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#I’ve heard more on this from her in like three months than I have in my life soaksnwidowosojdieoddo
thosehallowedhalls · 3 days
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Book: Crimes of Passion
Pairing: M!Trystan Thorne x Emma Rose (F!MC)
Rating: Teen
Word count: 1138
Summary: Five times Trystan asked Emma to move in with him and the one time she said yes.
A/N: Submission for @choicesmonthlychallenge, rainbow prompts + National Take a Walk in the Park day (both in the fourth vignette).
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One
“No offense, but old New York apartments are a menace,” Trystan says, opening his door wider to let Emma in.
“I’ve lost half my plays,” she complains as she drops her overnight bag on the floor. “My Folio editions were spared, but my collection of second-hand Penguins is a soggy wreck.”
“Not to be insensitive to your predicament, but I’m more worried about other things.”
“Like my furniture?”
“That, and the fact that your apartment flooding means the probability of mold in the very near future.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m not looking forward to a mold infection.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Can I stay with you for a few days?”
“I hoped that went without saying.”
“Thanks.” She looks around. “I don’t think I’ve ever spent more than a couple nights in a row here. It’ll be a little weird staying longer than that.”
“Maybe we should see it as a sign.”
“Of what?”
“That you should move in here.”
She snorts. “Yeah, let’s ask Ruby and Luke while we’re at it. Make a commune out of it.”
He could tell her he wasn’t kidding, but if that’s her reaction to what she thinks is a joke, she definitely isn’t ready. So he files it away for now.
“Come on, I’ll make you dinner.”
She sighs. “I really love you.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Two
He tries again a month later. They’re lying in bed on a Sunday morning, lazing about and enjoying a rare day off. Tracing a hand down her side, relishing the warmth of her skin, he doesn’t even think before the words are out of his mouth. “Move in with me.”
She goes completely still. “Here?”
“Yes? We can look for someplace else if you want, but I've always thought you liked my apartment.”
“I do, it’s just…” She seems to be searching for the right words. “We’ve only been together for three months.”
“And in that time, we took down three killers, an extortion ring masquerading as a cult, the Russian mob, and a jewel thief. Besides, if spending a month with my family didn’t send you running for the hills, nothing will. Move in with me.”
“Trystan…”
“That’s a no tone if I ever heard one.”
“It’s been three months,” she says again. “It’s too soon.”
“Very well. We can revisit the topic later.” He pulls her on top of him. “In the meantime, I have a few ideas about how to spend today.”
She smiles against his lips. “I’m all ears.”
Three
They’ve just stumbled into his apartment, both bleeding from various scrapes and cuts, and bruising already forming on their bodies.
Never again, Trystan swears, will they go after a pair of knife-wielding accidental kidnappers amped up on methamphetamine.
“Ugh.” She winces when she places a hand on her stomach. “Why couldn’t this happen closer to my apartment? I have an actual first aid kit there, not the pitiful thing you think passes for one.”
“You could keep your first aid kit here. You know, if you lived here.”
Emma groans. “You’re seriously bringing up moving in together now?”
“Why not? I love you. Do you love me?”
Even when aching from half a dozen different body parts, she can’t resist teasing him. “Well…”
He waves this off. “You love me. So why not move in with me? I’ve got a better coffee machine and wi-fi connection anyway.”
“Can’t argue with that one. But it is, I am forced to repeat, much too soon.”
He shrugs. “As you wish. Pass me those bandages, will you?”
Four
They’re walking down Central Park, both holding a cup of coffee and enjoying the balmy spring breeze. A motley of flowers explodes around them, a vibrant jumble of colors and scents. Trystan takes a deep breath. “God, I love this time of year.”
“Yeah, it’s hard to beat New York in the spring.”
He laces his fingers with hers. “Or this particular spot in the city. This is your favorite coffee shop, isn’t it?”
“One of them.”
“It’s only a couple of blocks from my apartment.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, here we go.”
“You’re practically living there already,” he points out.
“I keep a toothbrush and a set of workout clothes there. Not quite the same thing.”
“Semantics. If your things live with me, why can’t you?”
“I don’t think you understand what you’re asking. I’d be there all the time.”
“Yes, I believe that goes without saying.”
“Most couples that live together don’t also work together. We’d be on top of each other nonstop.”
“Can’t say I’d mind that,” he says with a grin, then laughs when she gives him a light shove. “Fine. I’ll ask again next month.”
Five
“So when are you two taking the plunge?” Luke asks.
They’ve just left Mafalda’s house after dinner, a dinner where he and Ruby announced that they’re moving in together. Appalled, she turns to him. “Luke! Rude!”
“Oh, today isn’t about us.” Emma chimes in. “I’d rather talk about when you’re going to ask Ruby to marry you.”
When he flushes bright red, she smirks. “That’s what I thought.”
Once they’re in his car, Trystan turns to her. “You know, Luke makes an excellent point. When are we taking the plunge?”
She gives him a sideways glance. “Of course you’re going to jump on that. I’m almost surprised you didn’t say anything back there.”
“I would never.” Taken aback that she’d think otherwise, he cuts her a look. “First of all, that was their moment. And second, using others to convince you falls outside the bounds of fair play.”
“I know.” Her voice has gone a lot softer. “I’m just teasing.”
“Besides,” he adds. “I wasn’t particularly eager to hear you say no in front of all our friends.”
She gives him an odd look. “And you’re sure I would have said no, huh?”
“Evidence points to yes.”
“Hmm.” But she doesn’t say anything else afterwards.
Six
Emma stretches from her spot on the couch after the longest workday in recent memory. “God, I hate paperwork days. I’m too tired to move. Okay if I stay over tonight?”
“Sure. Or you could just move in already,” Trystan says, reaching for the remote.
“Okay.”
His hand freezes in mid-air. “Sorry, what?”
“I’ll move in.”
He blinks. “You’ll move in. With me?”
“Unless you’re planning to move out, yeah.” At his blank look, she seems to shrink a little. “But hey, if you’ve changed your mind…”
A slow smile spreads over his face. “Oh, not even close. Took you long enough.”
“From where I’m standing, it took me just long enough.”
“You would find a way to argue about this.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“Not remotely.” He tugs her into his arms and presses a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Welcome home, Emma.”
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henryhas2moms · 2 years
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unfortunately i don’t think i have ever felt so passionately defensive about a character as i am about regina. sometimes i’ll read something that is so wrong and incorrect, sometimes even from someone who likes regina, and i will turn into this thing
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#usually they’re from like 2013 even so i have NO REASON so get so worked up#the WORST one i read from someone who LIKED regina said she could’ve appreciated henry and emma as her GRANDKIDS instead of the s2#custody battles with emma and the charmings. which. excuse me… WHAT????? that’s her SON and i’m stealing something from your house#the worst take i saw from someone who did NOT like regina………. y’all don’t even want to hear it.#……… but im still mad so im gonna tell you granted i saw it like several months ago and it was made in like 2014 probably but#it was a gifset with regina’s ‘i don’t know how to love very well’ quote matched with (from what i recall) harmful actions against#henry (what the quote is referencing in context and also they have repaired a lot even before the gif was posted so fine ig)#snow (it’s complicated) cora (regina actually loves her mother far more than she deserves imo) and hold onto your fucking hats everyone#KING ​LEOPOLD!!!!!! (if you need me to explain to you why this is the worst thing i’ve ever heard. no you don’t)#<- needless to say!!! if you don’t watch your mouth i’m putting snakes in YOUR bed!!!#actually i’m not even sure if the first three examples are what was used bc the last one sent me into a rage blackout#and i’m not gonna go looking for that post anyway the others i can roll my eyes and move on the last one turns me into a fire demon#not making this rebloggable but feel free to be outraged in the comments with me xoxo#yes that is specific the flame atronach from skyrim no i didn’t know how to spell that i googled like ‘flame….. anteater skyrim’
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rafecameroninterlude · 2 months
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pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader
summary: rafe surprises you on your birthday
warnings: best friends brother, sarah being the worst friend ever (what else is new?), crying, firting over the phone, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected sex
word count: 2.8k
a/n: i’ve seen your comments and ik y’all want reader to stick up for herself against sarah, so don’t worry that’s in the works!! i’ve been feeling a little sick but i’m going to try to keep up with requests as best as i can <3 mini series masterlist can be found here
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“is everything okay?” ignoring the fact that sarah just cancelled your plans, on your birthday, you refused to hang up the phone without getting a conversation that lasted less than two minutes. “w-what do you mean?” you heard the faint sound of someone laughing in the background, a door shutting loudly on the other line. “you’ve never missed any of my birthdays, and tonight you cancel after reassuring me all week that you’d see me? not to mention two weeks ago when we were supposed to go on the druthers, you said you’d be back home later, but you never showed.” you hated how you sounded like a concerned parent more than a friend, but right now you just wanted answers.
“everything is fine, y/n,” sarah scoffed, “i mean, seriously, i’ve just been busy, alright?” you don’t know if you should feel relieved that she’s fine, or hurt because she’s obviously not interested in talking to you right now. with ward, rose, and wheezie out of the house for the summer, there was no valid explanation as to why she goes days, sometimes weeks without being home. unless of course, rafe was right about her spending all her time on the cut. “have you been staying on the other side of the island?” you couldn’t help but ask, the question lingering in your mind since rafe mentioned it two weeks ago. “oh, my god! do i have to tell you everything? you’re worse than topper.” she hung up before you could say anything else.
what the fuck?
she’s acting as if she has never been like this before. was it a crime that you were worried about your best friend who you haven’t seen in three weeks? sarah once showed up to your house at three in the morning because you sent a crying emoji instead of a laughing one. it’s hard to think about, the person she was then, versus now. you felt your eyes stinging, your vision getting blurry as the tears threatened to overflow. god, this was pitiful. if someone told you that you’d be here, your hair and makeup done for the gods, holding back tears because of sarah, you wouldn’t believe them. the amount of things that have changed this past month was starting to crash down on you at once.
with sarah gone, and your parents away for their anniversary trip, the last thing you wanted to do was wander in a party by yourself. ultimately deciding to stay in for the night, you laid out your pajamas, about to unzip your dress before your phone rang. unknown caller. “hello?” there was a few beats of silence, “y/n?” your heart fluttered instantly. “hey, rafe.” you sniffled, trying to clear any indication that you’ve been keeping yourself from crying. “what are you doing tonight?” his voice turned rough. “i was just about to get in my pajamas.. why?” he cleared his throat, a small seed of hope burying itself in your chest. “let’s go to mine. i have something for you.” as if you couldn’t smile any harder, you could count on rafe to beat the odds. “what if i said no?” you teased, knowing you could never say that to him.
“then i’d have to go home to an empty house and no birthday girl to give birthday dick to.” you sighed dreamily, eyes glancing up at your ceiling. “aren’t you the gentlemen?” you got up, thankful to see that none of your makeup smudged. “so where are you right now?” you reapplied your lip gloss, running a brush through your hair for the final time. “outside your house.” you paused. “are you really?” you peeked outside your window, a black truck sitting out front. “i’ll be right out.” you hung up, screaming excitedly, grabbing your purse before making your way outside. rafe met you half way, picking you up and putting you in the passenger seat.
“you’re telling me you were about to change out of this?” his hands rested on your hips, your head leaning against the seat. “yeah, but i rather you take it off of me instead.” he smiled, pulling you into a kiss. “i rather do that too.” he shut the door, the car ride back to his house consisting of him making you laugh. “why’s it so dark in here?” rafe lead you upstairs, skipping past his room. “where are we going..” you stopped in your tracks. “ward’s room?” you shook your head, feeling like you were trespassing in some weird way. “don’t worry, keep walking.” he opened the doors to the balcony, the breath being sucked right out of your lungs.
a small cake with pink frosting and the number twenty in gold accents sat in a little box on top of the table, a vase full of your favorite flowers right next to it. “how..” you turned around, rafe rubbing his hands against his jeans. “i knew it was your birthday today, which explains the cake, and i may or may not have stalked your instagram highlights for any flowers i could find.” you blinked, throwing yourself in his arms. “this means so much to me, rafe. thank you.” you let out a shaky breath, your emotions getting the best of you once he pulled back to cup your face. “hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he sat you down, his eyes flickering between yours. “i just wasn’t expecting any of this, i’m just really grateful that’s all.” you smiled.
rafe nodded, pulling a small gift bag from under the table. “i really want to see you open this.” he placed the bag in your lap, giving you a reassuring nod when you looked at him. with shaky hands, you removed the pink tissue paper, a velvet box revealing itself at the bottom. rafe adjusted in his seat, his eyes frantically moving between you and the gift. “rafe..” you opened the box, immediately being met with probably the best gift you’ve ever received. “i’ve heard you talk about this a lot, so i figured why not?” he shrugged, “do you like it?” he watched you pick up the silver bookmark, the words ‘pretty girl’ imprinted in cursive lettering on the back.
“i love it..” you truly had no other words. placing it gently inside the box, you got up, rafe pulling you on top of him, both of you smiling into a kiss. how did he know how to do this? make you feel special and wanted and appreciated all at the same time? you deepened the kiss, his hand squeezing your thigh. “should we cut the cake?” you hummed, shaking your head, “let’s save it for after.” rafe pulled away. “after what?” his hand snaked around your neck, “after you give me birthday dick, your words.” you yelped when he suddenly yanked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you inside. “can i confess something?” he walked through the dark hallway, basically kicking open his room door.
you nodded, leaving a trail of kisses across his neck. once he laid you down, he took off his flannel, his biceps flexing under the small light emitting from his bathroom. “i’ve been reduced to fucking my hand every night since we had sex on the druthers. “all i could think about these past couple of weeks is how perfect you look under and on top of me,” he spoke quietly, “have you been thinking about it too?” his shirt was next to go, and the harder it was to resist from moaning at the sight of him. “yes,” you sat up, pulling him down to sit at the edge of his bed, “..that night replays in my head everyday.” settling between his legs, your fingers worked at getting his belt off.
“but the thought occurred to me one night;” you slid his belt out of the loops of his jeans, “you’ve tasted me already, but i haven’t tasted you.” as if on cue, you placed his belt next to him, using his knees to anchor yourself back on your feet. he groaned, watching as you moved your hair to the side. “take my dress off?” you turned around, unknowingly facing the mirror on his wall. without hesitation, he unzipped your dress, his eyes growing dark as he looked at your shared reflection. “nothing underneath?” this was a bold move for you, so you were more than happy to see how much he liked the idea of you walking around, ready for him to take you at anytime.
“nope, just wanted to save you the time.” you smiled, his hands cupping your tits, a soft gasp escaping from your lips. “we have all the time in the world.” he gently bit the skin of your neck, spinning you around. he pulled you down with him, your hips straddling his as you unbottoned his jeans. “i like your makeup,” rafe’s rubbed his palms on your thighs, “such a shame it’s gonna get ruined.” you smiled, rafe sitting up to kiss you roughly. kneeling on the floor, rafe held your hair back as you looked up at him, palming his cock through his briefs. “you gonna let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours?” he grunted, your eyes fluttering, “mhmm.” you hummed, rafe extending his hand out in front of your mouth.
“spit, baby.” he commanded. doing as he said, you laid your head on his lap, watching as he started stroking himself, both of you gazing at eachother with heated stares. “please, rafe.” he moaned, his head lolling to the side. he was still tugging on your hair, the stinging sensation shooting down your spine. he stood up, discarding the last article of clothing keeping you from being fucked into oblivion. you opened your mouth for him, a string of curse words tumbling out as his tip met your tongue. “oh, fuck,” be gritted his teeth. you straightened up, making sure to keep your eyes on his, a moan rumbling in your throat as he pushed further.
rafe licked his lips, his chest rising and falling as you started bobbing your head. if you had to be on your knees just to see the way he fell apart with your mouth alone, you’d do it all night if he asked you to. your eyes started to water, rafe smiling at the sight. “tap me if you need to.” he pulled out, thrusting back in once you nodded. fuck. your hands flew out, holding the back of his knees as he tugged at your hair, hard. “you’re taking it so fucking good,” his muscles constricted, your pussy clenching around nothing. the only word you could think of to describe the noises in this room was obscene.
heavy breathing, gasping and moaning, even an occasional whimper when you swallowed around his cock. “y/n-” he shook his head, his eyes rolling back just as you patted his leg. rafe stopped all movements, pulling out of your mouth with a wet pop. “i don’t want you to cum yet,” you stood up, your knees beet red as he pressed his thumb against your bottom lip. “yeah? want me to fill you up instead?” his words went straight to your core, a single tear drop rolling down your cheek. “yes.” your voice was hoarse as he laid you down, your arms wrapping around his neck to kiss him.
rafe teased your entrance before sliding between your folds, his cock rubbing against your clit. you shivered at the contact, your hips chasing his in order to get more friction. “it’s going to be hard to stop doing this, you know,” rafe looked down at you. “i wouldn’t care about sarah’s opinion on this, and i don’t think you should either.” he stared at you intensely as you pondered over his words. “you wouldn’t care about her opinion on us having sex? or..” your heart was racing, hoping he’d pick up on what you were insinuating. “well, that too, but i mean something more, more than us just sneaking around.” you met his eyes, a small smile gracing your lips.
“are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” rafe laughed. “no- well, yes, but not formally yet, i want to do that the right way, not when you’re under me waiting for me to fuck you.” you bit your lip, nodding your head. you could never get used to how good his body felt on top of yours, your toes curling as he pinned down your thighs. “you’re so fucking beautiful,” he kissed your temple, “this pussy was made for me.” rafe slammed into you once you settled into his sheets, a strangled cry ripping itself from your throat. it didn’t help that rafe was already filling you to the hilt, but watching his mouth fall open, and his eyebrows knit together was just as rewarding.
any concept of time was lost when you were with him, but you knew you didn’t want this to end. you loved how intimate rafe was, swallowing your moans with every kiss, massaging your thighs when he would thrust into you particularly hard, he was so good at this, you couldn’t even think straight by the time you were teetering the edge of pure bliss. “rafe, don’t stop.” you held onto his frame, his fingers circling your clit as you felt the pit of your stomach drop. “o-oh, my god,” you shook in his hold. “rafe!” you gasped. “i know,” he moaned, “fucking hell, i know.” his hips stuttered as he cummed, his eyes screwing shut while he emptied himself inside of you.
he took your lips, still thrusting slowly as he steadied you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. eventually he came to a stop, both of you laying under the sheets. “did you mean what you said earlier?” you rolled over, facing rafe as he sighed sleepily. “about being something more? yes.” you smiled as rafe took your hand in his, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. “should we go for that cake?” you asked. “that sounds so good right now.” both of you got up, sharing the sheets as cover, about to leave the room until your phone started ringing. rafe was quick to pick it up from the floor, his jaw ticking as he looked at the screen.
“who is it?” you reached out, rafe blocking your attempt to grab your phone. “it’s sarah.” he declined the call, tossing your phone on the bed behind him. “come on, let’s go get that cake.” he ushered you towards the door before you stopped him. “it’s nearly three in the morning, rafe. she could be in trouble.” he stared at you for a moment, sighing as he nodded his head. “alright.” he stepped away. you pressed sarah’s contact, putting the call on speaker. she picked up after the third ring. “y/n?” you knew that voice. after fourteen years of being best friends, you knew when she was crying, even when she wasn’t in front of you.
“what’s wrong sarah, are you okay?” you stole a glance at rafe, ignoring the roll of his eyes. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry y/n. i haven’t been a good friend, and i’ve been keeping so much from you, my family… topper, i can’t handle all the lies anymore.” you felt yourself growing with empathy, rafe taking hold of your arm. “don’t fall for that shit!” he whispered. “i didn’t even tell you happy birthday!” sarah sobbed, “please let me make this up to you.” you don’t know why, but you looked up at rafe, who was shaking his head. taking a deep breath, you racked your brain for what you should do.
the fact that you had sarah on the phone, while standing in rafe’s room, naked at that, you felt like you were betraying one of them with either answer you gave. if you told sarah yes, then it would be like a slap to the face for rafe, but if you told sarah no, you’d be throwing away a friendship that grew into a sisterhood over the years. “we could have a movie night. for old times sake.” she sniffled, your own tears starting to well in your eyes. “y/n.” rafe stroked your hair. this wasn’t easy, at all. “okay.” you regretted it as soon as you said it, rafe’s hand falling to his side. “okay, that sounds good.” it pained you to see the way rafe was looking at you right now.
“friday at eight?” you gave her a quick ‘yes, i’ll see you.’ hanging up shortly afterwards. “rafe-” he slipped into some shorts, walking out of the room without a word. there was no winning in this situation. you plopped down on the bed, still wrapped in rafe’s sheets as you sat in silence. after about five minutes, rafe walked in with two plates of cake. he handed you one, sitting down next to you. “i won’t hold it against you,” he spoke up, “i just wish you could see what she’s doing.” you licked some frosting off of your finger. “i’m sorry.” you leaned your head on his shoulder. rafe hummed, “don’t be. i’ll let you find out by yourself, and i’ll be there with an extra plate for you when you do.” he rubbed your thigh.
you laughed to yourself. “thank you.”
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fetusgooseandjuice · 3 months
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Trust Me
Pairing(s): Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader
Summary: You haven’t been able to sleep in a couple weeks, and Natasha knows just the way to get you to close your eyes.
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: None? (If anyone finds any feel free to message me!)
Author’s Note: Heyy guys! I know I haven’t posted a fic in like 6 months, but I got writers block and it just never really went away. I’m not sure when I’ll post again, but I’ve had the idea for this fic for a while and I finally got the motivation to write it. It might not be that good but I hope you enjoy it at least a little! Think of it as a little Christmas gift :)
Author’s Note Pt. 2: Also, this is not proofread because I just wanted to get it posted so there might be some spelling and grammar errors!
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You heavily sighed once again for probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. It’s been a few hours since you and Natasha had called it a night, and yet here you were at nearly three in the morning still lying wide awake.
Although it’s not as if you were surprised or expecting anything else. You’d been having trouble falling asleep since the first night you and Natasha arrived in Norway.
Despite not having gotten many hours of sleep lately, for some reason you still weren’t tired and still could not fall asleep.
When your girlfriend came to you a week and a half ago and told you she had no other choice but to leave the states in order to evade the government after the whole incident between Tony and Steve, you instantly decided you’d be going with her without a second thought and left no room for her to disagree.
After all she should’ve known you’d follow her anywhere, but you guess it’s taken a toll on you.
You wanted to sleep, and yet you weren’t sure what was keeping you up. Maybe you were worried about something happening to Natasha?
‘What if she gets caught? Or what if we both somehow get hurt?’ you thought.
But you knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself and keeping you safe at the same time.
Even with the amount of times you told yourself not to worry, your mind wouldn’t listen.
You eventually sighed and turned your head to look at the redhead behind you. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you and no matter how much she shifted throughout the night, she never let you go.
The mere thought of that would be enough to bring a smile to your face if you weren’t so frustrated with yourself.
Deciding you’d had enough of laying there awake, you carefully unraveled your girlfriend’s arms from around you and slid out of bed.
You almost shivered at the cool temperature of the trailer as your bare feet touched the floor and you made your way into the kitchen.
The random plastic bags on the counter rustled as you rummaged through them in search of something to snack on, finally coming across a bottle of water and a pack of chips you’d never heard of.
As you went to open the cap of the bottle, a pair of arms slipping around your waist startled you. The yelp you let out made the person behind you chuckle, and you relaxed recognizing the sound.
“Sorry, malysh (baby).” Natasha said and you turned to look at her to see the apologetic look she had on her face.
You gave her a slight smile before shaking your head, “It’s okay. But what’re you doing up right now, Nat? You should be asleep, you need to rest.”
She dipped her head down to press multiple kisses to the skin of your neck, “I could ask you the same question because so do you.”
You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to leave the warmth of your shared bed without her noticing.
“I just couldn’t sleep.” you said, making her eyebrows furrow as you opened your water bottle and took a sip. “But I know you’re still tired so you should go back to bed, I’ll be there soon.”
“No, not without you.” Natasha was quick to disagree, “What’s going on, dorogaya (darlin)? You were yawning quite a bit before we went to bed. Why can’t you sleep?” she rested her chin on your shoulder, ready to listen to what you had to say.
You sighed realizing that you were going to have to have this conversation now. Your shoulders shrugged, “I don’t know.” was all you offered.
Natasha stayed quiet, giving you the floor for when you were ready to add on. A moment later, you did.
“I haven’t really gotten any decent sleep recently, so I’m not sure why I can’t fall asleep or why I’m not tired.”
Your girlfriend pecked your shoulder blade, acknowledging that she heard you.
“How long has this been going on for?” she asked.
For a second you went quiet, not exactly wanting to answer when you remembered that now that she knew, she wasn’t going to let it go until she made it better.
“Since we left the states.” you admitted.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Once again, you shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t want to worry you.” you said. “You already have a lot on your plate with this whole situation and I didn’t want to add more to it.”
You heard Natasha sigh and now you appreciated that fact that you weren’t standing face to face at the moment.
“I guess I’m thinking too much.” you added. “At night I finally get the time to actually think about stuff, and I worry about you and if you’re going to be okay.”
Natasha was also glad you weren’t standing face to face right now because if you were, you would’ve seen the way her lips pulled into a smile.
“Well if you’re going to worry about me then I think I have every right to worry about you.” she chuckled and you fought back a smile at it.
“I’m sorry.” you said.
She didn’t say anything for a few moments until you heard her soft voice with that hint of rasp speak up.
“Look at me, krasivyy (beautiful).”
You craned your neck to see green eyes which were filled to the brim with love and tenderness staring at you, the singular warm light above the kitchen sink allowing her to see your sad ones.
The frustration that’d been building up in you beginning to melt away ever so slightly.
“I want you to talk to me about what you’re going through.” Natasha spoke. “I don’t care about what you think I might have going on, you’re always my first priority, okay?”
You nodded as she raised a hand to caress your cheek, brushing a hair behind your ear in the process.
“I love you too much to have you worrying that pretty little head of yours all alone when I’m always right here for you.” she pressed her lips to your temple to emphasize her point. “So promise me next time you’ll tell me if somethings wrong?”
“I promise, and I love you too, Nat.”
“Good,” Natasha smiled and leaned in to connect your lips in a loving kiss, pulling away shortly after and leaning her forehead against yours. “I’m going to be okay, so there’s no need to worry. We’re both gonna be okay, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agreed. You knew Natasha would make sure of that.
“Alright, do you think you’re ready to head back to bed?”
You weren’t sure how to answer that. Even though you were relieved Natasha knew now and you talked about it, you still weren’t even close to being able to go to sleep.
“No,” you spoke quietly. “I’m still not really tired, and I honestly don’t know if I will be until this all blows over.”
Natasha went silent for a few moments, thinking. She turned you around to face her and moved your arms to wrap around her shoulders.
“Nat, what are you—”
“Shhh,” she interrupted your sentence, “Just trust me.”
So you did.
Her arms snaked back around your waist and pulled you into her. You weren’t exactly sure what she was doing until she began swaying with you from one side to the other.
You’d danced together before, but at Tony’s many parties. Not when you were trying to make yourself fall asleep.
“Nat, I don’t think—”
“You’re supposed to be trusting me. Do you not?”
“I do, but—”
“So shhh,” she said and you couldn’t help the little giggle you let out. “You said you were thinking too much, right?”
“Yeah.” you confirmed.
“So just relax and let me do all the thinking. I don’t want you to worry about anything except trusting me.”
“Okay.” you whispered, giving in and resting your cheek on her shoulder, allowing her to move you.
A few seconds later Natasha began humming. It wasn’t a song that you knew, but you recognized it as one of the many Russian lullabies she’s hummed and sometimes sang to you before.
The way she hummed them always made you feel relaxed and peace, and this time was no different. Because soon you started to lean into her more as you became more and more weary.
Your heavy eyelids fell shut and your head found security in her neck as you cuddled closer to it, happily letting her comforting scent soothe you.
After a couple of songs, Natasha finally looked at you to find you pretty much sound asleep.
She grinned to herself and pecked your head before lifting you into her arms, making her way back to your bedroom.
“Told you to trust me.”
~ end ~
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fangirl-dot-com · 8 days
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Incorrect Quotes - Part 2
All of these were taken from Pinterest - again, I am not this funny
Special thank you to @sinfully-yoursss for asking for another one!
Max: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch?  Y/n: Sometimes I whine like a BIG bitch 
Arthur (propping his feet up on a table): So, I heard you like bad boys Y/n: What? No??? Arthur (immediately taking his feet off the table): Oh thank God, that felt terrible 
Christian: Where’s Y/n and the child?  Toto: Y/n is teaching him how to drive Christian: Y/n never learned to drive??????
*Meanwhile*
Y/n: So there’s two pedals. Sometimes three but you can ignore the left one  Kimi: I don’t think…. Y/n: the lines on the road are more like suggestions than anything, like the speed limit Kimi: Are you positive that… Y/n: I’m not sure how to turn on the blinkers. Ready?  Kimi: Uhhhhh Y/n (shouting): GO GO GO GO  Kimi (screaming) *floors it* 
Nurse: I’m sorry sir, we can only allow family to see Miss L/n at this time  Christian: bold of you to assume I won’t legally adopt her right now  Y/n (sleepy, inside the hospital wing): you tell ‘em dad! 
Max: Your honor, my client is ready  Judge: And what does the defendant plead?  Max (mouthing the words): not guilty  Y/n (squinting at Max): hot milky Max (facepalms): take her away 
Y/n: Deck the halls with crippling depression  Charles: Fa la la la la, la la la la  Y/n: ‘Tis the season for emotional suppression  Arthur: Fa la la la la, la la la la  Max (passing through): what??? 
Y/n (on the phone): Hey Lance, can Arthur and I borrow $5000?  Lance: Why the hell do you need $5000?!  Y/n: For an escape room.  Lance: What kind of escape room costs 5 grand??  Y/n:  Y/n: Jail.
Max (answers phone): hello?  Y/n: It’s Y/n Max: What did she do this time  Y/n: no, it’s me, Max  Max: what did you do this time 
Y/n (on the floor): Go on…without me! Lando (crying while kneeling beside her): No! We can get through this together, just like we always do!  Y/n: There’s no time! You must defend our honor. Don’t let my death be for nothing!  Lando (sobbing): I can’t do this without you!  Y/n: Goodbye, old friend….(goes limp) Oscar (whispering to Max): They do realize this is just a dodgeball game, right?   Max (aiming at Lando): Oscar, this is war. Show no mercy. 
Oscar: One day, someone will think about you for the last time in eternity. You will be forgotten by the world  Y/n: not if I eat the Mona Lisa 
Yuki: I’m small but knowing  Y/n: You don’t be knowing what the top shelf looks like  Yuki:  Y/n:  Yuki: Bitch 
Y/n: Go big or go home! Vito (tears in his eyes): I am begging you, Y/n. For once in your life, go home. Just this once. Go. Home.  Y/n: I’m gonna go big
Y/n: I will do a lot of thing. But admitting I’m cold to Max after he told me to bring a jacket isn’t one of them 
Max: I sleep with a knife beside my bed  Carlos: I have a machete under my bed  Logan: I have a gun under my pillow  Arthur: Weak. Pathetic. All of you  Max: And what deadly weapon do you sleep with?  Arthur (putting on shades): Y/n 
Arthur: I will speak French between your legs  Y/n: That is the hottest thing I’ve ever been told  Lando: I’m just imagining someone screaming “Bonjour” to a dick Daniel: SACRE BLEAU MADEMOISELLE HON HON HON TITTY CROISSANTS  Logan (wheezing): TITTY CROISANTS  Max: None of you should ever be having sex 
Y/n: Hey do you know anyone who can teach me how to play the trumpet?  Alex: Why? Y/n: I wanna wander around the paddock and annoy Esteban  Logan: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play it for that  Y/n: You have opened my eyes Logan 
Max (not looking up from his book): what did he do now?  Y/n: HE SMILED  Max: At you?  Y/n: No, at Oscar and Ollie but HE LOOKS LIKE AN ANGEL  Max: go away  Y/n: shut up, I watched you pine over Charles for months – let me have this  Max: carry on 
Arthur: I came up with a brilliant idea for a prank  Y/n: Ooh, what is it?  Arthur: We should kiss.  Y/n: …I don’t get it  Arthur: Think about it! Imagine Max and Charles come into the garage, only to find us making out, hands all over each other. You can sit in my lap and we’ll really just go to town. Max will be like “WHAAAAAAA” and Charles might even faint!  Y/n: Oh, that’s hilarious! We totally should 
Esteban: The math problem isn’t so hard, it’s just a simple repetition of-  Y/n (frustrated): You’re a simple repetition  Esteban:  Y/n:  Charles: Did Y/n really just hurt Esteban’s feelings  Max: I’m so freakin proud 
Y/n (googling): snake bite leg what to do  Google: elevate and apply pressure  Y/n (lifting the snake really high): apologize or else 
Y/n: with all due respect  Y/n: Y/n: which is none 
Toto: If you took a shot for every time you made a bad decision, how drunk would you be? Kimi: Maybe a little tipsy?  George: Drunk.  Y/n: Wasted.  Lewis: Dead. 
Esteban: Could you at least try to be nice?  Y/n: You’re still breathing. That’s me being nice. 
Oscar: Hey do you have a bag I can borrow?  Zhou: The only bags I have are the ones under my eyes, and they’re specifically designed to carry the burden of my existence  Oscar: Literally all you had to do was say no 
Max (at Y/n’s funeral): Can I have a moment alone with her?  Arthur: Of course *leaves*  Max (leaning over the coffin): Now listen, I know you’re not dead  Y/n: no duh 
Y/n: Ow!  Oscar: You dislocated your shoulder. Want me to pop it back in?  Y/n (grimacing): Yeah…okay Oscar: All right, on 3….0, 1 *pops shoulder back in*  Y/n: MOTHERFU- WHO THE HELL STARTS AT 0 
Yuki: Hey Y/n, did you eat all the powdered donuts?  Y/n: …No?  Yuki: Then what’s that white powder on your pants Y/n (panicking): cocaine
Y/n: Max, I think you should play the role of my father  Max: I don’t want to be your father Y/n: That’s perfect. You already know your lines 
Lando: Can I be frank with you guys?  Y/n: I don’t know how changing your name is going to help us here, but sure?  Charles: Wait, can I still be Charles?  Oscar: Shh, let Frank speak. 
Lewis: I have a bad feeling about this.  Y/n: What do you mean?  Lewis: Don’t you ever have that little voice in your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?  Y/n: no  Lewis: That explains so much 
Y/n: What do you call a fish with no eye (i)?  Oscar (not looking up from his book): myxine circifrons Y/n:  Y/n: fsh  
George: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?  Y/n: Figuratively or literally?  George: Y/n, honestly, the fact that I have to specify 
Mitch: I know you took the last Red Bull Y/n Y/n (internally): play dumb  Y/n: Who’s Y/n?  Y/n (internally): not that dumb! 
Y/n: Big mood  Fernando: What does that mean…big mood?  Y/n: Uh well, it kind of means like, me too, I guess  Fernando: Thanks 
*1 week later before a race in the rain* 
Oscar: I’m kind of worried about this race guys  Fernando: Big mood, Piastri, big mood  Oscar: Y/n what did you do? 
Charles: What’s worse than a DNF at a home race? Y/n: realizing that dragons can’t blow out their birthday candles  Charles:  Charles: mate 
Y/n: You know what? Underneath it all, you’re actually quite nice  Max: Repeat that disgusting slander and you’ll be hearing from my lawyers 
Carlos: Now that I have explained the answer to this problem to you for ten minutes, do you understand?  Y/n: Yes.  Carlos:…Are you lying to me?  Y/n: Yes. 
Christian: Y/n, it’s your turn to give the pre-race talk  Y/n (claps hands): Fuck shit up, hit some barriers, run Charles off the road, don’t die  Max (proudly): succinct and informative 
Max: The FIA really seems to hate us  Charles: Maybe they’re homophobic  Max: We’re not a couple Charles  Charles: We’re not  Y/n: You’re not? 
Vito: Why is Y/n in the bathroom on the floor crying?  Max: She’s drunk  Vito: And? Mitch: She heard that Arthur has a girlfriend  Vito:…but she is Arthur’s girlfriend  Max: Yeah, we know that 
Max (wears lighter skinny jeans and a brighter blue Red Bull polo) Y/n: I see you’re busting out the spring colors 
Oscar: How do you two normally get out of these types of messes?  Lando: We don’t.  Y/n: We just make a bigger mess that cancels out the first one 
*Valentines Day* 
Arthur (reading Y/n’s texts): Y/n just said she’s going to give me 102 minutes of pleasure tonight Max: Oh wow
*Later watching Cars 2* 
Y/n: You look disappointed 
Y/n: Chillax!  Oscar: that’s not a word  Y/n: Sometimes the ones who deny “chillax” are the ones who need to chillax the most
Y/n: You know, water is pretty crazy. It can boil you to death, freeze you to death, drown you, or spin your car out of control, throw you into the barriers and kill you. But you still need it to survive  Max: Y/n, I love you, but its 3 AM 
Christian: Y/n, a word.  Y/n: BALLOON 
Max: I have the sharpest memory! Name one time I forgot something  Y/n: You left Charles in a Walmart like three weeks ago  Max: I did that on purpose, try again 
Vito: Y/n isn’t answering her phone  Arthur: I’ll call  Vito: Max and I have both tried, along with everyone else on the grid. What make you think she’ll answer?  *Calls her anyway* Y/n: Hello? 
Y/n: Oi, where’s your boyfriend?  Max: Who?  Y/n: Charles, where is he?  Max: He’s not my boyfriend Y/n: Have you told him that? 
Fan: Max, what motivates you?  Max: My ambition and desire to push forward no matter what  Fan: Y/n, what about you?  Y/n: An unhealthy mix of spite, pettiness, the thirst for vengeance, and pure, relentless rage. That and a Red Bull in the morning 
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @fly-me-away @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @33-81 @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri
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cosettepontmercys · 3 months
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“In light of everything that’s happened in the past three months alone, here’s some incredibly valid reasons to be pissed off at Taylor Swift, or simply not like her — as someone who loved her, and loved her music. First and foremost, Taylor Swift is personally burning a hole through the ozone with the amount of CO2 she uses. That’s not even the main point of this video; but this is a graph from 2022 of how much CO2 she produced of her 170 private jet flights, versus the average person. She has spent 70 grand on jet fuel alone. Taylor Swift, alone has used 170 tons of CO2 in the past 3 months. The average person only burns like, 16 tons. That’s not even the main part of this video. The main point of the video is the fact that she has not spoken up about Palestine. And the reason that is so fundamentally frustrating is that Taylor Swift has influence. Quote Brittany Broski, when she also didn’t speak up about Palestine — “if you have a platform, and you have people listening, you have to use it.” It’s criminal to not use it, and Taylor Swift uses it. This is from September 2023. Record-breaking registration numbers from one Instagram post. Literally stating, saying “I’ve been so lucky to see so many of you guys at my US shows recently. I’ve heard you raise your voices, and I know how powerful they are. Make sure you’re ready to use them in our elections this year!” They had a 72(%) increase in 18-year-old registrations. When it comes to Palestine, she’s completely silent. And now that it’s somewhat more socially acceptable to attend Pro-Palestine events, she’s been quietly going with Selena Gomez, but I for one, think that your Instagram is perhaps the best asset you have. If not, money. And I’m sure in a couple months, we’ll learn about how Taylor Swift was quietly setting up foundations for pro-Palestine, and that she was always for the cause and she’s always supported them, but all it takes is one fucking Instagram post. Especially when Israel Palestine is fundamentally a war of narratives. It’s whose story do you believe, despite the mounting evidence that proves that Israel has continuously been doing ethnic cleansing and genocide. They are still maintaining this narrative that they are not doing that. And all Taylor Swift has to do is say “hey, 22 thousand deaths in 3 months? The most in any modern war? This doesn’t seem right.” I don’t even want her to be that leftist or radical, but literally just to ask the question to her largely American audience, when US has bypassed Congress twice to sell millions in arms aid to Israel.  Just for her to be like “Should that many kids be dying, perhaps?” The bar is on the floor, but she still refuses to do it. And the reason why Taylor Swift in particular, not because of the influence that she has and not because of the platform that she has, but why her in particular, is because the IDF continues to use her songs. I know it was a public trend, but the fact that so many occupation forces felt comfortable and confident  to make like, dance edits to Taylor Swift’s music. I think it’s so important how an artist’s music is used because when the republicans wanted to use Eminem’s 8 mile track, he was like “absolutely fucking not, I do not give you consent to do that, and I do not associate with your politics. Don’t do that.” I feel like she should know that her music is being used as the anthem of the occupation forces as they go and bomb civilians. Her, and other artists like her, like Beyonce, who showed her film in Israel, and they’re all like dancing and singing, and saying “you’re not going to break my soul”, whilst they continue to bomb the shit out of civilians have said nothing. And I hope, as I’ve demonstrated in the video, for the people who are going to be like “What’s Taylor swift going to do? She’s not a politician.” Be serious. Be serious. She has a fucking chokehold on at least a billion people. She could’ve said and done way more than what she’s done, and also the CO2 levels." (from: this tiktok*)
* i tried to transcribe the tiktok since tiktok wasn't showing the captions for me but if i misheard anything please let me know!
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unholyhelbig · 2 months
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request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?
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Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]
Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.
Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).
[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]
Check out the full Oversight universe
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven
The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.
Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.
Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.
The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.
“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”
The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.
You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.
It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.
Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.
“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”
“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”
Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.
From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.
“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”
She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.
The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.
This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.
The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.
A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.
Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.
You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.
The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.
He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”
“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”
He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.
You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.
Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.
He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.
God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.
The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.
The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”
“You’re two months late on rent.”
“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”
You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.
“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”
“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”
Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.
With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.
“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.
“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”
He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.
“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”
“Employer? You work for that… monster?”
“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”
Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.
“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”
“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”
Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.
It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.
“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”
You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.
“Shit, baby, hit me again!”
He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.
It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.
You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.
You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”
“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”
You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.
“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”
By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.
She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.
“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.
“I don’t care”
“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”
Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.
Nothing Natasha did was innocent.
“What happened up there?” Kate asked.
The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.
When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”
“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”
“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”
You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.
“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”
“A history, or a… history?”
“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”
Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.
“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.
Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.
“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”
“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”
“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”
But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.  
“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”
Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.
“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”
You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.
“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”
It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.
The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.
Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.
“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.
There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.
Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.
“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”
The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.
A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”
“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”
“Gross, no.”
Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.
“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”
“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”
She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”
The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.
“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”
You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.
Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”
“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”
That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.
Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.
“He laid his hands on you.”
“Yeah, Nat, he did.”
“He touched you.”
“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”
“Without permission.”
“He’ll never do it again.”
Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.
“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”
She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.
“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.
Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.
Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.
Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.
Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.
She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.
“Get in the car.”
“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”
“What?”
She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.
“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”
Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.
The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.
For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.
“Come on.”
There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.
Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.
There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.
She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”
You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”
“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”
Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.
“What the fuck!”
Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.
He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.
“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”
“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”
“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”
“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”
Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.
“You walked out on them.”
“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”
To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.
“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”
“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”
“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”
Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.
“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”
The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.
“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”
She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.
“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”
“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”
Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”
“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”
“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”
“Until they know it’s not one.”
It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.
With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.
“Nat,” You breathed.
“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”
“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”
You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.
You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.
Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”
You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.
As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”
You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.
“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”
“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”
 “I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”
[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife@a-spes, @kyleeservopoulos]
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folkloresthings · 8 months
Text
BECAUSE I LIKED A BOY / CL16.
in which the world’s favourite pop princess becomes tangled in the life of a certain formula one driver, flipping her entire world upside down.
( charles leclerc x singer!au )
track one: lonesome. track two: fast times. track three: nonsense. track four: opposite. track five: how many things. track six: bad for business.
✩⡱ warnings: cursing
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despite being the one to have sent the message, you could only stare at the screen of your phone as it rang, charles’ name lighting up, a picture you’d taken of him filling the screen. just before it could ring off, you pressed the green button and held it to your ear. neither of you spoke for a moment, just soft breathing against the speaker.
“hi,” you whispered, breath held in your chest, wondering if he was really there. you didn’t even know if you wanted to speak to him. hell, you didn’t know how you were feeling — only that you were falling madly in love one minute, and heartbroken the next.
“hello, ma cherie,” charles’ unmistakable accent filled your senses, allowing that breath you were holding to be let out. even now, he was using that silly pet name that made you smile. frankly, the love you felt for him hadn’t really gone away, despite what he’d done. you’d only wished it had never happened, and life could go on.
“lewis came to see me. he explained what happened, but i want to hear it from you.” trying your best to keep your voice steady, your knuckles grip at the bedsheets under you. you could hear him sigh on the other side, a long breath.
“i— didn’t mean for any of this to happen. fuck. i was drunk, too drunk to realise what she was trying to do. i probably should have shut her down sooner, but i wasn’t thinking,” he told you quietly. his voice caught, and you knew then he was crying. half of your heart yearned to comfort him, the other to shake him firmly. “i went looking for you after, but lily told me you’d left. so i tried to catch up, but she kept fucking following me. i had to get security to do something about it.”
you swallowed hard, a hundred daggers lining your throat. what were you supposed to say? if you listened to your heart, you would forgive him in an instant. you’d book a flight to wherever he was racing that weekend and let him bundle you up in his arms, take you to bed and make you forget it all. but you’d been throat a lot. you had to be smart, strong — more than just a lovesick girl.
“i’ve been let down so many times, charles. and i was so blind, i didn’t think you would do it too,” you were both crying, his soft sniffles filling your speaker. “i can’t just… pretend this never happened.”
“you shouldn’t have to. but — i can’t lose you, y/n. shit, you’re the first good thing i’ve had in a long time.”
you choked on a sob, praying he hadn’t heard it. he was sweet, so awfully and cruelly sweet, and it wasn’t at all fair. despite his recent mistakes, he scored five stars every time.
“maybe we rushed into this,” you pondered, and you could practically hear him shaking his head. “i shouldn’t have let you think my heart was ready for all of this. after austin i… i should have waited a little while.”
“y/n…”
“maybe we just need a little time. to figure ourselves out.”
he sighed, knowing he shouldn’t battle you on this. no matter how he wanted to beg you on his knees and make everything better again. “three months.”
“what?” you replied.
“it’s three months until the grand prix final, the last race, and until your finished touring. i’ll leave you alone until then, but i’ll set aside a paddock pass for you there. if you want to trust me then, come. please.” his offer feels terribly gallant, respectful of your feelings, that it brings a smile onto your face.
“alright. three months.”
INSTAGRAM.
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yourusername if i’m just writing happy songs, will anybody sing along?
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joeyking who’s lady and who’s the tramp
⤷ yourusername i think we both know the answer to that
user tbh i preferred charles with charlotte than her
⤷ user no i’ve been waiting for someone to agree w me
landonorris setting the last picture as your contact pic rn
user team y/n or team charles take ur vote
⤷ user is this all you people have to talk about? shes her own person and was famous for years before she got involved with him
user tours almost over 🥲
⤷ yourusername 3 months 🥲🥲🥲
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ynnews the singular tour is almost over!!!! it’s been such a good few months, we’ve seen y/n go through so much but we’ve also watched her grow 🥺 so very proud of her. fingers crossed for new music & another tour soon!
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user i wasn’t able to go to any of the shows but i have LOVED watching all of the videos of her performing
user the fact taylor, madison, maisie, gracie and olivia all flew to europe just to perform with her when she was in a bad place 😭
yourusername BABY 🫶🤍 this is so so sweet. but it’s you guys that have made this tour, coming out every night and singing along to every word. i love you all more than anything in this world.
⤷ user MOM I LOVE YOU
TWITTER.
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yourusername guys 🥺 we won all four nominated categories i could cry. but seriously, thank you all so much for your continued support and love. there’s so many people i could thank, but i won’t get round to them all. you know who you are. thank you ❤️
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taylorswift there’s no one more deserving 🫶
adele 👑👑👑
user GRAMMY WINNER Y/N
harrystyles congrats love!!
user she made it 🥺🥺🥺
lewishamilton my girl !! roscoe says well done 🤍
honeymoon baby girl i’m so proud
user the universe giving her back what she deserves 🙌🙌🙌
IMESSAGE.
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tagged: @leclercloml @vroomleclerc @gaviypedrisbride @ncentic @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ferrariloverr @baw-sixteen @rechtrecht @incoherenciass
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mydearlybeloathed · 2 months
Text
𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ²
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𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: as promised, zoro finally returned to you... after three years at sea. there's much left to be said, but a rogue butler just might get in the way.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!reader
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9k
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, canon typical violence, fluff with a hint of angst
𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: everytime you leave
part one . part two . part three
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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Nami’s little ship taking on water was the least ideal occurrence possible. Yet, deep inside, Zoro found it incredibly funny to watch the orange haired girl scramble around all frustrated like this. 
“Gecko Island,” said Nami, drawing Zoro out of his thoughts. She was hunched over her map with Luffy over her shoulder, per usual. “I think we’ll be able to make it before the ship sinks.”
Those words took longer to process than they should’ve, but Zoro couldn’t help it. Gecko Island? How long had it been, three years maybe? No longer than that, he was sure. His eyes went unfocused at the memory of a laugh that could easily end him and bring him back to life all at once.
“Swear it.”
“I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”
Nami nodded to herself, saying, “Syrup Village is known for its ships. I say we dock there and ditch this junk.”
He couldn’t believe that luck. Zoro’s lips threatened to quirk into a grin before he got a hold of himself. He rested his hand on his swords and snuffed. “I’ve got a friend in Syrup Village who could help us.”
Nami took off her readers and rolled up her map. “You have friends?”
He shot her a tight smirk. “Just one.”
“And he can help us?” asked Luffy as he took to the ship’s helm. 
“She might.” Zoro checked on a knot here and a rope there. With his back to his temporary crew, he let out a small smile. “If she’s happy to see me.”
A surprised grin took Nami's face. “And if she isn’t?”
“She will be,” he assured, only half certain, if he was being honest.
It'd been three years since his promise, after all. Whatever happened next, Zoro could only be certain of one thing: oh, how he missed you.
જ⁀➴
Zoro was sweating, and it had nothing to do with the heat.
With every inch they grew closer to Syrup Village the swordsman swore he could hear your last words to him, a taunting sort of echo reflected by the sea. He’d always heard that water holds memories, and now it holds memories of you.
For better or worse, for reasons he just couldn’t fathom, you loved him. The very thought had his heart stuttering, his lips threatening to curve into a smile. Hopefully, time hadn’t changed your heart. It certainly hadn’t changed his.
He stood leaning on the mast, arms crossed to limit the fidget of his fingers. Unfortunately, this left him out in the open, a prime target for Nami’s incessant teasing. 
She slinked up beside him, curiosity already planted on her face. “So,” Nami drawled, not even trying to hide her shit-eating grin. “She?”
“Go. Away.” Zoro shifted away from her, tensing when Nami simply ducked forward, her short orange hair falling in her face.
She only laughed. “Oh, someone’s defensive.”
Zoro didn’t satisfy her with a response this time, yet she wasn’t thwarted, bumping his shoulder with a chuckle. “Relax. I’m sure your friend will be happy to see you.”
A beat of silence passed before he found himself offering up his worry. “I haven't written to her in a month.”
Nami scoffed. “Will she care when she sees you?” 
Probably not, was his first thought, but then again, what if you had changed? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you’d grown bitter? 
“Hey.” Nami snapped in his face. “Get out of your head, all right?”
He looked at her then, and he wondered why she cared. They weren’t friends, or at least, he didn’t think they were friends. But the way the two of them locked eyes and he nodded and then she nodded—he wondered if he even knew what friendship felt like after all this time.
It felt like you, of course, but you were something entirely different. Entirely more.
So he pushed off the mast and walked to the rail of the ship, sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, and got out of his own head.
જ⁀➴
You were terribly hungover, and Vee was having a ball over it.
Your every groan prompted just one more I told you so. Because she had, after all, told you so. You didn’t remember much from the night before, just that you were sad and the bartender liked you enough to forget about a cut off.
But feeling like shit never got you out of work before, and it certainly didn’t today. 
So you did your usual chores, albeit at a slower pace, crushing coriander and sorting it into jars at the corner table of Vee’s office. Vee herself stood behind one of the village’s elderly hypochondriacs, Miss Irma, who sat upon the examination table.
You and Vee had made quite the team over the years. While your knowledge solely pertained to the more natural medicines, Vee had gone to academy to become a real doctor, studying new technology and practices. Her fancy framed documents were testament to her achievements. 
She taught you nearly everything she knew, and you showed her a few tricks too, and as a result Syrup Village developed a phenomenal one stop cure all shop. Your various tinctures and potions came in handy nearly everyday—today especially as you downed a hangover tonic seconds after waking up.
You pursed your lips, grinding up the coriander as your temples panged with the consequences of your actions. Last night the alcohol had done wonders to make you stop thinking, but today was a different story.
“Next week’ll be three years,” you said to Vee, not caring as Irma perked up at the potential gossip. Ever since you had declared your love to a ship retreating from the docks, the locals had been dying to figure you out. You never let them, finding great amusement in being the town mystery.
Vee glanced up from taking Irma’s blood pressure, sensing an approaching vent. “So that’s why you’re so worked up?”
“That,” you confirmed, pouring the fine powder into an empty jar. “And he hasn’t written in a while.”
It was silly to worry about him. He could handle himself just fine. He was probably just busy. Yet, you had to admit, his letters were normally like clockwork. He had never missed a monthly letter, not once in three years. 
Vee suddenly stood beside you, taking your hands that you hadn’t realized were shaking. The older woman caught your eyes and offered a smile. “He’s a capable young man. He’ll be okay.”
You sighed, the sound quaking. “I know.”
She squeezed your hands and turned to remove the blood pressure cuff from a carefully listening Irma. “Take the supplies list from the counter and head to the market, yeah?”
“But—”
“Nope.” She was pushing you by your shoulders now, leaving a less than pleased Irma behind. Vee walked you through the hall, the kitchen, and right to the front door.
“Vee—Stop pushin’ me!” You planted two hands on either side of the doorframe, halting your exit. Puffing, you begrudgingly relented. “You never gave me the list.”
A triumphant smile adorned her face as she swept back to the kitchen and returned with your shopping list. You snatched it from her fist and left her with a feigned smile, not liking how she chuckled as the door clicked shut behind you. 
You huffed, fondly remarked “Bitch,” and headed down the cobblestone street with a brief glance down at the sheet of paper. Chamomile. Turmeric. Peppermint. Calendula.
You hummed. That last one might be hard to come by in the market, but surely one of the local merchants could find it for you. Turning the corner to head through the square, you caught sight of a familiar little man hurrying through the square. You swiftly pocketed your list and chased after him. “Joli! Hey, Joli!”
The mailman startled and whirled around, relaxing upon finding you rushing toward him. He didn’t bother with pleasantries; this had been going on for days, and the usual reply was on his lips before you could even get the question out.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in an apologetic smile. “No letters have come for you… Maybe your friend has just forgotten?”
“No. It’s something else.” Why did everyone assume he’d forgotten? It wasn’t like him to forget. You worried your lip between your teeth. “He always writes. Every month, without fail. Something’s gotta be wrong.”
“You could always write to him first?” Joli offered.
“I would if I knew where the hell he is.” It wasn’t easy being penpals with the Demon Pirate Hunter, given he was never in one place for very long. 
But he hadn’t written in over a month. Surely, he couldn’t have forgotten you. He wouldn’t have forgotten you. Even with the sea dividing you, the pair of you were intertwined. Three years and no letter wasn’t going to change that.
“Sorry, Joli,” you said, realizing you’d zoned out. “Thanks anyway.”
He swept a brief bow and hurried off to continue his day, leaving you alone in the bustling town square.
Time had gone by very slowly, and although Syrup Village was charming, you couldn’t help but feel drowned by the mundanity of it all. Syrup Village, to put it simply, was boring. 
But mostly, Syrup Village just didn’t have Zoro.
He was off on the East Blue, God knows where exactly, and the worry was eating you away.
Shaking your head as if it could dispel your thoughts, you quickly shifted to hurry toward the market. It was a long line of stands and booths running up and down the eastern part of the city. Directly behind it was a fine view of the shipyard, with its impressive ships large and small. And then to the left of the yard was the port, busy with the weekly imports.
The evening started to waste away as you went from tent to tent, offering smiles and beri in exchange for ingredients. Only after you’d asked the local flower merchant to place an order for calendula did you turn to look at the sky. Perhaps it’d been long enough for Vee to let you back inside. You’d already gathered everything on her list, after all.
But first, maybe you’d bring home something sweet. Food always put Vee in a good mood.
“Thanks, Luc,” you said to the young baker, taking the cloth wrapped loaf of lemon bread from him. “Tell your mom I said hello.”
“Sure thing.” You waved him goodbye and walked into the crowds, pinching off a piece of bread and popping it in your mouth. The billowing sails of the ships caught your eye and drew you closer.
The port reminded you of Zoro. Well, to be fair, many things reminded you of Zoro. Even lemon bread made you think of his sour expressions if you let the taste linger too long. But there was something about the salty breeze and the cursing sailors that threw you back three years time. 
If you closed your eyes you could practically see it—you and Zoro stood at the railing of a shipping barge, one of his hands on his swords and the other caging you between the ship and him, only to protect you from the many suspicious sailors, of course. Not at all because he enjoyed the proximity. 
Someone bumped your shoulder and barked an insult, and you realized you’d literally closed your eyes. Oops.
“Sorry,” you mumbled and ducked your head, stuffing the lemon bread in your satchel. 
You stopped in the shade cast by one ship’s sail, well out of the way. How many pirates stood in your midst? It was a question you tried not to think about, but you wagered a fourth of the crowd, maybe, but no more than that. Usopp scared most of them away with his clockwork alarms.
Maybe you could find your friend before you headed back. Usopp’s stories were farfetched, but never dull in color.
You had taken a single step when the crowd of hurrying sailors and passengers grew thin, and your gaze was drawn like a magnet to a shock of green hair. You seized up, tense muscles locking you in place.
You blinked, forgot how to breathe, and blinked again. Certainly you had to be tricking yourself. Plenty of fools have green hair.
As you forced an inhale the figure came into focus, one of his hands rested on a white sword you would recognize in the thickest of fog.
You huffed, disbelieving. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be real. Parched lips parting, you noted that you hadn't had much to drink that day and the sun was rather hot… but you surely weren’t dehydrated enough to hallucinate. 
That wasn’t any green haired fool. That was your green haired fool, in the flesh, like an answer to a desperate prayer. He came back.
You might’ve stood there all day had Zoro not felt your stare like a hot brand on his cheek. 
His heart was already hammering in his chest, skin prickling with the need to just shout your name till someone told him where to find you. But… his shoulders tensed, not from the anxiety, but from wariness. His brow pinched and he gazed around to find whoever was watching him.
Bit by bit, his gaze roamed over sailors big and small, crates and barrels, until it settled on you amidst the passersby. 
He’d tried preparing for this moment. None of it was useful now as he met your eyes in an everlasting moment. How had he ever left?
Zoro’s hand slipped from his sword as he started toward you, each step far too long and slow for his liking. It felt like walking through water to get you, like there was sand in his shoes weighing him to the ground. 
Luckily, you were impatient.
You took off, feet pounding against the wood of the docks, shoulder checking at least five people and knocking one person to the ground. You were heaving even as a wide smile took your face. 
Zoro gasped the instant before you barreled into him, your arms flung around his neck as his own embraced you tightly. He stumbled and let out a glorious little laugh for only you to hear. The sound alone made three years of aching boil down to one desperate need to never let him go.
Pulling back, you found his eyes, and the little grin on his face was the very last straw. 
Like a starved woman, you surged forward and cupped the sides of his face to drag him down to meet your lips. Soft and timeless, you sought to engrave the feel of his lips on yours, and yours to his. So just in case he’d ever dreamed of kissing another woman, he never would again.
Your hungry affection only made his infatuation worse; for three long years, Zoro only ever dreamed of you.
Zoro broke the kiss, drawing back and watching as you followed him, dazed like you could hardly believe it. A strand of hair was stuck to your forehead, damp with sweat, and he absently swiped it away. All he wanted to do was admire you, holding you close and breathing you in. 
“Hi.” It was the only thing he could bring himself to say.
Your fingernails dug into the skin of his arms, a half smile flickering onto your face. You swallowed thickly, hardly believing this was real. “When you didn’t write, I…”
Zoro suddenly remembered who he’d come here with and hoped with everything in him they weren’t standing right behind him like they had been before. “I got caught up.”
“Too caught up to let me know you’re alive?” You could’ve been teasing, but he knew better. He saw it in how your eyes searched his face; he’d scared you.
His eyes went a special kind of soft only one person had ever seen in Roronoa Zoro, and he cupped your face gently. A grin tugged at his lips. “Like anyone could kill me.”
Your own lips twitched upwards as you leaned into his touch. Zoro wet his lips and glanced at the ground. His throat was suddenly dry as sand. “Uhm… I’m… uh…”
“Who’s your friend?” Nami. Voice filled with mirth, he could picture that shit eating smirk on her face before he ever turned around.
He reluctantly peeled away from you, clearing his throat and stepping to the side (He never strayed from your side, his hand finding solace in fidgeting with the frayed end of your shirt). Now came a moment he’d been dreading: the introductions.
You assessed the pair of people standing, and you didn’t know how to feel that they’d probably witnessed the entire display of affection, beginning to end. The entire shipyard did as well, a part of you reasoned, so you brushed it off.
It was a boy and girl, the former wearing a cool straw hat and the latter with even cooler hair the color of tangerines. The girl, who you assumed was the one who’d spoken, wore a thick grin, arms crossed as she leaned into her hip. The boy, however, was glancing between you and Zoro with a puzzled sort of smile.
Zoro’s fingers brushed your hip; he was radiating nerves. “Y/N, this is Luffy and Nami.”
Luffy had eyes so lively you had to offer up a smile, as though your body felt no choice but to mirror just a bit of his obvious enthusiasm. 
“Nice to meet you,” he said, and you felt he really meant it. Luffy tilted his head. “How do you know Zoro?”
“We… go back,” you said, casting Zoro a glance to find his usual deadpan back in place—God, how you’d missed that frown. 
A thought provoked you. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been happier, but what the hell are you doin’ here? I thought you’d be—I dunno—on the edge of nowhere sharing a beer with a bagged corpse or something.”
You zeroed in on Nami then, immediately having her beauty carved into your memory. Something oddly possessive welled in your gut before you quickly shut it down. Still, you inched closer to Zoro.
“That’s what we’re here to see you about,” said Zoro, and something about it struck a worry in you. The way your eyes met his must’ve betrayed everything, for his hand moved to grasp your own, speaking a million silent little things.
Sensing a story, you guided them to the closest tavern, finding a nice spot in a low lit booth. Luffy rushed to slide into the booth, followed by Nami. Zoro reached the opposite side of the booth, but took a step back to let you slide in first. 
Pausing to blink up at him, he worried, “You still like sitting on the inside?”
Warmth bloomed in your chest as you nodded, wasting no time in jumping into the booth and tugging him to sit flush against your side. 
In grand detail and elaborate hand motions, Luffy explained their mission: they had a map of the Grand Line, and when they got there, they would find the One Piece, and Luffy would become King of the Pirates.
To say you were at a loss was the understatement of the century. Jaw slack, you looked from Zoro to Nami to Luffy to Zoro, then the whole cycle over again. Finally, you settled for shifting to face Zoro entirely, a slow smirk forming on your lips. “But… Pirates?”
Just some years ago you’d been helping this man put pirates behind bars, you’d taken part in a few murders as well, and now he was trying to tell you he was one of them? You couldn’t help it; you laughed, your hand moving to take his underneath the table. 
Zoro choked on nothing as your thumb ran circles on the back of his hand, but he composed himself enough to shrug. “Surprise.”
“You never cease to amaze me.” Almost doe eyed, you gazed all over his sheepish expression, adoration plain on your face. “I bet you’re a shit pirate.”
Nami burst into a laughing fit, eyes alight. He tried to glare, but it failed immediately, everything in him softening the moment he caught your smile.
“He’s great,” Luffy disagreed, grinning back at you. “And he’ll be even better once he’s the world’s—”
“Greatest swordsman,” you finished. Your smile was fond and warm. “I know. You never actually said why you came to Syrup Village, by the way. Not that the tale of your victory over Boogie the Clown wasn’t thrilling.”
Luffy leaned forward. “We need a ship,” he told you. “One worthy of our crew. A home.”
“Well,” you said, “if you see one you like, I know someone who can help you buy it. He knows the Shipyard owner.”
If possible, Luffy’s smile grew. “I’ve got my eyes on one already. The one with the goat figurehead! That’s our ship.”
“Oh,” you said, trying to keep the disbelief out of your voice. You knew the ship he spoke of, and it would be a pricey one, that’s for sure. Instead of lying to Luffy’s face, you chose to focus your attention back on Zoro, whose eyes had never left your face. 
“Come on.” You tapped Zoro’s thigh to urge him out of the booth, grinning at how he went pink in the ears as he slid out. “My friend’ll work something out.”
You took the lead out of the tavern and to the Shipyard, eyes scouring the sailors for your friend as Nami and Luffy fell behind, almost of one mind as they sidled up to their solemn companion, caging him between them. Zoro’s gaze remained glued to your back, not willing to cast them even a glance. 
Luffy bumped his shoulder. “I think your friend was pretty happy to see you after all.” The tease in his voice was evident.
Zoro somehow kept from snarling when he snapped back, “I said she would be.”
“Never,” Nami chuckled, “would I have ever guessed you have a girlfriend.”
“She’s not…” Zoro watched you longingly—he watched the way you waved kindly to people as you passed, how your very essence gave life to your surroundings—and he sighed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Rolling her eyes, Nami kept her voice low. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that how you greet all your friends?”
He didn’t answer, allowing their soft laughter to eat up his silence.
The truth of it was that this had gone better than Zoro had ever expected. His entire body still felt the burn of you against him, your lips on his—he stopped that thought where it stood, feeling that old flush creeping back up his neck. 
He had to talk to you—alone. He had to say so many things that he wasn’t exactly sure where to start. An apology. That’s where he’d go from. 
Unbeknownst to the whispers behind you, you were approaching the ship of Luffy’s affections, which you thought you remembered Usopp being on rotation for. 
You cupped your hands around your mouth and called out, “Usopp! Hey, Usopp!”
A moment later a grinning face popped up from behind the deck of the ship, sweat beaded on his brow as he threw his rag over his shoulder and leaned over to see her better. “Y/N!” He scanned the lot of them. “And company?”
The three following you finally caught up, the swordsman taking his place by your side. You shot him a little grin and tugged on his sleeve to draw him closer to you. “Usopp! I’ve got some friends wantin’ to talk to Kaya ‘bout a ship!”
Zoro turned his head toward you with his eyes still on Usopp as the boy scrambled down to meet them. “Kaya?”
“The friend of a friend. Hella rich and owns the Yard,” you muttered back. He nodded, not minding one bit when you linked your index finger with his. 
As he watched you as though you’d hung the very stars in the sky whilst you explained the situation to Usopp, he knew the second thing he’d say. He would work up the nerve to say what he couldn't three years ago.
જ⁀➴
The house—no, the mansion ahead was more extravagant than Zoro had seen in some time. He’d been close to your side the whole walk with Usopp, close enough so you could hear every one of his gripes about their guide’s questionable credibility. You giggled and bumped his shoulder every time, so he kept it up. 
“He’s… imaginative,” you defended, chewing your lip. “Relax. Kaya’ll let you buy the ship for sure. No thievery even necessary.”
He quirked a brow, amusement playing on his face. “How’d you…”
“Nami’s been swipin’ stuff off vendor carts.” You shrugged. “I figure stealing a ship is her first thought.”
Zoro couldn’t help but grin down at you, and when you met his eyes—oh, how deep his eyes were—you lost all sense of gravity. You nearly tripped over a rock before Zoro caught your arm and steadied you, chuckling at your expense. 
“Careful,” he teased, worsening the red in your cheeks. You stuck out your tongue in defense.
It was difficult for Zoro to stop looking at you, even as Kaya hobbled out of her home on the arm of her butler. If possible, you were even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. 
He tried not to be too miffed when you fled from his side to greet Kaya in a happy birthday embrace, especially when you offered Klahadore a curt nod and rushed back to hook your arm through his. Zoro glanced at you, then at the butler, and had the sense he’d seen the proper looking man before. He just couldn't place where from.
The turn of events was less than pleasing. Now, Zoro had to sit through a fancy dinner with too many people around, and probably not a chance to whisk you away from the prying eyes of his newfound crew. 
The dirty lot of you were ordered to clean up and only then shoved into Kaya’s expansive dressing room to find suitable clothes for dinner. Zoro walked into the dressing room in a soft black robe, feeling one hundred percent clean for the first time in a while. 
Instantly, his gaze gravitated to you examining the rows and rows of clothing, a number of dresses draped on your arm. Nami was moving quickly through the racks, every once in a while resting a dress she’d found on your shoulder and muttering something Zoro couldn’t catch. To both Zoro’s amusement and annoyance, you and Nami seemed to have hit it off instantly. 
He didn’t want to bother you, not when you looked to be having fun, so he took the first black thing he found and sat down on a chair near the corner. Zoro almost wanted to take a nap the second he sat down; even Kaya’s chairs felt expensive.
You dodged yet another dress from Nami, giggling, and caught sight of Zoro, appearing pleasantly surprised.
“Zoro!” Your smile was blinding. You swiftly passed a hand over the many clothes in your arms and grabbed what must’ve been your two favorites, dropping the rest in a lazy pile beside you. “I kinda feel bad not telling Vee where I am. She probably thinks I’m drunk in a barrel again.”
You disappeared behind a folding room divider, laughing under your breath. The two dresses were thrown to drape over the divider, and soon your clothes joined them. Zoro tried not to picture it too much, especially when he caught Nami staring at him with a mischievous grin. 
He ignored her and rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion never too far away. Zoro remembered the doctor he’d left you with. She had seemed nice enough at the time, so it was good to know she hadn’t murdered you in the night, or something like that. “Vee’ll be fine.”
Nami headed for the door, her chosen dress in hand and a toothy grin on her face as she nodded exaggeratedly toward the divider you stood behind. Now, Zoro might have rolled his eyes, and he might have flipped her off, but only because he’d drink acid before telling Nami he was grateful.
“Ay, Nami?” you called. “Can you help me with this?”
He was grateful till just then, as his gaze locked on the divider and his heart picked up a considerable pace. Your shadow danced on the wall behind the divider, and Zoro forgot how to speak. All he could do was think many thoughts he’d put off for a very long time.
Three years had given him a lot of time to think—he thought a lot about you, and his regrets, and how he wished it were easier for him to just tear out his heart and stitch it to his sleeve. You certainly made it look easy.
But it wasn't, and Zoro couldn’t change that anytime soon. He wasn’t too worried about it, though. You had this uncanny way of knowing exactly what he was trying to say, even when he said it all wrong.
“Nami?”
“Nami’s gone,” he said, voice near cracking. He grimaced and stood from his chair. “Can I help?”
There wasn’t so much as a hesitation before you answered, “Mhmm. Come ‘ere.”
His feet moved before he ever told them to. Zoro still wasn’t entirely sure if he enjoyed this chokehold you had on him... but then he was rounding the divider warily, finding you standing with your back to him, squirming around as you tried to reach the zipper of your dress, and he took it back. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth and then some, probably.  
Lips twitching upward, he stepped up behind you, his hands ghosting your skin as if he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes raked up your back, and he froze. A thin white scar ran across your skin.
You peered up into the mirror in front of you, simultaneously locking eyes with the green-haired man. He didn’t look like he was breathing, almost afraid to touch you, it seemed. “Zoro?”
He hummed distantly. You grew concerned at the cloudiness in his eyes, and then his fingers ghosted your skin, tracing a line you’d memorized and yet somehow forgotten. Oh. 
You spun around and sighed as he took a considerate step back. You tried to speak, but nothing came to mind. How could you have forgotten your scar? How could you have just let him see it? You frantically fumbled to pull the zipper up yourself, stammering, “Zoro, I, uhm…”
His jaw set all of a sudden, and he met your gaze head on. “I’m… sorry. That I left.”
You did not want to have that conversation. Not right now. You could save it for later, after the nice dinner, after you relished in ignoring the elephant standing in the corner. Because as much as you shoved it all down, Zoro had left you there, and it’d taken him three years to come back, as promised. 
But he came back, you reminded yourself. A little devil in your mind piped in, not for you though.
You cleared your throat and folded your arms over your chest. “I understand why.”
“But I regret it. Everyday.” Zoro raked a hand through his hair. “Everyday I wanted to come back.”
It looked like he’d been bottling all that up, and you wondered if the words had been on the tip of his tongue from the moment he laid eyes on you. “Why didn’t you?”
“I… I didn't know if…”
“If…”
Zoro looked anywhere but you, wetting his lips. If your life was better without me. “If you liked it here.”
You really, truly couldn’t help it; you laughed. You laughed and laughed till your sides ached and you teetered to the side before Zoro’s hands settled on your shoulders to steady you.  “Don’t laugh! I’m serious.”
“So am I.” Slowly, the smile slipped from your face as you reached for his hand and cupped it in both of yours. “Zoro, everyday for three years I waited for you, because you made me a promise… But I need to know… Would you have come back if it wasn’t convenient? I mean, did you really plan on it anytime soon?”
He tried to pull away and you nearly thought of letting him, before you laced your fingers with his and refused to let him go. Cold worry flooded your gut. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair—”
“It’s fair,” he cut you off. Zoro looked down at your interlocked hands. “I told you I’d come back. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Still, he hadn’t answered the question, and you needed to know. “So, would you have?”
Zoro didn’t answer right away, practically giving you heart palpitations as he took his sweet time. “I want you to be there, when I defeat him.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his face drawn close to yours, eyes hung. “Hawkeye Mihawk is harder to find than I thought. Time kept slipping by and… I don’t know. I got…” 
Scared, but he didn’t want to say that. Fortunately, you read between the lines, squeezing his hand. He sighed, eyes shut as his head drifted to rest against yours. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, raising your hand to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck. “I probably would have waited till then, to be perfectly honest.” Your cheeks warmed, gaze lowering. You raised a brow at the robe tied around him, breaking you out of the moment. “This what you’re wearin’ to dinner?”
There was a tease in your voice that had Zoro rolling his eyes as he slipped his hand back into yours and tugged you out from behind the divider. He dropped your hand only to pick up the suit jacket and hold it out to you for you to inspect. 
Brows still vaulted, you looked up through your lashes, smirking. “Hon’, you can’t just wear a jacket.”
He blinked, giving a bashful scoff. “I know that.”
He was too busy not being embarrassed to notice when you shook your head and skipped past him, planting a kiss on his cheek as you passed. 
“Hmm.” You skimmed through some of the clothes, finding a dress shirt that stood out to you. “Here. Try this.”
You took a hanger and held it up for him to see. Zoro wrinkled his nose. “It’s pink.”
Rolling your eyes, you shoved the shirt into his hands and moved to find some pants. “I like pink. You like me. Therefore, you like pink.”
Zoro doubted that logic, but you were practically an angel in disguise with the way you glided back over to him and handed over a pair of black dress pants. Your smile was a dangerous thing, because the more he looked at it the more you made a whole lot of sense. 
“Fine,” he murmured, disappearing behind the divider and emerging a few moments later, decked out in clothes nicer than he felt he deserved. 
You turned, about to say something when you laid eyes on him and faltered. Your eyes reflected a longing affection that had Zoro flustered in an instant, clearing his throat and cracking his neck in the silence. The fond grin on your face threatened to have him crumbling at your feet.
“Something on my face?”
A beautiful laugh bubbled from your chest, a happy warmth in your cheeks as you smoothed down the fabric of his jacket, resting your palms on his chest. The topmost buttons of the pink dress shirt were yet to be fastened, and you moved to finish it up all while that lovely smile graced your lips.
You were halfway done with the last button when Zoro’s hand cradled the back of your head, angling you to look at him again. Breath hitched, the words begged to be set free. Always on the tip of his tongue. “I…”
And for once, you were patient, more patient than he ever deserved. Zoro felt panic well up in his lungs, deep in his heart, and he abandoned the attempt altogether, surging forward to catch your lips against his. You had no complaints, sighing as your fingertips tickled the skin of his neck. 
“Guys!”
“No, Luffy, stop!”
The swift footfalls of Luffy followed his shout. You snapped away from Zoro, the both of you taking a swift step back. 
Your foot caught the pile of dresses you’d left, a yelp fleeing your lips as you fell flat on your back into the clothes. Zoro took one look at you and coughed, literally choking on a sudden laugh.
Luffy rushed into the room, stopping at the door. Nami stumbled after him with a glare and hissed, “Luffy!”
He cast her an odd look. “What?” Not paying Nami any more mind, Luffy grinned and said, “Come on, I can smell dinner.”
You let out a huff as Zoro grinned down at you, holding out a hand to pull you up. Hobbling on your feet, you patted Zoro’s arm and swept past him, approaching Nami with a smile.
“Oh, you look lovely,” you awed, admiring her fixed hair and light make up.
Nami raised her shoulders to meet her ears, saying, “I try.”
Following her down the hall, Zoro was left with Luffy, who said suddenly, “Why was she on the floor?”
Somehow refraining from rolling his eyes, Zoro simply left it at that, trudging after you and Nami.
જ⁀➴
Things had gone south very, very quickly. You hadn’t been so exhilarated in years. 
The dinner was exquisite, but that was where the good things ended. Your late night search for water was cut short by the sound of voices from the entry hall.
Rushing to the edge of the banister, you found Kaya’s housekeepers dragging Luffy outside and handed over to the marines, the butler standing there void of any expression. That, paired with the sudden disappearance of all your friends from their rooms, was starting to be a bit more than what you signed up for.
“Hey!” you shouted, voice bellowing down the foyer. You nearly face planted down the stairs with how frantically you ran down them. “Let ‘im go!”
Klahadore gave you one conniving glare and pushed his glasses back up his nose. The second your feet hit the floor, Sham, that mousy little maid, jumped you and had your hands twisted behind your back. No amount of struggling ever loosened her grip, and she’d kicked in the back of your knees before you could even think to swipe at her feet.
“Ah,” drawled the butler. You huffed, shaking, and met the man’s black eyes. “Another of these Strawhats, as you called them. Care to take another pirate off our hands?”
There stood two young looking boys, decked out in matching marine uniforms, but one had cropped pink hair and the other had a shock of horrendously cut blond hair. The blond stepped forth with a tight smile. “Gladly. Thank you for your assistance, sir. You’ve helped to make the seas safer.”
Two other marines came out to take you by your arms while you grunted out curses. You could only get one look over your shoulder as the mansion doors shut behind you, giving you a clear view of the dark smile curling up Klahadore’s face. You fought tirelessly. “Hey! Hey! I—I’m not a pirate! He’s lying! Let me—Luffy! What’s wrong with Luffy?!”
The boy with pink hair was in your face then, his expression much softer than the others. “Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you.”
You hardly believed that, but the kindness emanated in the boy’s tone was just enough to ease your struggling. Still heaving, you cast a look over at Luffy, who was being dragged along ahead of you. His head lolled at his shoulders and his feet dragged along behind him. “What’s wrong with Luffy?”
“He’s only drunk,” said the blond, though he amended himself upon hearing a not so comforting sound come from Luffy’s gut. “Probably…” 
“He’s sick,” you cried. 
“Drunk,” the blond marine insisted, putting an end to the matter by turning on his heel.
You looked back at Kaya’s mansion, which grew smaller by the second, and panic welled in your chest. Something was very, very wrong. Why had the butler done that? Who was Klahadore really? What were the marines there for? Where was Zoro?
Luffy’s sudden hurling almost gave you a heart attack, momentarily causing the marines at your sides to lose focus as tons of blue gunk flew out of Luffy’s mouth… and onto the blond marine. You couldn’t help it—you laughed, almost delirious, throwing your head back and all. The pink haired marine cracked a smile while the other four marines grimaced.
Released out of the marines’ grasp, Luffy hit his knees and heaved onto the dirt, expelling the rest of whatever poison he’d gotten a hold of. His distress sobered you instantly, and with your captors distracted you rushed forth to kneel beside him. When the marines lunged to catch you, the pink haired marine, presumably the one in charge despite his small stature, ordered them, “Stop. She won’t run.”
This guy honestly gave you too much benefit of doubt, but still, he was right; you didn’t run. Instead, you rubbed calming circles on Luffy’s back as the kind marine kneeled beside you, looking concerned himself. 
At your glare, he murmured, “I’m Koby. I… I know him.”
You blinked. “Small world.”
“Yep.”
Luffy gave one last cough, and with another gasp he raised his head to stare dazedly from you to Koby. His eyes narrowed in confusion upon finding the boy there. “Koby? I… I gotta go back.” 
There wasn’t any room for argument in his tone, his gaze shifting to settle on you. “That butler… He’s gonna kill Kaya, and then he’s going after our crew.”
“No.” Breathing shaky, your jaw set. You made to jump to your feet and bolt back to the mansion when you remembered you were technically still a prisoner, your glare returning at full force. 
Koby looked to be at a terrible loss, saying, “I’m under direct orders to bring you in.”
“Kaya’s going to die,” you snapped at him, causing Koby to almost flinch. “You want her blood on your hands, marine?”
Much softer, much less angry, Luffy set a hand on Koby’s shoulder and said, “You said you wanted to help innocent people. Kaya’s innocent.”
For an everlasting moment, you thought maybe Koby was going to let you go. The consideration crossing his eyes was sign enough. And then it all went to complete shit.
The blond marine scoffed. “Know what?” He retrieved his pistol from its holster and loaded it in one motion, running your blood cold. “Screw this.”
Koby jumped to his feet. “Helmeppo, don’t!” he ordered, falling on deaf ears.
There was no shake in the marine’s hand as he stared down a solemn Luffy. “Father always said a dead pirate weighs the same as a live one.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, you rose to your feet and inched yourself a good distance away from Luffy. “Helmeppo?” you scoffed, a panicked tilt to your voice. “That’s one step away from being hippo, dude. Back up.”
Eyes aflame, Helmeppo blinked his attention away from Luffy to find you, just like you wanted. 
Koby almost shouted, “Garp gave us strict orders.”
Helmeppo’s glare remained zeroed in on you. “Concerning this one,” he said, jutting his chin at Luffy, “but you.” He shifted to aim at you, a sadistic grin marking his face. “Garp doesn’t want you.”
Your heels dug into the dirt, a slight ring in your ears. It’d been some time since you stared down a gun. Luffy jumped up and took a threatening step toward the marine. “Leave her alone.”
“I will,” Helmeppo barked. “If you start walking, pirate, or she dies.”
You swallowed thickly. Where the hell was Zoro? “Have you ever even fired one of those before, cadet?”
You were certain Helmeppo would have at least bashed you over the head with the butt of his gun for that, had the pained grunts and clank of metal not cut jaggedly through the air. The bodies of the other marines sunk to the ground, unmoving, and a shadow stepped out of the dark.
In the flicker of the pathway torches stood the Demon Pirate Hunter, looking absolutely pissed.
He took one look at Helmeppo, saw where his gun was pointed, and sneered. “Hey, haircut.”
You’d never seen someone drop their gun so fast, the weapon hitting Helmeppo’s thigh. All your bravery fled your body as your steeled back shoulders dropped, allowing yourself to feel every bit of fear now that Zoro was there. It would’ve been sad to die like that, you thought.
But a sense of comfort followed that fear. You weren’t going to die—there was Zoro, and Zoro would never let you die by the hands of some arrogant marine. He wouldn’t let you die, period.
The devil-eyed man approached, looking only at you and the relieved smile tugging at your lips. He stopped, landed a knockout punch to Helmeppo’s face, and barely shook out his fist like it was nothing.
Helmeppo’s head hadn’t so much as hit the ground before you were racing at Zoro, jumping over the unconscious soldier. You hooked your arms around Zoro’s neck in a tight hug. “You’re alive.”
“Have a little faith,” he muttered back, pulling away to offer a teasing smile. 
Luffy let out a victory cry and quickly dealt with Koby, ditching the panicked soldier on the road as the three of you ran back to Kaya’s mansion. 
The massive house came into focus, basked in the darkness of night. Luffy left to find Kaya as you pulled out your dagger, ready for a fight, only for Zoro to tap your shoulder gently. His bandana was tied securely around his head, his brows drawn taut, and it took you far too long to realize he was holding out that white hilted sword you’d polished and shined too many times to count times.
You stared at it for far too long as well, bringing Zoro to roll his eyes. “You’re not fighting with a knife. Take it.” At your raised brows, he grabbed your hand and forced his sword into your palm, giving you a meaningful look.
“You’re not out of practice, are you?” he asked, a tease in his voice as he headed for the mansion doors. 
Spinning the Wado Ichimonji around your hand, you shot him a grin. “Please. You think I went three years and never picked up a sword?” You tsked. “And let all your training go to waste?”
Huffing out a chuckle, Zoro shoved open the doors and warily went inside. You cast his sword a fond glance, shook out your shoulders, and followed suit. Despite your assurances, you were nervous. More nervous than when you were staring down Helmeppo’s pistol. 
Practicing swordsmanship on scarecrows was much different than actually fighting a warm body. Warm bodies fight back. 
Adjusting your grip on the hilt, you raised the blade and sweeped the area, locking eyes with Zoro a moment later. The foyer was empty. It was quiet. Zoro’s eyes widened upon something behind you, giving you just enough time to whip around and parry the strike of Sham.
The maid still wore her work attire, but now she held a silver shortsword in hand, black paint drawing the shape of a cat’s nose down her face. Buchi lunged out as well, catching his two swords against Zoro’s. 
You shoved off of Sham and scurried back to escape her unrelenting strikes. Dodging around a small table you spun to swing at her neck before she could change directions. She jerked away with a literal hiss, eyes flashing.
Sham scooped a broom off the ground and jumped high into the air, moving the broom and the sword in a cross as she landed a blow against the flat of your blade. With a grunt of exertion you ducked and swept under her arm, Sham’s strength working against her as she went flying forward.
Buchi chased Zoro up the staircase, taking out some posts on the banister. Startling at the sound of cracking wood, Sham got a stab at you, catching your blade arm. Wincing through the pain you tightened your grip on the Wado Ichimonji, dodging this way and that to avoid being skewered by Sham’s advances.
“Hey!” Zoro snapped, dragging Sham’s attention to him. He leaped off the stairs and cut her broom in half, finding himself now under the attack of both Black Cats. 
Chest heaving, you rolled out your shoulder and bit back a whine at the shudder of pain, swapping the sword to your other hand. Zoro lunged around Sham and sought high ground back on the stairs. Sham grinned up at him, showing off his second sword she’d swiped from its sheath. 
An annoyed tick appeared on Zoro’s jaw. 
You seemed to have been forgotten in favor of better competition, slinking into the shadows of the room. Sham stabbed Zoro’s sword into the cabinet beside her, leaving it unattended as she and Buchi cornered Zoro on the stairs. 
He swiftly leaped over them and retrieved his sword, locking you in place with a glare. Don’t move, it said. Stop while you’re ahead.
Ears ringing, you traced the line of action as Zoro fought the two pirates down to the center of the room again. He knocked Sham aside only for Buchi to lunge again, allowing the other to get back up again. Zoro shoved Buchi against the ground, successfully knocking him out. 
Letting out a hiss, Sham ran at him and nicked his cheek, knocking one sword from his hand as he evaded another hit. Something furious welled up and out of you.
“Hey!” Rushing forth, you caught her by surprise, pressing your sword against hers with all your weakening might. Her footing was off, her legs collapsing long enough for you to descend upon her and bash the brunt of the sword against her skull. 
The newfound silence crackled in the air between you and your swordsman. Breathing deeply, you suddenly let out a curse, dropping Zoro’s sword as the gash on your arm finally strained from that last blow. 
“Fuck.” You shook out your arm to stave off the pain. “Shit-shit-shit, that hurt. Gah!” Then noticing the Wado Ichimonji on the floor, “Oh, I dropped it, I’m sorry—”
You kneeled down and picked it up in your good arm, still rolling out your shoulder even as you held it out for him, eyes shining with an innocent adoration as if you hadn’t just jumped a woman for him. 
Zoro only stood there in complete and utter awe, three years worth of dreams and nightmares flooding his head as you stood before him. Fighting alongside him. Just like you used to. Like he dreamed of. Like he wanted to for the rest of your lives. He heaved, struggling to get enough air.
“I love you.” A hefty weight was lifted off his strained shoulders.
His eyes bore into yours as he caught his breath, nearly nervous in how he watched you. You wouldn’t have been surprised if your heart exploded, giving way to every feeling coursing through your veins. A smile split across your face, you set the sword on the ground to rush at him, removing all space between you and him, flushing yourself to his chest. 
Sham and Buchi’s swift swordsmanship was nothing compared to the speed at which you left kisses on his face, leaving no skin unloved. Zoro’s face scrunched up through a laugh, light and airy, his cheeks dusted pink.
Finished with your attacks you pressed your forehead to his, cradling his head in your hands and just breathing in the moment. The two pirates were groaning at your feet, but you hardly heard it, swaying in the silence.
“This was well worth the wait,” you said.
He hummed his agreement against your lips, ghosting a kiss, meaning to really kiss you till you physically forced him away, when a voice echoed from the top of the stairs.
“Oh,” Kaya awed, arm hooked through Usopp’s. “How sweet.”
Zoro tried to back away when you hooked a hand around his neck and yanked him down to your level, kissing him gently.
“I love you too,” you murmured, the pair of you ignoring Usopp’s encouraging holler. “So, so, so much.”
Behind you, Sham started to wriggle awake. The smile slid fast from your face as you whirled around and gripped her by the hair, ordering Zoro to get a rope so you could secure your two prisoners.
Zoro grinned lovingly as the rest of the crew descended the stairs. “Yes ma'am.”
જ⁀➴
“I hereby call this ship,” Luffy began to declare, turning away from a teary eyed Kaya to face the grand vessel on the sunny shipyard. “The Going Merry!”
“It’s yours now,” Kaya smiled. “Your new home.”
In reply Luffy let out a shrill cry of victory, dragging a chuckle out of you. Your arm was freshly bandaged, all three of Zoro’s swords now back in their rightful sheaths. You leaned on him slightly, chin rested on his shoulder as your eyes begged for some rest. 
Luffy turned to smile at Usopp, who’d wandered some distance away. “Usopp! What’re you waiting for?”
Usopp stumbled over his words, trying his hardest not to seem excited at the prospect, and after a brief goodbye with Kaya followed by a sweet kiss, he agreed. Before you could even smile, a worried figure broke through the crowds of the shipyard.
“Oh, God,” Vee cried as soon as she spotted you. She jumped over a rail and down some stairs to envelope you in her arms. “I heard about what happened!”
Nami tilted her head. “How on earth did you hear?”
Vee waved off her question with a brief the grannies hear everything and took you by the shoulders. “I never liked that butler, I—” 
She noticed Kaya standing to the side, her mouth snapping shut. “I’m… sorry for your losses, Miss Kaya.”
The sweet girl simply smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
Luffy clapped Usopp on his shoulder, smile bright as the sun, and turned his sights on his next recruit. Luffy zeroed in on you, calling out, “Y/N! You’re coming, right?”
Vee cast him an odd glance, shifting her gaze back to you. “What…”
She blinked and seemed to only just notice the swordsman at your shoulder, and she let out a gentle laugh. “Would you look at that? Speak of the devil.”
Zoro scoffed, half grinning. “Hey, Vee.”
Realization was slowly dawning on the woman as she took your hand in hers. “So… This means you’re off then?”
You were almost reluctant to nod. “Yes.”
A hundred different thoughts flashed across her eyes, lips pursing, before Vee nodded firmly. “Right. You’ll need supplies, won’t you? Some herbs and bottles, to continue your work. A textbook maybe.” Her hand found your cheek as she gave a watery smile. “You’re exceptional, you know. I’m proud of my apprentice.”
A burn welled up in your throat as you cupped her hand. “What about you? Who’ll help with the clinic?”
“You know, Vee,” Usopp cut in. “Kaya was just saying she’d like to be a doctor.”
Kaya gently smacked his arm, reprimanding him as Vee blinked surprisedly.  “Really? Uhm, well, I’d be happy to teach you, get you ready for academy entries… If that’s something you’d like?”
“Yes,” Kaya blurted, flushing slightly through her barely suppressed smile. 
“Great!” Luffy exclaimed, locking eyes with you. “You’re in, then?”
You took in a steadying breath, your hand searching sightlessly behind you, Zoro’s hand meeting yours moments later. “I’m in.”
Nami leaned into her hip, grinning. “Good. I don’t know how much more testosterone I could take.”
The lot of you set off in different directions, off to gather supplies as quickly as possible to get off the island before the marines caught back up. You lagged behind, Zoro falling into step beside you.
He offered you a little smile and moved his arm around your shoulder, liking the feel of you tucked into his side. It finally settled in that this was happening. Years of wishing finally came to fruition. You pressed a kiss to the back of Zoro’s hand.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” you confessed.
“I swore, didn’t I?” Zoro said.
Through a blinding smile, you stopped and kissed him. “You did.” Your fingertips grazed the back of his neck as you held him close, running a shiver down his spine. You pressed your forehead to his and mused, “We’re still not the greatest apothecary and swordsman in the world though.”
“Dracule Mihawk is hard to find—”
“I’m kidding. We’ve got all the time in the world to get there.”
Although you weren’t exactly sure how one becomes the greatest apothecary in the world, you were exactly sure that wherever your ambitions took you, Zoro would be there. If you had any influence on fate, you would sail together till the end of your days.
જ⁀➴
Four rickety boned women stood along the wall of the tavern, hawkeyed gazes scouring the streets of Syrup Village. Martha, June, Polly, and of course, Miss Irma.
Irma massaged at her ever-pained neck, searching out something of interest, when her ears caught the tail end of a laugh. Sweeping the street, her gaze stopped upon a shocking sight.
Well, she thought, that’s something you don’t see everyday.
Miss Kaya from the mansion estate was leaving the town clinic, arm in arm with that troublesome Usopp. Irma harrumphed, thinking Miss Kaya should know better than to keep such company, when she noticed Usopp was followed by some odd companions.
A ginger girl looking worse for wear, a boy with a straw hat so worn she wouldn’t be surprised if the wind blew it apart, and Vee, the village doctor. A fairly odd group indeed.
She hummed curiously, especially when the door to the clinic swung open once more to reveal Vee’s apprentice, a full to the brim satchel on her shoulder. Irma swatted at her three friends and pointed their attention to the sight just as someone else followed the girl out of the clinic.
Martha gaped, her cigarette falling to the ground. Irma, June, and Polly reacted the same, not entirely believing it.
Right behind the apprentice walked a handsome young man with a shock of green hair and three swords at his hip, a gentle smile on his face as he tugged on the girl’s arm to get her to face him again. Turning around, she was greeted with a kiss to her forehead and a gaze so warm Irma felt its heat from across the street.
“It’s—It’s that boy,” Polly exclaimed. “The one that left her.”
Irma started to grin a satisfied kind of grin, crossing her arms over her chest. “Pay up, ladies. I told you he’d come back for her.”
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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @nadlx33333 @fluffybunnyu @ellisaworld @hawkins-2000 @bdudette @misfits1a @star-yawnznn
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moonlightspencie · 2 months
Note
i would adore if you wrote a one shot about james potter being like absolutely obsessed with his gf and always doing cute things for her and looking after her
okay this is just a widdle drabble with our baby boy, but he is so soft in this. also: reader doesn’t have pronouns in this :)
pairing: james potter x gn!reader
warnings: fluffy fluff with one little suggestive reference
—————
You were sitting in the library studying with Remus after a long day of classes. You didn’t necessarily want to do more work, but you needed to be prepared for your next test. Besides, the subject wasn’t horrible and Remus made a great study partner. It was going well, too, until Remus snorted a laugh, looking over your shoulder.
“Incoming,” Remus said, smiling down at his book.
“Hi, darling,” James said quietly in your ear, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.
You laugh lightly, leaning your head back against him as he kissed your cheek a few times in a row. You made eye contact with Remus as he raised a brow at you and James, still finding it funny how overly-affectionate James was with you, even after more than a year of dating. You sighed softly.
“Hi, Jamie. What are you up to?”
You felt him shrug behind you. “Just wanted to say hello to my love. Moony told me you had a study date today, and I just came to interrupt so you didn’t bore yourself to death.”
“You know, I actually don’t mind advanced arithmancy,” you point out.
“Boooring,” he sang out, kissing your cheek again.
“Prongs, I’m gonna get sick if I have to watch you keep kissing,” Remus laughed, looking up from his book.
“You’re just jealous I have somebody to love and cuddle.”
“Right,” Remus snorted, not paying James any mind.
“I brought you something,” James whispered in your ear.
“Yeah?” you respond, interested.
“Mhm. Close your eyes.”
You follow his command, feeling him tear himself away from you long enough to pull a chair up to your side, his leg brushing yours as he sat next to you. You felt him grab your hand, pulling it towards him and dropping a little something in it.
“Can I open now?”
“Yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice before you heard it.
You opened your eyes, smiling when you saw a new quill and a chocolate frog. You looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled back at you, looking utterly love struck.
“Thought you could use the chocolate as fuel to keep your spirits up, and the quill to make sure you were comfortable writing for so long.”
“Aww. Thank you, angel,” you cooed softly, leaning forward to kiss his lips.
He smiled into the kiss, proud to have made you happy. You only broke apart once Remus sighed loudly. You looked at him with a small smile still on your lips.
“Come on, Moony. It’s not so bad.”
“It is when I’ve been watching it for a year straight.”
“Year and three months,” James corrected him quickly.
Remus didn’t look amused at his friend. He rolled his eyes, though he smiled a little despite himself.
“Alright, wrap it up,” Remus said, wanting to get back to studying.
“I always do,” James retorted quickly.
You smacked his chest lightly, laughing. Remus scoffed a laugh, making a bit of a sour face at that unwanted mental image.
“Don’t be gross,” you chided your boyfriend.
He merely shrugged, kissing your cheek again before he stood up.
“I’ll see you at dinner, my love,” he said to you with another little grin. “I’ll miss you.”
“I know you will,” you smiled back.
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ultraviolencced · 2 years
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#and the few hours of happiness are over and going home is not going to be fun#my sister was on the phone with my mom and my mom is so fucking loud i could hear what she was saying and in what Tone of voice#and like i suspected she’s mad at me#i told her months ago that i shouldn’t have taken the trip i can’t afford all of it and that physically it’s going to wreck me#and for months she’s been encouraging it telling me it’s ok and it’s gonna be fun#but now i fucked up and she’s going to me mad at me which will either mean no communication at all she’s just going to ignore me#or be passive aggressive or straight up yell at me#i still get the same feeling as i did when i was a teenager getting in trouble it’s awful#like i’m so grateful for her bc i’m almost 27 and can’t live on my own because i��m unemployed because i have more than one disabilities#but she crushes my spirit sometimes:)#when i was 16 me and my friends went to a concert in denver and my mom and her boyfriend at the time took us and went to a sports bar#she was fully aware of what time the concert ended but because she wanted to leave#she screamed at me when i walked out and she did that all the way home 60miles with my two friends in the car#i didn’t leave my room for three days because of how upset i was and thought she was going to continue yelling at me#my sister is totally selling me out right now she’s on the phone with her and waited til she went out to the car to talk to her away from me#but she had to bring me the key card to soak my arthritis filled body in the hot tub so she came and gave it to me and that’s when#i heard the conversation and now want to sit at the bottom of the hot tub and never come back up :)#i didn’t even get a full day of paul serotonin high not even 12 hours :)#someone with covid needs to spit in my mouth if i get it again it’s gonna be bad so bring it the fuck on covid kill my lungs#i’ve also spent most of this trip crying from various anxieties and this is the cherry on top of the shit cake#i don’t know what the fuck i’m supposed to do#i’ll stop my lupus treatments and seizure meds that’ll do the trick#i’m not doing good on main right now#shut the fuck up taylor
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fanfics-posts · 6 months
Text
One Night Stands | Mapi León x Reader
warnings: heavy smut, mentions of casual sex, choking. 18+. word count: 2253 based off this request, didn't want to take it too far in one chapter but if you want a part 2, I'm happy to do it! Enjoy!
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“Thanks for tonight.” You smiled, pulling your trousers up and fastening the button.
“Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“No, I have things to do today. You were great, Emily.” You reassured the naked blonde who was giving you those eyes.
“Ellie. My name is Ellie.”
“Sorry. What did I say? I’m so sleepy.”
Yet another save after yet another passionate night.
“You should go. My parents will be home soon.” You panted.
“Your parents live with you?” The brunette raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, didn’t I mention that?”
“No, but I should go in that case. Can I get your number?”
“Sorry, I’m not looking for another serious right now.”
“It’s just last night you said…”
“Yeah, but I feel like you deserve so much more than what I can offer right now. I know where to find you if I ever feel like I’m in a better place.” You smiled, irritated at her persistence.
Yet another regret after another passionate night.
“Where are you going?” The voice beside you croaked.
“I’ve got to go. Family emergency.”
“Oh, is everything okay? Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks for last night.”
“I really hope you’ll be okay.”
“Should be fine.”
Another excuse after another passionate night.
You were an expert at this by now. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to these women, and sometimes you genuinely hated yourself for it. Some of them had been looking for the same thing as you—just a one-night type of setup—but some of them had been so hopeful that you wouldn’t walk away the following morning. 
Maybe it was a little narcissism in you, but you didn’t blame yourself for being so emotionally unavailable. No, you blamed no one but your ex.
You’d been together just over a year, and you were sickeningly in love with every aspect of her being. The two of you just couldn’t stop arguing, though, and one day she vanished. Well, from your life, not completely. You spent months trying to work out what her motive was, only to be dealt a devastating blow one night at a crowded house party when a friend of a friend told you that she had already begun another relationship before she left you. 
So, rather than telling her what you thought of her or being the mature adult you thought were and attending therapy, you decided to prove that nothing could hurt you… because you simply didn’t care enough about people.
Your friends came to terms with the new you pretty quickly, wanting to support you in anything that prevented you from going back to your ex.
The only time they had ever intervened in your night-time rendezvous was when you attempted to sweet talk one of their boyfriend's cousins into coming home with you. They had immediately halted your actions, not wanting you to cross the line between it being none of their business and your actions having a direct impact on your friendships.
Holidays were the worst. They went the same way every year: you’d all travel to the destination together, and you’d spend your daytimes being your old self with them, but come the evenings, you’d head to the local clubs, and you’d disappear until they covered their ears heard you that evening or they witnessed you coming back to the apartment after doing the walk of shame pride the next morning.
This holiday in Ibiza had been no different. Having arrived just three days ago, you’d spent two nights elsewhere and one night causing them to have to put their pillows over their heads in an effort to not get a running commentary on your love life.
But you’d promised them at least one girls night.
Girls night was essentially code for you not fucking off at some point of the night and ignoring their existence in an attempt to up your body count further.
As much as you pretended to enjoy the life you lived, you didn’t really. You craved some kind of affection that didn’t come in the form of a hand on your shoulder to steady themselves or something deeper than an awkward conversation the next morning.
That was on the inside, though, and that didn’t count. That’s what you told yourself anyway.
As usual, your presence in the room attracted attention when you entered the club. You batted it off, though, knowing that if anything in your life had your undivided commitment, it was your friendship with the group of girls that had helped you through everything you had ever faced.
You spent the night laughing and dancing with your friends, sharing genuine smiles with them, and feeling the sense of freedom that came with being able to be your true self for one night.
Until you went to the bar for refills.
A brunette you wished you’d set eyes on during any other night than girls night came flying into your back. You noticed the tattoos first, particularly the one spread across her neck. Then muscular legs. Then the fashion sense. And then… the voice.
“Sorry about that.”
She wasn’t sorry at all.
“It’s fine.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
Kinda.
“Can I buy you a drink to make it up to you?”
And then take you home.
“It’s fine.” You smiled.
“Your eyes are beautiful. I’ve never seen eyes so bright.”
She used that line on everyone.
“How many people have you said that to?” You chuckled.
“Just you.”
She was lying but tonight wasn’t about that.
“Well, I’m flattered but we’re having a girls night so no such luck for you.”
She pulled a sad face, still following through on her offer of buying you a drink anyway, before turning to walk away and leaving your eyes to follow her across the room.
You shook your head in disbelief that you seemed to have met your match and then returned to your friends, who were standing with their mouths agape.
“What? I told her it was girls night. I swear!” You protested.
“Do you know who that was?” One of your group practically screamed.
“No?”
“Mapi fucking León!”
“I’m not following?” You chuckled.
“Spanish player? Barcelona? Literally took the biggest stand against the Spanish federation and refused to go to the World Cup? How have you not seen this?!”
You continued handing out the drinks around the group, your eyes trailing over to the brunette in the corner discreetly as she made no secret of the fact she was looking right back at you.
“Oh my god, she’s staring at you. Why did you fob her off?!” Your friend groaned.
“It’s girls night.” You shrugged.
“Exactly. And we are your girls. If you think we’re going to stand in the way of you and Mapi, queen of Spain, you have seriously underestimated how much we love you.”
“Is this a test?” You chuckled.
“No!” They shouted collectively.
You sighed, confused at the logic they had. They had reminded you all week that tonight was the one night you were forbidden from doing this, yet here they were pushing you into the arms of someone who looked to be just as much of a player as you were.
“Look, for the last few years we’ve watched you leave clubs with people like Taylor who works in finance. Forgive us if we want to have a person to be excited about for once.” Your best friend rolled her eyes.
“What was wrong with Taylor who worked in finance?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Apart from the fact that she spoke about tax brackets and interest rates as some kind of foreplay on the dance floor?”
“Yeah. That was weird, I guess.”
You continued with your night, this time not batting away the attention of Mapi when it came again. She wasn't pushy, which you liked. She just made no secret that she still thought you were the one she wanted to take home from this club tonight. You knew you had to invite her to make a second attempt with you, heading to the bar for another drink when you saw she was standing there too.
"I can get that for you, no strings. Just a drink for the most beautiful person here." She smiled.
“You really think I’m falling for your charm, don’t you?” You laughed sarcastically.
“My charm? I mean every word.” She looked at you through hooded eyelids, the same look you gave people who questioned your authenticity.
“And let me guess… you can’t wait to cook me breakfast in the morning? We don’t even have to do anything because you just want to spend time with me alone? You feel this instant attraction to me and you don’t know why but it’s giving you butterflies and you really want to explore it?”
You’d caught her. She could maybe salvage this, though.
“You sound like someone who thinks they’re the best at that.” She smirked.
“That? You can’t even say the word but you think you might be better than me, yeah?”
“I can say the word.” She protested.
“Doesn’t seem that way.”
“Fucking. Fucking fucking fucking.”
Your hand snapped towards her mouth to silence her, shushing sounds leaving your own lips.
“Are you embarrassed? Don’t you want them to know I’ll be fucking you soon?”
God, you hated that you probably sounded like her when you interacted with women.
“Who said you would be?” You scrunched your nose up.
“That’s okay. I guess that settles it, I’m obviously the better of us. I don’t blame you for not wanting to embarrass yourself, though.”
She was good.
“I didn’t say no.” You answered sternly.
“I can’t leave with you. It’s too risky. I’ll give you my address?”
You scoffed at her assumption that not saying no meant yes but realistically, in this instance, it did. This would be okay, right? You could just give your friends the address before you left so they’d know where you were?
“Okay fine, if you’re that desperate to have me.” You chuckled.
“Oh, babe. We don’t even have to do that, I just want to fall in love with you.” She replied playfully.
She wrote her address in your phone before turning away, like she didn’t even know you. She made no urgent move to leave, instead just enjoying the end of her drink with her friends at an agonising pace. You slyly gave the address to your friends; better safe than sorry.
When she did exit the club, your own stubbornness kicked in. You ordered another drink, requested a song from the DJ, and pulled your friends up to dance. You didn’t know exactly how long you had dragged this out, but you were sure it had been at least half an hour. You finally headed for a taxi, your friends telling you to give the performance of a lifetime.
You intended to.
The taxi took you to a secluded house a few miles outside of the town centre. Had it not been for the celebrity status she clearly held, you might've feared for your safety being somewhere so remote with a stranger. The house was big—not flashy—but not smaller than you expected either. You paid the driver, stepping out of the cab and noticing as the front door opened slowly before the brunette appeared in shorts and a sports bra.
You knew then not to expect any small talk.
And you were right. No sooner were you through the front door before she had crashed her lips against yours and was making quick work of pulling your top upwards and your trousers downwards. You pushed her shorts off her hips, listening as the fabric hit the floor with a gentle thud, and she stepped out of them.
You fully intended to take control, but before you could even think, Mapi had pushed you into the downstairs bedroom and had you pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the floor.
“We need a safe word.” She husked.
You were caught unaware with that one; she had come across as such a dick that the idea that she took time to think about you both feeling safe was unfathomable to you. Pleasantly surprised.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Should we just use…” Her eyes searched around the room.
“Medal?” You cut in, noticing the various medals on her walls.
“Okay, medal. We stop immediately if one of us uses it. Anything you don’t want?”
“I’ll tell you if there is.” You smiled, feeling a little more like towards this girl.
“Okay. Me too.”
The undeniable desire that was simmering between the two of you was on the verge of igniting into a fully-fledged blaze. The overwhelming bubbling of your body’s need for her became increasingly impossible to hide with each passing second. Your dilated pupils met hers, both mirroring the attraction. The heat from your body radiated towards her; she could almost taste the pent-up frustration you felt, and she knew she would taste it soon enough. You were certain that, with all the will in the world, the second she removed your underwear, the visible signs of excitement would dismantle any claims of not being bothered you made.
“You’re really beautiful, by the way. I’m not sure I’ve told you that yet.” You smiled.
She broke character for a minute at your sweet reassurance, giving you a chance to regain control as you pressed your lips forcefully against yours. You licked into her mouth, and she moaned before regaining her dominant mindset and shoving her tongue past yours. You grabbed hold of her hands, leading them to the places that were begging for that touch that you were sure would be intoxicating.
Once placed on your body, her hands moved slowly (painfully slowly) across each part of you. She brought them from your neck to your back, around to your stomach, teasingly skipping out where you assumed would be the next destination and instead moving to your thighs.
“You seem a little frantic there, everything okay?” She whispered against your lips.
“Stop stalling.” You rolled your eyes.
“Do I need to shut you up, beautiful?” She teased.
Before you had a chance to respond, her hand came to your neck. Your heart fluttered slightly at the gentle caress she seemed to be giving you before she exerted an unannounced pressure that sent shivers down your spine. You knew you shouldn’t, but you wanted more.
“Harder?” She panted, bringing her lower lip between her teeth.
You nodded, worried your voice would betray you. It was exhausting trying to focus on making your face align with the level of dissatisfaction you were attempting to fake. She squeezed harder, and you sensed her subtle attempt to gently part your legs with her knee, and you willingly obliged, allowing her to come closer this time. A soft whimper escaped your lips as her thigh delicately brushed against your most sensitive area, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.
You craved more, your desire insatiable, as you pressed against her, feeling the power of her quad flex against you. The prominent bulge of her muscle heightened the friction between you, causing a surge of pleasure to escape your lips and your hips to thrust like they had a mind of their own.
“You’ve soaked right through your underwear.” She husked.
"I'll be soaking more than my underwear if you stay still."
She emitted a low, seductive hum at your words as she pressed her forehead against yours. The delicate symphony of your own soft moans filled the room, the two of you sharing air as your shallow, quick breaths enveloped the limited space between your faces. You smirked, satisfied that this was just as delightful for her as it was for you. You found yourself desperately holding onto her strong shoulders, your fingers digging into her pressure points with such force that she felt she might crumble at some point.
“Think you can come like this?” She grunted, throat betraying her.
“Yes. Yes! Stay like that, please, please don’t move.” You begged embarrassingly, orgasm impending.
She moved her free hand to your shoulder, pinning your upper body more securely against the wall to let you move your hips more freely without the fear of falling. The dampness between your core and her leg made the glide across her skin even more enticing. With each deliberate grind, the tension intensified, leaving your jaw hanging open in anticipation. The noises leaving your mouth became louder, and each thrust of your hips angled to allow more focus on your clit as you waited for the imminent release of your orgasm.
The profanities that left your mouth when you came were some of the most aggressive words in the dictionary. Had you been at all cognisant, you probably would’ve been a little disgusted with yourself. You were responsive enough to feel Mapi’s touch turn more delicate as you came down from your orgasm. She pressed soft kisses across your collarbone, a far cry from how she had been just seconds before.
“You still with me?” She murmured, forehead against your bare shoulder and lips brushing over your skin.
“Just about.” You laughed quietly.
“Do you need anything? Water? A break?” She asked attentively.
“Me? I need you to set me down so I can return the favour.” You leered.
She complied with your request, gently placing you on the floor, her touch lingering as she stood close to you until the jelly-like unsteadiness in your legs had subsided. You began to guide her backwards towards the bed, letting her flop onto the mattress with a gentle spring upwards. She used your hands to pull you on top of her, reconnecting your lips as if she had gone months without them.
Your hands sensually slid up her thighs, not needing much effort to spread them apart. You thought carefully about your next move, deciding that the best way to ensure she let you wear the strap you were sure she possessed later was to show her what you would do with it.
You could see her impatience growing as you settled yourself between her legs. She reached her hands to the back of your thighs in an attempt to pull you closer, but you dug your knees further into the mattress and tensed your muscles to keep yourself exactly where you were.
“You don’t call the shots. Got it?” You added a small smile at the end incase this kind of talk wasn’t her cup of tea.
“Say it again.”
“I'll move when I'm ready, got it?” You repeated with a little more firmness.
“Got it, I’m sorry.”
You could see the shock in her own face that she had enjoyed that. You knew she had likely spent her previous endeavours playing the role of a dominant expert, and here she was melting underneath you.
Deciding not to hold off any longer, you swung your hips back, eagerly colliding yourself against her centre. You were sure she could feel the wetness of your previous orgasm intertwining with the wetness that witnessing that orgasm had given her. You also knew that the intense rubbing and teasing of both your bodies being covered by the thin materials of your underwear would drive her wild with desire, making her even more desperate for pleasure.
You continued with the action for a while, her body in such a state of arousal that it was unable to make noises. Instead, her head was arched backward, her neck almost bent in two, her legs had wrapped themselves around you, and her mouth was wide open. The crinkles around the edges of her eyes when she squeezed them shut drove you crazy.
“You feel so good beneath me.” You panted into her ear.
“I know.” She managed just the faintest sound of cockiness.
You chuckled as you moved off her just long enough to pull her underwear down her legs. She licked her lips as she watched your gaze fall to her centre, which was glistening so much that you were tempted to just dive into it with your tongue. But no, you had to make her fall apart like she had done with you.
She stopped you as you began to reposition yourself between her legs, hooking her fingers inside your underwear and sliding them down your thighs. You made quick work of lifting your legs up to remove them from your lower legs before feeling your cheeks go red at the sight of your own juices dripping onto the bedsheets.
She reached out to you, keeping the fingers of her left hand together and sliding them between your legs. She didn’t attempt to do anything, really; she just let her flat fingers glide across the pool of wetness in between your folds. She let out a satisfied groan, her face contorting in pleasure as if she had never felt anything like this before. As her hand glided upwards, her middle finger made a little too much contact with your sensitive nub, causing you to jolt and tense your glutes in an attempt to dismiss her touch.
“You’re sensitive, aren’t you? You thought you were so…” She began, face smirking at you.
Knowing you were quickly turning to jelly again at her touch, you made the snap decision to plunge two fingers inside her without warning. The noise that came from her mouth was nothing compared to the wet, slapping sounds that were coming from further south.
“Oh fuck!” She screamed, voice croaky.
“Who’s sensitive now?” You jeered.
You slowed your fingers down, letting them almost come to a halt inside her as you searched around for that spot of treasure. You knew you’d found it when she tensed her stomach, a shriek of excitement leaving the back of her throat.
“Here?” You wanted confirmation, not wanting to waste energy on the wrong place.
“Yes, but I can’t do that. Many have tried.” She chuckled.
“Many have told me they cant do that.” You smirked cockily.
You let your wrist lock in position, moving your hand slowly up and down at first. You knew that the key to this was to take things slow, build her up to orgasm, and then hold off. Of course, you worried that you’d implied you would be the first to make her squirt, and perhaps she was part of the percentage that genuinely couldn’t achieve that.
“Yes.” She whispered faintly, hand coming to wrap around the side of your neck.
It didn’t take many repetitive strokes before you felt her clenching around your hand. You stopped your movements, drawing your fingers out of her and pushing them back in. You had never witnessed someone so overcome with pleasure before. It wasn’t the usual loud noises with her; she honestly seemed to just live for the feeling of sex. She didn’t need to vocalise it; her face told you everything you needed to know. It was mesmerising.
Once she had calmed down, you pushed your fingers deeper inside her again. You located that spot much quicker this time, letting the tips of your fingers glide gently back and forth. Again, you switched to just sliding in and out of her when you felt she was getting too close.
The third time you pushed your fingers in deep, you attacked her with such strength and urgency that you were more focused on listening out for the safe word than you were on her face. She brought her hand to your wrist, and when you misread her intention and came to an abrupt stop, she had given you a resounding keep fucking going. That’s when you knew you had succeeded; she was going to explode over your fingers, and you were about to witness it from directly above her.
“I think…” She breathed out, hips now rocking relentlessly with your thrusts.
“You aren’t going to wet yourself. Just go with it.” You chuckled gently, giving her a reassuring and heartfelt smile.
Within seconds of your promise to her, she finally let herself go enough for her body to live the mesmerising experience of that kind of orgasm. You continued to fuck her through it, being rewarded with another surge of liquid spilling from between her legs for your troubles.
She was spent, and you were thrilled. Her body lay almost lifeless beneath you, her chest rising and falling in laboured but deep breaths. You could see the beads of sweat on her forehead and the way her hands trembled as she brought them to her face to slick her hair back.
“I can’t feel my body.” She tremble and for a second you felt somewhat concerned.
“Are you okay?” You asked softly.
You weren’t sure where it came from, but your hand came up to cup her cheek, your thumb grazing over her cheekbone. She closed her eyes at the feeling, letting out a content sigh.
“I thought you didn’t do affection.” She chuckled, eyes still closed.
“You looked like you needed it.”
She relished the feeling of someone actually caring for her afterwards, even if she was always the one to prevent that happening. You relished the undeniable comfort of some form of non-sexual physical touch. Her breathing slowed gradually, her eyes finally prising open as that cheekiness appeared again in her eyes.
“You’ve used a strap before, right?” She stuck her tongue out at you playfully.
“I have, and I was so hoping you had one.”
That surge of heat between your legs was back again, hand snapping back from her face and body rolling off her in hopes she would move with urgency to pull it from whatever drawer it was stuffed inside. You watched as she roamed her room completely naked—no insecurity in sight. She reached into a drawer on the opposite side of the room, laughing to herself as she dug through it.
“What?” You asked, feeling slightly attacked by her laughter.
“I was going to ask if we needed this but I don’t think we do.” She held up a bottle of lube.
You moved your hand between your legs, biting your lip seductively as you touched herself for her viewing.
“No, I don’t think so.” You smirked.
Suddenly, she was fumbling with the straps, unable to do anything as quickly as she wanted to.
“Take your hand away and lie the fuck down.” She demanded.
You were in for the ride of your life… literally.
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ohraicodoll · 1 year
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Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 6.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Warning: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Violence. Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI
She didn’t care when Jackson got new people. She wasn’t one of the regulars that crowded around the entrance, watching patrol bring them through, so similar to how they joined. No, she didn’t care because the rest of Jackson didn’t matter, just the two people she currently lived with. If it didn’t have to do with Joel and Ellie, she didn’t care. So it was at least a month before she met Harper, when she was added to their patrol duty. 
The other women in town, the ones that frequently fawned over Joel Miller, were different from his companion and she knew that. Her insecurity frequently reminded her that she didn’t belong in Jackson with these women that still took the time to dress up and do their hair. But she had seen Joel downright ignore their flirting enough times, had heard him reassure her that wasn’t the type he was interested in. Someone to watch his back. With teeth, he had said. Harper had teeth. She was a good shot, wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and never complained about the work. She got along well with Maria, with everyone really, able to get them to talk about their interests and lives easily and seemed like an open book. Harper helped with the horses and in the food hall and knew how to cook and how to clean a rifle properly. And to her dismay, as she watched the patrol party enter the gates where she definitely wasn’t waiting for the man she lived with, Harper could make Joel smile. Not a smirk or a condescending tilt of the lips, but an actual smile. She watched them dismount from the horses and the woman laughed at something Joel said, his lips curving into a grin, and her heart dropped in her stomach. Because she wasn’t sure the man had ever smiled like that around her. Easy and charming, relaxed. Suddenly she was the old version of herself, anxious and unsure, insecure in her own skin and embarrassed. All her faults and problems blared in her head alongside the echo of the threat hanging over her head. Assimilate or get kicked out of Jackson. She was on her last strike after three rough months of living there while this woman had shown up and fit in better than she ever could after only a month. Her nails dug into her thigh sharply, the small hints of pain trying to keep her grounded. She’d almost convinced herself to turn around and walk home, leave before Joel could see her standing there with all her defects, but then his eyes met hers. And if she didn’t feel awful enough, his smile dimmed a bit, became unsure and almost bashful. Like he didn’t want her to see it. She wondered if Harper had noticed his eyes were more hazel than brown when he was in a good mood. They both walked over to her and she stood there, stiff and stabbing into her own skin, wanting to bolt. Harper turned to her, light hair catching the sun and blue eyes glistening. Perfect and still pretty even after the world went to shit while she was very aware she hadn’t brushed her hair in three days. “Oh hi, I don’t think we’ve officially met,” she smiled sweetly, adjusting the rifle on her back and the bandana around her neck. Joel cleared his throat, nodding towards her and ignoring the furrowed brow that was permanently on her face around strangers, “Harper, this is Red. Red, Harper.” “I’ve heard so much about you. Red’s such an interesting name,” she smiled with a light chuckle though it wasn’t as wide as the one that had been aimed at Joel, her eyes roaming over her. Taking her measure. She only frowned and ignored her eye contact, staring at Joel’s shoulder instead. “It’s not my name,” the words were quiet but raspy, a growl. Harper’s smile tightened in the corner of her eye. The silence weighed between them, stifling, and Joel cleared his throat, “Harper happens to be from Austin. We frequented some of the same spots surprisingly.” The words were almost an explanation or an apology, or an excuse. She didn’t reply, eyes still solely focused on his shoulder and avoiding looking at either of them. Small talk was hard on most occasions but this seemed impossible. She wasn’t sure how she should reply to that. Congrats? Good job finding another person you could easily talk to besides me? She chewed the inside of her lip, feeling uncomfortable and desperately wanting to run, words stuck until she nodded and spit out, “I’ll see you at the house later.” His brow had furrowed when she swiveled on her heel and started walking down the street, rigid and feeling the small welts of blood seeping into her jeans from her nails. ___________________ It wasn’t long before she started seeing Harper everywhere and she grit her teeth every time. 
When she walked into the bar, the location on her list of places to search for Ellie, she found Joel and Tommy chatting with the woman at the bar top. She was talking rapidly, a smile on her face and hands waving as she told some story. A hand talker. Tommy was behind the bar, leaning on it and seeming enraptured by the conversation while Joel was standing with his elbow resting on the counter, body fully turned to face Harper. All three chuckled at something and she watched as her hand landed on Joel’s arm, staying there a few seconds too long before sliding off. Too lingering to be innocent. She wanted to snap her teeth at her, go up to them and put her hand on his back or in his belt loops, a move he’d done so often to her. Push him against the countertop and take his mouth with hers or even straight grab Harper’s perfect hair and slam her face against the table. A million images flashed through her head only to come to a halt at remembering her predicament. Joel’s urges to try to join the community or risk getting kicked out. She knew she was a fine thread away from getting booted. One wrong step out the door and probably bashing in perfect new girl Harper’s face would do the trick faster than she could blink. So instead she pivoted, snarl in her throat, and walked out the bar. Harper became a regular on Joel’s shift. She only worked with the newcomer a couple times. She was good and that irritated her. The woman was a survivor and knew how to handle herself and watch out for others. All the things she usually found lacking in the townspeople and hated, Harper had that and more. She didn’t know what to do with that knowledge and the growing list of the woman’s skills. They’d been scouting out a small location, a couple of cabins a few hours away from Jackson. She’d rode to the far side of them and gotten off, checking the houses for anyone hiding out or seeing if there was anything good to scavenge. When she heard the sound of glass shattering and heavy thumps a few houses down, voices crying out, her heart almost pounded out of her chest. That’s where Joel had been checking. She’d ran fast, bow out, feet carrying her quicker than she’d ever run before on the muddy Spring ground. Previous moments flashed in her mind. Too many close calls. Joel’s blood on her hands from a stab wound. Joel hurt. But the action was already over as she barreled into the room. A Clicker lay bleeding out on the floor, a large hatchet stuck in the fungi petals of its face, mouth in a grotesque scream. Joel was panting on the floor with his back against the corner, pistol in hand unfired, while Harper stood over the infected triumphant. With a grin, she ripped the hatchet from its head and walked over to Joel, offering him a hand. She felt useless. Harper had his back. Teeth. _____________________________ Tommy had finally found her a job she was actually fairly decent at, after being taken off both kitchen and farming duty, but noticing she seemed calmest with animals. People didn’t want to work with her and in her mind that was fine, but in Maria’s it made her a problem. But she liked the dog kennels. They weren’t unlike her. She could understand their wants and needs, their habits and what they deemed their territory. Training them wasn’t easy but it was rewarding and it came with the added benefit that she was around the animals more often than people. She didn’t have to be talkative or put on a mask. They knew hand signs, could read her feelings and what she wanted. It felt comfortable to be with them. Often in the morning she would go and feed the dogs, go over their exercises, walk them in the outside yard they had set aside behind the kennels. Ellie had fallen in love with them as well and sometimes would tag along, was even there when one of the dogs gave birth. She’d been grossed out initially but once the blood and the goo and all the disgusting parts of birth was over and done with she held the small puppies in her hands and helped them find spots to feed. Joel had come a few times, watched them with arms resting on the pen door as they sat in the hay and held the tiny jelly bean puppies. Ellie had grinned, taking over naming duty, and had even held one up forcing Joel to name one. He’d frowned, shrugging at the little brown squirming blob, scratching at his beard, “I don’t know, Brownie?” “Really?” Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “So original. Naming it after its color.” “You named me after my shirt,” she chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the teenager. Those first few days when she hadn’t known how to interact but knew she had to make sure the girl was safe. Unwilling to give any piece of herself, especially her name. So Ellie had formed a piece from the rubble and taken it for herself. Ellie huffed with a sniff, nose turning up, and ignored the dig, “Whatever, Red suited you.” She held the squirming puppies in her lap, watching them seek warmth while holding a small container of sugared ice for the mama to lick and enjoy after pushing out ten little bodies, “Good thing I wasn’t wearing a different colored shirt.” Joel’s eyes were on her and she looked up at him, finding him watching her with the slightest tilt of his lips. She knew he was worried about her, had already been fighting tooth and nail with his brother and his pregnant wife over her position. He was working harder to help her than Ellie who had adjusted quickly. This was the one job inside of Jackson’s walls she was relaxed in and she could feel him taking in the way she seemed at ease. The smile grew, warming. “Did Maggie have the pups?” a familiar voice rang out. The smile vanished and she stiffened.
The kennels had been converted from one of the old stables, the dogs held in old horse stalls on either side of the room. She couldn’t see the woman from her position on the floor, the walls of the stall blocking the view, but she knew it was Harper that had walked in. She came up to Joel’s side, almost touching shoulders, and looked down at her and Ellie with the pups and Maggie. “Oh, hi Red,” Harper’s smile became a bit tighter, head tilting, “I didn’t realize you were the one taking care of her.” She didn’t answer, averting her gaze to Maggie and adjusting the bowl for her to lick. Ellie answered instead, enthusiastically holding the puppy up in her hand, “She takes care of the dogs now! Joel named this one.” The man frowned almost bashfully, shrugging, “It’s Brownie.” Harper laughed and her dimples showed, head quirking as she looked at him, “That’s adorable.” She couldn’t get up and leave with the puppies all around her and both Joel and Harper leaning on the pen door. She was trapped, listening to them chat and laugh and Ellie showing off all the dogs while she sat there and tried to be invisible. She wanted to scream, rage, do something other than be meek and small. It was like every time the woman showed up, the version of her from two decades before took over her skin. The girl who had been shy and timid and didn’t know how to fight back. She wanted to scream at her to do something, say something, snarl at Harper that if she touched Joel one more fucking time she’d break her wrist and shove it down her throat. Instead, she sat there, listening to Ellie talk to her easily and Joel’s soft musings, the three of them getting along better than she ever did. Try. Try. Joel’s pleas haunted her constantly. She was trying. God, was she fucking trying so hard. But this wasn’t an instance like with Grant who had touched her and paid the price or his fucking brother who had sneered in her face and called her a bitch. She could argue those were justified. She could have done worse to them and didn’t. But the problem was Harper hadn’t done anything wrong to her. She hadn’t been mean, she hadn’t touched her, hadn’t done anything but make her feel small in comparison to her presence. There was no reason to fight her, to twist her pretty locks in her fingers and smash her face in until the strands turned red and she was nothing but a cavernous hole. She hated settlement life. She hated the fucking politics of it all, the dance to be respectable. Before, there was no time to worry about feelings or what her and Joel were, how he felt towards her, what her role was in their complicated mess of a relationship. It had moved beyond just sex, but she wasn’t sure what exactly. They’d gone through hell together. Maybe it was that she happened to be there, a place holder to fulfill all he needed while taking care of Ellie, but now he had options. There were other women that could fill that place. Could be a better guardian to Ellie, could take care of Joel, could watch both of their backs. One that didn’t cause problems or that he had to jump to defend or cause Ellie to yell at gawking strangers on her behalf. She tried not to focus on it. Swallowed it down deep in the pit of her stomach and refocused back on the things that mattered, which were caring for Joel and Ellie. 
She tried not to think about it when later that evening when they’d gone to bed he pulled her into his body, hands roaming over her soft belly before gripping her tightly and pushing his hard length against her backside. She tried not to think when his fingers slipped inside of her, pumping in and out as his other hand squeezed her tit and pinched her nipped. Tried not to think if he was pushing into her from behind because he was imagining someone else’s face. The confusion turned to a twisted sort of pain and hurt and rage that needed an outlet. Defiance against her situation. She couldn’t do anything outside the walls of their house and her frustration was tearing her up. She was a fox with its foot caught in a trap, snapping and snarling at whatever she could but unable to do anything. She pulled away, feeling him slip out of her, and shoved him onto his back. Joel let out a small grunt at the hard push, but she didn’t care as she climbed on top of him, watching the small bit of confusion in his eyes. He knew something was off, but didn’t stop her. Let her take what she needed. She had to feel some ounce of control. So she rode him hard, nothing gentle to the way she rose and fell on him, sweat coating her skin and panting. There was no rhythm to it, only primal need and hurt carrying her movements. He sat up, brows furrowed and not keen on the distance of laying back, the angle changing enough she groaned. His hand caressed her neck softly in contrast to her harsh movements and the small tattooed stars on her collarbone he was always infatuated with. Almost as if he was trying to bring that version of her back to herself. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t want to give him an ounce of control over her, show him he could affect her at all. Because that meant someone else had the power to hurt her. Twisting her fingers in his curls tightly, she crushed her lips to his to avoid his searching eyes, swallowing every sound he made from the pleasure of their jutting hips. Her nails scraped along his scalp and into his shoulder hard enough she knew there would be red lines in the morning. He was letting himself be distracted, giving in, snapping his hips into hers equally rough with arms a tight band around her middle and holding her to his chest. They were wrapped around each other. For once there wasn’t the coaxing sound of his urgings as he drew her moans from her usually quiet throat, his praise at how good she was for him and how she felt. He was silent in the face of her aggression and she wasn’t sure how to feel, trying desperately to chase that control and release of her emotions. Her lips left his swollen and bruised and she pressed open mouth kisses onto the hard muscle of his shoulder as the pace became a mess. It wasn’t about her orgasm at that moment. She wanted to make him come, drag it from him like a trophy. Show him exactly what she could do to him. And when he did find his release, the hot spend of his arousal filling her, she bit down hard into the skin of his neck making him groan harder and dig his fingers into her skin. He tasted like sweat and salt and the earthy air from working outside. She didn’t come, didn’t mention it or even want it, only held him tightly as he came down from the high and slid his hand over her naked back. His grip was a little harder and she kept her face tucked into his neck when he tried to meet her eyes. They went to bed without any discussion, him holding her to his chest while her eyes stared into the darkness longer, listening to his breaths. The sound of knocking in the early morning woke them up. She heard Joel curse and throw on pants and a flannel, not bothering to button it up before lumbering down the stairs. Sleep beckoned to pull her back under, breasts pressed into the cool sheets and covers slid down from Joel leaving. It was usually Tommy, up early and taking care of things or letting him know of any problems. But she paused at the distinctly female voice she heard. A few minutes later Joel came back into the room and began to dress fully. She bit her lip, watching him from where her face was shoved into the pillow, brows furrowed. Boots, jacket, holster, gun. Everything signs he was leaving the walls. He looked at her after snapping in his gun and paused when he noticed she was awake and staring, two large unblinking eyes watching him from behind her arms. Joel hesitated in the darkness, contemplating, almost guilty. It was supposed to be his day off. Yet here he was, racing off. “Harper said one of the guys is sick and they’re short one so I’m gonna go help out with morning patrol,” he explained and nodded to himself, thumbs in his belt. A reasonable excuse. She wondered if he hadn’t noticed she was awake would he have left without telling her? But still, she said nothing and tucked her face back into the pillow, exhausted and a little sad and drowning in her own deteriorating self-esteem and doubt. A few moments later, she ignored the trail of his fingers on her naked back, soft and apologetic, before he left the room. Most of the time it was Tommy asking him to fill in. He didn’t say yes often and would tell him to shove it before going back to their bed. But Harper had asked this time and she felt her hackles raise at the fact she’d come to their house. To ask him specifically. And he’s been quick to say yes. 
These feelings weren’t something she knew how to process or handle. Who the fuck handled being jealous of all things in the apocalypse? It was ridiculous, but settling in Jackson had allowed those things to creep in. She became aware of all she lacked and all she couldn’t handle and how other people didn’t have the same issues as her. She let her instincts guide her. The kennels became her home. She knew when Joel was home and avoided him, knowing that if she didn’t see him with Harper then it wouldn’t hurt as much versus death by a thousand cuts. She knew better than to try and sleep in the downstairs room, he’d only find her and yell at her to go upstairs, so she went to bed early or late. Asleep before he would show up or waiting until he was sleeping himself. Ellie followed her around when she wasn’t going to classes or helping out where she could. The girl never asked directly what was wrong, but she knew something was up. There was worry in her eyes and she would ask for help with inane tasks, trying to lure her home like luring a frightened dog home with a treat. She didn’t want to worry or hurt her, but the feelings were choking her and she didn’t know how to cope. Some nights, she missed her sister and having someone to walk her through it all. Annie had been so much smarter than her despite her young age. She understood the world better, was sassy like Ellie, and could read people so well. Unlike her who was gullible back then and immensely naive, unsure and anxious constantly. Book smart, but not much else. But Annie was gone along with that version of her. 
Sometimes she’d feel Joel inching closer to her in the bed, hands ghosting over her shoulder or brushing through her hair when he thought she was asleep. His lips brushing her skin. Never pushing, far too patient. 
When he left for morning patrol, she pretended to stay asleep. Harper would be in his group and when that happened, she liked to wait outside the house for him. The kennels welcomed her and she spent time with each dog, shoving her face into their necks and running her hands over their fluffy coats. She checked on the puppies and weighed them all, walking Maggie so she could get a break from the squirming things. She even spent time with the older dogs, taken off duty, making sure they got attention and massaged their joints and hugged them in her lap. Her brain made backup plans. If Joel asked her to leave the house, she could set up a cot in the kennels and stay there. There was even a small converted garage she could live in if she needed to. If they asked her to leave, she could go north and stay within distance enough she could visit Ellie often enough. Maybe set up a radio code similar to what Joel had told her about their friends Bill and Frank so she could set meet up spots. The latter was more likely. People only put up with her because of Joel and if he chose Harper then there wasn’t any reason to keep her in Jackson to them. Ellie would have guardians, she wasn’t necessary.
Hours passed while she cared for the dogs. She skipped breakfast and lunch, choosing instead to spend time training them or napping with the senior dogs in their pens.
It was mid-day when the doors opened and she heard footsteps enter. They weren’t familiar and her body stiffened instantly, shutting the pen door behind her as she exited Maggie’s enclosure. Sometimes it was one of the patrols, coming to switch out the dogs, but they didn’t always take them out unless someone was spotted and none had been taken that day. Her heart thudded even louder when she saw who it was, Harper’s smile a little too tight as she made eye contact. In all the times since the newcomer had joined Jackson, she’d never been alone with the woman. Now she didn’t like the lack of a buffer, the way her focus took in every inch of her. But in the same way, the cracks in her mask were showing. What had seemed gentle in the lines of her face were now condescending, mocking, ingenuine. Her lips were stretched thin in almost a sneer and those blue eyes were hard. Oh. She could see the game then, the cunning analyzing way this woman looked at her. She was right. Harper was a survivor, was so very smart, and was also willing to do whatever to get her way. You don’t survive this long by being sweet and kind and caring. You had to be ugly sometimes, but Harper had gotten good at hiding that ugliness from the right people. There was no reason to hide it from her though. 
The woman stepped further in and walked towards her languidly, trailing her hands along the stable doors. Her exit was cut off, having to move around the woman to leave, and she began to see the situation for what it was. A standoff. A fight. Her teeth were grinding, nails sinking into her palm if only to inflict some kind of violence to keep herself in check. 
Harper smiled, faux kindness painted on her lips, “They told me about you, warned me to be careful around you, and all the problems you’ve been having. They told me how you’re on your last leg here.” She paused and the smile widened, “You should just go and save everyone the trouble. Ellie’s doing great here and from what Joel has told me, he’s enjoying having his brother back and this new settlement life. If you really care about them, you’d realize you’re holding them back.”
Her blood was boiling, rage roaring through her head at Harper’s gall to mention her people, and she growled, “And you’re so worried about them, right? Concerned citizen?”
“Joel has been through a lot,” Harper spat out and she wanted to snap her teeth as if she didn’t fucking know, “He shouldn’t have to worry about some woman messing things up and getting them kicked out.” Some woman, as if that was all she was. The words were spit out of her mouth like they were covered in grime and blood. She didn’t even bother to hide what she meant. The words were all there, the implication that the man had opened up to her, told her about his life and what they’d been through, and his feelings regarding this new chapter. Things he hadn’t told her yet, too busy trying to douse fires and help her get settled. 
Cleaning up her messes.
With a clenched jaw, holding in the hurt and the anger to keep from showing the damage, she bent down and grabbed her bag to try and leave. There was no winning in this sense because she was right and she’d never been good with words. Better to get out of there, go somewhere else before the damage took hold and would start to fester, “Your concern is noted.” Moving to go around her and leave, Harper stepped in her path, shoulders straight and spine rigid with her chest puffed out, “It’s not just for them. This is a civilized place.” And you’re not that went unsaid, “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and go? They’ll be fine and happy. No one has to worry if you’re gonna freak out and kill someone and you can finally roam the forests and be back home.”
She was so close she could smell the trees and wind on her, the slight hint of sweat from the horse. Too close. Close enough she could wrap her teeth into her flesh and bite and rip. Too tempting.
“Or you can get the fuck out of my face?” she hissed with her teeth bared. It was all rising, the urge to hurt her. She’d hurt so many people for less and it would feel so good to break her knuckles open on her mouth, to hear the cartilage in her nose crack. But her smile turned smug and she only pressed in, almost chest to chest, and using her few inches of height to look down at her, “Or what? What can you do? They’ll kick you out and do you really think Joel would be on your side if you hurt me?” That made her hesitate. Because she wasn’t sure. With the other women, the men and their obvious disdain for her, yes he would defend her. But this new person who was like a merging of all he liked? Tough but good with people and pretty and able to hold her own, someone he trusted at his back. Would he defend her? Harper sensed that hesitation and, before she could blink, took advantage and shoved her back. She stumbled, losing ground, so aware she was trapped. The fox with its leg in a noose, all over again. Fighting would give her exactly what she wanted. Not fighting back made her weak, someone to trample on. Someone too weak to live. 
“Come on. Settlement life make you lose your bite or are the rumors hot air?” Harper hissed and shoved her again. Her instincts were screaming to fight, to shove her back, grab her knife, or use her fists. Beat her teeth in and make her swallow each one to the point she could only eat soup until she choked on it. But that hanging threat was there like a guillotine, Tommy’s voice saying Maria was considering kicking her out.
Joel asking her to try.
So she did nothing. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue until blood coated it. And when Harper threw a punch, snapping her head to the side, she still did nothing. 
Shame and anger and resentment bloomed in her chest and the small taste of blood grew until she could feel a steady trickle down her throat as her nose took the brunt of the damage. She’d killed so many people for simply touching something of hers, looking at her, had done awful things to protect herself and her two people, and yet she would take this if it meant keeping them safe and happy. But it felt so much like losing to just let it happen.
“Can’t do anything, can you?” Harper chuckled, “They don’t need you, ya know that? You’re baggage. Joel and Ellie’s lives would be so much easier without you dragging them down-” “The fuck you just say to her?” The moment the deep voice snarled through the kennel, she saw Harper freeze. It came from the open doorway and she watched as the sneer on her face morphed into surprise and then tried to turn soft, apologetic. Fake. They both turned and watched as Joel entered the kennel, lips twisted into a hard frown and brow shading his eyes. He was looking at the woman differently now. Like an outsider or a threat. She could see the subtle fear and discomfort swim to the surface under that gaze. The game was up. Mask invisible. “Joel-” “Not another word. You shut your fucking mouth,” he snarled and Harper shrunk in response. She watched it all with a disconnect, feeling the blood slide down her lips and into her mouth. There was no relief at his appearance. Shame was still a heavy blanket on her shoulders at him finding her cowed.
With a gulp, Harper’s gaze swung between the two and she slid away, scurrying around him and towards the exit. But not before he called out, “If you say a goddamn word to her ever again, I’ll let her finish what you started and swear before the whole town that you deserved every bit of what she does to you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t get punished for a single fucking thing.” The threat was there but not from him. No, even catching them with her own blood smeared across her face, he knew she could do the damage herself unrestrained and untethered. That this moment was a special circumstance because what she could do was far worse than what he would. Harper ran and didn’t look back. Silence took over between them, tension thick enough the dogs whined and pawed at their pen doors. She stood stiff and unmoving, eyes not meeting his but looking off into the darkness. He was the first to break the silence. “Why didn’t you fight back?” Joel asked, a growl still in his voice but not towards her. She smiled humorlessly, hands on her hips and staring down at the door floor. Her blood was speckled on the ground, “Because I’m trying.”
Joel scoffed and stepped more into the room, grabbing her chin until she looked up at him. From his back pocket, he pulled out a rag and gently began to wipe the blood from her face, “Trying to do what? Be a punching bag?” Blood was in her throat when she swallowed, heart beating a little louder at his touch, but she continued to avoid his gaze, “Integrate.” He paused at the word, his thumb rubbing the edge of her jaw compulsively. Then his grip tightened and he turned her forcefully to meet his gaze. Joel’s eyes were hard and lips pressed thin with anger but also regret and frustration, “I don’t give a shit if we’re integrating or whatever. Someone gives you shit, lays a hand on you, fuck even makes you feel like you don’t belong with us then you knock their fucking teeth in.” She swallowed as he all but snarled the words at her, his fingers so tight on her skin, but he continued, “Settling down here doesn’t mean I want you to become a doormat and I’ll argue with Maria until I’m fucking blue over that. They start shit? Then you sure as fuck finish it.” Her teeth clenched and she felt the sharp coppery tang of the blood still in her mouth, “They’ll kick me out-” “No, they won’t,” he hissed angrily, “I fucking mean it, Red. I don’t want you softening for our sake if it means people try to make you feel like shit. Your place is here with us. No one is going to get between us, I can assure you that.” “She wasn’t wrong,” she replied softly as if saying it out loud was exposing an open nerve, exposing her insecurity to him, “I’m baggage. She could take care of herself and you and Ellie. She can cook and watch your back and gets along with people. I can’t do that-” “Stop,” he ground out, “I’m not that easy. Jesus, I’m not going to chase after the first woman that can hold a gun and make me a fucking pie.” Despite his hard words, he still gently wiped her face clean, taking such care in checking her over and making sure she was okay. It was almost too much, “Give yourself some credit, Starshine-” “You spent a lot of time with her,” the words were like ripping open her skin, bitter and stupid and raw as they spilled out of the wound, “She’s…from Austin and…you laughed and smiled with her. You just seemed happier around her.” Joel paused and pulled back a little to fully take in her expression and what was at play. She could see the moment he saw her, really saw her no matter how hard she was trying to hide her feelings. The insecurity. The jealousy. Everything she had struggled with. He chewed his lip and nodded, brow furrowing a bit harder, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize what she wanted or how she was making you feel. But you’re fucking stupid if you think I wouldn’t turn her ass down in a second.” The words weren’t gentle or soft, but they were said as a fact. The simplest fact that Joel would never choose Harper. That he wasn’t actively pursuing that. And it worked. She felt the tightness in her shoulders ease a bit as he pulled her forward into his embrace, pressing a kiss against her forehead. Her fingers dug into his back, gripping the worn denim fabric of his shirt tightly and she couldn’t help but sigh into his embrace. Home. It felt like home and comfort and everything she had felt she was missing. Breathing him in, she mumbled against his chest, “She’s probably going to complain next time you have patrol with her.” “She’s not going to be on patrol with me,” he murmured into her ear, pulling back to sweep her messy hair behind her ears, “I’m gonna make sure she works exactly where she belongs. On shit duty.” “You don’t have to. You don’t have to come to my rescue,” she argued albeit weakly. “Oh I’m not,” Joel chuckled, lips turning up into a smirk, “This is all for me. No one insults what’s mine.” She looked at him, brow furrowed at the words, mind trying to process them. But she didn’t get very far before his lips were on hers, kissing her hard and tugging her back flush against his body so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. Her nails dug into his skin, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, while his hands kneaded the soft curves of her ass, pressing the hard front of his jeans into her stomach. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away enough to speak against her lips, grip on her still tight, “Let’s get back home so I can fuck you so hard you’ll stop doubting yourself.” She chuckled, wanting to argue that that was a hard promise to keep, but he was already dragging her out of the kennels and into the darkening streets as the sun began to lower. True to his word, Harper found herself with a brand new post going forward. Tommy didn’t mention the reason why to her, didn’t pull her aside and question her over what happened. Ellie didn’t even mention her bruised nose. Whatever Joel had told them was enough. The woman went out of her way to avoid going anywhere near any of them going forward, even straight turning in the opposite direction when she saw them and eventually coming off patrol duty all together. She tried not to feel satisfied at that. Tried not to feel more at ease or proud of herself when Maria told her she was doing a damn good job with the kennels and asked if she wanted to take on more duties, almost cementing that she wasn’t going to be asked to leave. Joel and Ellie did that for her, celebrating every small win and reminding her exactly where she belonged. With them.  _________________________________________ Taglist:  @alouise20 @faceache111​​ @hawsx3​​ @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover​ @emlovesya  @agent007knight​ @spaacerabbit​ @namgification @wonwoosthetic​  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8
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phantomrose96 · 11 months
Text
Savit-e
My host mother is a woman with long twirling hair and more floral-patterned sundresses than I’ve seen in my entire life. She throws open the closet each morning to flick each dress along its hanging rail, sharp squeaks. “What can I even wear?” The dresses sway like summer willows. I sneak in behind her and grab a t-shirt and jeans from my tiny pile at the bottom.
She loves earrings that swing and she loves stain-glass windchimes which clink and muse while she pours me the bitterest cup of tea I’ve ever had in my life. I fill it with sugar and she chides me. I remind her of all the spicy dishes I make that she cannot eat, and she says, “Okay, I’ll let it go this one time.” She sips her tea black. The birds titter at her joke. We’ll have the same conversation tomorrow.
My host mother is Jira and I wonder how closely we might be related every time I catch that glimmer in her eyes like my mothers’. Jira is too tall to be my mother and her hair is not quite dark enough, but I like to believe I see it. I like to believe Jira’s country and mine are related, that maybe her great-great-grandparents and mine were friends before the records were scorched and the lines were redrawn. Or maybe our countries bore no relation to each other. Maybe they were friends anyway. Maybe they were enemies. I’ve heard every opinion.
Jira has a worry-face like my mother, but she uses it for different things, like plum prices at the market and rain clouds blundering through like clumsy creatures. It used to surprise me, since my mother reserved her worry-face for only the dourest things in her mind. I saw more and more of it from my mother before I left. “Baby maybe you should spend the summer home. Maybe you can get your money back.” She said she’d been reading things in the news. I told her not to worry. I would be safe in my travels. I feel stares pressing into my back while Jira leans over the plums. I notice Jira receives the stares too.
She hums a tune and busies herself in the kitchen in a dress I’ve never seen. She’s been in a great mood since her daughter came home this morning. I didn’t get a good look at her daughter at first because Jira swallowed her right up in her arms. But I got to see her better when I helped bring her bags in. Savine is lithe, baby-faced and a head shorter than Jira, and her eyes carry the same arch and slope as Jira’s. She has the same dimples and she moves in the same way, tilted forward, as if to let gravity do the work of carrying her momentum.
Savine is napping from her trip, and Jira seems to have forgotten all the slow and patient syllables she usually saves for me. She speaks in her rapid pace and I jog to keep up. Too many words slip through my grasp. One in particular I hear too many times. Savit-e.  
“Savit-e?” I ask.
Jira puckers her lips as if to think. Her eyes rove. Footsteps tap gently closer behind me, and Jira’s eyes light up as she looks past me.
“Savit-e!” she says, motioning forward as Savine rounds the counter and pulls her mom into another hug. Savine is only 10. She’s been away almost 6 months for school, according to Jira.
A nickname, I note. Savine wears earrings like windchimes as well.
Jira has offered to charge me no rent if I babysit Savine for the summer and cook dinner in the evenings. Savine’s summer classes are early and short, as are mine, so I pick Savine up every day at noon. “This is Reb. She’s my mom’s friend this summer,” Savine tells her school friends. I gather that Jira does something similar every year, taking in an au pair while she works the summer.
There is a park Savine likes in particular, with the tall slides and the cold water fountains and all her friends. It takes me a few days to realize her friends are new to even her. Any child at the park becomes her friend by nature of needing two to play the teeter-totter. I meet parents and I practice my clumsy language with them. They don’t stare strangely at me like the man in the plum aisle.
Three times over the summer, I hear a parent at the park ask me. “Who is Savit-e?” I point to Savine every time. I don’t think too much about it, because they always like the answer, nodding along. Savine’s friends do not use the nickname, but I experiment with it here and there. Savine lights up when I do. “Savit-e,” I call to her from the school lawn, and she squeals and bounds forward to wrap me in the kind of hug she gives her mother.
I pick up a copy of the newspaper from the corner store every day on my way to pick up Savine, and I read what I can of it at the park. The newspaper is not a person, and it does not stilt its vocabulary to be simple and clear the way people do when they notice me struggling with the tongue, so oftentimes I gather just the concepts from articles. It is my fourth week of doing this when one article stops me. I see the spelling of what Jira says out loud so often.
Savit-e.
The article is hard, but I recognize the word for murder, and the words for three men. Three men murdered, and Savit-e. I would ask Savine, but I’m afraid the article may be something upsetting.
I ask Jira that night, after Savine has gone to bed.
“A man killed three others,” Jira says, brow slightly scrunched as she skims the paper and distills its contents to simpler words I know. Her eye creases are deep by the evening lamplight. “He is not charged with a crime, because he was protecting his Savit-e.”
This sinks in slowly, and a red flush of embarrassment makes itself known on my cheeks.
“Savit-e… as in ‘daughter’?”
I use my own word for it, since I don’t know Jira’s word for daughter. Or at least, I did not know, until now.
Jira’s brow scrunch tightens, which she does whenever I’ve used one of my words she doesn’t know.
“Like Savine is to you. Savine is your daughter.”
At this, Jira nods slowly, then more quickly as she lets the meaning sink in. “Yes… Savine is my Savit-e… my daughter.”
I thank Jira for the explanation. I lie awake that night thinking too much about the parents at the park who think Savine is my Savit-e.
I start to dislike the newspaper. I’m not sure if it’s the summer heat sewing aggravation, or some deeper unrest, or maybe my own growing vocabulary, but more and more I notice articles that leave me unsettled. I read about the arrest of a man who looks like the man in the plum aisle. Maybe there’s no resemblance at all. Maybe any man with those piercing eyes in a mug shot feels like the man in the plum aisle. There are still many words I don’t know, but country and nation come up often. And Savit-e. More articles of someone acting in protection of their Savit-e.
My mother isn’t here to protect me. I walk more cautiously when I’m alone at night, as a woman, as a Savit-e with no parents here to protect me.
I’m in the kitchen with a knife shunking through the angled cuts of scallion. The pot for the noodles is boiling and I’ve halved the spices as I do every night for Jira and Savine. I don’t even hear the front door kick open.
I do hear Savine scream.
My heart is in my throat and my blood is cold, and I move, because in the moment I have forgotten I am a Savit-e far away from home. All that matters is Savine’s scream.
And my sockless feet are light as I snake through the dining room and round the corner to the living room, entering from the same door as the two men who now stand there, backs to me, both eagerly teasing the handles of a gun. One has Savine in a chokehold, and the men stare at Jira, pressed flat against the wall. I realize Jira does have a worry-face she reserves for the truly awful things.
And the men with their backs to me are plum-men, in ways I understand without knowing what fast and clipped words they’re shouting at Jira. The one holding Savine presses the barrel of his gun against her ear, and the windchime titter of her earrings is drowned under her scream of fear. The plum man barks a demand at Jira, and she watches with moon-plate eyes.
He barks it again.
Jira raises a trembling hand. And her digits curl, and her palm pulls inward, and her earrings clink with the slow stuttering shake of her head. She points her index finger firmly against her own heart, and she declares ‘Savit-e’.
Jira runs out through the second living room door.
“Mooooom! Savit-e!!” Savine screams, and her words choke, and she wriggles under the hold of the man. And suddenly sense returns to my body at the sound of Savine’s screams.
I am still holding the scallion knife.
I don’t remember what I do next, but the knife does.
There is a drawl of radio static that seems to dominate my ears. The sirens and flashing lights are background noise to me now. They’ve taken Savine away with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. They’ve assured me I’ll be able to see her, but later, once she’s been looked at, once she’s calmed down, once I’ve been spoken to.
“You are not in trouble,” the detective tells me in my own tongue with a slight accent rounding her words. She’s the only one who speaks my language. They called her in when it became clear I didn’t know enough of theirs to give a report. “You were protecting your Savit-e.”
I flinch, a little bit, somehow still capable of embarrassment with a mind that’s gone completely numb. “Savine isn’t my Savit-e.”
The woman detective frowns. I remember we’re in my own tongue.
“I mean, she’s not my daughter. She’s Jira’s daughter. She’s Jira’s Savit-e.”
The woman’s frown lessens some. “Your daughter, no. Your Savit-e, yes.”
I hold my hands near my face. They still smell of garlic and scallions. “The pot’s gonna boil over. I have to go turn off the stove,” I say, urgently, and unhelpfully, as the thought suddenly strikes and I push myself standing.
The woman’s hand is on my shoulder, and she presses me down. “The pot is not boil. The stove is off. It is okay. Who is Savit-e?”
And the question sits weird. I realize she asks it like those parents at the park.
I don’t answer. The detective chews her lip, and I see her eyes searching for a word she can’t find. “Who is your… The Most? Who is your The Above? Who is your The Most of All?”
“My most what?”
“Who is your Protect Over Everything?”
And from her face I can tell she is frustrated with her own words. There is more she is saying that I cannot know in my own language.
Protect Over Everything. I think about the scream that pulled me from the kitchen.
“I think… Savine… is my Protect Over Everything.”
And this satisfies the woman. And she nods the way the parents at the park do. “You are not in trouble. You always protect Savit-e. You must always. There is no trouble for what you did. Good job, that you protect your Savit-e. You will have her back soon.”
I go stiff.
“Jira needs her back, not me. I go home in a few weeks. I only started—” I falter. “Savine is Jira’s Savit-e.”
The detective shakes her head. “Jira is Jira’s Savit-e. Jira does not come back.”
I postpone my flight home. I tell my mother it’s because my studies are going long. I’ll tell her more, later, when I’m ready.
I pick up Savine every day from school as always. She doesn’t smile, and she pulls me into a hug that is too tight and lasts too long. She doesn’t want to go to the park. She comes grocery shopping with me, because it’s better than being left home alone. I look over my shoulder whenever I grab the plums.
I cook dinner and I eat with Savine, and we do this at the counter because when I sit us at the kitchen table, Savine looks too long at Jira’s empty place. I tried calling Jira once, after Savine went to bed. Her phone rang from the next room. I watched it ring until it cut to voicemail.
There’s an article about me in the paper. I can’t read most of it. Or maybe I just don’t try to. I see Jira’s name. I see the plum man words. I see Savit-e written 14 times.
I don’t know what happens to Savine if I leave. I’ve tried asking and I get too many words I do not know, and no one who can explain them better to me. But their expressions stay with me. Like the looks of plum-men and worry-faces and now this new look, which is rooted in something deeper about a country which I know too little about. It’s a sad look. It’s something I can maybe understand without the words attached. I tell my mom I might like to extend my study through the fall.
Savine has started calling me “Savit-e.”
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louloulemons-posts · 2 months
Note
I was wondering if you might write a story about reader having 3 cats and she is frustrated because no other boyfriend has gotten along with her cats until she started dating Eddie. Please! “Tea and Toast” is one of my favorites!
Little Voids
Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader
Word Count : 0.9k
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Warnings : not proofread, swearing, flirty eddie, kissing, just cute cat content, minor talk of mistreatment of cats, talks of witches.
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
“Okay I’m going out now, you three be good okay?” You said, throwing your bag over your shoulder, giving each cat a fuss on the head. “Pepper, you’re in charge,” throwing a smile at the black cat, with slowly greying fur, you headed out.
You couldn’t help but grin when you saw a familiar face, Eddie was leaning against his van, wild curls blowing in the wind as always. “Hey you,” he said, matching your cheesy grin.
“Hey.” Letting your lips brush his in greeting, you felt his hands come to rest on your waist. “You look very cute today,” he complimented. Your face flushed at that, you and Eddie had been together for a few months now and you were still feeling those jitters.
“I got you something,” you said, pulling a small pouch out of your bag. “Oh yeah? What’s this?” Taking it in his hands, he pulled the tie, letting a ring fall out.
It was twisted silver around a deep blue stone, that appeared black when it wasn’t in the sun. “Oh baby, this is beautiful. You make this?” With a hum you nodded, pulling a chain over your head, you undid the clasp.
There lay Eddies skull ring, “Hey I was looking for that,” he laughed.
“Sorry, I didn’t know your size so,” your face was warm at the admission. “You’re so cute,” taking your face in his palms, he pulled you close.
Meeting your mouth with his own, you sighed into the kiss, pulling yourself closer, holding onto his t-shirt. “Keep kissing me like that, and we’re going to have to go up to your apartment,” Eddie mumbled against your lips.
“You could … if you want to.”
“Are you sure? You’ve kinda been weird about me ever coming up. You hiding a husband up there?” I laughed, shaking my head.
“You’re the only one I’m interested in Eds you know that.” He tried to hide his smile, but failed big time, unable to not share a toothy grin with you. “Then why haven’t you invited me up?”
Pushing away from him slightly, you slid the old and new ring onto his fingers. “Well we’d have company.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head to the side, “You’ve got a roommate?”
“Try three. Three incredibly cute, yet needy roommates.”
“So you’ve got a husband and kids?” he joked. “Try three kids, well they’re basically my kids.”
Eddies face scrunched in confusion. “I’ve got three cats, my little voids as I call them. Pepper, Salem and Binx.”
“You have cats?” You nodded, “And you never told me?!”
“Well I’ve had issues before when I’ve dated people. They didn’t like them, wanted me to get rid of them, so when I refused we’d just fizzle. Think you can tell a lot about people by the way they treat cats.”
“Babe! I love cats, oh my god we have to go be introduced.” Eddie grabbed your hand and pulled you back towards your apartment. “Eddie! We were meant to be going for lunch.”
“Forget lunch, this is so much more important.” Eddie bounced on his toes like a small child waiting for you to unlock the door. You were almost in shock at his excitement, most people weren’t fond of your cats.
But as you had learnt, Eddie Munson was not like most people.
Opening the door with a push, you were instantly met with the sweet sounds of chirping and meowing. “I know my loves, I’m back sooner than we thought.”
You heard the door close behind Eddie, who stood in awe, looking at the trio of cats. The three small creatures looked at him wide eyed. “Oh my god, they’re so cute.”
“Eddie this is Pepper, my oldest girl,” You stroked the salt and pepper cat, her big yellow eyes staring up at you.
“This is Salem,” the other female cat looked up at the mention of her name, big green eyes, a piece of her ear missing.
“And this is my boy, Binx. He’s the newest addition.” Binx was smaller in comparison, but still looked like his older sisters, only orange eyes and sharp features look much different.
“Oh they’re beautiful,” Eddie walked over quietly, holding his hand out so they could sniff. Binx walked over with ease, sniffing for a second then bumping his head into Eddies hand.
Pepper followed after, giving a soft purr when Eddie scratched behind her ears. Salem wasn’t too sure, the shyest of the trio, she sniffed Eddie then made her way to you.
“She not a fan of new people?”
“Not really, took her a while to get used to me. Found her about 3 years ago on Halloween, kids being real mean.
“It’s why I have three black cats, people think they’re witches cats. Don’t want the bad omen or whatever, but they’re just big fuzzballs.”
Salem jumped up onto your shoulder with ease, resting there. “Did you want to hang out here?” You asked Eddie, taking a seat next to him, on your second hand, emerald green couch.
“Would that be okay?”
“Course bubby. I’m glad you like them, I was real worried you’d do the same as others and tell me to get rid.”
“I’d never, they’re lovely.” He smiled as Binx climbed into his lap. “Baby Binx,” you spoke softly, “I was scared you wouldn’t wanna be with me, think I’m some cat obsessed witch.”
“You’re a very sexy witch.” Letting out a chuckle, I pushed a lock of Eddies hair behind his ear, “Thanks babe, you’re not too bad yourself.”
With a smile, his attention turned back to Pepper, who was meowing to get his attention. “God maybe it was a bad idea to introduce you.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’re gonna pay more attention to them than me!”
~ / / / * \ \ \ ~
A/N : I really hope you enjoyed! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to write, the writers block is real, I inspired this on my own cats lmao 🫶🏻
Please remember to adopt animals and love them always, they need us to keep them safe and sound 🤍
Thank you so much for reading!
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rhettabbotts · 7 months
Text
it’s a bad idea, right? - rhett abbott x fem!reader
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pairing: rhett abbott x fem!reader
summary: mixing tequila and calls from your ex. what could go wrong?
warnings: 18+ only. smut. rough sex. drinking. bad decisions. mentions of a breakup. p in v. a lil choking. dirty talk. yearning. love confessions.
a/n: this is for my dear abby’s (@mothdruid) writing challenge. i have been thinking about writing a fic with rhett and this song since i heard it and abby gave me the perfect reason to do it 🥺💜
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���Come over.”
You couldn’t help but scoff as you took another sip of your Long Island. It’s been nearly three months since you heard from Rhett. Nothing but radio silence since the day he left town. He was chasing his dream of riding professionally, you needed to focus on your career. You were on different paths and you grew further apart with each month until the end when it was nothing but slamming doors and heated arguments.
Your friends warned you about him. Told you he’d chew you up and spit you out in a heartbeat and you didn’t want to believe them at first. You fell hard and fast for Rhett and you couldn’t have stopped it.
Another message came in. And then another. All of which went ignored while you ordered another drink. Eleanor was talking about her coworker, the one she so desperately wanted to fuck she could hardly stand it. You felt bad for zoning out but your mind kept going back to the man texting you.
“El, I’m sorry. I gotta- I gotta get some fresh air. Save my seat?”
You hopped off the bar stool and headed towards the door, taking a look over your shoulder before walking out into the crisp autumn air.
Your thumb hovered over the call button. You knew it was a bad idea. You knew you’d regret it tomorrow. But between the tequila shots and the memories of Rhett’s hands, your phone was ringing before you could change your mind.
“Hey,” his gravelly voice muttered on the other end of the line and it sent a white-hot fire through your veins.
“Hi,” you stuttered out, pressing your cool hand to your heated face. “Why are you texting me now?”
“I miss you.”
“Bullshit.”
“I do! And I just moved into a new place. My place,” Rhett said, a little breathless. He sounded like he was pacing the floors, or he had been running, or he was- No. Don’t think about that.
“That’s nice. What does that have to do with me?” You questioned, a snarky tone escaping you.
He smirked at that. It had everything to do with you. He needed you. And he knew you needed him.
“I just wanna see you. Friend to friend,” he said playfully.
“I don’t know... I’ve been drinking and I’m out with a few friends and-“
“Please, darlin’. Just for a little bit,” Rhett pleaded. God, he sounded so pretty when he begged. You shook your head at the thought. “I’ll send you the address.”
You sighed deeply before hanging up the phone, a text coming in not a second later with his new address. What were you going to tell Eleanor? Lexie? You really didn’t want a lecture. You just kissed them on the cheek while grabbing your bag and called for an Uber.
Passing street lights and the light hum of the engine was enough to make your brain turn static. There was nothing on your mind but Rhett. The way he smelled. The way he kissed. The way his fingers would curl just right when he-
“We’re here, ma’am,” the driver notified, pulling you from your thoughts.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Your hands trembled slightly as you ascended the stairwell to the second floor. He was already standing there, hand braced on the top of the door frame. When did he get a tattoo on the inside of his bicep?
Rhett had a smile on his face. That crooked grin that always meant trouble. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off his stupidly handsome face.
“There you are,” Rhett said proudly, knowing the hold he still had over you.
“Shut up,” you commanded as you pushed him through the door, tugging at the hem of his white t-shirt. He pulled it off with one hand, tossing it haphazardly onto the side table’s lampshade.
You were tripping over your feet as he pulled you towards the bedroom, hands pushing down the straps of your dress. They were calloused as ever. You couldn’t wait to feel the roughness of them rubbing against your chest, your thighs, your hips.
“God, you taste the same. I wonder if that’s everywhere,” Rhett muttered, mostly to himself but his words never failed to make your thighs clench.
“Less talking, more undressing.”
One second passed and then you heard a loud rip! before the cool air hits your back. Rhett had torn your dress right down the zipper, shoving his tongue in your mouth once more before you could protest.
Once you made it through his bedroom door, he took a moment to stop and take a look at you. You were standing in the middle of the room in nothing but your bra and panties. You should’ve worn something more fancy, more lacy like he liked. But he looked at you hungrily as his eyes roamed your nearly naked form. A low growl released his throat as he stalked forward, grabbing handfuls of your breasts roughly.
“Fuck, baby. Such a gorgeous thing. I’ve thought about you every night for the past three months,” Rhett confessed. He sounded genuine but you couldn’t be for sure. You were here to fuck. Nothing more.
Your eyes rolled back when Rhett pulled one cup down, bending slightly to wrap his lips around a peaked nipple. He suckled and tugged with his teeth, moaning loudly when your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled harshly.
“Bed. Now. Now!” You whimpered, pushing at his chest until the backs of his knees knocked against the mattress.
Rhett pulled you on top of him, his hard cock nestling perfectly against your clothed cunt. It caused you both to let out desperate noises, his hands finding their way to your hips and guiding you to move over the denim.
“Condom?”
“Drawer,” Rhett exasperated, eager hands tearing the flimsy cotton of your panties until they ripped as well.
“Rhett! Jesus, stop acting like a fucking caveman! I have to go home tomorrow, you know,” you fussed as you jerked the button open on his jeans.
“We’ll see about that,” he proclaimed proudly. That damn smile is back on his face. You rolled your eyes and ripped the foil with your teeth, causing a winded sound to leave Rhett. Good. You had the upper hand now.
He wriggled out of his jeans, hastily kicking them off the end of the bed and tugging his black boxers halfway down his thighs. He hissed as you gripped the base of his erection, slowly rolling the condom down while biting your lip. The head was red and leaking and your mouth watered at the sight. No time for that. You needed to feel him inside you.
“Quit lookin’ at me like that, woman. I ain’t a piece of meat,” he teased, then groaned wantonly when you positioned him at your dripping hole. You were going to regret not prepping yourself in the morning but you couldn’t wait another second. You gasped loudly as you slowly descended his length, nearly hissing at the stretch.
“So desperate for my cock, sweet girl couldn’t even take the time to stretch herself,” Rhett tutted, bracing his heels against the mattress and sliding his hands behind his head. You didn’t know if you wanted to smack him or kiss him. You eyed the black ink that lined his inner bicep. It took you a moment for your mind to process what the words were but your heart seized in your chest when you realized it was song lyrics from yours and his favorite song. You used to sing it in the truck all the time.
“You gonna ride me or are you gonna keep staring?”
“Do you ever shut your mouth or does it just keep running?” You retorted as you settled against his lap. You wiggled your hips and squeezed your thighs, grinning proudly when a pinched whimper came from him. You took your time slowly sliding up and down his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting that spot inside you just right.
“I like you better when you’re not talking,” you said, picking up your pace ever so slightly.
“And I like you better when you ride my cock like you mean it,” Rhett growled, bucking his hips into you, causing you to fall forward and brace your hands on his upper torso. You snarled at him and his witty comment. Fuck him.
Your right hand slid across his collarbone and toward the column of his neck, bracing your hand there.
“Do it. I know you want to, baby,” Rhett responded, looking up at you with his crystal blue eyes wide and thin bottom lip tucked between his perfect teeth.
Everything became a blur after that moment. It was all nails and hands and moans. The headboard knocked against the wall as you bounced desperately on him, your hand wrapped tightly around his throat. He grunted loudly as he chased his release along beside you, the sound of skin slapping filled the room. It was filthy and feral and you could feel your thighs trembling uncontrollably.
“Come for me, sweet girl. Fuck, like a fucking vice. Come. M’right there with you,” Rhett begged, voice raspy.
Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you reached your peak, nails digging into Rhett’s pectorals. A sound escaped you that sounded like a near scream, disregarding whatever neighbors Rhett may have. He was not far behind you, even with the condom on you could feel his release.
You collapsed forward onto Rhett’s sweaty chest, trying to catch your breath. His heart pounded against your ear and his chest rose and fell rapidly, moving you with it. You heard a car horn down below, pulling you from your post-sex haze.
You winced when Rhett lifted your hips, a slight sting radiating from between your legs. He grunted deeply, grimacing at the feeling of his oversensitive member. You rolled over onto your back before rolling onto your side and propping yourself up on your elbow, watching him throw the condom in the wastebasket beside the bed and making his way toward the en suite bathroom.
You took the time to look around the room. It didn’t look much different than the room that he had at his parents' home. The same posters decorated the walls; his record player in the corner on the old table with the records stacked beneath it. His bed was bigger, that much you noticed.
Another tug at your heartstrings occurred when you saw a picture framed tucked on the back of his dresser. You couldn’t see the entire thing but you knew the picture all too well. It was a picture of the two of you at the lake the previous summer. It was your favorite picture. You couldn’t believe he still had it, still displayed it. Not that you could judge. It still sat proudly on your desk at home.
You blinked the tears away as Rhett emerged from the bathroom, still naked but now carrying a damp cloth. He cleaned you gently, awkward silence swirling around you. He placed a small kiss on the inside of your knee, stubble tickling you slightly.
“Thanks,” you whispered softly, earning a hum in response.
Rhett tugged a pair of sweatpants on and crawled into bed behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him.
“Rhett… we need to talk,” you spoke into the darkness.
“In the morning,” he said, soft snores escaping him not but a couple of moments later.
Birds chirped outside the window and the smell of french toast and fresh coffee flooded your senses. Your head pounded and your mouth was dry but you grinned at the familiar scent of Rhett. You didn’t get to enjoy the moment long before your phone buzzed on the floor in the pocket of your shredded dress.
You wrapped the sheets around you and bent to pick it up, groaning when you saw that Eleanor had called you twenty times. An incoming call making it the twenty-first.
“Don’t yell at me,” you pleaded, waiting for the berating to begin.
“Where the hell are you? I tried coming by your place this morning for our usual morning after brunch and you’re not answering. I’m worried!”
“Sorry, I was asleep.” Not a total lie.
“Where are you?” El questioned.
“Not at home…”
“Hey, honey. You want cream in your coffee? I got a fresh pot going.”
You smacked your forehead and cringed at the sound of Rhett’s voice filtering through the room.
“That’s not- Oh my god. You didn’t-”
“Love you, El! I’ll talk to you later,” you rushed to hang up the phone, throwing it across the mattress and letting out a frustrated noise into your hands. Rhett was standing at the door with a tray of food.
“Hungry?” He asked as he made his way towards you, taking a seat next to you on the bed. He sat the tray to the side and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.
“Starving, actually. Look… about last night. I- I don’t normally do that,” you confessed.
“What? Come to your ex’s house in the middle of the night and fu-”
“Yeah. That.” Rhett laughed at your sudden shyness. He always knew his crudeness flustered you. “I just- these past few months have been hell without you. And I guess I got a little too excited when you called me last night. But I don’t think I can just be a late-night booty call for you.”
“I don’t want you to be that,” Rhett said.
“Oh.”
“I want so much more.” Rhett’s large hands cupped your face, tilting your head up to make you look at him in the eyes. “I was a damn fool to let you go, sweetheart. And I’ll be damned if I make that mistake again.”
Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you surged forward and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed your temple and held you close.
“Now eat up. I learned to cook this just for you.”
It may have been a bad idea last night, but now you’re thinking it was the best decision you’ve ever made as you shared a piece of french toast with Rhett.
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tagging those who may be interested: @lewmagoo @withahappyrefrain @laracrofted @whisperofsong @damrlova @arctvrvs @bobgasm @mxgyver @ryebecca @nobody7102 @sebsxphia
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