEM?!” “OH MY GOD AINT NOBODY THINKIN’ ABOUT KILLING THEM NIGGAS!” he looks around and moves closer to you “keep your fucking voice down!” he whispers harshly You scoff “It’s all good Saint” Almost immediately he sizes you up and with gritted teeth he says “What the fuck did I just say?”

You feel shiver run down, it shocked you so much that you instinctively jump move away slightly, but you hold your ground still glaring at him before you step away and snicker and nod a few of times with tears in your eyes

With instant regrets he breaks his stance and takes a step back to show that his anger isn't’ aimed at you. “Just tell me” he says in a significantly softer tone

“I’m not gonna tell you Franklin, I don’t want their deaths on me because you decided to be an asshole all over $5000?”

He steps towards “Y/N please”

You step away with your hand up “It’s all good Franklin, I hope you put that $1000 to good use” a tear drops from your eyes “Y/N” “No hard feelings really Franklin, but you know this can’t work ever, doesn’t matter your explanation.” another tear from your right eye begins to roll down “wish you the best in your business stay safe out there”

“Y/N! No no no no please please please!” he begs gently grabbing your hand trying to stop you but also making sure to not scare you away

You pull your hand away “Goodnight Franklin” you speak before closing the door.

He looks at the door for a moment before turning and walking away towards his car. He turns on the car and begins to drive away “FFFUUUCCCKKKK!” he screams feeling the rage course through him as he speeds on the freeway

Franklin walks in and slams the door causing Jerome to jump up from his seat gun drawn “MOTHAFUCKA I ALMOST SHOT YOU WHAT THE HELL WRONG WITCHU?!”

They hear footsteps before Louie is stand ny the door “JEROME? WHO THE FUCK IS THAT? FRANKLIN!?” she comments frantically looking around for the threat “Not now” he grits out

“NIGGA WHO YOU THINK YOU TALKIN’ TO?! WALKIN’ UP IN MY HOUSE SLAMMIN’ MY SHIT. I'll FUCK YOU UP!” Jerome bellows

The phone rings and Franklin picks up “Hello?! meet me at Jerome house, now nigga, YES NOW! Bring Sean witchu!”

“WHAT THE HELL GOING ON FRANKLIN WHAT HAPPENED?” Louie asks “THEM LITTLE MOTHAFUCKAS DONE WENT AND TOLD Y/N ABOUT THE BET!” “WHAT? WHAT BET?” Louie asks

Jerome looks at Franklin like he has three heads “NIGGA WHAT??? YOU MAD OVER THAT STUPID ASS BET?” Franklin took major offence to Jeromes accusations, tilting his head to the side “You laughing but if I can't trust them to not tell a bitch about a stupid ass bet I can’t trust them in my shit!! They gone blow up our spot and fuck up our shit.” he points to his head “You not thinking Unc” Jerome paused and realised the gravity of the situation

“What is this bet? And what it got to do with that lil girl?” Louie asked as she looked between the two

Jerome gently waved her away “I’ll explain it to you later baby just let us be”

Louie scoffed “Shit mothafucka walkin’ in here slamming doors”

“Louie” Franklin commented

“Nigga fuck you!”

Franklin squared up Louie “AYE! AYE! AYE! WE DON'T NEED ALL THAT NOW!”

Franklin huffed and turned to continue his pace

In 10 minutes Leon and Sean arrived

“Nigga what happened” Leon asked gun already out

“We got some rat ass mothafuckas in our crew look how they got Franklin!” Jerome pokes fun at him “Nigga pacing around and shit over a bitch!” he jokes

“UNC!” Franklin warns

“What... happened?” Sean asked confused

“Y/N told me that niggas from our crew approached her telling her about the bet”

“Soooo...” Leon looked at Franklin confused

“So?” Franklin returned the expression “You niggas not thinking?” he paused “I GOTTA DO ALL THE THINKIN’ AROUND HERE??!!”

“We don’t” Sean speaks trying to rationalise their confusion

“If they running to tell her about a bet, a bet made between everyone in that room, what makes you think they not blowing up our spot?”

The men looked between each other the reality finally setting in for everyone that they could be completely exposed for anything at any moment.

“Our competitors, our opps, our product, our recipe, our schedule, our plug, our money, our peoples” Franklin states

“We got it Nephew” Jerome comments wanting him to not continue hating the feeling of being vulnerable

Franklin chuckled and looked around at them and in a whisper he sneers “and you niggas think I’m mad over a bitch when I got some snake ass mothafuckas in my crew??!! I GOT BIGGER PROBLEMS NIGGA!!” “My bad” Sean says throwing his hands up

“FFFUUUCK! Round all them niggas up now”

Leon puts his hand up “Now hold on its 2am we ain't bout to be meeting without cops spotting us”

“SHIT!”

“Look lets come up with a solution to figure out who them niggas are we start rounding people up they might start snitching even more” Leon strategizes

Franklin nodded in agreeance “We gonna act like shit aint happen and take them niggas out one by one!”

Jerome nods “Yea I like that plan!”

Franklin sighs and sits down releasing the tension in his body

“We got a plan nephew unless you got something better?”

“No I don't.”

Its silent for awhile with the 3 men (Jerome, Sean, Leon) talking to each other catching up on what they heard or whats going with their product

“Nigga what wrong withchu we have a solution”

Franklin waves him off “Not now Unc,I’m trying to figure out how to fix this shit with Y/N”

“Oh shit,” Leon comments forgetting that you were involved

“Yea nigga, Y/N! they told Y/N!”

“HA-HA you losing your mind over this girl boy! Now you know niggas talk worse than bitches sometimes. Gossipping mothafuckas”

“NOT NOW UNC” Leon shrugs “just go get another bitch, she aint the only fine girl that we know”

Franklin shot him an incredulous look “I don't want another bitch Leon I want that one!”

“She not special her stuck up ass I bet if you called Tasha now she’ll literally hop the fuck out her bed and come fuck you” Leon wasn’t really a big fan of you, he thought that you acted too good

“I dont want Tasha, I want Y/N and that thing was a fucking mistake i told you that” “Hell no don’t call that crazy girl up here! Her bat shit ass bout got herself killed trying to sneak in my damn house talking about she just wanna see Frankie” Louie comments

Jerome chortles “BOY YOU HAD THAT GIRL GOING CRAZY BOUT LOST HER FUCKIN’ MIND. DICK HAD HER STUCK NEPHEW!!” he blares out a laugh

Leon, Sean, and Louie join in on the laugh

Franklin ran his hands down his face “We gotta find them or this shit is not gonna last. If they can go run and tell Y/N what else are they doing? Product been going missing lets start there whoever them mothafuckas are they fuckin’ dead!” he grumbled.

Authors Note: Feedback is much appreciated. Please reblog, comment, and like just don't plagiarize

#franklin saint #damson idris #fan fic writing #fan fiction #imagine #snowfall fanfic #snowfall fx #black fanfiction #melvin gregg #fanfic #damson idris imagine #snowfallfx #franklin saint fanfic #franklin saint x reader #franklin saint snowfall #franklin saint imagine #franklin saint fic #black!fem!reader

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tiajk · 7 months

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One piece incorrect quotes (OPLA)

masterlist

Nami: what’s up your ass

*zoro walks in*

Nami: Oh nevermind

Y/n: Fuck you

Usopp: this is my crew (points to straw hats)

Y/n: I know damn well he aint talking about us

Nami: Y/N I WILL NOT BE HEARING YOU OUT

Y/n: OKAY i get that but listen if buggy can disconnect parts of his body from himself can he y’kn-

Nami: stop talking your talking rights are revoked

y/n: you know what dojo siad big nose big di-

Nami: STOPPPP

(this was a real life conversation between me and my best friend y’all can guess who i was)

Luffy: *to some random pirate* FIGHT MEEEE

Y/n: *behind with with a knife* mouthing* DO NOT

#tiajk #opla x reader #one piece #one piece incorrect quotes #opla zoro x reader #ronoroa zoro #zoro x reader #nami x reader #cat burglar nami #ussop x reader

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

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rockstar!robin, manager!steve, music journalist!eddie AU for funsies

On my first day shadowing her for this article, Robin Buckley tells me that her greatest fear in the world is not the massive crowds that flood arenas at every stop on her ongoing international tour, not the looming anxiety that her blooming success may be fleeting, not even a joke about how she worries this piece will make her look. No. On the day I meet Robin Buckley, she tells me the scariest thing on the planet is rabies. "By the time the symptoms set in, you're already dead," she says, walking with long strides towards her dressing room in the endless backstage of the Indianapolis Fieldhouse. "And I don't know about you, but death by raccoon is not how I want to go out."

I ask her if that's because it's not rock-and-roll enough, if such a mundane last stand doesn't match up with where she sees her life going these days, but the first thing out of her mouth in response is laughter.

She tells me maybe with a toss of her hands, asks me if I'm a music journalist or a shrink, and gets immediately pulled into a conversation about whether she's done rehearsing with her favorite guitar so it can be prepped stage left.

I try to stick around, try and get the inside scoop on how Robin Buckley prepares for a show, but I'm usurped by her fucking guard dog of a manager who fjsakdlfjaslkdfja FUCKING jesus CHRISTfsj

Eddie slams his hands down on his laptop keyboard and strains his neck back to look at the ceiling which is, quite frankly, an idiotic decision for a guy who gets motion sick on vehicles the size of, say, your average tour bus.

Don't get him wrong, he loves a good tour bus, loves the press van, loves the sweaty mess of a thing filled with people competing for clicks and desperate for the best quotes and--

Yeah, okay, maybe he doesn't love it, but if he's ever going to get enough notoriety in this business to write the sort of rock n' roll histories he grew up swallowing hole in the back room of his uncle's trailer, he has to go on a few shitty assignments.

Shitty assignments for alternative rock, one-hit wonders and their fucking hyper-protective managers who carry around lists of topics they're not allowed to bring up around Miss Buckley as if the girl herself isn't a goddamn open book.

How can the guy put a moratorium on her fucking home life if she herself sits down with the lowly press at lunch and twirls out story after story about her hippie parents teaching her how to roll a blunt when she was twelve years old?

How is Eddie supposed to write this damn article let alone his magnum opus if the advent of the internet has made managers and publicists everywhere so goddamn paranoid that Eddie has to use an anecdote about rabies as his hook?

Who is Steve Goddamn Harrington to tell Eddie how to do his job?

It's not that Eddie even wants to tear his little star apart; Eddie actually likes her contrary to the tension headache overtaking him on the ride between Indy and Columbus, but how is he supposed to prove why to readers if he's not allowed to say anything?

On his first day on this tour, Eddie had been forced to sit on this very bus and get a lecture from Steve Harrington, who has apparently been leading Robin's team from the small town get-go, and who is apparently God or whatever, and the thing is the guy's a prick.

He's downright insufferable, assumes the worst in people and expects their best behavior nonetheless, and Eddie can't stand his guts.

Except.

Except on day one of this tour, Steve Harrington gave them a terse lecture befitting a high school principal on the bus and then turned around and talked to the driver about his family for ten minutes before hopping out and going back to work.

And except, when they were in Chicago, he was screaming in some guy's face backstage and Eddie thought he'd discovered the real Steve, only to find out from a crew member later on that the guy in question was getting fired for trying (and failing) to hide a camera in Robin's dressing room.

And except, most of the time Steve Harrington is stern and bitchy and protective but the first time Eddie saw him talking to Robin before a show the two of them were laughing. Bright in ways that can't be faked.

Joyful.

Eddie looks back down at his computer and curses the man who is making this job so much more fucking difficult than it needs to be. Robin Buckley is a good story, without need for any embellishment.

Her start is interesting, where she comes from is interesting, her sound is even interesting despite its overnight popularity and worst of all Eddie likes her.

She's kind and open and smart as a whip-- apparently speaks four languages and is working on a fifth. She's got this sharp edge to her where she doesn't take an ounce of shit this industry throws at her and Eddie doesn't have to stretch to understand why her fans adore her.

God, he wants to write a good piece about this fascinating kid from Hawkins, Indiana, and he wants to write about the manager who she constantly reminds them she owes all her success to because how did that happen.

Eddie wants to be a fly on the wall when those two talk about ice cream, the weather, anything and he wants this article to be the one that gets him that goddamn book deal. Get Jonathan the high profile photog gig he deserves and Nancy the co-writing credit they've been dreaming of since college.

But there's still the guard dog in the way.

There's still Steve Harrington.

On the first day manager and good, Midwestern boy Steve Harrington introduces us to the star of the show, he tells us, "a toe out of line and I'll have your credentials stripped so far down the only paper that'll hire you has a whole page dedicated to Bible verses."

And as a good, Midwestern boy myself? I believe him.

Eddie thinks there's a story here, and he thinks he's the one savvy enough with loopholes to find it.

He's got three more hours 'til Columbus to figure out how.

#dot fic #dot post #steddie #stobin #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things au #steddie au #have your saturday night ramble I had a thought threw it up and now it is yours peace and love <3 #i've never written quite such an AU au but i had fun with this!

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qsycomplainsalot · 1 year

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Re: Pervertin or how German Supersoldiers High on Crack travelled through Space and Time Buy my Book

I came across a post on the bird site yesterday calling into attention the use of pervitin, more or less adderall, among German troops during WW2. For context pervitin tablets were indeed issued to a lot of military personnel back in those days, specifically to aircraft pilot and sometimes tank crews on long missions. The drug as some of you may have heard keeps you awake and alert, along with a slew of side effects and a non negligible chance of addiction. In a discussion that brought to view just how willing people are to buy into Nazi propaganda in the year of our f*cking lord 2023, I pointed out a few things, uphill and having to indulge a lot of sidetracking. The use of pervitin has always been a little overstated ever since it came to the internet's attention, and I certainly would never call it a key component of the Blitzkrieg when, in the theaters of war where actual Blitzkrieg was employed, its success was more due to a combination of innovative doctrines, intact fuel supplies and a big fat helping of dumb luck. It was a bold move highly relying on capturing enemy fuel depots with fast, surprise deep strikes supported by a lot of armored and air forces, and it was only sustainable in neighboring, industrialized countries. One can argue if the USSR was industrialized at the time, but it stopped mattering when the Russians removed their entire industry from the West to beyond the Ural mountains. The Blitz stalled there.

"But if it didn't work, then why did the Nazis do it so often ?" Well the answer to that is twofold. The first, longer answer is that Nazis were a bunch of f*cking morons. Maybe not one by one, but as a government in charge of military procurement, they were one bunch of goofy motherf*ckers. Gaggle of functional shit-for-brains really. The Nazis gave every one of their tanks in the middle of the war two coats of anti-magnetic paint, which took almost a full day to cure, despite being the only major nation to use magnetic antitank mines. The Nazis kept using slave labor drawn from their prisoners of war, including in the manufacturing of their overengineered armored vehicles, resulting in poor quality products or, you know, a few rivets in your magnificent Tiger tank being replaced by a cigarette butt. The Nazis spent more than half the cost of a strategic bomber on every V2 rocket, not including design costs, for less than half the payload. It ended up killing more Germans and slave workers than British people in London, for literally no strategic or tactical result with 0.4 person killed per every rocket. The second, shorter answer is that pervitin was not used that much. A lot of the arguments trying to boost its importance come from a single book, "Blitzed" by Norman Ohler, now available in twenty languages apparently, where grand claims are made by a historian who was probably more than a little tired of seeing Buzzfeed rack in the big bucks instead of him.

End note; I was called out by a bird siter after the conversation that inspired this post for even beginning to fact-check this, which they considered, and I quote, "fangirling over nazi stats". I cannot stress this enough, learning the 'bad' parts of history does not make you bad person, it is how you interact with the resulting knowledge. Unlike what they implied, I had to look for those supporting evidence. I had a hunch that such a grabbing headline about super-drugs would be fake, I knew offhand that V2 rockets killed more blues than reds, but when I had to research all that jazz about Nazis and their superweapons it was to dunk on them, not make another History Channel documentary about a time-travelling bell. Stay critical, fascists can eat shit.

#history #ww2 #rambling #rant

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ikkaku-of-heart · 30 days

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@waxgentleman asked: ✏️✏️ IKKAKU AND MISS GOLDEN WEEK? Send in ✏️ and I’ll use this (improved) incorrect quote generator featuring both our muses! (Still Accepting!!!)

Kidnapper: We have your child Ikkaku: I don’t have a child? Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich? Ikkaku: Oh god, you have Miss Goldenweek

💛

Ikkaku: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Miss Goldenweek: No… not really. Ikkaku: Are you going to do something about it? Miss Goldenweek: Hm… nah.

#waxgentleman #Crew Conversations (Quotes)#Ask the Heart Engineer #(gonna have to make a tag for Ms. GW)#(but man it was fun to find stuff for her even if it's hard to get her level of apathy and Ikkaku's level of mischief)

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chronically-ghosted · 10 months

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the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5309

summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.

warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder

a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.

🤍AO3 Link 🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.

There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.

Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.

And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.

Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.

To your complete and utter annoyance.

You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?

One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.

“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.

Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”

Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”

She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.

“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”

“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.

“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”

“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”

Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.

Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.

“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”

“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”

Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”

“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”

Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”

Trish smacked him over the back of the head.

“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”

“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.

Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.

“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”

Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”

“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.

“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”

“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”

“To Ned!” Ken yelled.

“To Ned!”

Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.

“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”

Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”

At this, everyone groaned.

“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.

“Here, here!”

Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.

“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”

“Is that right?”

Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.

“That’s right.”

“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”

“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”

“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”

Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.

Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.

You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.

Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –

What was that?

You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.

In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.

And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.

God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.

You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.

At least, the only person you can see.

You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.

One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –

The stairs creaked.

The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”

As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.

Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.

“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”

Okay, that was definitely breathing.

Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.

Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!

The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –

The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?

Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –

“Fucking let me in!”

The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –

No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –

The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –

Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.

It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –

“Got you.”

That voice.

That condescending, snide, bratty, little –

You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.

Caravaggio, eat your heart out.

“Max, what the fuck was that?”

He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”

You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.

“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I what?”

“You scared –,”

That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.

His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.

“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”

“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”

His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.

“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.

In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.

Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.

And he knows exactly what that does to you.

You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.

“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.

You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.

Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.

You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.

“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”

“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”

“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”

You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”

Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”

You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.

The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.

He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.

“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.

“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”

Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”

You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.

“Please, Max, just –,”

“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”

He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.

The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.

“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”

It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.

“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”

With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.

This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.

“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”

You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.

“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”

Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.

Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.

Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.

Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.

“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”

“Can you handle it if I touch you?”

You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”

“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”

“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“You scared I’m gonna?”

“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.

“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”

Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –

He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:

“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”

His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.

His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.

This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.

Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.

He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.

It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.

He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.

He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.

“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”

“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”

“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”

He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”

“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.

It is dangerous, your feelings for him.

He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.

“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”

He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.

His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.

You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.

You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.

Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.

And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.

Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.

He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.

You open the bathroom door and return to the world.

#max phillips #max phillips x reader #max phillips x you #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips smut #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters

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hey-august · 2 months

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For the prompt event, can I request a #8. Sing where reader sings buggy a lullaby, with quote #4. "What are you looking at?"

I'm loving these, they're all so cute.

Phew, so sorry for the wait! I severely underestimated how busy March was gonna be. TY so much for this request and for picking a lullaby!!! That was such a great idea.

Prompts: Sing (lullaby), "What are you looking at?" Teaser: "You quickly raised your still-full cup and washed away that thought. He was your captain. And your captain’s exuberant movements had you bump against his chest. You drank again." Warnings: SFW. Not an established relationship, Buggy x GN!reader, pirate party and drinking, that's about it. Word count: ~1.2k

Check out my 250 Follower Prompt Event and see fulfilled prompts here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The party raged on into the night. Rowdy laughter, drunken cheers, and music exploded from the belly of the ship, carrying across the darkened waves and shooting up towards the stars.

Buggy’s crew never needed an excuse to celebrate, but this time they had one - a new crew member. Although you first stepped on the ship just over a week ago, this party was thrown for you. As the guest of honor, you were kept in the dark until the sun was split in half by the horizon. Stepping into the mess for dinner, your vision was cluttered with bodies and confetti, your ears with shouts of your name and indecipherable cheers, and a drink was pressed into your hand.

You were pulled into the room, a victim in a tide of enthusiasm. Slaps on your back and hands on your shoulder guided you further in the room. Drinks were downed with each cheer that filled the room, yet your container never remained low for long. You couldn’t even keep track of when or who filled your cup, but you were grateful for it with each swig.

The music picked up and the celebratory current carried you through the room. You visited whirlpools of twirling dances. Riptides dragged you into boastful conversations. The flow carried you past plates of greasy food, bright smiles, and joyous laughter. Eventually you ended up in the corner of the room occupied by sirens. As you listened to performances showcasing lilting songs and off-pitch lyrics, you weren’t sure if they were more like sirens of the sea or blaring warning signals.

When a blue haired performer took the platform next, you sided more with the sea sirens. And when his painted lips parted and released an overly confident, nasally rendition of a song you almost recognized, you cast any relations to ethereal sirens out to sea for good.

What Buggy lacked in pitch and tempo, he made up for in wild enthusiasm. He knew how to work the crowd and it wasn’t long before you were clapping and singing along to lyrics you didn’t even know.

Buggy ended his performance on one knee, a hand raised to the sky, and eyes closed. With his chest heaving, skin glistening, and blue hair shining in the light, you were captivated. The hold on your attention broke the moment his eyes sought out yours and he beckoned you to come to the stage. That was one order from your captain you would not follow.

Knowing your limits, you stayed in place and shook your head. When the group tried to surge you forwards, you grabbed onto a nearby crewmate and pushed them forwards until they took your place in front of the crowd. The attention ebbed and latched onto the new performer, who drained the rest of their drink and launched into a song with a throaty shout.

The sacrifice was accepted and you drifted back to the edge of the crowd, stopping only when you crashed into a solid object. Gloved hands grabbed your shoulders and kept you steady.

“Why didn’t you sing?” Buggy asked, his voice drifting from behind you.

“It’s not my thing. You were great, though.”

“Of course I was! I’m the amazing Buggy, after all!”

Although you were facing forwards, you could hear the grin his gloating came from. Buggy’s pride was infectious, tugging a broader smile on your own face. The captain continued to flaunt his many skills and his enthusiasm was emphasized by his hands squeezing and gripping your shoulders. His grasp was so large that it almost felt like he was hugging you.

You quickly raised your still-full cup and washed away that thought. He was your captain. And your captain’s exuberant movements had you bump against his chest. You drank again. He was practically shouting in your ear so you could hear him over the music. You also felt his breath on your skin. Another drink. A longer drink, with ale trailing down your chin. The cup was finally empty. Your stomach was sloshing, your head was full of fuzz, your face was hot, and it was time for bed.

“What?” Buggy shouted.

You turned to face the pirate and were surprised to see just how close his face was to yours. Leaning away but staying in his bubble, you repeated yourself.

“I think it’s time for bed. I’m tired.”

Buggy nodded and tilted his head, signaling you to follow him. He finally lifted his hold and your shoulders felt chilly. You trailed behind him until you both reached a quieter area.

“Let me show you to your new room,” Buggy said, clearly excited to deliver the news. “We don’t want you getting lost again.”

You pursed your lips at the teasing remark and rolled your eyes. “Alright, Captain. Lead the way!” You gestured broadly and were surprised to see another drink already spilling out of your mug.

Buggy noticed the flash of worry on your face. “Need help with that too?”

You passed him the drink and he took a long swig.

“Alright, follow me.”

---

Once out of the mess, the sounds of the party were muffled, which lent a comforting presence to the empty ship. You and Buggy walked through a hallway, talking about nothing. It was a slow journey, each of you subtly trying to match each other’s pace. Any awkwardness from two individuals attempting to follow one another was dispersed by the easy conversation and laughter that flowed.

Buggy drained the rest of the ale and exhaled loudly. “I don’t suppose you have any food you also need help with?”

“No, I wasn’t handed a magical refilling plate,” you chuckled. “That’s probably a good thing. I would have eaten too many of those spicy cheesy things.”

“The pepper bombs! Those are my favorite!” That comment launched another conversation that was just a tad shorter than the rest of the walk.

The next silence arrived slowly and calmly. There wasn’t a need to fill the space, but a small desire in your body was the right shape. You started humming softly, carrying a soothing tune. A familiar tune. Buggy followed along, mumbling the words under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

With the end of the walk in sight, Buggy slowed his gait so the song could finish.

“What are you looking at?” you asked at the end. Throughout the impromptu duet, his ocean eyes kept flickering towards you and it was making you nervous.

“I haven’t heard that one in so long…”

“My parents used to sing that lullaby to me. It’s the only song I could think of.”

“But you still didn’t sing.”

“I was going to, but I like hearing your voice.” The confession slipped out too quickly to take back. Rather than dwelling on what you said and letting the embarrassment in your body bloom faster, you changed topics. “I- uh- guess this is my room?”

“Yeah. S’all yours.” Buggy slapped the doorframe, his hand coming down faster than he intended. He leaned into the pins and needles coursing through his palm. “I hope you enjoyed your party.”

“I did, thanks Captain.” You flashed him a smile before opening the door. “I’m glad I’m here.”

After bidding him good night, Buggy turned back towards the party. You weren’t the only one glad you were here.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hey-august 250 follower event

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