#if you told me last year that i would be doing a level physics AND it would be my only a* i would have laughed in your face

[thursdayg1rl]

just realised this term ends on the 31st...

#ucas exams start in a month. #situation is dire and depressing #impossible like i lowkey need 2 a* and can at best get one as it stands #if you told me last year that i would be doing a level physics AND it would be my only a* i would have laughed in your face #but thats the way of things #maths i can wrangle one i think #just an a level paper so not that hard to revise for #chemistry is so fucking awkward bc its not even going to be an as paper #as well as us doing ocr b w no revision resources and the worst textbook known to mankind #maybe will just have to aim for an a in chem. but will probably get a b which is just not good enough #kms

[norrizzandpia]

Gentle (LN4)

Summary: In which Y/n’s past is a little haunted, but Lando knows exactly how to make her understand she’s safe with him.

Warnings: verbal abuse, panic attack, sort of PTSD but not directly named

Note: i really like this one

Lando had always been known as a gentle soul. Whether that was with kids or animals or adults, he treated people with a certain level of mercy that was adored by many. That didn’t change with Y/n. In fact, it intensified.

She hadn’t had that much experience when it came to relationships. Only two boyfriends before meeting Lando and one of them only lasted two months while the other was abusive. Not physically, but verbally. Constantly tearing her down and stripping her of everything she deemed worthy about herself. She was so guarded, so quiet, that when Lando and her started dating he immediately assumed her last boyfriend hadn’t been the best. That idea was proven right when the two of them had their first fight and she had begged him to forgive her even though she had done nothing wrong.

Tears streaming down her face after his voice raised, she cried, “Lando, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. This is my fault. I’m sorry. I’m-” Her voice gave out as Lando stared at her. The cowering of her shoulders and the avoidance of eye contact told him everything he needed to know.

He approached her with added caution, making sure she was comfortable with his actions to take her in his arms, “It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry for scaring you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispered as he pushed her head into his chest, rubbing over her hair softly.

He had sat with her like that for hours, holding her and reminding her that he wouldn’t ever take advantage of her in the way she had been before. Reminding her that she was safe with him.

—

The next time her past came to taunt them was a few months later. Y/n had leapt out of bed early in the morning to make breakfast for him, wanting nothing more to surprise the man she loved. However, that plan took a turn when she looked away from the pan and toaster for too long. Burnt toast and charcoaled bacon had her staring down in defeat. She had been trying to clean up the mess when he had woken up and walked in.

“What happened here?” He asked her. His tone wasn’t accusatory, actually it had been soft and concerned, but Y/n was taken back to two years before when she had messed up the dinner and her ex-boyfriend had come in, yelling about her incompetence and inability to do anything by herself.

“Nothing,” She shook her head, determined to protect herself from, in her mind, the inevitable lashing she would get for her innocent mistake.

Lando had come over, his hands running up and down her shaking arms, and coaxed the soapy pan out of her grasp, “Love, what’s wrong?”

Still, she didn’t clock his concern for her. Her eyes darted around before she choked out, “I accidentally burnt the toast and eggs when I was trying to make you breakfast. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been looking at my phone. I could have prevented this and now your kitchen smells bad. I’m so sorry. I can-”

His soft kiss against her hairline stopped her rambling, he already knew, “It’s okay, Y/n. Thank you for thinking of me. That’s all that matters.”

Her head dropped down to study the dish water, sad and disappointed in her mistake. If he wasn’t going to beat her up for it, she had been programmed to do it herself.

Lando knew this, and was extremely familiar with it when it came to her. He was an expert in the telltale signs of her dismay and overthinking. So, when he saw the way he started to lose her, he turned her around. Pushing the hair out of her face and giving her the sweetest smile, he reminded her, “Baby, it was an innocent mistake. People burn things all the time. Most people wouldn’t even make breakfast to begin with. You always say the thought’s what counts. That applies here too.”

Her body tanged around him, her arms wrapping around his waist and head snuggling into his chest, Y/n nodded lightly.

“I know,” She mumbled, “I just could’ve done better for you.”

Chuckling and pulling her head back softly to kiss her gently, Lando whispered, “You are and will always be enough for me just by yourself.”

—

Y/n was doing better. A year after the breakfast incident, she was thriving, realizing just how much Lando loved her for her. That was until she stumbled across a video from the deep depths of her camera roll. The video had been from a time when Chris, her ex, had been so verbally abusive that she was trying to get a restraining order against him. In order to do that, however, she needed proof and the only way to do that was to record him secretly when he went off on her. The poor girl had been alone in Lando’s apartment as he went out to grab groceries for their movie night when the sound came blasting through her speakers.

One swipe had it playing, “YOU STUPID BITCH! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”

Her small voice squeaked, “I just wanted to go out with my friends. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t stop, “AND TURN OFF YOUR LOCATION? FUCKING STUPID WHORE. WHAT WERE YOU DOING THEN? I BET HOOKING UP WITH SOME GUY IN THE BACK OF AN ALLEY LIKE THE DIRTY SLUT YOU ARE.”

Y/n could hear her own tears begin both in the video and in reality, “No, we were just at Paige’s house. We didn’t go out to a bar at all. I know how you feel about me doing that.”

His voice continued to dominate hers, “HOW DO I KNOW YOU AREN’T LYING? HUH?”

She sighed, clearly exhausted, “I don’t know, Chris. I’m sorry.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, sounds about right. The whore can’t prove she wasn’t out fucking every guy she saw. God, you’re lucky to be with me. No one will ever want you.”

With that, the door was slamming shut and the video was ending, leaving a crying Y/n in its wake. Her whole body shaking, she felt the panic attack coming on as she threw her phone to the side and got up from bed. She tried to get to the kitchen, maybe grab water and physically force the rising emotions down, but she got halfway there when she fully broke down in the middle of the hallway. Gasping for air and sobbing by herself like she always had, Y/n clutched the side of the wall.

The sound of the door closing and feet coming to a halt echoed distantly through her ears. She knew it was Lando, but a part of her was still back there. In that house, in that relationship with a man that, if he had ever found her in the state she was in, would have laughed in her face and locked her away in a bedroom to figure it out herself.

Even so, Lando’s concerned face soothed her. His hands scooping her up and pulling her into his embrace, pleading with her to breathe.

“Baby, you’re okay. It’s okay. You’re here with me. Only me. Come back to me.” He whispered in her ear as he placed her hand on his heart, showing her the rhythm in which she needed to reach.

They stayed that way for a few moments as Y/n came back down to Earth. She didn’t need to tell him she had been triggered for him to know. He always knew.

His hands tangled in her hair, he smiled at his, now, calm girlfriend, “Welcome back, baby.”

Her smile was soft and weak, but there and that’s all that mattered to him.

“Thank you, Lan. I’m-” She began to say, but his kissing her interrupted her apology.

Pulling back, he drew small shapes on her cheekbones, “Remember, we don’t say that here unless you actually have something to be sorry for. Which is usually me.”

The two laughed together before he brought her back to his bed and laid with her, protecting her from the scary memories in her mind. The night went on, his hands caring for her in the way they always had, and it just reinforced the fact that Y/n was with the perfect man.

A gentle man.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris edit #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x you

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Five

Summary: You start a conversation with Jungkook about where you stand but are interrupted by an uninvited visitor Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 4.7K~ Warnings: Suggestive and explicit language (an argument). Nothing too crazy honestly. Horribly edited too because it's been three weeks and I wanted to get it out! a/n: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out but I was away from home for a week and then wrote a couple of one shots and blah blah blah lol but anyways I hope you enjoyyyy Requested by: @kkusadmirer 💜

After our eventful afternoon Jungkook and I ended up laying in his bed and watching movies since like he said, he wanted me to be "well rested" before we have the talk. The talk that could change everything between us... 

There are multiple outcomes to this scenario and I'm not sure if I'm ready for any of them. 

On one hand he could say this was all a mistake and he was just acting on his urges. I know now for damn sure though that he's attracted to me but I don't know what his motives and feeling are towards me. If he even has any besides surface level physical attraction. 

On the other hand he could want to pursue a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Being fuck buddies or whatever with an older man does sound exciting when I think about doing it with him. It's just that don't know if I'd want something like that even if it was with him. 

I told Jared before that I wanted to save myself for marriage and I feel like that's something I still want to stick to. I've definitely crossed so many lines with Jungkook in the last not even twenty four hours, more like twelve hours or something like that but regardless lines have been crossed and I'm still not sure how I feel about any of it. 

I want to say that I don't regret it and it's not just because it felt fucking phenomenal and out of this world but because I feel safe with him.

It might just be because over the past couple of months that I've been living with him he's become someone I care about and honestly trust with my life so I didn't really feel a need to say no to him. I wanted it to happen, I know I did I just didn't really think it would ever happen. I thought that it would stay in my hormonal fantasies forever and I was okay with that. 

The way he's been treating me has shown me that he cares about me. Although I was trying to convince myself that it was somewhat of a paternal instinct in him and that he was just being protective over me, I knew that it was something beyond that. 

I tried to somewhat address it in a weird sort of way with the whole asking why he didn't have anyone over conversation and he knew what I was trying to ask and addressed it but his answer me even more confused. 

"I wouldn't want to ruin what we have going on here"  like what does that even mean? He doesn't want to ruin the dynamic we have in the house in terms of we're comfortable with each other and feel no need to let anyone inside our little safe space. 

Or did he mean that he didn't want to ruin what we have going on here because he wanted to see where things went with us on a more romantic level?

He hasn't explicitly told me that he would want to pursue a relationship with me but circling back to before he's given me clear signs that he's attracted to me and isn't one to hide it. 

He knows to a certain extent that I find him attractive too because I asked him to take my virginity. (I'm never gonna be able to live that one down) Anyone could tell that he was clearly struggling to hold himself back and the fact that he kissed me just shows that he wanted to. That he wanted me.

Then there's another possibility that he might want a sugar baby sort of relationship and I don't even want to think about something like that. 

Don't get me wrong! I respect the hustle, but that's just not for me. 

If I'm gonna be doing something like what we are doing right now then I want it to be something that I want to do without any ulterior motive. I don't want to put a monetary value on the time I spend with him but not gonna lie, living it large and not having to worry about money or working sounds very tempting.

I don't think he's that kind of man though...or at least I hope he's not. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks playfully, having noticed that I haven't really been paying attention to the movie we've been watching. 

"Just thinking" I answer, cuddling in closer to him as I've refused to let go of him today and he hasn't made moves to do any different. 

"Bout what?" he prods further, placing a kiss on the top of my head and taking in the fresh scent of his shampoo in my hair.

"Things" I continue, liking the game we've started to play. 

"What sort of things?" he chuckles, telling me that he's enjoying it too. 

"All kinds of things" I say nuzzling closer into him and he wraps his arm tighter around me to keep me there.

"Wanna share a few?" he asks, clearly not letting this go since he wants to at least make sure I'm okay. 

"Thinking about how you might want to make me your sugar baby" I mumble into his chest and he laughs wholeheartedly making me even more embarrassed. 

"Is that something you'd want?" he asks and I shake my head. 

"You don't wanna be at home and sit pretty, waiting for me to come back and shower you with gifts and jewelry and give you the world?" he teases while pinching my sides making me pull away from him, trying to escape. 

"N-no! Now s-stop" I choke out through laughter and gasps of breath. "What would you want" he asks after having tackled me down onto the mattress making sure to do a thorough job of tickling me until I could barely breathe. 

I take a second to think, my eyes going back and forth between his while his stay still, focused and almost begging for an answer. 

"I thought we weren't going to have this conversation until I was well rested" I say, breathless, still not knowing up from down when it comes to us. If there even is an 'us'. 

"You feel well rested?" he asks, cocking a brow at me and I nod my head quickly, giving me a crooked smile in response. "Then it's perfect timing right?" he continues and I nod again leaving him getting off of me and leaning his back against the headboard, waiting to hear what I have to say. 

I take a minute or so to gather my thoughts and the whole time he's watching me curiously, almost able to see the wheels turning in my head. 

"What happened between us kind of caught me by surprise" I start, looking down at my lap and playing with my fingers nervously. "I don't regret it, it was just, well I'm just kind of confused about how you feel about me, and I'm really confused about how I feel about you" I admit and I can see his expression go a bit wary but I jump at the chance to explain myself. 

"It's just that I think both of us know at this point that we're extremely attracted to each other" I start out and the corner of his lips upturns for a second but nods in confirmation, waiting for me to continue. 

"With us getting physical and all so quickly I can't help but think that maybe we should take a step back. I would like to know your thoughts and intentions and feelings about all of this. I might be overthinking it but I really think it's best to be up front and honest with each other" I say and take in a shaky breath, scared I might've said the wrong thing.

"You're so sexy when you act so mature like that" he taunts and I groan, wanting to keep this serious. "I'm just playing Bunny. Well I'm not because you really are sexy but I don't want you to feel all nervous and insecure like you are right now. We're being open and honest right?" he questions and I nod my head, eager for him to continue. 

"Meaning it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you that I have feelings for you right?" he says and my eye bug out in response, not knowing what to do now. "Wasn't expecting that huh?" he chuckles and I shake my head making him laugh even more. 

"Cat got your tongue Darling?" he teases and scoff at that. "No I was just being polite and letting you keep talking since you let me do the same" I say, making excuses and trying to keep my voice level. 

"Sure Bunny" he smirks not believing a word I said but continuing nevertheless.

"I've had feelings for you for a while now and I haven't told you or acted on it because I wanted to respect the fact that you were in a relationship. I never liked Jared though for what it's worth" he says without hesitation and it makes me cringe at the thought that I was about to marry that snake. 

"Is it harsh to say I'm glad he's out of the picture?" he says boldly making me laugh. "Not just because it benefitted me but because he didn't deserve to marry a beautiful, intelligent, kind hearted woman like you. I would've said something but I'm not your father so I knew it wasn't my place" he finishes and making me smile, thankful that he was so considerate. 

Now that I think about it, even back then I respected and trusted his judgement so it wouldn't have bothered me even if he did say something.

"It's not harsh to say because I'm happy about it too. To be honest though I don't really know what I ever saw in him. I think because he was the first guy that more or less respected my boundaries that I thought I had to hold onto him. I don't know" I say and he nods his head.

This is something I haven't experienced before. Someone sitting and taking the time to actually talk things out without any outside distractions and focusing on each other and hearing each other out. 

Maybe it's just an age thing and the fact that Jungkook does fit the standard of dating older and more mature men is better. We're not dating though, but I guess we'll hopefully figure out where we stand once this conversation comes to a close.

"I'm really confused and I kind of don't know how to feel but I'm not closed off to figuring things out" I say, glancing up at him and back down at my lap, nervous from seeing how fascinated he is with me right now. 

I hold my breath and wait for him to say something but when nothing ever comes I chance looking up at him again and I'm surprised to see how he's still watching me.

"Like I said, I've had feelings for you for a while and if you're open to seeing where things go then I would really like to take you out on a date. Like on a proper date. I know since we've been living together and we've been spending a lot of time together but I-" he start off strong but begins to ramble and is regretfully cut off by the sound of the front door opening. 

"Dad! Dad where are you?" Jina calls out and neither of us dares to move or make a sound. "Dad" Jina drags out, regretfully confirming that I am in fact not dreaming. "Be down in a second" he says then presses a finger to his lips. 

"Just stay in here and I'll take care of it" he whispers and I nod my head, watching him as he panics internally before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him. 

What the hell are we gonna do? My car is out there! Or wait, did I put it in the garage yesterday? I can't remember but I really hope it's not out there otherwise she'll already know I'm here. 

"What are you doing here?" Jungkook says. I can hear his muffled voice through the walls and I know I probably shouldn't listen but curiosity gets the best of me making me rush to the door and quietly crack it open, needing to hear how this conversation goes. 

"Nice to see you too dad" she says, and I hate the fact that I'm only able to hear them but I'll settle for this. 

"You should've contacted me before you came over Jina. You know I don't like people showing up unannounced" he says sternly.

"You're usually totally fine with me coming over" she says sounding thoroughly confused and I can hear Jungkook clear his throat before she starts again. 

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks after no doubt clocking the dishes that were left over from lunch. Two plates, two cups and two sets of silverware. A dead giveaway that someone is here especially since it hasn't been cleaned up yet. 

"You are actually" he says and I trip, surprised that he would straight up admit it but he has no reason to hide, and neither do I.

Having pushed the door open thanks to my clumsiness (somehow able to stay upright and keep my dignity this time) I'm faced with the dilemma of if I should just go back inside and pretend that never happened when it clearly did or come out and face her. 

I'm given the luxury of having that choice since she hasn't seen me yet but I decide it's better to do this as soon as possible. We've hid the fact that I've been living here for two months so what's adding on the fact that I've been messing around with her father while doing so. 

(Although this is a newly added feature but she doesn't need to know that)

I take a deep breath before stepping out from behind the door, watching Jina's face go from surprised to confused to disgusted to angry before turning back towards her father. 

"You're fucking my best friend?" she accuses, not completely wrong but semantics. 

"Best friend's don't fuck around and get pregnant by their friend's fiancees" I remind her, walking down the stairs in conveniently only Jungkook's shirt making what's going on, or what's starting to go on between us even more clear. 

"Oh grow up! It's not like there's anything we can do to change that now can we? Plus looks like you're doing just fine without him" she throws at me and from that moment I'm not pulling any punches. She wants to play dirty? Fine, let's play dirty.

"Jina stop it" Jungkook growls, going on the defensive, not being able to gauge what kind of mindset she's in or even her reasoning for coming here but wanting her out all the same.  

"Grow up?" I chuckle dryly, "I guess you're right, I guess maybe I have started growing up since it seems I've matured enough to be with someone like your father. Which, last time I checked, wasn't someone you have any business in questioning on things like his sex life and who he does and does not partake in it with" I say, placing a hand on his bicep possessively and I feel the tension he had once held in his body start to melt away. 

Interesting to know that I have this effect on him...

"Come on, we both know that you're probably just a piece of ass to him" she scoffs before turning to address him. "Didn't know you started picking up strays. I wondered where she had ran off to" she says, continuing to disrespect the both of us without a care in the world.

"Don't call her that!" Jungkook says, jaw clenched as a way to keep himself in check. 

All I see is red though and the next words I hurl out are ones that I couldn't stop myself from saying even if I tried. The ringing in my ears fanning the flames of my agitation making it impossible to hold back.

"How's life being pregnant with my fucking ex boyfriend's baby? He's probably taking real good care of you huh?" I taunt, cocking a brow at her and from the way the color rushes to her cheeks and the words die in her throat are enough to tell me everything I need to know. 

He hasn't done shit for her.

She balls her hands into fists by her side and lunges at me but Jungkook jumps in between us, grabs her by the shoulders and turns her around, forcing her out the front door. 

"You're gonna throw me out and choose that slut over your own daughter?" she yells struggling to get out of his grasp the whole way. 

"Last time I checked honey the only slut around these parts is you" I throw back, following right behind them and the way her jaw drops is just priceless. 

"That's enough! Jina go!" Jungkook says through gritted teeth letting go of her once she's passed the thresh hold, leaving her standing there, looking between the two of us before scoffing and storming off down the driveway. 

"I knew you were obsessed with her I just never thought you would bother acting on it" Jina spits out at her father and when she sees that he doesn't flinch she hurls more baseless lies and insults at the both of us. 

"You know she's just using you to get a place to stay and get over her ex right? What happened to staying a virgin until you got married y/n? Huh? Guess getting cheated on really fucked you up" she spits while unlocking her car. 

"And I guess fucking around with an ego-driven two-timing narcissist gets you pregnant" I throw back and she purses her lips before sinking down in her car, accepting defeat this time and leaving like her father told her to. 

"Say hi to Jared for me" I call out, waving at her as she grips the steering wheel until her knuckles have gone white, putting it in drive and backing out of the driveway.

I walk over to the couch and let out a big sigh once I've sat down, throwing my head in my hands as a way to ground myself. 

Breathing through this dizzy feeling from that whole confrontation that I had not been prepared for is a lot tougher than I thought it would be, my whole body still buzzing.

I hear Jungkook close the door behind him after having watched her speed down the street, still worried for her safety but also wanting to make sure she was actually gone. What happened just now was enough of a confrontation to last me a lifetime, or at least it feels that way.  

"Hey" he whispers, kneeling in front of me and rubbing my back, "Are you okay?" he continues and I nod my head, feeling the tears prickling in my eyes, calling my bluff.

"Come here" he whispers, sitting on the couch next to me and pulling me onto his lap, rubbing my back again and holding me while I let out some of those tears I had held back.

"I don't even know why I crying" I say, sniffling and sitting back up to dry my eyes.

"No one likes getting into fights with someone they used to care about. Well, nobody sane likes getting into fights with someone they used to care about" he says, trying to lighten the mood and it does the trick making me scoff a bit, smiling at his efforts to make me feel better.

He cups my face and wipes a few tears that had fallen, looking at me with his brows pinched together as if his heart is breaking with mine.

"But you still care about her though, don't you?" he asks and I nod my head. "It's hard not to" I admit, getting off his lap and sitting next to him which makes him angle his body to face mine, taking hold of one of my hands, encouraging me to speak my mind. 

"She's been my best friend for the past five years. That's not something that can magically be turned off for me. I know what she did to me was devastating and I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive her for it. I'm still trying to heal from it all so I don't know, I couldn't help but defend myself, and you. I'm sorry you had to see that" I say, mumbling the last part and feeling so much regret for saying those ugly things about his daughter right in front of him. 

"Everyone has a right to defend themselves and when you're being attacked like that, you can't help but say hurtful things. She had no right and she knew that and wanted to hurt the both of us anyway" he says and I take a deep breath before turning my attention back to him because she said just as many hurtful things to him as she did to me.

"Are you okay?" I question, tightening my hold on his hand to hopefully encourage him to be vulnerable with me as well. 

He nods his head with a sad smile and waits a beat before saying anything and I hold my breath until he does. 

"No one wants their daughter to end up in the kind situation she put herself in or see the people that they care about hurting but what she said didn't hurt me" he says and I nod my head, paying attention to his hand that I have placed in my lap, tracing the swirls of ink with my eyes as they travel further up his arm. 

"What did hurt me though was the way she was talking about you. You know that's not how I feel about you at all right?" he says, tilting my face up towards him making purposeful eye contact with me, needing to know that I believe him. 

"I know" I nod, giving him a sad smile accompanied by my still glossy eyes making him even more sad seeing how upset all of this has made me. 

"Can I do anything to make you feel better?" he asks, cupping my face and keeping my eyes on him when I try to turn them away. "No, I'll be okay" I shake my head and he studies my features before nodding and accepting my words at face value. 

"Okay, do you wanna go back up to my room? You can sleep in there with me if you'd like" he says, brushing a tear dampened strand of hair out of my face. 

I give him a mischievous smile, telling him I know what he's up to but he pulls away and puts his hands up in a way to defend his motives. 

"Just sleep, I promise. Scouts honor" he says, crossing his heart and I laugh at his playfully defensive nature. "Sure" I say, taking hold of his hand while he stands up and leads me back to his bedroom. 

~~~~

After having talked a little bit more about what had happened the topic of conversation circles back to what we had been in the middle of before she showed up. 

"So earlier it seemed like you wanted to ask me a question" I say, taking a sip from my soda that had come with the take out we had ordered hours ago, toying with the straw and keeping his attention. 

"Yeah? And do you know what your answer might be to said question?" he teases, wetting his lips and keeping his eyes trained on mine. 

"You have to ask the questions first Daddy" I say placing my drink down on his nightstand and when I turn to face him again he's tackling me down on the bed peppering kisses all over me. 

"Stoooppp" I giggle and he laughs along with me before leaning back to hover over me. "Will you go out with me?" he asks and I can tell that this whole moment has him feeling like a teenager again.

"I thought you'd never ask" I say, running my fingers through his hair making him lean into my touch. 

"You can't take it back though. Once we do this I won't ever let you go" he husks out, placing a kiss on my palm and I shutter at the feeling. "Then don't" I breathe out making a flame of desire flash through his eyes. 

"You're gonna get yourself in trouble you know that?" he warns, placing a kiss on my nose before getting off me and turning off the tv. "Hey! I was watching that!" I pout "No you weren't" he chuckles. "Plus it's time to go to bed. We've got a big day ahead of us" he says, getting under the covers and motioning for me to do the same. 

"Big day?" I question, not remembering we had something on the agenda this weekend. "I may or may not have planned out our date this morning while you were still in bed Sleeping Beauty" he says, pulling me onto his chest but I sit up pulling away from him with my brows scrunched together. 

"How were you so sure I would say yes?" I scoff, shocked by his bold assumption. "From the way I've been making you moan my name I figured you wouldn't mind going on one date with me in return" he says and my jaw drops, throwing the covers off myself and making a break for it but he yanks me back towards him making me flop down on the bed. 

"You can't just say things like that" I whine, hands over my eyes as a way to block him out of my vision and hide the very apparent blush that I'm sure is starting to bloom. 

"Am I wrong?" he taunts, placing kisses on my neck and collarbone, dangerously close to making me moan his name again. 

"You're no fair" I say, pushing him off and giving him my back making him chuckle at my shy behavior. He lays down and pulls me back into him. My back now against his chest and his hand placed on my hip where I'm again reminded that I'm only wearing his shirt and my under ware. 

"Keep your hands to yourself Mr." I tease while prying his hand off me. "Come on darling, you know I'm a man of my word. Just sleep, nothing else" he says, this time sliding his hand further up to hold onto my bare waist. 

"Fine" I grumble out and he laughs and nuzzles his nose into my neck, taking another deep breath, flooding his senses with my scent. 

"Goodnight Bunny" he mumbles against my skin. "Goodnight Daddy I tease and am rewarded with a slap on my ass. 

"Did, did you just spank me?" I say trying to wiggle out of his hold but he's already got his arm wrapped around my waist again. "I told you that pretty little mouth of yours was gonna get you into trouble didn't I?" he says, switching to rubbing his hand along the tender flesh he just struck, caressing it in a way to ease the pain. 

I pout and settle back into the bed, not dignifying his words with a response. It's only when I accidentally move my hips backwards do I freeze from gaining a soft moan from him, no doubt caught off guard from the contact of my ass up against him. 

"Sorry I didn't mean to I-" "I know Bunny, just go to sleep" he says placing a kiss on my neck and holding my hips in place, putting a little more space between us. 

As I slow my breathing to a steady one I start to lull myself to sleep but I flinch at the sound of his cute snores in my ear. 'Something I'll have to tease him about in the morning' I giggle to myself and take his hand off my hip, choosing instead to hold it against my chest having him surrounding me. Soon I'm slipping into that dreamland he had drifted off to moments before, safe and warm being in his arms.  

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[pixiesfz]

spiked arsenal fc x r

plot: you get invited to a party from a girl at your school and things don’t turn out the best

warnings: readers drink gets spiked, weird Pervy boys, sexual asault

Being a professional athlete at a young age had its perks but it also had its very bad drawbacks, privacy being one of them.

A 17-year-old Australian girl moving to London to play for North London's red team Arsenal, will she crack under pressure?

Your every move was watched by the public, weather at training or joining Katie and Caitlin for a coffee in the morning.

Another one was schooling.

Whenever you weren't training you were finishing an essay or researching history to write an essay on.

And if you were caught not doing your homework by Leah or Steph they would threaten less minutes at Arsenal or the Matilda's.

Kim let you take an hour off sometimes, seeing the stress you were under

"you're not going to do your best work if you're exhausted" she always insisted before passing you a pillow and her keys to the physio room.

And the last one which was your least favourite one to admit was fomo.

You physically went to school sometimes to do half days or full days, and your classmates always whispered to each other when you walked in.

You had made some friends, some were definitely your 'friends' just to see if they could get a free ticket to the Emirates but you figured it was better than nothing.

"Hey" one of the girls greeted you on the way to English "Hi Lisa" you smiled, happy another girl your age was talking to you "So It may be a long shot but I am having my 17th birthday party and I was wondering if you would be able to come?" she asked and you smiled.

You had seen everyone go to parties before as you watched on Snapchat and Instagram, but you had never been.

You had been invited sure, but not from anybody you knew well enough, the others just wanted to be able to say 'y/n y/l/n went to my party!"

"I'll just have to ask my caregivers but it should be fine" you smiled "Good cause I hear Tommy G really wanted to talk to you but that boy always needs liquid encouragement"

You grimaced and the girl laughed "I know I would have the same reaction" You smiled "So I'll see you there?" she asked and you nodded making her squeal.

When going home to Caitlins that day you entered with a smile "What happened today chook?" she asked as she was sprawled on the couch, Katie next to her.

"Lisa invited me to her birthday party!"

Katie cheered from her spot but Caitlin persed her lips

"Caitlin please, there's no training the day after and it's not on a game night, please I never get to go to parties, I'm the only girl in my year level-"

"Gosh shut up!" Caitlin scoffed "I was going to ask what you were planning to wear!"

You smiled "So I can go?"

Caitlin smiled, your happiness contagious to the two of them "of course, just don't drink you're still a minor and that can be bad for your image"

You nodded, the thought already crossed your mind in fifth period "I promise"

Katie's smile dropped "We will have to tell the captains"

"I already told Kim" you smiled remembering the call with your captain as you walked home "and she's the real captain of Arsenal and we're not on international duties, also please never tell Leah I called her not the real captain"

Your excitement was built up as your words were quick, Ella who had come out from her room laughing as you talked.

"You can borrow some of my clothes"

"No!" Katie was quick to say.

You had finished training and went home with Caitlin and Katie to have an 'everything shower before allowing Ella to curl your hair. You didn't have much party clothing so the day before you and Ella went shopping and bought jeans and a nice top.

"You look so pretty" Ella smiled as she finished your mascara "Lauren would never let me do her make-up and hair" she gushed "and Katie never did it for me so this is cute" she laughed as Katie scoffed from the bed her and Caitlin were laying down on, getting ready for your reveal

"Not our faults we were never into that at the time!" , "How much longer the party started half an hour ago!" Caitlin added before you walked out, a proud Ella behind you.

"Well don't you look like a princess!"

"Katie!"

"I'm messing with ya, you look good baby Australia" she smiled and Cailin grabbed Lisa's present "I feel like a proud mum" she cheered "now let's go".

When you arrived at the party all the goers cheered at your appearance and a very drunk Lisa came to your side "' I'm so soooo happy you made it" she smiled, squeezing you tight as you awkwardly handed her the bag "Happy birthday" you told her and she gasped loudly, hugging you again.

She left to put it in her room, leaving you with some other of your classmates as they offered you a drink "No I'm okay is there water offered anyway, or sprite?" you asked and Tommy G stood up "I saw sprite in the back" he said before disappearing "thanks" you called out to him.

"He found out you didn't want to talk to him so he's probably just trying to get away from you" Holly, one of the girls said and you nodded "I didn't mean to hurt his feelings I'm just not that interested"

She nodded "I get it, do you want a hit?" she asked and held out her vape which you crossed her head at "thanks for the offer but no thankyou" you smiled apologetically and the girl smirked "more for me then"

"Uh here you go" a voice piped behind you and you saw Tommy holding out your Sprite bottle, it was already opened but you didn't think too much of it, maybe he just wanted to open it for you.

"Thankyou Tommy" you smiled and went back to your conversation, not taking a sip just yet.

About an hour had gone by and you felt really, really shitty, your grip on the table tightening as you felt the need to lay down, a headache splitting your brain.

"I'm sorry" you apologised to whoever you were speaking to "I have to lay down" you said, stumbling away to the nearest bedroom, gaining the attention of the group of boys who were sat on the couch.

"Tommy boy you actually did it" "Well how else was I going to get her"

"You are the man, taking away Arsenal star girl's virginity!"

You assumed it was Lisa's parents room from the size of the bed but your head was spinning and your energy was plummeting, you felt vulnerable and your muscles were failing on you.

When you heard the door open you just merely mumbled "who's it?"

Why were you like this?

You didn't drink a sip of alcohol.

"Hey y/n it's Tommy"

"somethings wrong" you said, hopefully thinking he would get some help but instead he just closed the door. "Tommy help" you whimpered, your body feeling like a brick as you couldn't move "shhh" he shooshed you, climbing on top of you "It's all going to be fine".

Your eyes widened as he tried to kiss you "just kiss back it will be easier" he told you but you shook your head, tears running down your face.

"stop" you mumbled as his hands pulled down your top "you wanted this remember?"

no. no you didn't.

"stop"

"stop"

"Tommy stop'

"Tommy please" you cried

His hands started to undo your belt before the door was open again and a now sobered up Lisa barged in.

"Get off of her you Freak!" she yelled, running up and practically throwing Tommy off of you and pulling up your shirt "/n" she sighed, freaking out from your state.

Another two sets of girls came in, gasping at the sight "he drugged her" Lisa told them as they stood still, Tommy in fear as he looked around "Get him out!" she yelled and the two girls ran in and grabbed him.

"hey look she wanted it-"

And he was gone.

But his presence still lingered to you as you flinched when Lisa grabbed your wrist "Y/n I'm calling the ambulance okay?" she told you and you nodded.

You felt numb, you couldn't do anything.

It wasn't long after that you blacked out.

You woke up when the ambulance came to a stop, your body being able to move now slightly as you were able to balance on your elbows.

They carried your cart inside, going past a worried Caitlin and Katie who were called five minutes ago as they ran behind the cart and a blonde girl who was running out soon after "Who are you?" Katie asked "I'm Lisa"

"What happened?" Caitlin asked, on the phone with Steph who was driving over with Kyra, Leah and Kim.

Lisa's eye started to water "I should've- he- he- he spiked her drink!" she let out and both the Arsenal players stopped in their track.

You were able to move but you stayed still, you could feel his hands on you even if Lisa had promised you in the ambulance that the girls called the police.

You still didn't move when the doctors shoved needles into you, getting rid of the drug residue that was in you.

Ella, who was behind Katie and Caitlin ran after the doctors after hearing Lisa, knowing the news from classmates will be on the news tomorrow.

You turned your head towards the blonde with tears in your eyes "why me?" you asked and the girl grabbed your hand "Why?" you said again, not expecting an answer from the girl before Caitlin and Katie walked in with a tear stained Lisa.

"Just try and go to sleep y/n/n".

Your body was exhausted when you woke up in the morning, the room was full, full of your Arsenal and international teammates who had heard, it bran tears to your eyes as you realised what had happened, turning to Caitlin who was holding your hand

"No privacy?" you asked and the girl nodded her head "I'm sorry chicky"

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked at all the powereful women in the room.

If there was anyone you needed to get through the next couple of weeks, it was these women here.

#woso #woso soccer #woso community #woso x reader #matildas #caitlin foord #katie mccabe #sam kerr #alanna kennedy #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #arsenal

[always-andromeda]

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1182

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ Once upon a time, Joel Miller was the love of your life. Life, however, got in the way.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ I got to write this piece for @beskarandblasters's Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge. This song is one of my favorites off of Folklore and so I was immediately inspired by the prompt!! I highly recommend taking a look at the rest of the challenge masterlist too and sending the other creators on there some love!! Gorgeous divider by @saradika-graphics!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact), nipple play, fingering, pet names, reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, spans from pre-outbreak to post-outbreak, mentions of guns, bits and pieces of angst, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Your youth was defined by Joel Miller. All of those delicate parts of yourself that you pretended not to see…he stared straight into the eye of the storm and protected the fragility within it. The most important thing about Joel: he was patient. To an almost frustrating degree.

He taught you how to drive with the stick shift in his beat up pickup truck. Afterwards, he showed you how to kiss properly. His hand cupping the back of your neck, he gazed at you through his lashes and asked if it was okay to kiss you. His voice smooth like molasses, you had no choice but to nod before immediately pressing your lips to his.

Even back then, Joel was a working man. His hands were rough with calluses, his mouth was filthy, and he put them both to good use. As he laid you across the bench seat of his truck, somewhere deep in your belly, you believed you could trust him. 

You supposed it was exciting for him, showing you how things were done. How a man could really use his hands to tell a woman exactly how he felt. The best Joel’s words could do came in the form of his sweet pet names.

Darlin’. Pretty girl. Baby. Honey.

Each of them wrapped up in his velvety tone and delivered specially for you. Sure, he spoiled you, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

On your twenty-first birthday, he was there for your first drink. He slowly nursed his beer, making sure to keep a level head as you danced around the bar. No matter how hard you attempted to throw yourself at him, he kept his hands to himself. And as soon as you started to get sleepy he drove you home and tucked you in before passing out on your living room couch.

The morning after he was teaching you even more. How to handle a hangover. How Joel sounded rasping, “Happy birthday, honey,” against the column of your throat. How to come with just his hands on your tits.

The trick was a nice, slow buildup. He’d pinch and pull at a nipple before leaning down to press kisses to it. You’d gasp as his teeth grazed your skin ever so slightly and a laugh would rumble through his own chest. Your cunt wept so badly it ached. Still, Joel refused to pay it any mind. Not until he had you whimpering and writhing beneath him.

Even as he was breaking your heart, it was slow; it was painful.

When he told you that he’d gotten another girl pregnant, you almost didn’t believe it. Sure he teased you, but this was a step too far. That was the first time you caught him deliberately averting your gaze. The second you detected that shame, you wanted to scream at him.

You’d never known him to be shy around other girls. But you’d also never known him to be so careless. That pristine picture you had of him was gone in an instant.

The second it was said, you retreated. Or you were discarded. You’d never been able to remember who was the last one to call the other only to be met with an answering machine. You suppose it didn’t really matter anymore.

Years passed and soon those memories turned into mementoes of an entirely different world overnight.

There have been many lovers since then; none as kind as he had been once upon a time. Then again, if Joel was still alive, he was most likely just as rough around the edges as any of the men you’d been with. In fact, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him once since those days. You felt his calluses on every man’s hands, his thick fingers filling you, his stubble prickling your neck. Those men taught you many new things. The first being that patience wasn’t owed to anyone in a world where you could wake up dead. The second? Perhaps you didn’t want patience anymore.

After all, what had patience ever given you? When the world fell apart you got fuck all from simply waiting around for something to happen. You’d rather be torn apart by a clicker than get herded into a QZ where you’d scrounge for rations.

The first chance you got, you claimed a spot in a nomadic group. You did what you had to in order to prove your worth. The first time you shot a gun, as the smell of gunpowder filled your nostrils, you thought of Joel again. Tried to imagine him at your shoulder, chuckling and then muttering under his breath, “Dadgum, girl. Not bad.” 

Every single time you managed to take out one of those infected, you heard that smooth voice of his. It was equal parts frustrating and…comforting. Frustrating in that he had managed to linger this long. But also frustrating in the sense that that version of him no longer existed, if it ever did to begin with. It was like you’d never really left behind him, his honeyed words, his skilled hands, or his goddamn pickup. Joel Miller just…had a way of hanging over you. 

Jackson was a welcome reprieve from that cloud of grief. You were stubborn to the charms of that commune. You’d trusted more promising things before and been burned.

Those years really flew by. Old wounds finally began to close. With each passing kindness, it became easier to live again. For once home felt like a place you could tangibly hold instead of some far off fantasy. 

You were so content that by the time Tommy showed up one spring, you only saw it as a blessing. He was alive, goddamnit. It didn’t matter that his dark eyes were damn near the same shade as his brother’s. And it didn’t matter that the twang of Texas still lingered on his tongue. You simply told yourself what you’d been telling yourself for years.

Joel was just a man. A man who thought that because you were young, he had some sort of claim over your heart. His heart had never belonged to you. More importantly, yours hadn’t belonged to him. He made his mark and you’d paid your dues in heartache. That was all.

Which is why it felt all the more haunting when he showed up on your porch.

A little over three decades later and Joel’s right there in the flesh. Even with the town buzzing about his arrival, you suppressed any notion that he’d pay you a visit. But now he steps forward into the porch light and through the fog of his breath in the cold air, you catch how much he’s changed. He’s almost nothing like you remember. Silver dappled stubble, pursed lips, forehead wrinkling as he furrows his brow.

The expression falls as soon as he sees you. The crinkles by his eyes relax as his gaze softens. Just like it used to so long ago.

Yet you swear he hasn’t changed a lick when he finally speaks.

“Hey there, darlin’.”

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚ #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfic #the last of us hbo fanfic

[navybrat817]

Adventures in Babysitting

Pairing: Florist!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You learn something sweet about Bucky when you have to babysit at the last minute. Word Count: Almost 2k Warnings: Fluff, self-doubt, crying baby (is that a warning), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: @christywantspizza , thank you for the wonderful request for our florist and just being awesome. Hope you like it! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You consider yourself to be a smart and capable woman. You handled most issues with grace and a level head when they came your way. Ruth leaned on you more than once when problems came up during her wedding planning. It meant a lot that she and others could count on you.

Which is likely why your neighbor, Ava, came to you for help.

"I'm so sorry to bother you. I know you don't know me very well."

The poor woman tried to compose herself as she rocked her five month old baby, Harper, in her arms. They hadn't lived in the area for very long, but Ava was polite when you saw her. You always stopped to chat with her for a minute and made silly faces at the baby. It was sweet.

Seeing her in your doorway in tears almost made you tear up.

"Are you okay? Is Harper okay?" you asked, rushing to get her a tissue. Just because they looked fine physically didn't mean they weren't hurt. "And you aren't bothering me."

"We're fine, but it's a family emergency," she told you as fresh tears fell, wiping her eyes as she balanced Harper with one arm. "I'm sorry to ask, but would you be able to watch her? Hopefully no more than a couple of hours? I've tried calling everyone else and I can pay-"

"I can watch her," you said, holding out your arms. You didn't have anything else going on and you wanted to help her. "You just take care of what you need to do."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you," Ava said, smiling through her tears. She handed you the diaper bag before you carefully took Harper. "I owe you one."

"No, you don't. Just take your time and be safe," you urged, smiling down at the baby. You were glad she was at least somewhat familiar with you. "Does she need a bottle?"

Ava quickly explained that you would need to feed Harper within the next twenty minutes. She left instructions in the bag with how much to feed her, along with diapers, wipes, burp cloth, extra onesies, a blanket, and her teething ring. She also had your number to keep you updated if she would be longer than a couple of hours.

"Thank you again," Ava said, giving her baby a kiss on the top of her head. "Mama loves you. I'll be back as soon as I can."

You gently shut the door with your foot once Ava left, smiling wider when the baby cooed. "We're going to have a lot of fun, aren't we?"

Harper wouldn't stop crying.

"Do you want me to put you down?" you asked, carefully placed her on her back. You winced when she let out a louder cry. "Okay, okay. Bad idea. Sorry," you said, picking her back up.

You gave her the bottle exactly as instructed. You burped her afterward. She had a fresh diaper. She wanted nothing to do with her teething ring. Soft music didn't calm her down and she wouldn't sleep.

What am I doing wrong?

"You miss your mama, don't you?" you asked as you tried to rock her.

More tears rolled down her cheeks as she cried louder, making you wince again as the sound echoed in your ears. You began to walk around the room, doing your best to soothe her. Admittedly, it had been years since you babysat, but you were usually able to keep most babies happy. Why couldn't you do the same with Harper?

"What can I do?" you asked yourself, taking a deep breath when your phone rang. "Shh, shh, it's okay," you said softly, keeping Harper against your chest as you answered.

You didn't even bother to see who called when you put it on speaker.

"Hey, Petal," Bucky's voice happily rang out. "I'm leaving the shop and I was-"

Harper wailed before he could finish his statement.

"Is that a baby?" he asked after a beat, clearly confused. You didn't blame him. You hadn't had a chance to message him that you were babysitting. "Is everything okay?"

"It's my neighbor Ava's baby. She had a family emergency and she asked if I could watch Harper. Bucky, I can't get her to stop crying," you explained, almost in tears yourself. "I-I don't know what to do."

Something had to be wrong with you if you couldn't calm a normally happy baby.

"I'm on my way, okay? You got this," he promised, his tone gentle, but not condescending.

"Okay. I'll see you soon," you smiled for his sake before you hung up. "I got this."

Harper sobbed as you began to walk again.

I don't got this.

Bucky took the crying baby from your arms the moment he walked through the door. There was no fear in his eyes when he looked her over, only concern. He gave you a once-over, too. You probably looked terrible.

Can't call me perfect anymore.

"I fed her, burped her, changed her, tried to put her down for a nap, walked around with her," you told him, watching as he slowly put his hand on Harper's tummy. "Maybe she just doesn't like me?"

"I don't think it has anything to do with you," he said, cooing as he walked over to the couch. "You love Petal, don't you?"

You knew deep down there could be many reasons why Harper was upset, but you wished you knew how to help.

Bucky took a seat and furrowed his brows when he felt her tummy again. "How long ago did you feed her? Did she drink her whole bottle?"

You checked the time. "Over thirty minutes ago. And she drank the entire bottle pretty fast."

"Should be plenty of time to put you on your tummy, right? Poor baby. You're probably still a little gassy, aren't you?" he asked, smiling tenderly as placed her across his legs on her stomach.

You watched in fascination as Bucky began to slowly rub her back. Harper's cries began to decrease after a minute and you finally felt the tension leave your shoulders. Seeing your beefy florist calm an upset baby was a sight to behold. The ease at which he handled her made your fall in love with him a bit more. Especially since you knew how far he had come with his metal arm.

I think my ovaries clenched. How is that possible? No, focus.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Bucky began to hum. The sound seemed to soothe Harper even more. The cries stopped completely when she let out a loud burp.

"There. That's better, isn't it? No wonder you were upset. That was a big burp," Bucky said in a quiet voice, still making small circles on her back. "Let's see if there's anymore, okay?"

You sat down in the chair, wringing your fingers in your lap as Harper burped again. You should have known to try that. Why didn't you?

"Um, thanks."

You tried to smile at Bucky, but it fell flat.

He shook his head when he caught your frown. "Hey. Don't beat yourself up. You did everything right, okay? I don't know how gassy she normally is, but it could've been because she drank her bottle so fast."

Of course, he knew I'd mentally chastise myself.

You did smile this time. "How do you know so much about this?"

"Um," he shifted so he could readjust Harper and lay her against his chest. She looked so small in his arms, but perfectly content. "Becca was a colicky baby?"

"Was that a question?" you teased.

He blushed as he held Harper a bit closer when she yawned. "I'm kind of embarrassed because we haven't really talked about it," he began as you raised an eyebrow. "I've, uh, read a couple of parenting books and done research on babies because. Well, I might want to be a dad one day."

"You want to be a dad?" you asked, moving from the chair so you could sit beside him. You were careful not to jolt him or disturb Harper. She needed her rest. "And you took it upon yourself to research this kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, I did," he said, avoiding your gaze momentarily. Did he think this topic scared you or that you'd judge him? "I know some things about parenting can't come from books, but a bit of knowledge wouldn't hurt. I just want to be a hands-on dad if it ever happens, you know?"

The blush almost spread to his neck as he kissed the top of Harper's head. Somehow your boyfriend continued to find ways to surprise you and melt your heart. He deserved a family and all the happiness in the world.

"I think that's sweet."

"You do?" he asked, uncertainty in his blue eyes as he looked at you.

That look doesn't belong there.

"Yeah. You're always good with the kids in the shop and I don't know many guys who would take that kind of initiative. You really are one of a kind," you said, smiling when his gaze returned to normal.

He leaned his head over to brush his lips against yours. There was relief in his kiss and you returned it with your own. He saved the day and you were thankful he could be honest with you.

"I didn't want to freak you out," he said

You glanced at Harper, who had her eyes closed. She must have fallen asleep moments ago, either exhausted from her cries or soothed by the florist's warm presence. It could have been both.

She feels safe with you, Bucky. As any lucky baby would.

"I don't think you could ever freak me out, but we can discuss it more over dinner if you want," you said as you put your head on his shoulder.

"I'd like that," he whispered.

The soft tone had your heart skipping a beat. "Besides, you have the paternal instinct down pact. Bet that's why your hair is pulled back."

"It's from work, but I'll take the compliment. And you have a maternal instinct," he told you, making you snort in disagreement. "Hey, none of that. Ava trusted you enough to leave Harper with you and that says a lot."

"But I couldn't soothe her," you whispered.

"Was she happy before she was gassy?"

You thought about it. Harper was fine in the beginning and snuggled against you. She must have felt safe and happy enough in your home.

"She was," you said truthfully.

And I'd be upset if I was gassy, too.

"So you're fine," he smiled. "And you know what else is a good motherly instinct? Asking for help when you need it, like you did today."

He soothed both of us, Harper.

"But we don't need to talk about that now," he added. "I think you deserve a break."

You knew he was giving you an out in case the topic made you uncomfortable.

"We can discuss it over dinner," you offered, seeing the corner of his lip tug in a smile. "Thank you for taking care of her and being my hero," you said, closing your eyes and resting your hand on his chest beside Harper's head.

You pictured Bucky in his shop with a baby in his arms, wearing a blue shirt to match the onesie as he showed him or her all of the beautiful flowers with a loving smile. He even had his hair down in your daydream so your baby could play with it. He'd be so caring and proud. Everything you wanted and more.

"You'll make the best daddy one day."

After a moment, Harper's little hand wrapped around your pinky finger.

"And you'll be the best mommy, Petal," Bucky whispered.

If he was sure of it, so were you.

I love them! ❤️ Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #florist!bucky barnes #florist!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #florist au #beefy florist au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #florist and petal #bucky barnes x y/n

[yuurei20]

Do you have a master list of the translated novel chapters so far? Or someplace to read all of them at once? If not, thanks anyways!

Hello hello! A compilation thread of translations from the first novel can be found here! It is not a complete translation of the entire novel, just a few blurbs that I found interesting for being different from the game, if that is okay :>

I hadn't put together a compilation of second-novel translations because it is still ongoing, but I can list them now!

(Disclaimer: I am very, very much not a writer, I promise that the actual book is much more well written than this, and I encourage everyone to read the official translation when it is released! The first novel is coming in August, 2024, from Viz Media!)

Introduction "In a corner of the prestigious magic school, Night Raven College, there stands an old, unused dormitory."

Yuuya and the Rumors “'What's the matter? You look a bit down,’ says the ghost."

The Classroom “'There's no way that Ramshackle can compete on the same level as our dorm—that’s a crowning moment. Us, being mocked like that? We wouldn’t stand for it.’"

Bakery Day "Yuuya hands over the money he had promised to Ace and Deuce, then lines up for his usual lunch set, alone."

Ruggie in the Cafeteria (pt1) "Yuuya looks over his shoulder to the sight of a skinny boy standing behind him."

Ruggie in the Cafeteria (pt2) "Thinking about it, Yuuya realizes that he can’t recall seeing Japanese food or sweets since coming here."

Ruggie in the Cafeteria (pt3) "Each dorm at Night Raven College has its own distinguishing characteristics."

Ruggie in the Cafeteria (pt4) "‘You mean they have good teamwork?’ Yuuya recalls an earlier conversation with Ace."

The Botanical Garden Scene "Ruggie and Leona are both from Sunset Savanna, with Ruggie coming from a humble upbringing in the slums as a hyaena beastperson, who are generally regarded with contempt."

Riddle and the consequences of overblot "When Riddle enters the Mirror Chamber, the other dorm leaders cast open and obvious glances his way. It has been like this ever since that day."

Leona and the Housewarden Meeting "‘Remember. What was it like two years ago? Last year? How did it feel to be used as a stepping stone to showcase the power of Lord Malleus Draconia?"

Riddle on Leona: The Housewarden Meeting "'I don’t really mind putting him in the Hall of Fame,’ says the Ignihyde Housewarden in an unenthusiastic tone over his speaker."

Yuuya and Grim's Club Yuuya and Grim were told by the headmage that they would both have to choose the same club.

Meeting Pomefiore (pt1) "Having reached the Hall of Mirrors, Yuuya faces the mirror that, according to Deuce, will lead him to Pomefiore. It is splendid, adorned with a large peacock and framed in its feathers."

Meeting Pomefiore (pt2) "‘You came to see the student of ours who was hurt, did you not? Here he is.’ With a gesture from Rook, a second-year student steps forward."

For reference: Night Raven College Dorm Roommate Situations

The accidents befalling Spelldrive players "‘Yuu will come with me.’ ‘Eh? 'Yuu will come with me?’’ Yuuya echoes Riddle’s words back at him with a puzzled look."

Meeting Jade and Floyd (pt1) "'Jade Leech and Floyd Leech, twin second-year students. Jade is vice-housewarden of Octavinelle—he is also in my class.'"

Meeting Jade and Floyd (pt2) "‘Ah!’ A loud call echoes out over the grounds. 'Over there—isn’t that Lil' Goldfish?’"

Meeting Jade and Floyd (pt3) "‘Ah, nice to meet you. I’m…’ ‘Yuu-san, I believe. I have heard of you. It is an honor to meet the new student of the rumors.’"

Meeting Jade and Floyd (pt4) "Yuuya finally understands why Riddle looked so displeased when they first arrived."

Meeting Silver and Lilia (pt1) "Silver is often doing physical training, even on days when he has no club activities."

Meeting Silver and Lilia (pt2) "Silver accepts the towel with a casual ‘thank you,’ and wipes the sweat from his forehead. The birds chirp back, as though in response."

Meeting Silver and Lilia (pt3) "Lilia is as cheerful as he is lively. His sweeping gestures are so mismatched with his small stature that Yuuya cannot help but smile."

Riddle on Malleus "‘Someday, I'd like to ask Malleus-senpai what he thinks makes a good Housewarden.’"

Pre-Practice Match (pt1) (coming soon) “Perhaps it is because they are all so focused, but no one seems to have noticed them yet."

Pre-Practice Match (pt2) (coming soon) "The students who surround Yuuya's group are a mix of beast-people and others, each with impressive physiques and vibrant yellow shirts—the dorm color—stretched tight over their muscles."

Pre-Practice Match (pt3) (coming soon) "Only Ruggie makes a chuckle of sound, jogging to Leona’s side."

Pre-Practice Match (pt4) (coming soon) "Yuuya gives Cater a hopeful glance, but Cater’s expression is surprisingly stern."

Pre-Practice Match (pt5) (coming soon) "‘Shi-shi-shi!’ Ruggie laughs like air is escaping from him—a unique sound."

Spelldrive Practice Match (pt1) "Deuce is about to respond when suddenly both he and Ace are enveloped in light, their school uniforms transforming into their gym clothes."

Spelldrive Practice Match (pt2) "Colliding with another player Deuce tumbles onto the ground, but quickly regains his feet. Yuuya breathes a sigh of relief."

Spelldrive Practice Match (pt3) "'This has got to be a joke. You mocking me?’ Leona asks, lifting one hand and forming it into a fist."

Spelldrive Practice Match (pt4) "As Cater says, the unity of the Savanaclaw students—led by Leona—is overwhelming."

Spelldrive Practice Match (pt5) "Spelldrive is a timed sport, and a considerable amount of time still remains."

Leona and Jack (pt1) "It was three years ago, when Jack was still in middle school."

Leona and Jack (pt2) "‘The important thing isn’t how hard you try. It’s the result. Results are everything.’"

Leona and Jack (pt3) "Filled with frustration and sorrow, Jack clenches his hands into fists and leaves to return to the dorm, in silence."

Meeting Malleus (pt1) "‘Who's there?’ ‘Ah—' Suddenly, a voice from the darkness."

Meeting Malleus (pt2) "Yuuya quickly drops his eyes. Regardless of what those horns might be, it must be uncomfortable for one to have their physical attributes stared at in such a manner. Perhaps he has been rude."

Naming Malleus (pt1) "‘—and I guess it’s because I was so surprised, but I didn’t get any sleep at all last night.’"

Naming Malleus (pt2) "'The only reason you can say that is because you’ve never met Hornton.’"

Meeting Jamil and Kalim (pt1) "‘Why Jamil, Kalim. I did not expect to see you in the cafeteria.’"

Meeting Jamil and Kalim (pt2) "‘Information gets around quickly.’ ‘We just so happened to hear about it. May we bother you for the details?’ In response to Riddle’s inquiry, Jamil narrows his eyes."

Meeting Jamil and Kalim (pt3) "Jamil waits in silence for the conversation to pause, and then continues once more."

Riddle and Unique Magics "‘It's not something that just anyone can do. But the foundation for unique magic often lies in common, basic spells. A mage takes those spells and combines or improves upon them as needed.'"

Jack and Yuuya "First-year student, Jack, has been selected to play for Savanaclaw."

Meeting Azul (pt1) “'Oh my, is that Jack Howl of Savanaclaw?’"

Meeting Azul (pt2) "‘My name is Azul Ashengrotto, and I am honored to be the housewarden of Octavinelle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’"

Leona Collared "Leona fights to remove the collar by force, his hair whipping about his face in his violent struggle."

Facing down an overblotting Leona, Riddle has a confession to make "Riddle confronts the glowering Leona with determination. ‘I am not mocking you. Leona-senpai. I respected you.’"

Leona and Lilia "Riddle is already looking ahead. He has his regrets and his turmoil, but he still continues on the path of becoming a good housewarden."

Leona's Unique Magic (pt1) "From somewhere comes a low voice. At first Yuuya cannot tell who it is, but looking around him he notices Ruggie, his eyes dark and shimmering."

Leona's Unique Magic (pt2) "Yuuya looks up at the sky in a daze, and then feels something tickle at his ankle. Gently moving sand is pricking at his skin."

Leona and Ruggie, to overblot (pt1) "‘Leona-san, what are you thinking!?’ Ruggie steps in front of Leona. ‘Why would you use your unique magic like this…if you keep going—‘ ‘Why?’ Leona interrupts. 'Obviously, it’s to shut you all up.’"

Leona and Ruggie, to overblot (pt2) "‘Right, Ruggie? I really can't stand people who don't listen. I thought you would've figured that out by now. You're skilled at reading people's moods and selling them flattery, after all.’"

The Transformation "‘It is you who should be silent!’ Lilia shouts."

Cater and Yuuya "'Ruggie is lying nearby. Yuuya wraps one of Ruggie’s arms around his shoulders and Grim attempts to take a share of Ruggie’s weight by grabbing onto his thin waist, but the limp body weighs them down."

Ruggie Wakes Up "Jack's agile wolf body slides across the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirtying his fur. Leona gives him a cold, piercing glance."

The Overblot Battle "Columns of sand rise up and advance towards Ruggie and the others, engulfing everything in their path."

Leona and Falena "From the moment I was born, there’s been a boulder on top of me that’s too heavy to move."

Post-Overblot Leona (the flashback monologue) "I grew tired of thinking, so I decided to enroll at Night Raven College, though I had no interest in it. I knew I was just running away from the pain, but my heart felt lighter, nonetheless."

Jack and Leona (pt4) "‘All this messing around. We don’t have time for this!’ Released from Ruggie’s unique magic, Leona rubs against his reddened cheeks and raises his eyes."

Trusting Riddle "In the very front row, Riddle puts a hand to his mouth as he shouts, ‘What are you getting despondent over? Defeat Leona-senpai, beat the crap out of him!’ The normally refined Riddle swings his fist around."

The Exhibition Match (pt1) "The disc passes to Deuce as he races down the side of the field. Deuce is not as skilled as Ace, but he has stamina, and he is fast on his feet. He effortlessly overtakes the grouped players of Yuuya and the others, steadily advancing towards the goal."

The Exhibition Match (pt2) "With a glance for the ghosts who come for him, Leona sharply calls out, ‘Jack!’"

The Exhibition Match (pt3) "Ruggie and Jack rush to Leona, who has fallen to his knees, his hands flat on the ground."

Cheka (pt1) "‘Unca, I finally found you!’ Something bounces like a ball into the infirmary."

Cheka (pt2) "Cheka looks to Jack with his large, round eyes, only to turn abruptly about and go to hug Leona again."

Cheka (pt3) "'Perhaps realizing that he is being laughed at, Cheka looks around the room with a curious look."

(While these translations are still ongoing, a summary/comparison of the the second novel and the game has completed! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8)

#twstnovel #twstnovel2 #twisted wonderland

[burnednotburied]

Chapter One

AO3 Link | Chapter Two Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slow burn; enemies to friends to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/injury; cutting (not to self, but still); religious/cult-like ideas

Note: So the idea for this started as a prequel to my first fic (linked here), but ended up turning into much more. It basically follows the plot of Abby’s Seattle Day 1, diverging from canon where necessary and using dialogue from the game wherever possible. I split this part into two chapters because it’s so long.

This is a lot of build-up (important to the story and hopefully enjoyable to read), but I promise romance is on the horizon!

Also, the idea of deadnaming or misgendering Lev—even in the flashback part where they’re little kids and wouldn’t have known otherwise—physically pains me, so we’re going to pretend that reader has been calling Lev “L” as a nickname for forever.

Hope you enjoy! :)

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

April 2038

Abby knew as much about the Scars as any of her fellow WLF members.

She knew that the group was founded by a woman who claimed to have a vision after the initial outbreak of Cordyceps brain infection in 2013, and then started spouting some bullshit about how it was all just a punishment for the sins of humanity. Said that the way to move forward was to go back to the basics. Live off the land. Reject technology and progress and pretty much all the good things in life.

She knew that they live on the island but they wouldn’t fucking stay on it, and that there was once a truce but they broke it, forcing the WLF into an endless war.

She knew that they fought hard and killed brutally, without hesitation or remorse.

She knew that, especially now that Joel was taken care of, killing Scars was pretty much her life’s purpose.

And she knew that the woman who started all of this became known as The Prophet. And that Isaac gave the order to have her killed ten years ago.

It was for that reason that Abby thought Isaac must have misspoken when he opened with:

“The Prophet is on the move.”

He was standing over the large map of Seattle in the center of the room, hands braced on the table, head down in thought.

She didn’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. A quick glance over at Manny confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

One of them had to ask. It seemed Isaac wasn’t going to fill in the gaps unprompted.

“The Prophet?” Manny questioned hesitantly. “Sir… respectfully… She’s been dead for years. Died before we even joined.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who killed her.” Isaac was always calm and measured, almost always spoke quietly. But sometimes there was something beneath his words, just below the surface. Something seething and kind of terrifying, although Abby would never admit that out loud. This was one of those times.

“My unwilling informants downstairs,” he said, referring to the captive Scars being held and interrogated on the building’s lower levels, “tell me that they have a new Prophet. One their Elders have been quietly grooming for the role for the last decade, maybe even longer.”

“Okay so… What does that mean?” Abby asked, finding her voice. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have when she heard that Isaac wanted to talk to them. She had hoped to get some answers about what was going on with Owen.

“There’s a reason why they’ve been more resilient lately. Bolder. Even more bat-shit than normal.” He clenched his fists on the table. “This… Neo-Prophet,” Isaac almost laughed, the words coated in venom, “is about to fully step into her role. She is of age now. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby stared at Isaac, still waiting for him to tell her what all of this meant. And what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

Manny jumped in. “What? So the Scars are… celebrating? You’re saying that’s why they’ve been ballsier? Killing more of us. Pushing further inland.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “If this is what it looks like when they’re happy, I don’t want to see what happens when they’re mad.”

Isaac remained stoic. “They have a renewed sense of purpose. When we killed their first Prophet, the Scars were enraged. They fought hard for vengeance. But people will only fight on behalf of a dead woman for so long. Passion for the cause wanes without something tangible to fight for. They need that higher authority to look to. They need someone to honor and defend. Their Elders were smart enough to know that their people need a unifying symbol. A living one.”

“Right, and you said that unifying symbol was on the move so…” Abby said. “Want us to hunt her down? See what they’ll do when we take away their new favorite toy?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “She’s not our target. We’ll get to her in due time.”

“Then wha—”

He cut her off. “The Prophet will be leaving the island soon, for the first time. In fact, it’s possible she’s already here. One of our captives tells me there will be some sort of initiation for her. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure it will involve attempting to kill some of ours. I’ll spend some more time with our friends downstairs and see if I can’t get any more information on that. We’ll try to prevent it if we can, but that’s not our main focus right now.” Abby opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off once again. “With the Prophet away and many of their best soldiers traveling with her, the island will be more vulnerable than ever.”

Manny gestured to the map, reinserting himself into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve tried attacking their island and—”

“Not like this,” Isaac said. “Not with everyone. There’s a big storm a few days out. We’re going to use it to mask our approach. And you two are going to lead the first wave. Pick your squads. Start prepping.”

“And the Prophet?” Abby asked.

“One battle at a time, Abby.”

“Are we sure it would be a battle?” she pressed. “Isaac, she’s just one girl.”

“You would be foolish to underestimate this unknown enemy. Besides the likelihood that the best of the Scars will be at her side, I don’t doubt that she will be a very skilled fighter in her own right.” Abby huffed. Isaac continued, “And if she’s anything like her predecessor, the greatest threat is in her words. Not her actions. I watched some of my most loyal soldiers abandon our cause for theirs after just one conversation with the one who came before her.”

At this, Abby raised her eyebrows, ready to argue. A look from Manny shut her up.

“We’ve only got one shot at this… And this is bigger than any of us.” Isaac pushed off the table, walking over to Abby and placing a hand on her arm. “I need you, Abby.”

She shifted uncomfortably before relenting, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.” He pulled away, heading toward the door. “Look over the plans and go through your rosters.”

“I want Owen,” she said. Abby thought Isaac could at least give her that.

When he denied her permission to go look for Owen, Abby went anyway.

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

March 2030 (8 Years Earlier)

The day of your scarring had been the first time Haven saw the sun in weeks.

Your mother said it was a sign. But your mother thought everything was a sign.

She told you that, no matter what, you were not to cry. That you, her only child, would not disgrace her by shedding tears during your ceremony.

You were to be brave. And strong.

The Prophet herself had ordained the act of scarring for all of her followers. A symbol of the innate imperfection of mankind. And so her people would never forget their own failings, even in the midst of their unending efforts towards perfection.

No one was meant to question the Prophet’s teachings, or the Elders who had taken on the responsibility of interpreting those teachings and carrying out Her will since Her death two years prior.

You could feel your mother’s breath against the back of your head as she huffed and decided that she was once again unsatisfied with your hair, roughly taking it down and beginning again for the fourth time.

While she worked, you sat still on the wooden stool in front of her and stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to memorize your features as they were now.

This was the last time you would see the face you knew. Next time you looked in the mirror, you would be different. Would you feel different?

You tried to picture yourself scarred, with two thin lines running from each of your ears to the corners of your mouth. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to fall at the thought.

But there will be no crying today.

Instead, you let your eyes wander to your mother’s reflection, hovering just behind and above yours in the mirror. You examined her face. Of course, you had never seen her without her scars, but you’d always thought your mother was beautiful.

Maybe the change in your appearance would not be so drastic. Maybe it was vain to care.

You were not supposed to be vain.

Once your mother was satisfied with the look of the braided crown of your hair, she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting you gaze in the mirror.

“We are imperfect beings,” she recited. You joined your voice with hers for the second part, “And thus we make ourselves imperfect in Her eyes.”

She smiled softly, squeezing your arms lightly. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. I know you will do wonderfully today.” You tried to return her smile. “Now. Get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

She turned to leave you, pausing in the doorway. “Remember what I said, child. No tears today. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. Obediently.

She seemed pleased as she left the room.

You changed quickly, wondering if she had been able to tell that you’d spent the whole night before crying. You hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep.

The stool squeaked as you sat back down, not sure what to do with yourself while you waited. You met your own eyes in the mirror once more, this time immediately averting your gaze. You felt sick. And close to tears. And so very scared.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Yara and her mom greeting your mother. The eight-year-old asked if she could come inside to see you. After just a moment of hesitation, your mother allowed it, and you could hear the slight creak of the door as she came in.

Yara said your name quietly, standing just inside the door. You turned to look at her. She smiled, happy to see you, just as always.

“Happy birthday!” she whispered excitedly, closing the distance between you and wrapping her arms around you tightly. You squeezed her back, holding her close for longer than usual. Yara, never one to be the first to break a hug, lingered for as long as you wanted her there.

You were neighbors, and your mothers had grown up together and always been close. And although Yara was four years younger than you, the two of you were close too. She and five-year-old baby L were your siblings, as far as you were concerned.

Yara was mature for her age, even more so than most of your other friends. You knew you could trust her, so with her you were honest.

“I’m really scared,” you said quietly into her hair, still not releasing her from the embrace.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing you even tighter. “You’re the bravest person ever though. I know you can do this.”

You finally let go, retreating back to your stool, but Yara stayed close by, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“She will be with you through this, and for all the days of your life,” she said, earnest. “Our pain is Her pain, and Her pain is ours.”

You couldn’t help but make a mental note of the fact that the Prophet actually did not receive the same scars as all of her followers, so perhaps this one specific pain is one that was not, in fact, shared between to two of you.

But Yara’s comment was made with a level of sincerity that you couldn’t help but admire—and borderline envied—so you chose to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Her presence was always a comfort, so you allowed yourself to relish in it for a quiet minute before your mother reentered the room.

“It’s time to leave,” she said simply. Firmly.

Behind her, just outside the door, you could see Yara’s mom standing there, holding a quiet but curious little L’s hand. They would all be walking over with you to witness the ceremony.

You forced yourself to stand, brushed your hands down your thighs as if to clear some nonexistent dust and smooth the phantom wrinkles. For a moment, you considered taking one last look in the mirror, but ultimately deciding against it. It would feel strange to do so, now that everyone was watching you and waiting.

For the briefest moment, you thought about making a run for it. Stealing a boat or even attempting to make the swim to the mainland. You could survive on your own, or maybe even join the Wolves. You weren’t scarred yet. You could lie about where you came from, and they would probably take you in…

The hiss of your name from your mother’s mouth ripped you back into reality, along with a gentle nudge from Yara.

You took a deep breath and started walking.

Once the home of the Prophet herself, Sanctuary was one of your people’s primary places of worship, second only to Martyr’s Gate on the mainland. (You had never seen it – You’d never left the island – so Sanctuary was where you most often prayed.)

Scarring ceremonies were held there, always on a child’s twelfth birthday.

You had witnessed many friends receive their scars. It was customary to attend the ceremonies of those close to you. Family, friends.  

The process was always the same.

Elder Constance would lead all those gathered in a prayer, holding the ceremonial blade. You would recite a version of the Prophet’s Prayer. The blade would be blessed. Then Elder Duncan would make the incisions before welcoming you as an official member, a child of the Prophet.

It never took very long. Everyone had work to get back to, tasks to fulfill.

You would soon come to find that your ceremony would not be like any of those others.

The first indication of this was the sheer number of people who were gathered at Sanctuary. You had never seen this many people gathered in one place at one time, many of the faces you did not recognize.

As you approached the dais, the crowd silently parted for you, all eyes examining you carefully as if looking for something unseen. You couldn’t begin guess what it was.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to cry. To hold your mother’s hand. You wanted to not be here at all. Ever. For this to be a horrible nightmare.

Why were there so many people here?

Your eyes met Elder Constance’s. She was stiff and serious, as always, but there was a brightness in her eyes that you were not accustomed to seeing. A quick glance at Elder Duncan revealed a similar expression on his face.

The other five Elders also stood on the stage. Another thing that was unusual for a simple scarring ceremony.

Had you done something wrong? Were you in trouble?

You looked ahead, and your legs continued to carry you forward, despite your internal protestations.

When your feet were nearly touching the first step up, you stopped. And although your mind went blank, your body remembered what to do.

You bowed your head to each of the Elders, silently waiting to be greeted and invited onto the dais.

“Welcome, child, on this most joyous day!” Elder Constance’s voice boomed, carrying enough for everyone gathered to hear. “Come. Join us.”

You fought the urge to turn around and find your mother. You wanted to look at her face, to see if she knew what was happening.

But you knew that any moves you made in this moment other than exactly what was expected of you would be seen as hesitation, and therefore disgraceful. And you didn’t want your mother to be angry.

So you did as Elder Constance said, and you climbed the steps.

Your vision blurred. You tried to focus on your breathing.

“Two years ago, the ignoble Wolves took our beloved Prophet from us,” she began once you were standing center-stage. The reaction from the audience was instantaneous, full of outrage and despair. Elder Constance allowed this to continue for several moments before holding up her hand; and the noise stopped just a quickly as it began.

“But She is not dead! For the Prophet’s spirit cannot be killed by the evils of mankind.” The crowd hung on her every word as she continued, “She lives in all of us. In our actions and in our virtues. In Her teachings.”

“Here before you are all of your Elders, appointed to this honorable position by our Prophet, most wonderful and wise. She speaks to us, and it is our duty—our privilege—to share her words with you.”

“But today, She does not have words for us.” Elder Constance paused, the audience hushed, waiting for the reveal. “It is Her heavenly desire to give us a new source of hope. An advocate. A champion… A new Prophet.”

Elder Constance’s hands landed on your shoulders.

“Today, She has chosen Her successor.”

The crowd erupted in celebration.

You went completely numb and tuned them all out.

The Elders continued to speak, and the people continued to celebrate. All the while, your mind was reeling and your face was blank.

A new Prophet?

There can’t be a new Prophet.

What does that even mean?

There have never been any prophets except for THE Prophet.

And if there does need to be a new Prophet, why would it be you?

Why you?

Why you?

Why you?

It can’t be you.

If any of your questions were answered, you didn’t hear it above the ringing in your head.

Your attention was drawn to the blade that was now in Elder Constance’s hands, and you forced yourself to again begin to listen.

“…The Neo-Prophet will take on her full responsibilities when the time is right. But until then…” She continued on with familiar words, ones used in a typical scarring ceremony to bless the blade before it was used.

The knife was then passed down the line of Elders, each of them lifting it above their head and reciting the same words.

Your legs suddenly feel very weak.

Elder Duncan blessed the blade last and stepped forward, positioning himself just a couple feet away from you. You turned to him just as you knew you were supposed to.

This was the part in the ceremony when you would usually say a version of The Prophet’s Prayer. You weren’t sure if you were still meant to do that, given the circumstances, but you were operating solely on instincts now, so you began, “The world is not in balance, but I will do my part to right it.”

You weren’t speaking nearly as loud as the Elders had. You hoped you were loud enough. You hoped you were doing it right.

The pleased look on Elder Duncan’s face indicated that you had done well, but before you could go on with the next line, all of the Elders continued the prayer together:

“You will lead us through the storm May the current be calm May You guide us home.”

Their words had been slightly altered from the classic prayer, different than you would’ve said it if you had been given the chance. The strangest part was that they were speaking to you.

Almost like they were praying to you…

Elder Duncan took another step forward, gripping the knife.

You expected him to use his other hand to lift your face, to hold it at the best angle for the scarring. You’d seen him do the same to others many times before.

This was the part that you knew was coming. You had been at least attempting to prepare for it. You could handle it.

But you were thrown off once again when instead, he took your right wrist in his free hand and gently pressed your fingers down, making you form a fist. He then lifted your hand until it was by your ear, knuckles facing down, arm bent at the elbow. His own hand gripped your elbow, holding your arm in place.

You were frozen, with no choice but to watch as the knife met the outside of your forearm and sank in. A slow, straight line was carved from the top of your wrist all the way to your elbow.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t cry. You did as you were told.

You wanted to go home.

“We are imperfect beings. And thus, we make ourselves imperfect in Your eyes.” Elder Duncan said, meeting your gaze. “It is for this reason that we proudly wear our scars on our faces.”

When his work was done, he released your right elbow and moved on to the left, lifting that arm into the same position. “But the Prophet, in Her kindness, bears the weight of our imperfections, carrying all of us in her arms. This is why You will wear your scars here.”

“Remember that You are part of us, but set apart.” The blade pierced the skin of your left forearm, and a twin incision was formed. “We look to You, Prophet. May She guide you. May She protect you.” With that, he took a step back, lowering the knife.

You slowly lowered your arms to your sides and turned back to face the enraptured crowd.

Finally, you found your mother among them.

And she was crying.

“My friends,” Elder Constance declared, gesticulating dramatically, “Your Prophet!”

The cheers were deafening.

As you scanned the masses, you felt the blood ooze down your arms and curl around your fingers, pooling on the ground by your feet.

You found Yara, who was somehow clapping and cheering more enthusiastically than anyone else. And then you saw L, held up on their mother’s hip, face concerned, eyes wide and wary.

At least someone was as skeptical as you were.

You wondered if you would get to go home now.

But Elder Constance placed her hands on your shoulders again, this time turning you and leading you in the opposite direction, into the Prophet’s grand house. Into Sanctuary.

There, servants’ gentle hands carefully cleaned your stinging wounds, took down and brushed out your hair, and helped you change into a new white dress.

You would never live in your mother’s house again.

And it would be eight years before anyone addressed you by your name.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

[sissylittlefeather]

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long! I have a hard time writing sometimes, but y'all keep me inspired and I thank you for it. ICYMI, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Special thanks to @ccab for loving this series so much that I can't abandon it. This one's for you, baby.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, AND DRINKING, POSSIBLE ALCOHOLISM, and ANGSTTTTTT

Word count: ~3.5k

There's no way he's leaving you now. Not like this.

******

When your alarm goes off the next morning you roll over and groan, turning it off haphazardly. Elvis has been awake for a while, watching you sleep. He knows today might be rough for you, but he has a question that's burning in his mind and just won't go away. Seeing you last night has him worried about your wellbeing.

"You alright, honey?"

"Mmm. No." You groan and snuggle into his chest. Your hangover has your head pounding and your stomach rolling over. You want nothing more than to sleep in his arms for the next 24 hours, but he seems determined to wake you up.

"You need food. Come on." He tries to get you out of the bed, but you don't move.

"Later. I need sleep."

"Y/n, it's almost noon." You laugh.

"So much for my 10:30 class."

"Come on, honey. We gotta get up."

"Why??" You whine and snuggle under the covers again.

"Because we need to talk." This gets your attention. It doesn't sound like he has a good talk in mind. Has he had enough of you? You should've known this was coming. You've been a mess for almost two years now. It makes sense that he would notice it and want to cut ties as soon as possible. Making a portal will be difficult if he doesn't love you or even like you anymore. You sit up and grimace.

"Talk about what?"

"Let's just go get some food." Somehow, you manage to slink out of bed and get some clothes on. You know you must look terrible, but you don't care. It matches the way you feel, both physically and emotionally. He's not even gone yet and you already miss him.

About twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a booth at a local breakfast place and he waits for you to finish as many fried potatoes as you can stomach before he comes back to his question.

"Y/n, I told you we need to talk about something."

"I know. You're ready to leave and never come back, aren't you?"

"What? No. The exact opposite. I'm worried about you."

"About me? Why?"

"Are you happy?"

"Right now?" You look around the restaurant and consider your current level of happiness.

"No. When I'm not here. Are you... are you okay?" You look down at your hands. So he has picked up on the fact that you're not doing so great. You think for a long time before you answer him. Should you be honest and tell him that you've been miserable every day for almost two years? Or should you act like everything is fine, so he'll go back through the portal to his own life? You look back up into his eyes and know you can't lie.

"No. I'm not." He grabs your hand where it sits on the table and watches as your eyes fill with tears.

"That's what I was afraid of. It's my fault isn't it?" He rubs small circles on the back of your hand.

"No, Elvis it's not you. I just should never have left you alone. I know how much it hurt you. I'll regret it forever." A single tear slides down your cheek.

"Honey, no. You had to go. We didn't know any other way. I understand that. I don't blame you for anything." He stands up and scoots in next to you on your side of the booth as the tears start to stream down your face and your shoulders quake with the intensity of your sadness. You feel his arm wrap around you and he holds you as tightly as he can without hurting you. You cry and cry into his chest and it feels like all the pain from the last two years finally has some release.

He holds you and looks at the ceiling trying not to let his own tears fall. His resolve to never leave you gets stronger and stronger. How could he when he knows how badly you need him?

******

You spend the next week together and slowly you start to feel better. His presence is reassuring and almost healing. Knowing that he's forgiven you does wonders for your depression. Still, every time he ignores a portal, a small part of you worries that he might be missing his last chance. You know he has to go back. He has to become the man the world knows. And as much as you want to keep him here, you know he can't stay forever.

On Friday, one of your friends invites you to a party at his house. Elvis is nervous about you drinking again, but he agrees to come along just to be with you. Before you head over, your friends come over to pre-party like always. The shots of Fireball start to go around again and Elvis throws back two just to try to ease his nerves about how the night will go. He has a bad feeling, for some reason, but the Fireball helps.

By the time you get to the party, you're both pretty relaxed and ready to have a good time. You stay together and mingle with the other party guests. When you decide it's time for a second drink, though he tries to stop you gently.

"Y/n, are you sure? Remember how you felt on Monday?" You stop and look up at him surprised.

"I'm sorry; are you my dad now?" He rolls his eyes as you walk away to get another drink. He follows close behind you.

"No, I'm just sayin' maybe you don't really wanna do this again." He steps in between you and the bar. "You know I love you. I just want what's best for you."

"Ha. Okay. How about this: I'll listen to you when you start listening to me about leaving." The alcohol in your system makes you brazen. You can't ignore it anymore.

"That is not the same at all, honey."

"Except it is. I know what's best for you, you know what's best for me. Now, let me get a drink, please." The thought of sending him through the portal inspires you to drink even more, but you know it has to be done. Maybe if you push him away now, it'll be easier for both of you. He steps out of the way to let you walk up to the bar. To your surprise, he gets himself another two shots of Fireball. This may not end well for either of you. When you get away from the bar, he puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close. You think back to your earlier plan to push him away. Despite the unbelievable comfort you find in his embrace, you know now is the time.

"You know, you don't always have to stay with me. You can walk around and talk to people. I'm fine." He looks down into your face, shocked.

"Doll, I'm perfectly happy to stay right here. Fore-"

"Don't say it." You interrupt him before he can. This whole situation is breaking your heart and you just need him to get it over with and go. Before either of you can say anything else though, your friend, Zach, that lives at the house calls to him.

"John! What's up, man?" He pats him on the back and shakes his hand. Elvis quickly rearranges his face to hide everything he's feeling as a result of your conversation. Sometimes you forget he's such a talented performer, but watching him change like this brings it all back to you.

They chat for a bit about music, since Zach was present for Elvis's karaoke success and he plays the guitar himself. Somehow the conversation ends with Zach fetching two guitars from his bedroom.

"Hey, yo, cut the music!" Zach hollers to no one in particular. The party music stops and the jam session begins. Luckily, Zach is an Elvis fan and there's a good number of songs they can play together. When Elvis starts to sing, you notice something you haven't before: the other girls. He certainly has their attention as they stand in various states of attraction. Some giggle, some blush, and some simply stand with their mouths slightly open. You look back at him and he's eating it up. Maybe it's the alcohol, but maybe it's just who he is. You shouldn't be surprised. You've read about him and his ways with women. It's different to see it in action when he's supposed to be with you, though. A few of them come close to him and sit down around him and he sings directly to them with a flirty smile. When he winks at your friend Stephanie, you turn away and head to the bar. There's only one guy back there, since everyone else is busy watching the music taking place in the living room.

"What're you drinkin'?"

"I don't care. Give me a shot of anything."

"A girl after my own heart." He smiles and you notice he's actually really cute with his round blue eyes and sandy brown hair fixed in a faux hawk. You take the shot that he hands you and smile in return.

"Thanks. I'm y/n." You reach out to shake his hand and he kisses yours gently.

"I'm Jeff. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He's a little dorky, but you're kind of into it.

"You're not an Elvis fan, I take it?" He asks.

"Ha, no that's not exactly... I just... it's hard to explain."

"No worries. We can talk about something else. What's the best concert you've ever been to?"

Your conversation continues while Elvis plays in the living room. He looks up from the throng of girls that has gathered around him to try to find you, but you're nowhere to be found. He turns back to Zach and hands him the guitar.

"Thanks, that was fun. I've gotta find my girl, though." The party music starts back up and the girls close in on him to try to get him to dance, or more, but he gently brushes them off. He's getting more and more nervous about your whereabouts. When he finds you, you're doing another shot with Jeff. After you finish it, you lean your head on his shoulder and laugh. You've had more than enough alcohol and you're clearly not thinking straight. Elvis stands there in shock for a good thirty seconds before he walks up to you.

"Are you having fun?"

"Oh shit, it's my boyfriend." You giggle and pop your head up.

"Something like that." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you over to him. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Maybe I don't want to leave. Maybe I want to stay here with Jeff." You gesture to the guy at the bar. Elvis's eyes burn with something you haven't seen before. It's a kind of possessive anger and jealousy and you should know not to push him. But you're drunk and sad and want to push him away, so you double down. "Maybe you should take one of your fangirls home."

"Oh shit." Jeff says and laughs out loud. Elvis turns to him and grabs the front of his shirt.

"Give me an excuse, fucker." This sobers you significantly and you step in between them facing Elvis.

"Babe, don't. Okay? I'll go with you." You almost called him Elvis in front of all these people, but you caught it at the last second. Still, the pet name seems to pull him back down to earth and soften him. He lets go of Jeff's shirt and puts his arm around your shoulders.

"Let's get the hell outta here." He guides you to the exit, forgetting that you drove and shouldn't drive home. He digs your keys out of your purse and gets you settled in the front seat. Then, he slides into your seat behind the steering wheel. He knows how to drive a car, obviously, but this is not any kind of car he's familiar with. It takes him a good ten minutes, but he eventually figures out the push-button start and how to adjust your mirrors and seat with the electric controls. While he's doing all of that, all you can do is look out the window and cry quietly. You know what needs to happen tonight. And more importantly, you know what you're sending him back to. Or rather, who you're sending him back to. He'll fall in love a few times and none of them will be with you. And then he'll get married. That won't be you either. You can't live like this anymore. You have to let him go. And the very thought of that damn near breaks you.

"Hon? What's wrong?" He's finally figured out how to drive your car and noticed that you're crying.

"You have to leave. Tonight."

"What the hell? Because of the other girls? Look, I'm sorry about that. But I don't want any of them. I don't want anyone but you." He reaches out and touches your face and it just makes you cry harder.

"No, not because of that."

"Then let's just forget about it. I'm not going anywhere." You ride the rest of the way in silence with his hand in yours, tears still sliding down your face.

Finally, you get back to your house and you've managed to stop crying. He comes around to your side to help you out of the car. You're so exhausted from the events of the evening that he half-carries you to your room.

When you make it inside, you stand in your room just looking at each other. He leans down and kisses your mouth gently. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss, putting every emotion you're feeling into the movement of your tongue against his. He snakes his arms around your waist and holds you close, pushing your hips into his. You feel his erection growing and swallow the lump in your throat. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"You're not too drunk for this?"

"I'm really not. I promise." He sees how clear your eyes are and knows you're telling the truth, so he goes back to kissing you. You know you'll need to have sex with him to do what needs to be done. But the fact that this is probably the last time you will hits you squarely in your chest and settles there.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head and you do the same with his. He presses his chest to yours and puts his hands behind your back to undo your bra. For the first time, he manages to get it off all by himself.

"Ah ha! I got it!" He's so excited that he tosses your bra to the side and lifts you so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. You grab onto him and hold him a little too tightly. He lays you down on the bed, climbing in next to you, and puts his hand on the side of your face.

"Doll, what's wrong? Please tell me." You search for something you can tell him that won't give away your plan.

"I'm just sad again. Ignore me."

"You know I can't do that. Do you not want to do this?"

"No! I want to! I need it. Please." He remembers how you were there for him when he needed you and nods.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop." He runs his hand down your neck to your chest, massaging your breast gently. Then, he keeps going down to your hip, pulling you into him. He kisses down your neck and slides his hand under your pants and down to your center. Teasing your entrance with his finger, he gathers some of the wetness gathered there and begins to massage your clit. You moan softly and your hips buck forward into his hand.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"God, yes."

"Good. I just wanna make you feel good tonight." You whimper as he pulls his hand out to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs and off. He makes his way back up to your center, pressing hot kisses to your legs along the way. When he gets back up to the place where your thighs come together, he presses a kiss to you through your panties. He pulls them off too and pushes his mouth onto you, settling his tongue on your clit. He licks up each side and then begins to move over and around it in the way that only he can.

"Yes! Elvis!" You moan loudly and run your fingers through his hair.

"That's my good girl." He says it quickly and goes back to licking you. You feel the pressure of your orgasm gathering in your center as he laps at you, moving down to slide his tongue into your slit periodically. Finally, he slips two fingers into you and pushes them in and out quickly while he tightens his tongue and drags it over your clit repeatedly.

"Oh God! I'm gonna come!" You whisper breathlessly.

"Do it, baby, come for me. I wanna feel you." Just as he ends his sentence, you feel the burst of your orgasm take off and reverberate across your body.

"Ohhhhhh, fuck, yes." You moan through gritted teeth as you pulse around his fingers. He smiles and kisses your clit one last time before taking his pants off.

The thing that's settled in your chest threatens to come screaming out of you and you feel the tears begin to gather again. As he climbs back up your body, you grab him and pull him into a kiss, hoping you can distract him from the fact that you're almost crying again. You press your forehead to his with your eyes closed and whisper.

"Make love to me, Elvis." He pulls back and looks you in the eye. Something is wrong and he knows it.

"Do you know how much I love you, y/n?"

You nod and lose control of the tears as they run down your cheeks. "You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, please. I need to know you love me." He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes into you slowly. When he fills you fully, he pulls back and slides into you again.

"I love you more than I ever thought was possible." He kisses your cheek and thrusts into you again. "I love you so much that I don't even feel like I'm fully myself without you." Your voice catches in your throat.

"Please don't say that."

"Y/n, I love you with everything that I am." He continues to push into you slowly, picking up speed with each thrust. You grab him and hold him tightly while he moves against you. You wrap your legs around him and try to get as close to him as possible. If you could, you'd melt into him completely and stay with him forever. But you can't and you know that. So instead you hold him and cry silently as he drives into you as gently and lovingly as possible.

"I'm gettin' close, doll." You nod and he kisses the tears on your cheeks. He begins to pump in and out faster before he reaches his climax and moans loudly, shuddering into you. He pulls out of you and rolls over, cradling you against his chest.

When you hear the buzzing sound, you squeeze him tight and then stand up. Your hands are shaking and the tears continue to flow.

"Get up, Elvis. You have to get dressed."

"What? No. I told you-"

"Do you want to go through naked?!" You yell at him and he stands up ready to fight you on this.

"I'm not going! I'm staying here with you forever, y/n! I can't leave you. You're the love of my life."

"No. I'm not. You have to go back to her. You have to get married and be a dad. I can't take those things from you." You toss him his pants and he puts them on without thinking.

"Then I'll marry you. I'll have babies with you. That's what I want anyway!"

"You can't. Elvis, God, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. You know I will always love you, right?"

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For this." You shove the rest of his uniform into his hands and push on his chest with both hands as hard as you can. You manage to catch him off guard just enough and he stumbles backwards, falling through the portal.

"Nooo!!" You hear him yell as he disappears.

The portal closes with a pop.

You fall to the floor and sob openly.

******

Back in 1960, Elvis falls backwards onto the floor of the train station and scrambles into the bathroom. He manages to get his uniform back on and then slides down the wall, tears streaming down his face.

What will happen to you without him?

Will he ever see you again?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will there be a next chapter?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #how the web was woven

[standfucker]

Breathe Me In

Character: Smoker

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 7.4k

CW: minor injury and first aid (not graphic but stitches are mentioned), explicit N.SFW content, breathplay, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy

Summary: As a woman in the Marines, the path to Read Admiral has been rough, but Smoker's been there for you since the beginning.

Ao3 Link

🎉🎉🎉🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zoros-sheath !!!🎉🎉🎉🎉 Hope the 2.5 days of anticipation weren't too rough on you. Good job! You did it! You waited and here it is! Sweet n' spicy and served hot just for you! <3 I love you!

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he pours the disinfectant over the wound on your arm, and your breath turns into a hiss.

“I know,” he says. “Sorry, kid.”

“We’re the same age,” you say automatically, as you always do. Not that it’s ever stopped him, he’s been teasing you with that ever since he learned he was seven months older. “And you don’t need to apologize.”

You can handle a little pain. As a Rear Admiral, this is far from your first rodeo, but you always stay mindful of how you’re appearing to your unit. None of them are in the tent at the moment, though, nor is Smoker one of yours–ranking a spot above you, the Vice Admiral led his own team–but habits were habits.

Both of your units had been assigned to the same mission, which was always a delight. You and Smoker had gone through basic training together and started out in the same unit, but didn’t get to see each other as often once you'd both advanced to the higher ranks. You used to hate how he always seemed to be just a step ahead career-wise. You would advance to his level, share a few months to a year at the same rank, and then he would ultimately earn a promotion, leaving you with the dispiriting sense of being second-best. He had even been in charge of you at one point when he was made Captain of your unit. But despite that, you’d have never made it this far without him in the first place, his competence and strength a point of burning motivation for you.

“Not the same age,” Smoker mutters, the childish banter his attempt to distract you. “I’m thirty-six and a half.”

Since the beginning, there had always been a charged undercurrent to your rivalry. You felt it when you sparred, you felt it when you half-jeered, half encouraged each other during grueling physical fitness tests. You felt it when you ate together, and when you reached down to tap your shared bunk frame at lights-out. You felt it most when, every night, without fail, you’d hear a return tap. Each of you pushed the other to excel as you rose through the ranks, and became better soldiers, and eventually leaders, for it.

The life-and-death battles that came with experience only strengthened your bond. Having each others’ backs in a fight brought a depth of trust that few other situations could, you’d found–it seemed inevitable, then, when your relationship turned physical. Though neither of you were as interested in other people, you weren’t exclusive: A near-death experience on your end made you question the wisdom of such an arrangement with both parties in such high-risk employment. And for years, that was fine with you, and you’d assumed it was fine with Smoker. You would get to see each other when work let your paths cross, and you both made a point to try to spend time together if your vacations overlapped. But at last year’s Marine Ball, Smoker had asked you, flat-out in that direct manner of his, if you would be exclusive with him. You asked for some time to think it over, promising him an answer by the time you next met.

That time happened to be the start of the current mission, a few weeks ago. Smoker made a valiant attempt to hide his pleasure when you told him you accepted. He didn’t smile in front of anyone else, nor did he treat you differently while they were watching, but it still slipped out in other ways. He went noticeably easier on his men, even holding his tongue rather than scolding Tashigi when she lost her glasses again. Watching his unit trying to figure out why their Vice Admiral seemed in such a good mood was a source of great entertainment for you.

Unfortunately for everyone, it didn’t last. The mission ultimately led to a fight with the pirates you’d been hunting, and Smoker had been pissy ever since. In the heat of battle, he didn’t notice an enemy taking aim at him. You did, managing to push him out of the way and getting grazed in the process. It wasn’t serious, but you knew that stubborn chimney would hyperfocus on it for a while, replaying the situation in his head and trying to figure out what he could have done differently.

Smoker’s insistence on treating your wound himself, having gruffly dismissed both medics from the tent, was proof enough of that. 

“Sutures now,” he says.

You could usually tell what he was thinking because you thought the same way. Both of you were quick to blame yourselves, to shoulder the burden because you were strong enough to. His sense of duty and yours could clash at times; you shared that headstrong independence in common. And yet, at the end of the day, your decision to accept his offer had been an easy one. 

More importantly than loving you, Smoker respected you–and you’d like to keep it that way. He was never a dick about gender like many in the Navy could be, but your conduct was always in the back of your head regardless. Not appearing weak was crucial to social survival in this line of work. And so, even though Smoker is safe, you do your best not to react when he starts to stitch. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop a twitch here, a contorting of your face there, and Smoker sighs through his nose, twin plumes of smoke puffing from his nostrils like a dragon. 

“Even after all this time,” he grumbles. "You don’t need to act tough in front of me. You’re just like Tashigi… Or, I should say, Tashigi takes after you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The pain makes you respond a little more snappily than you normally would. You don’t appreciate the implications of him naming the only women he spends time with, for one. For another, you’ve informally adopted Tashigi and will hear no slander toward her, but Smoker surprises you with his response.

“You put on a brave face,” he glances at you for a moment before returning his focus to your wound, “because you have to work twice as hard to gain half as much respect.”

That catches you off guard. As much as you love Smoker, and as sensible as he usually is, that’s not something you’d expect to hear from a man, much less a military man. Neither had you ever felt it necessary to discuss that aspect of your life with him, so you ask, “who told you that?”

“Vice Admiral Tsuru.”

You blink. “What brought on that conversation?”

“It was years ago, when we had our big fight,” Smoker briefly looks up as he recalls it. The continued disrespect of your male peers had reached a boiling point, and Smoker’s promotion ahead of you had brought out some hard feelings. “She overheard us, apparently. I didn’t ask, but she approached me with a ‘word of advice,’ and told me her guess as to why you were upset. Said I ought to go easy on you.”

“She did?” You didn’t expect that, either. Tsuru had never once coddled you, nor had she treated you any differently from other soldiers. Like any other Vice Admiral, she demanded no less than excellence from the rank and file. To think she was looking out for you behind your back brings a small smile to your face, but Smoker only rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. And years later, when Tashigi was assigned to me–Tsuru didn’t say anything, but she made eye contact with me the next time we met. Sustained eye contact.”

You laugh; he does not, silently tying off the sutures and starting to bandage your arm. You watch Smoker work. His expression doesn’t change much, but you know him well enough to read the minute differences, the slight tensing of his brow and the way he bites down just a bit harder on his cigars.

“You’re still mad.”

“Why did you take the bullet?” He cuts right to the chase, pausing his work to give you a hard look.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, too, as you hadn’t taken anything, you’d only been grazed. The wound wasn’t even that deep, whereas Smoker getting shot directly would have been a far worse injury to treat, assuming he survived it at all. “Smoker, that pirate was using Colors of Arms. It would have hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead.” His voice is carefully flat as he resumes bandaging, the way it is when he’s making an effort not to raise it–he learned early on that you have zero tolerance for men shouting. 

This conversation always happened after combat situations, to the point that it long since stopped being a bother. You know how to handle it now. Once it would have aggravated you, feeling like coddling, but you’d since come to learn that Smoker got irritable when anyone under his command was injured. Pretending like he would feel any less toward his partner was unfair to him, and a naive expectation in the first place. Not much raises his spirits in these situations aside from time, but you try to be lighthearted anyway.

“In the interest of tactics,” you point out, “as the strongest one in our group, it’s more important that you stay uninjured.”

“Screw that. You’re under me in rank–”

“Barely–” you try to cut in.

“–it’s my job to keep you safe.” Smoker finishes wrapping your wound. He’s delicate when he tucks the bandage in, but then peels off his rubber gloves and tosses them with far more force than necessary, the rubber snapping loudly against the waste bin.

You tsk. “Did you forget what they taught us as grunts, way back when? ‘Keep the Captain alive.’ And you did keep me safe, didn’t you? You subdued the pirate with the opening I gave you. I kept my Captain alive, you kept the rest of us safe. The system worked as it should.”

“The system is a fucking joke,” he retorts with a bitterness you rarely hear from him. His hands ball into fists, and you know he’s thinking about Punk Hazard again, which means he’s thinking about Alabasta again, too.

You also know that his stewing in those memories will only make him feel worse, but there’s another way to lift his mood that occasionally works, when he’s receptive to it.

“...Yeah? Is that what you keep telling yourself whenever you’re fooling around with your subordinate?” You say it just a touch vampishly, and his eyes are slightly narrowed when they meet yours–he knows what you’re doing. “You should know better, Captain.”

Calling him ‘Captain,’ evoking the old days and the old power dynamic, is another dead giveaway as to what you’re offering. For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and you think his mood’s too sour to reciprocate. Then he relaxes his fists and grunts.

“I don’t tell myself anything when we're fooling around,” he says. “You do plenty of that for me. Mainly don’t stop and please.”

You smile, going to rest your hands on his, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, don’t–don’t distract from what happened.”

“Smoker,” you sigh.

“It’s my mistake that got you hurt.”

“Will you please stop taking responsibility for my choices? I know what I can handle. Hell, you know what I can handle. You know I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” he argues.

“Apparently not!” you snap. He scowls and turns his head, ashamed, but you grab his sleeve to make him look at you again. You are not going to coddle his ego, even if his intentions are ultimately loving. “Put yourself in my shoes for a damn second. How would you feel if you had the chance to protect me and didn’t? You wanted to be committed to each other. That means I look out for you, too.”

Smoker stares at you, then at the ground, and then closes his eyes. You wait patiently as he takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, you can visibly see the tension easing in his shoulders, sense its waning with your Haki, dissipating with the smoke he exhales. Stepping before you once more, he rests his hands low on your hips and pulls you close without a word. Conveniently, with him having over a foot of height on you, you can embrace him without the threat of cigar smoke up in your face; you promptly take advantage of that to bury your face into his broad chest (another win for height difference.)

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads in your chest at how easy it is for him to admit it, to defer to your judgment when rightfully earned. “I just hate seeing you injured.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re my woman.” Smoker grabs your ass in emphasis, squeezing hard and pulling you flush against him. You can’t help but bite your lip at the treatment, and he smirks down at you. “Like the sound of that?”

“I dunno…”

“You’re blushing.”

“So are you!”

That makes him pause, taking a moment to check the surroundings with his Haki, making sure no one’s heading your way. You instinctively follow suit, sensing the various life energies of your combined units, all at their respective posts. Comfortably in the clear, you and Smoker focus back on each other.

“I know you're still frustrated, Smoker,” you say. “If only there was some way to work it out…”

“I’m getting the subtle impression you want me to take it out on you.” One hand leaves your rear to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly on your lower lip. You poke your tongue out to brush the calloused digit, making his eyes half-lid and his voice deepen. “Are you really such a slut that you’d fuck right after getting injured?”

“Only for you, Captain,” you promise. Keeping eye contact, you lightly bite the tip of his thumb, earning the rare sound of his breath catching. “Besides…we both know it would have to be deeper than that to affect me.”

“How deep we talkin’?” Smoker’s hand slides from your jaw to cradle the back of your neck. You go to hook your arms around his neck, but raising your injured arm up above your head agitates your wound, torn muscles burning, and you can’t stop yourself from sucking in a sharp breath at the sting. 

Smoker clicks his tongue, large hands gently wrapping around your forearms and lowering them back to your sides. “You need to rest.”

“Nooo, no I don’t. This is nothing,” you protest.

“You’re in pain.”

“I like a little pain.”

“Trust me, Y/n,” he says, touching under your chin. “I am well acquainted with the kind of pain you like. This ain’t it.” 

“You’re literally not the boss of me.”

“And yet, so often, you beg me to be just that.”

Unamused, you tilt your head away so he isn’t touching you, trying not to frown as your heart sinks. By now, you should be an expert at dealing with disappointment, but it never gets easier. God, but it feels like a physical thing sometimes, creeping and icy like a winter sea. “By the time I heal enough, we’ll have parted ways again.”

“I know.” Smoker takes your hands in his; a small consolation.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you next.” You look at him, squeezing his hands.

“Pretend it’s the old days,” Smoker suggests, “when you couldn’t stand to even share a bunk with me.”

You smile at the memory–it seems like a lifetime ago. “That doesn’t help. I wanted to fuck you back then, too.”

That finally makes him smile slightly, the corner of his lip curling. “Then you’ll just have to wait,” he lets go of your hands to hold your face again, leaning in closer, “and I will take great satisfaction knowing you’re touching yourself in private, thinking about what I’ll do to you when I see you next.”

You wet your lips, pulse jumping at the thought. “Why don’t you give me a little preview? I mean, I did just save your life and all…”

Smoker grins, taking out his cigars with one hand and stubbing them in the palm of the other. It doesn’t hurt him given his Devil Fruit, but there’s something about the entire process, from watching the cigars leave his lips to hearing the sizzle as they’re put out, that just makes you wet. Maybe it’s a conditioned response–he’ll move his cigars out of the way to kiss you, but if he stubs them out, it means he intends on taking his time.

“Fine, but don’t complain when you get worked up for nothing.”

“I’ll deal.”

“You say that now–”

You grab the collar of his jacket with your good hand, using your full strength to yank him down to your level. “Would you please shut up and kiss me?”

Smoker responds with equal force, grabbing you by the neck. Your resulting moan is cut off by his lips crashing into yours.

Finally. It’s been months since you’ve last tasted him, even longer since you had him. And while you always missed him when you were apart, it was noticeably worse ever since he asked you to be exclusive. Maybe it was the knowledge that he wanted you to himself, the desire you now knew burned for no one else.

You part your mouth, tracing his lips with your tongue before sucking and nibbling on them. Smoker matches your energy, following your lead and biting your lower lip. Just as you start getting into it, your tongues meet, and suddenly he’s pulling away. “What?” you ask breathily. “What is it?”

“I changed my mind,” Smoker says.

“What?!”

“Any more and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish, but you don’t bother to hide your displeasure, even glaring slightly. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You know,” you cross your arms, wincing when it agitates your wound, “now that we’re monogamous, it’s kind of your job to meet my needs.”

Smoker looks at you sharply in surprise, but you don’t budge. You’ve dealt with misogynistic bullshit for so long, you’re allowed to weaponize it once in a while.

“You are injured,” he points at you, “I’m not letting you guilt me.”

“I’m just saying, that wouldn’t matter if we were slow and gentle about it–”

“When have we ever done slow and gentle?”

You raise a hand to retort, but then pause. Though you scramble for an example, no matter how much you think back, you realize it’s never really happened. Your meetings with Smoker were so few and far between that you two always ended up blowing off steam intensely. There was one time where your vacations overlapped and you spent a week at a rented cottage, and that was it. Slowly, you lower your hand. “Okay, you got me there.”

“And I promise I’ll get you there again,” Smoker says cheekily, “next time.”

This time, you do roll your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Yeah, here’s some more.” You roll your eyes three more times, just to push his buttons a little.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that one day,” Smoker says, having long-since wisened up to your tactics. “This is bait.”

“It is, but you don’t have to take it.”

“Only one of us is going to be taking it–”

Both your senses go off, Haki alerting you to a soldier approaching the tent–Tashigi. You pull away from each other, fixing your uniforms and putting on a strict air. The two of you have yet to be open about your relationship. Romance between soldiers wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but it was less messy to keep things under wraps.

With the mission over, your units would be going on their separate ships the following morning. This will be the last you see him for who knows how long.

Right before Tashigi reaches the tent, Smoker takes your hand suddenly, pulling you into a hug. He buries his face into your neck, taking in your scent.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mutters, then lets you go.

When Tashigi walks into the tent, you and Smoker aren’t standing as close, and Smoker’s re-lit his cigars.

Before you leave for the night, though, you tap on the exam table, a subtle farewell, and right before you leave the tent, you hear Smoker’s return tap.

It’s been three months since the end of the mission with Smoker. Out of the blue, you receive orders to return to the nearest Marine outpost, three weeks away by sail. The message contains no further information.

It’s not unusual to get such orders. Sometimes plans are too sensitive to be relayed even over a secure transponder snail channel. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying–you hate going on long trips blindly–but such is the nature of the job.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if anyone else would be summoned to the outpost. It could be that only one unit is called in. Occasionally, multiple units are called at once. There’s a small chance that others have indeed been called, and an even smaller chance that Smoker’s unit could be among them. But you snuff out the thought–getting excited only to be let down has happened too many times now, you know better than to get your hopes up. It’s simply not worth the disappointment, so you forget about the possibility.

From the number of ships at the dock, you can gauge that your unit is, in fact, not the only one that’s been called in, but you’re one of the first few to arrive. Whether others will come after is not your concern, so you disembark and head inside to be briefed on the reason you’re there in the first place.

Debriefings are boring. So is the down time in-between that and the following meetings, which are the most boring of all. Holding back a yawn is a monumental feat, but you manage, especially because Admiral Sakazuki is the one currently speaking. He’d tear you a new asshole if he caught you displaying such blatant disrespect.

You don’t care for Sakazuki at all. He’s exactly the kind of man the top brass looks for–rigid, humorless, and austere in his leadership. He’s also short-tempered, rude, and, in general, a giant douchebag. So while you stay alert and attentive as he talks, you have no qualms thinking to yourself, shut up, shut up, shut up…

Not curating your thoughts is a mistake. When Sakazuki mentions his annoyance at civilian interference with a mission, you aren’t able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in time, and he catches you.

The bellowing that follows is deafening, the admonishment humiliating. Sakazuki chews you out and spits you up, right there in front of everyone. Do it again and he won’t bother demoting you, he says, he’ll just roast you alive and serve you to your unit.

The room is dead silent when he finishes. You’ve never felt smaller.

Sakazuki takes a deep hit of his cigar, wraps up the meeting, and dismisses everyone. When you turn around, you see that Smoker is at the back, having joined in late–you didn’t even notice him with the Admiral’s presence bowling over everyone else’s energy. Smoker meets your eye, his gaze carefully blank. You look away as you pass by him.

“Y/n–” he starts to say.

You shake your head tersely, not willing to hear it. Smoker lets you leave.

It’s only a few hours later, after you’ve had some time to cool off, that he shows up again. You’re in the temporary quarters you’ve been assigned–at your rank, at least you have your own private room–laying in the bed when Smoker appears. A small stream of smoke comes from under the door and rises, gathering into a human shape. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s visited you covertly in that way. The shape solidifies and reforms into the man you love, who crosses the room and sits next to you on the bed.

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I know,” you mumble without looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Smoker just rests a hand on your knee and grunts.

Your zero tolerance for men shouting obviously can’t apply to those ranking above you, something you’ve had to accept as a fact of military life. It’s part of what drove you in your career, maybe even the root of your ambition, the reason you dream of being fleet admiral. Sometimes you wonder–is it a powerful woman’s determination to succeed? Or a little girl’s desperate bid for control and security, so that no one could ever assert themselves over her again? Either way, you long to be at the top, so you would never have to sacrifice your principles for the sake of your career ever again.

“Smoker,” you say, still staring at the ceiling. “Do you think ‘admiral’ and ‘admiration’ come from the same word?”

Smoker is quiet for a moment. By now, he knows you so well he probably knows what you’re thinking.

“Dunno, kid,” is his response.

“We’re the same age.”

“Nuh-uh.”

That makes you smile, and you sit up, crawling over and throwing your arms around Smoker. He hugs you back tightly.

“Try to control yourself next time, yeah?” he suggests, patting your back. “You won’t do the world any good demoted.”

“I’m not in this for the world. You know that.”

“Bullshit. You have the lowest rate of civilian losses of all commissioned officers.”

You pull away from him, blinking. “I do? That’s–wait, how do you know that?”

“I snuck into the records office last year.” Smoker caresses the back of your head. “Despite what you tell yourself, you’re a good person, a great soldier, and an amazing leader.”

Your chest swells–with love, with pride–but you raise your chin. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I am.”

You laugh. Part of what you loved about Smoker was his frankness. “I missed you so much.”

He removes his cigars from his mouth. “Show me.”

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him. Just like that, the anxiety of the day dissipates, like the smoke rising from his cigars, and fades away. 

“That proof enough?” you ask playfully.

“No. You’ll need to do better than that, soldier.”

You reposition yourself, straddling his lap, and kiss him again passionately. His tongue swipes across your lips, but despite you parting them, he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, pulling away and trailing his fingers down your neck just to watch you shudder.

“I always did like,” he begins, “how a headstrong, driven gal like you would melt at just a touch.”

You’re a Rear Admiral. An elite, powerful soldier, well-versed in the six powers, and a wielder of both types of Haki. You can take out whole crews on your own. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are now, you want nothing less than to be the best. You have to be nothing short of perfect if you want any recognition.

It’s for that exact same reason why your interests in bed skew the way they do. Being strong all the time is exhausting. Relinquishing control is a release from that weight you carry. With Smoker, you can indulge in that with the complete trust that he’d never hurt you–it’s no wonder you’re weak for him in bed. So where you long to be at the top in your career, you’re quite happy, behind closed doors, to assume the opposite role.

Smoker stubs out his cigars in his palm. Just like before, the action has you pressing your legs together, heart picking up its rhythm. He turns to look for a trash can to throw them, you smack them out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Don’t make me wait, Captain,” you say impatiently, practically crawling onto him. “Not one moment longer.”

“Watch it,” he warns, but he’s smirking.

Smoker picks you up, stands, and turns to the wall, pinning you against it with his body. Then he grabs your face in one large hand and roughly kisses you. You kiss him back hungrily. All the stress from the day, all the frustration from the weeks without him, you pour it all into him. In turn, he lets you know with his tongue and his teeth just how much you’ve been missed. His thick thigh separates your legs while you make out, wedging snugly against your cunt. Back and forth, his thigh rubs into you, and back and forth, your tongues push and pull like waves against the other. There’s a bittersweet cigar flavor to him that you’ve grown addicted to. It tastes like passion and need and home all at once, and you can’t get enough.

Smoker sloppily kisses down your jaw, and you angle your head to make it easier for him, clutching onto his jacket. It’s hard to be rational after so long without his touch, but you’re a disciplined officer before anything else.

“You got condoms?” you ask breathily.

“I don’t,” he answers between kisses. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

You have a birth control implant in your upper arm, but always use a second form of contraception just to be safe–even the implant has a minuscule rate of failure. But that percentage seems incredibly insignificant at the moment.

“That’s okay,” you decide.

“I’ll pull out.”

“Yeah–mm!”

Smoker’s bitten down on the sensitive side of your neck. You clamp your thighs around his, gasping. You intended to touch him back, but as usual, once he starts sucking on your neck, you can’t focus on much else, a little whimper rising from your throat.

It feels so good, little goosebumps prickling throughout your whole body. “Smoker,” you whine helplessly.

He growls in response, a deep sound that makes you twitch between the legs.

“Smoker, no marks,” you barely manage to remind him.

He breaks away. “I know.”

The loss of contact restores some mental perception. As much as he gets off on service, you want to make him feel good too. You rake your nails down his chest, and he shuts his eyes, growling again in approval. Then you lean forward and, standing on your tip-toes, bite his neck, near the base where he likes it.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, digging his fingers into your hips. You can’t mark him either, so you have to keep it light, but he doesn’t seem to care. “There’s my good girl…”

You kiss and lick down his chest, digging your nails into his sides as you go. Smoker shudders as your tongue traces his abs, mouth warm on his skin. You keep going down further, but he stops you once your fingers reach the hem of his pants.

“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, pulling you back up by the arm and pressing you back into the wall. He leans in, caging you with his bulk. “Anything you want.”

You bite your lip, his forcefulness bringing something to mind. “Can you do the thing?”

“Make you lightheaded?”

You nod fervently, and Smoker wastes no time in grabbing your neck.

“No, I mean the other way.”

“Oh.”

“You can keep your hand there, though.” You grin up at him, and Smoker chuckles.

“That’s my needy little soldier, need me to keep you still, hm?” he praises. “Remember the safe signal?”

The safe signal is tapping ‘SOS’ on the other in morse code. You do so on his arm as a confirmation.

“Okay. You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans in and kisses you, sealing your mouth with his own. You grip his wrist, tense in eager anticipation for what comes next.

Smoker transforms a part of his body internally, and, very slowly, wafts it into your throat. You breathe him in gradually, a single, deep breath bringing the smoke into your lungs. You had discovered this particular little activity by accident years ago, but quickly found out two things: First, his smoke doesn’t make you cough, and second, the lack of oxygen makes your head swim in the best way.

The smoke in your chest is warm and comforting, even soothing. You breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose, where the smoke drifts back and reconnects to Smoker’s body. The first breath of him doesn’t do anything, the second starts to bring on a slight airiness, by the third inhale you’re lightheaded and wetter than you’ve ever been.

You grind on his thigh, eyes rolling back. The lightheadedness enhances the pleasure so much you'll cum soon if you keep it up. Smoker presses his thigh up into you further, making you moan, and you reach for his cock. He’s already unbuttoned his pants for relief, as he’s ragingly hard–doing this always gets him really worked up, too. Something about the trust, about being physically in contact with the most life-giving parts of you, about being inside you in a way no other person could be. He feels the pulse of life through your lungs, and it almost makes him as dizzy as he’s making you.

Smoker groans as you start massaging his cock, reflexively thrusting himself into your hand. Thanks to your Marine training, you can hold your breath longer than most, so you stay like that for a while, grinding on his thigh while stroking him and basking in the high, the bliss mounting quickly higher until it explodes. You cum hard against the solid bulk of his thigh, pulling your head back and gasping fresh air as your vision spots.

“There you go, good girl,” Smoker praises, grabbing your hips and grinding you onto his thigh to draw out your orgasm. “Take deep breaths for me.”

You do as instructed, holding onto him and closing your eyes, slowly regaining oxygen as your clit throbs in the wake of everything. You take a few minutes to recover, Smoker peppering kisses all over your face in the meantime.

“All clear,” you say, wrapping your arms around Smoker’s neck. “Fit for duty and reporting for action.”

He leans in and kisses you, then kisses your jaw, making his way to your ear, where he growls, “how do you want me?”

What a dumb question–do you ask a starving man which restaurant he wants to go to? “Don’t care. Just have me.”

“Suit yourself. You got a change of clothes here?”

“Yeah.”

Without further notice, Smoker grabs your shirt at the neckline and tears it off your body in one motion. He knows better than to do the same to your bra (after having yelled at him years ago that good ones aren’t cheap,) letting you take it off yourself. Then he adjusts you so only your upper back is leaning against the wall, your hips perched on his own, with your legs wrapped around him for support. Now having some space behind your lower back, he grabs your wrists and pins them there.

“Don’t complain about your choices later,” Smoker says, and kisses his way down your breast until he’s reached your nipple, which he takes into his mouth.

“No, Sir–ah!” you bite back your moan as he swirls his tongue, tugging helplessly against his hold on your wrists. “Fuck!”

His tongue prods and licks your nipple, eyes fixed on your strained face, then he messily pops off and goes to your other one, sucking it hard.

“Smoker! Ah! Please…” you moan. His attention to your chest is the worst kind of teasing, making your engorged clit ache to be touched. You try in vain to grind against him for some relief, but with your wrists pinned behind your back, you can’t get any leverage. “Please!”

Smoker detaches from your chest, leaving a rough bite to your breast before responding. “What did I say about complaining?”

“I changed my mind!”

“Imagine that.”

He goes back to slurping and sucking on your tits, and you can do nothing about it but struggle against him, gasping and moaning as his teeth gently scrape your nipples.

“Please, Sir!” you beg.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I need it!”

He kisses your nipple sloppily, pausing to ask, “you fantasize about it?” Then he sucks it into his mouth again, watching your expression as you struggle to respond.

“Yes! I–fuck–I thought about you every night!”

“What did you imagine me doing to you?”

“What do you think?” you whine, losing composure.

“Tell me.”

You could cry with frustration. He keeps teasing your chest while you try to form the words. “I thought about you–manhandling me, pulling my hair…”

“And?”

“And holding me down, and fucking me stupid!” you sobbed. “Please, please!”

“Please what, soldier?”

“Please use me for yourself! I want to forget everything but your name!”

He smirks, finally satisfied. “You sound damn good begging, you know that?”

Letting go of your wrists, Smoker tears your pants off of you as easily as he did your shirt, gripping the cloth so hard your underwear beneath is torn off with it. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his massive cock springing rigid against his abs, smearing pre-cum on his skin. You practically salivate at the sight, but he tilts your chin back up to look at him, then kisses you, tongue in your mouth as he lines himself up with your heat.

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he thrusts all the way inside your heat, and your breath turns into a broken moan.

“I know,” he growls, kissing up your neck, “attagirl, taking it all.”

“Oh my god,” you rest your head on his shoulder, overwhelmed by how good it feels. “Oh, Smoker…”

He pulls back his hips before rolling them into you, ripping a moan from you both. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He thrusts again. “And warm. So warm.”

Smoker starts up a brisk, steady pace, most of your upper body supported by his arms, just your upper back resting on the wall. It’s still not enough for him; he presses you back even further until you’re flat against the wall, thrusting up into you desperately. You grab onto his thick arms, fingers digging in, and hold on for the ride, eyes shutting tightly as he rapidly drags you back to another peak.

“Such a loyal little soldier, taking care of their captain…” he murmurs, and you cry out as you cum a second time. He moans at the feeling of your walls spasming around his cock, slowing down so he can kiss you.

Smoker pulls away from the wall, walking you toward the bed. Unable and unwilling to wait, you use the strength in your thighs to ride him standing, fucking yourself on his dick as he walks. The sensation makes him stagger and groan, cursing.

“So desperate for my cock,” he growls into your ear, then picks you up off his length and tosses you, face-down, onto the bed. Before you can so much as turn your head, he smacks your ass hard, making you moan, then grabs your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Well, Y/n?” he asks. “Am I meeting your needs now, you little slut?” He slaps your ass again, drawing another pathetic noise from you, then mounts you from behind, his broad torso covering your back.

Smoker teases the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you practically throw yourself back onto him. Growling, he grabs your hips and spears you on his length, grip bruising as he starts heavy, rough thrusts.

“Yes!” you cry, finally getting what you’ve craved all these months. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You take it so well, Y/n, and you’re all mine.” Smoker lets go of your hip with one hand to instead curl his fingers into your hair at the base, pulling your head back so he can growl into your ear, “I love knowing that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

“Captain!” you moan, bracing against his powerful hips. “Don’t stop!”

He doesn’t slow down for a moment, never changing pace, working you back up and up and up until you’re moaning with every thrust.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Me too,” he pants. “Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good.”

“Finish inside!”

“What–?”

“Please!”

He slows for just a moment in his surprise, but then gets back to his former pace. “Ain’t there a chance you could get pregnant?”

Now, you weren’t interested in having children. The idea occasionally had some appeal, but you preferred your life as it was. And yet, for some reason, at Smoker’s words, you felt your clit throb and your cunt clench around his dick tightly, enough that he definitely noticed.

“You want that?” Smoker says in disbelief.

“No!” you cried, but it was too late, he pulled your head back again and spoke into your ear.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to knock you up?”

You clenched down on him again involuntarily as you sobbed, “that’s not it!”

But Smoker had found a new weak point of yours, and pounced on it fully. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna make you have my baby,” he growled, “then you’ll really be mine forever.”

The edges of Smoker’s form begin to wisp. You’ve heard of inexperienced Logia types losing control of their form when stressed, something fixed with training. At Smoker’s level, it only happened to him when he was about to cum really hard.

“Or is it,” Smoker pants, “you just want to be full of my cum that badly? You’d risk it just to have me claim you… Oh–oh, fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back as you both hit your peak at the same time, Smoker emptying hot and thick inside you, his groan coming from deep in his belly. The nerves of your cunt spark and snap and go off like fireworks, showering your whole body in bliss that radiates in waves. His head rests on yours, his lips finding the back of your neck, kisses now soft and chaste instead of rough and wet.

Smoker readjusts you to both lay down, not pulling out, just holding you to his chest. You close your eyes as both of you catch your breath, soaking in the closeness while you can. You take in everything you can of that moment: his scent, the sweat rolling down your bodies, his firm body against and inside you still, his arms holding you close. You try and imprint it into your brain, so you can hold onto the memory in the coming lonely months without him.

“I love you,” Smoker says softly.

“I love you too,” you murmur. He’s quiet after that, but you can sense that there’s something else he wants to say. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about getting married someday?”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. The look in his eyes is the same as always: serious and forthright, though now beholding you, there’s a gentleness in them as well. He pulls out and you turn around so you’re facing him.

“Serious?” you whisper.

“Well, you don’t want kids. I gotta do something to make you mine.”

You smile. “Smoker, you don’t have to do anything.” You take his face in your hands. “It’s always been you. You’re the only one who gets me, and who makes an effort. It’s always been you.” You lean in to kiss him. “I would love to get married someday.”

“Good,” he grunts, but there’s a flush to his cheeks. Then he breaks into a rare, genuine smile of excitement. “Really?”

“First I’m going to become an Admiral.”

“What about Fleet Admiral?”

“That can come before or after.”

“Okay.” he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “I don’t doubt you’ll make it.”

“I don’t either,” you say.

Not as long as you have his support.

#one piece smut #smoker one piece #smoker x reader #zen writes

[sequinsmile-x]

Physical Touch

He usually loved when his wife touched him, but it was slowly driving him crazy.

Part of the Love Languages series

-x-

Hi friends!

Well...I should have expected that the smut fic would win the poll by a landslide and here we are haha

I really hope you enjoy this <3 it's soft, smutty and full of Aaron just...pining for his wife. What more could you want on a Thursday evening?

Please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3k

Warnings: Smut, 18+

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He’d known she was tactile long before they got together. 

Aaron had watched her for years, always ready to place a comforting hand on someone’s shoulder or pull them into a hug. More than once he’d found himself wishing she’d do the same for him, the embargo they’d seemingly placed on physical contact between them a two-way thing, something they both upheld, as if they knew it was a line they could not cross. 

He’d held her hand once before they became them. It was when she was in hospital, before she was stable enough to be moved to Bethesda. She’d still mostly been out of it, pain and medication rolling through her in a way he was also familiar with. He’d held her hand, squeezing it tightly as he wore the suit he’d worn to her funeral, a bitter taste on his tongue as he apologised to her. She’d told him since that she thought she’d dreamt it, that she’d pulled him out of her imagination, the warmth of his hand around hers something she’d made up in some strange attempt to self-soothe. 

He’d always known she was tactile, but being in a relationship with her was a whole other level he hadn’t been anticipating. She touched him all the time, ranging from subtle moments, like her fingers trailing over his when she passed him a coffee or a case file, or squeezing his knee under the table when they were at Dave’s for dinner, to more obvious moments. She was a snuggler, something he would never have put money on before their first date. She would wrap herself around him like a vine whenever they were alone, her arm linked through his and her head on his shoulder as they sat on the couch, or she could lay half on top of him in bed, her hand sneaking under his t-shirt as she sought his warmth from the source, falling asleep to the comfort of his heartbeat. 

He loved it. He loved that his wife expressed her love that way, that she’d push his hair out of his face as she told him he needed a haircut, that she also loved their children in the same way. It’s one of the reasons he knew Jack and Violet always sought her out for comfort, her embrace was his place of safety too, something so calming about something as simple as her cheek against his shoulder that he wondered how he'd ever lived without it. 

He usually loved it, but it was slowly driving him crazy. 

He’d dislocated his shoulder in a takedown of an unsub two months ago. The injury had torn his rotator cuff and he’d needed surgery, a simple relocation of his shoulder joint not enough. He could still remember the fear in Emily’s eyes when he’d come round from surgery, how she was barely holding herself together, her grip on his wedding ring that he’d had to take off so tight the imprint lasted for hours. His shoulder had been immobilised with strict instructions on how to make sure he healed properly, and the only time his wife ever paid attention to medical advice to the letter was when it was for him or one of the kids, which had led to one, unfortunate, side effect. 

Aaron hadn’t had sex with his wife in two months. 

He missed her. She was right by his side, but he missed her. Missed the intimacy that had always been an important part of their relationship. Every tiny thing about her was getting to him the longer they went without having sex. Her beauty was bordering on obscene, as it always had, and his breath would catch in his chest whenever he looked at her, or if she walked by and he caught a sniff of her perfume, the scent he knew was simply her always following just afterwards. Even watching her with Jack and Violet, watching how good a mother she was filled his gut with want, with the desire to have more children with her as soon as possible. 

The touching was, however, by far the worst. Every time she touched him he felt his skin fizz, sparks set off just by the feel of her skin against his, and he was close to losing his mind. 

He hears a knock on his office door and he looks up, a smile immediately breaking out across his face when he sees Emily standing in the doorway, her arms crossed as she casually leans against the door frame. 

“Hey honey,” she says, stepping into the office, “Are you ready to go? We, and by we I mean you, promised Vi we’d pick up some dessert on the way home.” 

He chuckles as he thinks about his 2, almost 3, year old daughter. She was a mini Emily through and through, right down to the big dark brown eyes he couldn’t say no to. He stands up and starts to put some paperwork in his briefcase, and he raises his eyebrow at his wife as he looks up at her. 

“You say that like you can say no to her,” he quips, stepping out from behind his desk and walking over to her, quickly stamping his lips against hers.

She hums and kisses him again, her hand hooking around the back of his head, making him shiver as she scratches lightly at his scalp, “We both know I’m the bad cop at home, baby,” she says, kissing him once more before she pulls back, “One of us has to be.” 

He laughs, the sound dying in his throat when she reaches out and places her hand on his chest, rubbing gently at the lapel on his jacket. He can feel her touch through his clothes, her skin somehow burning him through his jacket and his shirt, and he tenses before he can control it. Emily frowns at him, her eyebrows pinching together as she pulls back. 

“You had some lint on you,” she explains, pressing her lips together as she looks him up and down, her eyes slightly narrowed as she tries to figure out what's wrong, “Aaron are you okay? Is your shoulder bothering you?” 

It’s not a lie, not really, because his shoulder was sore. A now familiar ache that got worse throughout the day, radiating outwards from the new scar he bore. It was easier than explaining to her how he was feeling, less embarrassing than admitting he wanted her so much he was thinking about pushing everything off his desk right here and now. 

There were still two weeks until the doctor’s initial advice would run out, and he knew it was going to be the longest two weeks of his life. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling softly at her, rolling his shoulder slightly, “It just aches a bit.” 

She hums and places her hand on it, her concern deepening when he tenses again, “How about when the monsters are in bed I give you a massage?” 

He falters for a moment, sure that would be his undoing, but instead, he nods and decides to deflect as he places his hand on her lower back and guides her out of his office. 

“Why do you get to call them monsters, but I don’t?” He asks, knowing exactly what her answer is going to be. 

She scoffs playfully and looks up at him, her eyes narrowed, “Because one of them came out of me.” 

___

By the time they get the kids to bed, he thinks she’s forgotten. The evening had passed them by with homework, bath time, and bedtime stories, a wonderfully normal evening they both once thought they’d never get. 

He walks into their bedroom to find her kneeling on the bed, wearing one of his t-shirts and a tiny pair of shorts sticking out from underneath, with a bottle of lotion in hand.

She smiles at him, popping open the lid on the lotion as she beckons him over, “Come on, honey,” she says, “I promised you a massage.” She sees the slight hesitation before he walks over, and she hides a smirk by clearing her throat. He sits on the edge of the bed and she rolls her eyes, placing the lotion on the bed before she runs her hands over his shoulders, her fingers meeting at his neck as she starts to undo his shirt buttons, “This works better if you don’t wear your shirt.” 

He nods and helps her get his shirt off, grateful that he’d slipped his tie off when he got home earlier, and he lets the shirt fall to the ground. She puts some of the lotion into her hands and rubs them together before she touches him, warming her palms and the lotion at the same time. 

It’s only when she starts spreading it on his skin, her touch firm but gentle as she pushes her thumbs into his bad shoulder, that he realises she’s using her lotion. One that had a slight spice to it, a scent of cinnamon that followed her everywhere that was now permeating into his skin. He groans, his teeth clenched as he breathes her in, widening his legs as his pants get tighter. 

She frowns, ready to pull away just in case she is hurting him, but then she looks over his shoulder, her lips pressed together as her cheeks flush when she sees the tenting of his pants. She makes a snap decision, wiping her palms on her shirt to get rid of the excess lotion before she climbs out from behind him. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, his eyebrow raised as she kneels on the floor in front of him, her hands already on his belt, undoing it quickly. 

“Come on, Aaron,” she says, unbuttoning his pants and moving them and his boxers just far enough to free him, “It hasn’t been that long,” she says, smiling in a way that seemed far too innocent for where her hand was, “I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me,” she says, pumping him up and down, “Let me help.” 

He nods, not needing any convincing, and his eyes drift shut as she leans forward and takes him in her mouth. He wraps his fists around the sheets of the bed so tightly he thinks they might rip. 

“Fuck, Em. You’re so good at that,” he says, unable to stop himself from thrusting into her throat, the pressure that had been building him in for weeks threatening to blow, “So fucking good.” 

She leans forward until her nose briefly presses against his pubic bone before she pulls back, sucking in a breath before she moves in again, bobbing her head up and down, his chorus of groans her reward. She has to press her thighs together for some friction, so turned on by seeing and hearing him like this that she briefly forgets why it had been so long since they’d done this in the first place. She can feel him start to lose control, his thrusts getting messier, but he stops her, his hand on her shoulder as he encourages her backwards, a desperate look in his eyes. 

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the spit that had connected her lip to the tip of him and she tilts her head, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says, pushing his hands through her hair that he’d clearly messed up, unaware that he’d even grasped it, “I just want to be with you.”

She smiles devilishly, her tongue pressed into her cheek, chasing the taste of him from it, “You are with me.” 

He rolls his eyes at her. He’d missed this too, the ease that came with being with her like this, the familiarity to it. It could be rough, passionate. Tearing each other’s clothes off. Or it could be soft. Full of love and hands pressed together as they showed each other how much they loved each other. 

“You know what I mean, sweetheart,” he says, and she smiles and nods, standing up from where she’d been kneeling. She pulls his pants off the rest of the way and then stands up, ready to straddle him, her desire making her dizzy. It’s only when she leans in to kiss him, her gaze briefly lingering on the new scar on his shoulder, and everything comes back into sharp focus.

“Wait,” she says breathlessly, pulling away from him, “We shouldn’t do this, your doctor-”

“Sweetheart,” he cuts her off, barely recognising his own voice because of how thick it is with desire, rough and gravelly as he stares at her, “You started this.” 

She scoffs, “I started this? You’re the one who got an erection when I just barely touched your shoulder.” 

In any other circumstance, he’s sure he’d laugh. It was so like her to try and start an argument in the middle of sex it made him fall in love with her even more, a feat that always seemed impossible until it happened. He pulls her closer, grateful not for the first time this evening that it wasn’t his dominant shoulder that had been injured, “Because you’re so fucking gorgeous I couldn’t take it anymore.” 

She swallows thickly and looks him up and down, desire sparking under her skin. It had been a long two months for her too, her frustration at not being able to have him so intense she’d yelled at Derek twice in the last week alone when he hadn’t deserved it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she admits, her voice cracking slightly.  He smiles softly, the pent-up, overwhelming, need for her fading for a moment as he reaches out and cups her cheek, tucking some of her unruly hair behind her ear.

“You never could.” 

She thinks about it for a moment before she nods leaning forward to stamp her lips against his before she briefly gets off the bed, dropping her shorts to the ground, “Lean up against the headboard.” 

He does as he’s told, and she pulls a pillow from her side of the bed and slots it between his bad shoulder and the headboard, smiling softly when he stamps a grateful kiss against her lips. She sits on his lap, groaning as she notches over him, a noise he returns when he feels just how wet she is. 

“Fuck, Em,” he says, his hands on her hips as she pulls her t-shirt off, “I’ve barely even touched you.” 

“Yeah, well” she breathes out, rocking her hips over him, “You’re not the only one who’s been missing this,” she says as she wraps her hand around him to guide him into her. 

They both groan as she sinks onto him, the familiar stretch making them both breathless for a moment. 

“Oh fuck,” she says, her eyes rolling back as her head falls backwards for a moment, her hands on his thighs as she clenches around him, the breath stolen from her lungs as she adjusts to him, “God you feel so good.” 

“You do too, sweetheart,” he grunts out, encouraging her closer, tugging at her until they are chest to chest, bare skin pressed against each other as he rests his forehead against hers, “You feel so fucking good.” 

She cups his cheeks, her hands on either side of his face as she keeps her forehead against his and starts to rock her hips against his, a sound she could only call a relieved chuckle escaping her as he meets her thrust for thrust. 

They fall into a familiar rhythm, a sense of desperation woven through it, their eyes locked together as they both move, lost in the feel of each other. Eventually, he feels her hips start to stutter, and her thighs tremble around him. He reaches between them with his good hand and rubs circles on her clit, smiling as she mewls at him, the sound close to obscene as she buries her face in his neck, just about able to remember their children were sleeping down the hall.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, increasing the pressure on her clit, feeling his own orgasm within reach, “Come for me. Let me feel it.” 

She clenches her teeth tightly as she comes, stopping herself from screaming out as her hips buck against him. A spark goes off in her belly and spreads through her entire body, every nerve ending on fire as it washes over her as she moans his name. He isn’t far behind her, the way she clenches around him as she comes the final push he needs, and he buries his face in the top of her hair, her name lost in the dark locks stuck to her with sweat. 

They fall into silence, just the sound of their heavy breathing surrounding them. She’s the first to pull back, smiling lazily at him as she kisses him quickly before she pulls back to look at him, checking him over as if she’s looking for damage. She looks at the scar, placing her hand over it as she still tries to catch her breath, “I hope we didn’t make it worse.” 

“It’s fine, baby,” he says, kissing her temple and then her cheek, encouraging her to turn her head so he can capture her lips in a kiss, “Besides, since when were you such a stickler for doctor’s orders?” 

She playfully narrows her eyes at him but doesn’t pull back, not wanting to put any space between them yet, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Right,” he says jokingly, stamping a kiss against her lower lip, stuck out in a pout she’d always deny, “So it wasn’t you who I caught trying to drive to the store less than two weeks after she had a c-section? My mistake.” 

She blows out a breath and shakes her head at him, her cheeks somehow flushing even though the blush from her orgasm had never gone away, “That was totally different.” 

He chuckles and kisses her, properly this time, and he smiles as he pulls back, “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” 

-x-

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[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 3 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here (feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 3

You attend your first fight club meeting and it causes things to go awry with Hazel.

CW: Canon level violence and gore. Sexual innuendos. Profanities. Angst that turns to fluff. 

You are on the edge of your seat, overwhelmed by anticipation all day. You have a few classes with Hazel, but you don’t get many opportunities to talk to her. You are painfully reminded of the way you two had avoided each other all these years when you found yourself sitting far away from her in every classroom. 

You share your plan to give the fight club a chance with Isabel and Brittany at lunch. The two cheerleaders share stories about the fights they’ve been in over the past few days with a reassuring enthusiasm. They tell you that they were thinking about dragging you along after they had officially tested the waters. They weren’t sure if fight club was your style of chaos or not, but they are excited for you to join. Though you can't help but notice that they are not quite as excited as Hazel. Your friends were surprised that you knew Hazel at all, which makes sense. 

Regardless of being too humble to say it out loud, you are seated atop the throne of the Rockbridge Sapphic Hierarchy. There were queer girls scattered throughout the spectrum based on physical appeal and societal contribution. PJ and Josie are on the complete opposite end of the spectrum from you, scraping the bottom of the barrel. Saying that Hazel was somewhere in the middle would be generous, though she by no means falls under the ugly and untalented category like the other founding members of the fight club. Her adorable face and easy going nature score her a lot of points, at least in your book. You do however understand that not everyone sees Hazel the way that you do. You tell Isabel and Brittany how you and this girl, that is so different from you, are neighbors, neglecting to mention the entirety of the situation. 

For the rest of the day you try to prepare yourself for a fight and spending time with Hazel. You are unsure which is the most daunting. After the last bell you take a deep breath before entering the gym. You immediately spot Hazel across the room in the midst of a deep conversation with Josie and PJ. She is still wearing your sweatshirt. You decide to put your stuff down and not interrupt. You barely have time to say hi to Brittany and Isabel before PJ gets everyone’s attention by yelling “alright bitches circle up!” You move quickly so that you can stand next to Hazel before someone else can. You can see her excitement when she tells you “you don’t even know how happy I am to have you here. I’m glad that we are spending time together again.” Your heart is racing from Hazel’s words even more than the anticipated violence. “Alright skanks, let's get started!” PJ screams and steps into the center of the circle. “I’ll go first,” she announces. She paces around the circle a few times before stopping in front of you. 

“Who am I to pass up the opportunity to draw fresh blood?” She asks, looking around at the rest of the group. An anxious lump forms in your throat. Hazel steps in front of you. “I told you she was with me” she practically growls at PJ, who doesn’t even acknowledge Hazel except for a push out of the way so she can get closer to you. The alleged delinquent looks you up and down hungrily. It’s like she can’t decide if she wants to kiss you or inflict pain. 

“I’m sure she can handle herself, isn’t that right sweetheart?” PJ coos. Hazel tries to protest while you are focused on PJ. “Little miss juvie doesn’t scare me. I can take her,” you declare confidently. 

Have you ever called yourself chaotic? No. Have you ever denied allegations of being chaotic? Also no. Do you shy away from chaos? Absolutely not. While Hazel is a true chaotic good you are more of a chaotic neutral. Your ambitions come first and your morality comes second.

You learned the hard way that you could not in fact ‘take’ ‘little miss juvie’. But you weren’t going down without a fight. The experience was exhilarating despite your struggle to hold your own. You make the first move, a simple shove.

“Is that the best you can do?” PJ taunts, disregarding your inexperience, before delivering a punch to your gut in retaliation. You start to double over in pain and PJ’s other fist meets your jaw in an uppercut. You stumble backwards and PJ takes advantage of that, kicking you in the face. You feel the pain seer across your mouth and cheek. “What a shame,” PJ continues taunting, “to defile such a pretty face.” As PJ regains her footing she looks at Hazel and asks “isn’t that right?” Murmured reactions buzz around you. You take PJ’s temporary distraction as an opportunity to dive towards her legs and knock her off her feet. Her head slams against the ground. Before she can take back the upper hand you clamber over her and grab her wrists. PJ has a smug look on her face as you pin her arms to the ground. You glare down at her and say, “I don’t go down so easy. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You thought you were hot shit for about 10 seconds before PJ admits, “normally I would let a girl as hot as you do whatever she wants to me,” and knees you in the chest before declaring “but not this time.” You crumble to the ground beside her. PJ pulls you up off the ground, onto your knees, by your hair as she rises to her feet. She’s clearly trying to get inside your head as she continues to mock you. “You have overestimated yourself princess.” She circles you like a predator hunting its prey. As you attempt to get up she takes you out at the knees in one swift movement. She approaches and hovers over you. You are expecting a final blow but instead PJ leans in really close like she’s about to kiss you. You lean as far away from her as you can. Nevertheless she continues to get closer. When her lips are about a centimeter away from yours she grabs you by the hand and pulls you to your feet. Everyone applauds, signaling the end of the fight.

“I have to admit babe, I’m pretty impressed. I never thought someone so dignified could also be so scrappy” PJ confesses with a sly smile. “Really?” You scoff, not letting her get inside of your head. 

“Yes. But you’ve got a lot to learn. A pretty girl like you, I’m more than willing to teach you everything I know.” She offers with a wink. You roll your eyes at her. This wasn’t the first time PJ has flirted with you and could only assume that it wouldn’t be the last. Brittany is clearly the girl she has her sight set on but she treats you like a backup plan for when she is inevitably rejected by the very straight, out of her league, cheerleader. Not that you weren’t out of your league. The fact that you were also a lesbian caused her to be bolder than she usually is with others. However, this felt personal and you can’t tell if she wants you or wants to be you. You leave the center of the circle and PJ trades places with Josie, who looks around trying to figure out who she’s going to challenge. 

You take back your spot next to Hazel. She subtly inches towards you. She puts her hand on your shoulder and her lips get close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Are you ok?” She whispers. You give her a nod and she searches your face for something, though you aren’t sure what it is. As she steps away from you she doesn't go far, staying much closer to you than she was originally. Her hand slides down your arm, finding itself in yours. Her hold on you lingers for a moment before she fully lets you go, as if she’s afraid of what might happen when she does. 

There are a lot of fights including a variety of match ups. None of PJ’s other fights get taken to the level that yours did, although she enjoyed getting pinned down by Brittany a little too much. You are very thankful that you only participated in one fight because you are aching all over. Everyone else seems to be handling the pain a lot better than you are. It must be something you get used to. Feeling a little dazed, the longer the meeting goes on, the harder it is to stay on your feet. Once the meeting has concluded the circle disbands and you collect your things. Hazel had taken off your sweatshirt before the meeting to avoid getting any blood on it. She puts it back on and timidly approaches you. “Want to walk out with me?”You just nod your head because your mouth and jaw hurt so much. Your silence seems to make Hazel even more nervous. 

As you push through the doors to exit the gym she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and asks, “so, what did you think?”

You just laugh. “I think I got my shit rocked.”

“I know, I know. But you knew what you were signing yourself up for. You saw me after yesterday's meeting. I will admit that you were at a disadvantage. What I meant was how did it make you feel?” She starts to fidget with her rings, drawing attention to her hands, making you lose your train of thought. Hazel looks at you expectantly and you try to regain your composure as fast as you can. 

“I’m not sure why, but I think it felt… good? I was able to let go of my inhibitions. I felt the pain instead of my feelings.” Hazel playfully punches you in the arm, which is fortunately one of the few places on your body that doesn’t hurt. “Why do you sound so surprised?” She teases “I promised you. Pinky promised. You know that’s practically a blood oath to me.”

“There was definitely blood,” you begin, then mumble “but your promises don’t hold the weight that they used to.” You weren’t sure if you wanted her to hear that or not so you left it up to fate.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hazel questions. She’s not angry, just hurt. Her eyes grow wide with panic. 

“You know exactly what that means,” you snap at her. The fire of all your hurt and resentment burns through the feelings of longing and nostalgia. In rare form, Hazel is at a loss for words. She starts to break out in a sweat. 

“You know what, I am feeling pretty good and I’m not ready to let go of that yet. We are not going to do this right now.” You continue on, leaving her behind. You no longer hear Hazel’s footsteps on the linoleum floors. She’s stopped dead in her tracks. “Please,” she calls after you, her voice strained. 

“Hazel, I told you I’m not doing this right now.” You hear her approaching so you stop and turn around “You’ve been acting like nothing ever happened. Did you think I was just going to forget? Or did you forget because you weren’t the one that got left behind?”

Tears begin to well up in Hazel’s eyes. Her voice cracks as she tries to plead with you, “please, just hear me out, I promise I can explain…” You cut her begging off. “It’s not worth wasting your breath, Hazel. I promise.”

You turn your back on her as tears start to fall from your own eyes. You’re stomping away at first but you can’t get away from her fast enough as your heart breaks all over again. You start to run. It triggers an escalation in your physical pain, but that doesn’t stop you. You are too far into your own head to notice whether or not she is following you.

When you get to your car you throw your bag into the passenger seat and slam the door behind you. You don’t even bother to put on any music. You peel out of the parking lot and drive well above the speed limit while the effects of your injuries continue getting worse. You know that you probably shouldn’t drive like this, but you needed to get the fuck out of there. Once you are parked in your driveway suffering washes over you. Your head falls to the steering wheel and you begin to sob. You had never let yourself cry over Hazel before. Years worth of pain pours out of you, an agony far worse than any physical damage could ever cause. If she had punched you in the face it would at least only have left a temporary mark. There is nothing you can do but let the heartache eat you alive. You have tried to ignore it, but you are in love with Hazel. You wonder if she has any love for at all. If she did, why would she do this to you?

You have no idea how much time has passed when you hear a car pull up next to yours. You turn and see Hazel's car in her driveway. “Fuck!” You scream, balling your fists and pounding on the steering wheel. You sling your bag over your shoulder and make a break for it. You only manage a few steps before your fight catches up to you and you go down. Hard. You hear Hazel coming towards you repeating “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god” until she is knelt down at your side. You turn away so that you don’t have to look at her and she can't see your puffy red face.

“I know that you don’t want anything to do with me, but you need to let me help you.” You can’t stand the effect that she has on you as you weigh your options for a moment. You ultimately end up nodding your head in agreement. You are not sure you could even make it into your house on your own because your head is spinning from the pain and tears. You take a deep breath and turn your head towards her. Hazel’s hands gently move to your face, wiping away your tears and telling you that it’s her turn to take care of you. She puts your bag over her shoulder and wraps her other arm around your waist to help you up. Hazel brings you inside, and helps you get comfortable on the couch. 

“First aid kit?”

“Bathroom. Ice packs are in the freezer.”

It’s been a while but Hazel knows her way around. She rushes around your house and quickly returns with everything she needs. She warns you that she is going to have to get close to you before she kneels down in front of you, settling between your legs. She passes you the ice packs and you put them where you are feeling the most pain. 

“Do you have a hair tie?” She asks. You nod and hold out your wrist. Hazel takes the hair tie and tells you to turn your head. You oblige and she gently pulls your hair away from your face and into a ponytail. You hold your breath the whole time. 

You wince in pain as Hazel attends to your split lip and cheek laceration. That doesn’t stop the feeling of butterflies in your stomach when she touches your face. Your heart nearly stops when her fingers brush over your lips. Once she finishes cleaning you up she sits back on her knees and assures you that you won’t need stitches. You’ve had enough time to calm down so you tell her “you can talk.”

“Are you sure?” Hazel is very hesitant and a little afraid. 

“I’m listening.”

“I want to start off by telling you how sorry I am, and that I only did what I did because I thought that’s what was best for you. I never wanted to hurt you and I thought that letting you go would cause less harm than holding on. I was going through so much and I didn’t want to drag you into it. There were things I couldn’t talk to you about. Couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I had all these feelings… they were so strong… and I didn’t know what to do with them. I didn’t think that you would understand and it felt like I was going to lose you one way or another. So I bit the bullet instead of stringing you along. By the time I came to terms with things it was too late. You had already moved on. You had new friends and popularity. I know now that I was wrong. I was young and stupid and in-“ she pauses for a brief moment and mumbles “in deep.” 

She returns to her previous tone and assures you that “no one has ever been as important to me as you are. You never stopped being important to me. I haven’t gotten close to anyone else because no one could ever replace you. I’ve spent every day since I let you go regretting my decisions but I was also too scared to do anything about it. I hate myself for screwing up my one opportunity to have you back in my life. I’m not asking you to forgive me. All I ask is that you believe me when I tell you that I never meant for any of this to happen and I’m really, truly, sorry.” Hazel is the one crying now. She anxiously waits to hear what you have to say, clearly in distress. You take a moment to collect your thoughts. Your brain is in fight or flight mode, telling you to lash out, but your heart is telling you that it’s time to forgive and forget. So you turn to your intuition.

“I’m not going to forget what happened, but I do believe you. Not a day has gone by that I haven’t missed you” All these years the ‘why’ had cost you countless hours of sleep. You finally have an answer and it gives you a sense of peace. You trust Hazel. Not just because of her history of honesty, but because you know that she is a terrible liar. You needed to get your feelings out, though you should have known you could never stay angry at her. You are hopelessly in love with Hazel Callahan, the girl next door. The tears stop falling from Hazel’s blue eyes and they are filled with a new sense of hope. You reach out to wipe the tears off of her face and she smiles. She throws her arms around you and holds you tight. “I’m never going to do anything like that to you ever again,” she whispers in your ear. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.” You pull away, arms still around her, your faces mere inches apart. A smirk creeps onto your face. “Anything?”

“Yes. Literally anything. Whatever you need and whatever you want. Now that I have you back I’m never letting go again.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

#hazel callahan bottoms #hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #hazel x reader #hazelfanfic #bottoms hazel #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan brainrot #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan master list #hazel callahan x fem reader #hazel callahan headcanons #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x fem!reader #hazel callahan x you #hazelcallahan #hazel from bottoms

[mizukitoyama-blr]

Ushijima x Reader: What Do You Say? [a haikyuu one-shot]

Ok y'all, so my friends and I had an all-nighter where we write one-shots. The twist is, we each wrote down on different sticky notes a character, a plotline, and I think the third is a trope. We did this a year ago and I forgot all about this, but I recently found it so I'm posting it here lol

Trope: Childhood friends to lovers

1899 words

Story under cut.

Finally. Fifth grade. It was Y/n’s last year of elementary school and she was determined for it to be different. She wasn’t the most extroverted; she liked people but was too scared to approach them, and they never approached her. But this year, she was going to make a friend.

Kimi seemed to be sweet, everyone adored her, but when Y/n tried to befriend her, she was nothing but rude. In fact, after Y/n had the “audacity” to try to “be on her level”, Kimi tried to make her year awful. But Y/n wasn’t going to give up so easily. She would have a good year and she would make a friend. No mean girl was going to stop her.

After a while, Kimi and her “posse” started to get physical with Y/n and pushed her to the ground during recess. That’s when she met Ushijima Wakatoshi. He was in more advanced classes, so she hadn’t ever seen him before, not really, but they had recess together. When he saw her get pushed to the ground, he felt compelled to intervene. He stood over Y/n on the ground, his shadow covering her. Though in most cases it may be a sign of intimidation, his shadow symbolized a blanket of comfort. He looked at Kimi and the two other girls and spoke to them directly.

“To treat your fellow classmate in such a way is despicable. She should be your friend, not your adversary. Don’t choose violence as a mode of communication, but talk out your differences. If this is something you cannot do, I’m afraid I’ll be obligated to notify your teacher,” the girls snarled in repulse and walked away. When they were far enough away, Ushijima knelt down to Y/n’s height on the ground, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes! I’m okay! Thank you for helping me,”

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. I am in advanced studies. What is your name?’

“My name, my name is L/n F/n. I’m in general studies,”

“Your knee. It’s scraped and bleeding slightly. Here, use this band-aid,” he told her and handed her a latex patch from his pocket. She finally realized: this could be her new friend!

“Ah! Thank you! Um… do you like advanced studies?” He was a little thrown by the question but answered nonetheless.

“It’s fine. The work is manageable and if it will help me get ahead I have no problem with extra work,” he said while gently pressing the band-aid to her wound. He was quiet as he worked. Then, something told him to engage in conversation with her. “Do you like general studies?”

“Yes! It’s nice and easy, though I still struggle with maths. Do you struggle with maths?”

“No. I find it to be quite easy,” he stated.

“Maybe you could give me some tips on how to do better?”

“It’s pretty simplistic. The more practice, the easier it gets,”

Even after the band-aid was properly secured, the two children continued to talk. Y/n tried her hardest to keep the conversation alive. Even if the question was simple or off-topic she would ask it, and he would reply. Then recess ended, and they had to depart.

“I really enjoy talking to you Ushiwaka! Will you be at recess tomorrow?”

“I always attend recess. It’s important to spend time outside,”

“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow then!” Y/n said and ran off to her teacher.

“Y/n dear, what happened to your knee?” the teacher asked her.

“It got scrapped. But It’s okay because my new friend Ushiwaka helped me! I can’t wait to see him again tomorrow!” Y/n told her and ran inside. What a wonderful friendship they had that year.

***

Y/n closed her notebook at the sound of the bell ringing. Another draining class.

I should have stuck to general studies. She thought to herself. Her friend Taeko put her hands on the front of her desk.

“That was so boring. How long are we going to be on tectonic plates?” she wined.

“I don’t know, but if it will help me get ahead I have no problem with extra work,” Y/n reasoned.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I got a date today,”

“Really? With who?”

“That hot stud from the volleyball team. Reon Ōhira,”

“Do I get to meet him?”

“Uh, doy! I’m going to watch his practice after school. You don’t have horseback riding today, do you? You should come watch with me. Then you can meet him,”

“I’m finished riding horses for the week. I’m happy to meet him today.”

“Awesome! Then you can ogle his teammates. Oh my gosh. I’m a volleyball girlfriend!”

*

School had finally ended and Taeko and Y/n were headed to the gym Reon was practicing in. Taeko slid open the door and as soon as they saw each other they smiled. Reon jogged over to her and nodded his head at Y/n.

“Hey, Reon. This is my bestie, Y/n,”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Reon,”

“So I’ve heard. Nice to meet you, too,” “Reon,” Y/n heard a direct, commanding voice call out, somehow familiar. “we’re having a team discussion before we start practice,”

Y/n looked to the student who spoke, the captain, the one she remembered from fifth grade.

“Ushiwaka?” When Reon jogged over to a spot in the circle, for a moment, Ushijima and Y/n made eye contact. Ushijima peered at her, trying to piece together how he knew her face. Then his eyes widened.

“Do you know him?” Taeko asked Y/n. She broke eye contact and looked at her friend.

“Yeah. We went to elementary together. Ushiwaka, right?”

“Psh, don’t ask me. I can’t remember anyone's name. Let's sit here. I don’t want to be hit by a volleyball,”

* 

Practice ended. It didn’t seem as long as Y/n would have thought it would be. She busied herself with homework, but she kept looking up and making eye contact with Ushijima. Did he recognize her? He must have. Based on his expression alone she knew he at least remembered her face. Taeko stood up, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. “We’re gonna head out. Are you okay walking home?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Have fun on your date,” Y/n winked at them playfully. Taeko smiled before turning on her heel and walking off with her soon-to-be boyfriend. Y/n turned to pack away her things when…

“Excuse me,” the same commanding voice came suddenly from directly behind Y/n, causing her shoulders to jump. She turned around to face Ushijima. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. I have something to ask you. By any chance, might your name be L/n F/n?”

“Yeah, it is,” she replied.

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. We went to the same elementary school. I met you when you got pushed over by some girls and you scraped your knee. I bandaged your wound and we became friends. You called me Ushiwaka. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I remember you. You were my first friend in elementary,” It was silent for a while. Awkward. Neither of them knew what to say.

“What classes are you taking? Are you still in general studies?”

“No, not anymore. I started taking advanced classes. What about you?”

“I’m still taking advanced classes. I still excel in math. Have your math skills improved?”

“Yes, but of course, as I improve the material gets harder,”

“You are correct. I say if it will help us get ahead there is no problem with extra work,” Y/n nodded. That sounded like him. “Your friend has left with my teammate. Are you walking with someone?”

“No. I usually walk with her but they have a date today so I’m loning it,”

“Then may I accompany you?” Y/n thought for a moment but in the end, accepted.

“I would love your company,”

*

After Ushijima had walked Y/n home that day, he asked her for her contact information so they could talk outside of school. Y/n learned he was a very formal texter, but he had a charm to it. It was kind of like their friendship was picking up where it left off. It ended up being really, really nice. Y/n started going to his practices with Taeko more, and they studied together outside of school ever so often. One day Y/n caught herself smiling while texting him. Truth be told, she had a bit of a crush on him in their elementary days, but she would never admit that to him.

“Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, Y/N! Prom is like, right now, what are we wearing?” Taeko asked Y/n as she grabbed her shoulders.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even thinking about that. Should we go shopping today?”

“Uh, yeah! We have to get on this pronto! I’m texting Reon. I have to make sure our ‘fits don’t clash. Should I get his opinion or surprise him?”

“Get his opinion. Leave the surprise dress for the wedding,”

“Good idea. Oh my gosh! Do you have a date in mind? If so we need to bring him too. We’re obvs gonna do a group picture and I can’t have his suit wash any of us out,”

“No, Taeko, I don’t have anyone in mind,”

“Well, the time is still early. You never know, Reon’s team captain might ask you. You guys are close now, right?” Y/n didn’t even think of that. What if he did? Would she say yes? Would she want to? No. He wouldn’t ask her.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to ‘prompose’. Let’s look for dresses. What do you think about blue?”

“For you? Absolutely! A royal blue in satin fabric – long. Oh my gosh this is gonna be so fun!” Taeko practically skipped out the school doors, bringing Y/n with her. Even if Ushijima didn’t ask her to prom, she was so ready for prom.

*

Taeko found a beautiful green princess gown and the most flattering suit for Reon, but Y/n hadn’t found the right fit. After a long time of looking, the three ended the day and walked Y/n home. It was about 2 hours later Y/n heard her doorbell ring. She went downstairs, opened the door, and there she saw Ushijima with a long banner, asking her to be his prom date.

“L/n F/n. Will you go to prom with me?” he asked. Her face was still for a moment, trying to comprehend. Ushijima, upon seeing her face, started to worry he made a mistake. “I asked Reon what I should do to ask you since he was seeing your best friend. He told me to keep it simple. I also got you flowers. I couldn't hold both them and the sign so I put it on your step,”

Y/n looked down to see the large bouquet. It was magnificent. “So, L/n, what do you day? Will you be my date to the prom?”

She lifted up the massive vase and held it to her face. Who knew he’d ask the same day Taeko suggested he might? Probably Taeko. Y/n couldn’t contain the smile on her face. “Yes, Ushiwaka. I would love nothing more than to be your date!”

______________________________________________________

Posted. 17.Sunday.March.2024 at 19.37 (7:37pm)

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq x reader #hq fluff #volleyball #anime #fanfiction #anime x reader #female reader #x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima fluff #hq ushijima #haikyuu ushijima

[sunflower-author]

Haii :3

can I request a yandere platonic lady Tamayo who is very protective of reader

OMG, I AM SO SORRY, I KNOW IT HAS BEEN LIKE 60 DAYS SINCE YOU ASKED I AM EXTREMELY SORRY BUT IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!

IM A LITTLE BEHIND BUT WORKING ON ALL THE OTHER REQUEST!!

TRUST!!!

Anyway I hope you like this<3

~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~

     "Y/N I told you many times haven't I," Tamayo scolded you, in your room.

"I just wanted to go out to see the festival... It only happens once a year..." You complained.

"Still that doesn't justify sneaking out. You could have lost control, gotten lost, or Kibutsuki might have found you, or-"

"I had human blood yesterday, and you know I handle a least a week without it, and I know the village, I've been reading about it for a while, and we haven't heard about... 'him' being around here my entire lifetime..." you cut her off by saying.

"You've never been around so many people, since you've been turned into a demon, there was no telling if you could handle, all the new walking blood bags around you, and reading about things is different than actually seeing things in real life, as for Kibutsuki, even he we heard no word about him being here, there is still his underlings that lurk around here. remember the last time Yushiro told us about the encounter he had with one of them?" Tamayo asks you.

"... Four days ago..." you say looking down, feeling guilty, knowing that she is right.

"Exactly four days ago, they are probably still hiding in this town somewhere, it's dangerous to go out alone...  you know, if you truly asked me and Yushiro, we would have taken you..." Tamayo says sighing.

"Yeah right... you're just saying that right now... but we both know if I asked you before, you would have said no, lecture me more about being outside, humans, demons... 'him' exactly what you're doing right now," you say, knowing the type of manipulation tactics she has used on you ever since you met her.

"All I'm doing is trying to protect you... ever since I met you, don't you forget who was the one that saved you all those years ago... That demon was about to devour you, and I was the one who killed him, if I wasn't there, you would have been dead..." Tamayo said. 

Every time the two of you argued and she had enough, Tamayo would always bring up your past trauma, guilt-tripping you to go along with whatever she was saying.

You stay silent knowing that you can't say anything, after she pulls 'that' card on you.

"I care about you Y/N, I truly do," Tamayo says sitting down beside you on your bed.

"Listen, maybe when you're older... give it a few years, and I promise, you me and Yushiro will all go to that festival," Tamayo says, with her signature smile.

It makes her look innocent, but we both know it is always used to hide what she truly is feeling. Her obsessed, psycho, crazy side, or maybe annoyed, irritated side, probably both.

"Older? I'm old enough, I am in my teens no doubt late teen years, in a few years I might well be in my twenties," you snap back at her.

"Correction, you would be in your twenties if you were still human... Demons age differently since they can live well longer compared to humans, menially it takes... even I am not too sure." Tamayo says calmly. 

"Yes you have been here a few years, however menially you've probably only aged a few months, and let's not forget about your physical state, when you get turned into a demon, you stop growing physically," Tamayo says.

As she put her hand on your head, in hopes of comforting you a bit.

"I managed fine on my own before you found me," You counter back.

"You lasted what? A little over a year, before I found about to be devoured by a low-level demon-"

"I was younger, I was still getting used to being a demon, but now I know how to do things, thanks to you and Yushiro, I'll be able to handle myself, Tamayo," You cut her off, not wanting her to say anymore.

"And if you were to run into Kibutsuki? Then what? how will you defend yourself, if he found out you were associated with me? He would do unspeakable things to you Y/N," Tamayo says sternly.

"The chances of running into him are very small, just how much demons actually get to see his face?" you say again.

"Y/N L/N, drop this," Tamayo says, sternly, before sighing and calming herself down.

Finally having enough of this, you stay silent, you can never win against Tamayo. This is how all your arguing ends with her, once she says your full name everything ends.

"You acting childish, auguring with me, selfish for leaving me and Yushiro worried-" Realizing what she is saying stops, looking down at her lap, it is never her intention to make you feel bad.

"Y/n I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Yeah yeah, you didn't mean all those bad things you said and were about to say to me," giving her attitude. 

Rolling your eyes, you start to lie down on the bed, facing away from her.

"Well, since you're already mad at me, minus well tell you your punishment, no books for a month, and you will stay in your room for a week," Tamayo says turning to look at you.

You just stay silent looking the other way, waiting for her to go.

Getting the signal, Tamayo gets up from the bed walks to the door, turns off the light, grabs the door she looks at you for a moment.

"Goodnight Y/N," She says softly, only to be met with silence.

Sighing again, she closes the door, locking it.

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere x darling #yandere x female reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #yandere platonic #platonic #platonic yandere #tamayo #yandere tamayo #yandere demon slayer #demon slayer #yandere demon x reader #platonic yandere x reader #yandere platonic x reader #yandere x reader

[scretladyspider]

please don’t scroll; I really need your help to reach my gofundme goal of $3500 and not become homeless.

Im Elle, a queer, ace, disabled person with ADHD, depression, and two cats. In November, I lost my job without warning. I have no savings as the job already had me living to the last dollar of every paycheck. I was denied unemployment and food stamps. I cannot work away from home, a physical job, or something with strict hours due to some yet-to-be-diagnosed illness.

this is my story — what’s going on & how I got here. (Smaller text used because it’s a lot of information/a long post.)

In early 2018, I was doing regular walk/runs. In 2019, I stopped being able to run, so I went on walks. Running took hours, then days, to recover from. My body couldn’t produce energy to do it consistently, so, walks. In 2020, I kept going on walks and tried to do aerobics. I was not able to keep doing aerobics. My body took hours upon hours to recover, where before it hadn’t, I was alone for almost all of 2020, and never developed COVID symptoms; it was what happened with running all over again. In 2021, it started to take more time to recover from walks. Then I started to need to take a nap immediately after I clocked out from work— and it was a work from home job. In 2022, I began to go from my sitting desk job straight to my bed most days, laying down exhausted right after work, even sleeping through lunch to get some rest.

On New Year's Eve 2023, I spent 30 minutes cleaning, including vacuuming my living room. I had to rest the rest of the day.

In the last five years, I've gone from running to being exhausted for hours by taking my garbage to the curb.

Imagine you were someone who enjoyed recreational exercise. Now imagine doing 1/100th of that and feeling sick for days. Thats me.

There are other symptoms also. More vulnerability to infection and more trouble fighting infection. Shooting, sharp muscle pains in large muscles such as the thigh or forearm, like a pinched nerve, that come and go at random. Pulse rate that skyrockets upon standing, to go back to normal soon after. Stomach inflammation. Inflammation without major swelling. Headaches. Complete inability to tolerate heat, leading to excruciating migraines that only go away with things like cold showers, electrolytes, and hours of rest in the dark with ice. Muscles that literally don't feel like they're getting oxygen. Random rashes. Face flushing. Being much more easily out of breath, yawning over and over, like I can't get air correctly. Weight gain, no matter what I eat or don't eat.

And just being so, so tired.

In summer of 2018, something… stopped working in my body. I felt sick all the time. I had a low, unexplainable fever nearly every day. Shooting nerve pain would wake me up at night. The doctor said I had a cold. But months went by and I didn’t get better. When my blood work and thyroid hormone level was normal, I was referred to a rheumatologist.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia after he made me wait 45 minutes, came in and asked “are you tired?", poked me hard, said I was tender, and left without running tests. This sort of “uhm the standard blood work came back normal, have you tried exercising more? I know you’re here because your body can’t recover from it but have you tried more of that? Also going to sleep at night?” has been the response over and over and over for five years. It got to the point where I even started to wonder if I was somehow making it up. I see a psych nurse. She thinks there's more than just depression, ADHD, and other things - though we both agree that managing those is vital too. She used to be a cardiologist, so this is reassuring. But when I have tried to see other doctors, it goes differently. Most of the time they see I have ADHD, a long history of depression, and hypermobile joints, and say that explains everything. I can't count how many times I've been told "well, you have depression” when the labs, if they even agreed to run them, came back normal. My standard blood work sometimes comes back with anemia, but I take an iron supplement. No improvement had come of it. I’ve had my thyroid hormone levels tested over and over, but never the antibodies. No imaging or referrals have happened, outside of one to a second rheumatologist. He ran no tests either; he just saw my joints are hypermobile and I was “sure taking a lot of mental health medications” (two at the time), and… that was that.

I had given up on actually even getting help until my SIL recommended a doctor she knew. For the first time in five years, when the standard blood work and TSH tests were normal, she told me we would keep looking. I actually cried with relief at that. It’s amazing to be believed after all this time.

Because of …. All of this, I'm trying to figure out how to either work for myself or find a work from home job that has flexible hours I can choose. I literally wouldn't be able to work a retail gig where I have to stand for eight hours, or even a 9-5 where I have to be there for those exact hours, because my body cannot do that right now. I want to get better but it's a long way off. First I need to know what's even wrong. I'm praying for a diagnosis soon. And treatment. At the least, management.

I have heard of EDS and I have been evaluated. I apparently don’t meet enough criteria, hence the diagnosis of JHS instead. It’s in the same family. I have also heard of POTS. I am pursuing testing. Same with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, MCAS, fibromyalgia… yeah. The thing is nothing outside of the standard blood count and thyroid hormone level test, no other lab tests have been done. There are so many things this could be that have never been checked. Lyme disease, for example, is extremely common where I live (it’s actually just extremely common worldwide) and matches much of my experience, but 1) in the USA the initial Lyme test relies on a strain of bacteria cultured in the 80s 2) there are over 100 strains of Lyme disease in the USA 3) in spite of decades of research there are doctors who don’t believe chronic Lyme exists 4) no doctor has ever checked and I only recently learned anything about it so I never asked. But… there are a lot of things to check that I’ve never had checked is my point. Fingers crossed someone can help me get there.

I do not have a partner who can try to support me through this, and my family already supports me however they can. My severance (which was low as I found out I was being paid much less than the rest of the team later) paid only my January rent.

Since my ability to work is severely limited right now, and I've been denied unemployment and food stamps, and I would need a diagnosis and to be awarded disability benefits in court (which can take YEARS that I don’t have), I have nothing in savings because of years of underpaying jobs the cost of living and being disabled and going through prior periods of unemployment due to this and other factors, I am left in a tough spot without help. Without this help, this gofundme... I have nothing.

So... here I am. A queer nonbinary disabled neurodivergent writer, trying my best, living with some undiagnosed illness that's severely impacted my ability to function, who got fired without real reasons (in America they can just do that to you without even telling you why), asking for your help to pay my February rent and January bills so I don’t repeat the trauma of being homeless. Or for you to reblog this.

Thank you for reading all of this.

It’s been on my chest for a long time. Even if it wasn’t for the gofundme, it feels good to talk about and be honest about my health. It reminds me you’re not supposed to feel like this all the time when I tell other people and they tell me I should get help and deserve answers. It’s reassuring to see competent doctors who finally believe me. I hope we figure it out.

no donation is too small— they add up. If just 100 people gave $35, the goal would be met. Sharing is also giving— it means someone who can help is more likely to see it.

You can also help via my venmo — secretladyspider

CashApp — secretladyspider

or find PayPal in my tip jar in my linktree

Goal is $3500 or over. Funds needed ASAP. If it goes over, that’ll help with February.

Thank you for anything and everything.

#queer #disability #chronic illness #chronic pain #mental health #medical gaslighting #fired in America #neurodivergent #ADHD #fibromyalgia #chronically ill #undiagnosed chronic illness #undiagnosed chronic pain #american healthcare #american health system #homelessness #text #gofundme #crowdsourcing #crowdfunding #lgbtqia

[roosterforme]

The Deployment Diaries Part 23 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You pull out all the stops for Bradley's promotion to Lieutenant Commander. He always pulls out all the stops for you.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff and swearing

Length: 5500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots! Check my masterlist for the reading order!

Bradley had been meaning to ask you something important for the past few days, but he wasn't sure how to. He'd had plenty of opportunities to do so, most notably when he tried his dress whites on to make sure they fit, and you ended up making him feel better about the current state of his body. 

But he had waited until the day before his promotion was to take place at the swankiest hotel in San Diego to bring it up. As happy as Bradley was, he still occasionally felt awkward and overwhelmed, knowing that he could rely on you but not knowing how to ask for what he needed. 

"Sweetheart?" he asked you softly, gently kissing your neck while you peeled some potatoes for dinner. You were kind of dancing a little bit to whatever song was stuck in your head, and he loved that. 

"Hmm?" you hummed. He wrapped his arms around you, so happy to have full range of motion now that all of his stitches had been removed and he had graduated to level two of physical therapy. He just hoped his scars would fade and he could hit the gym again soon.

"I... well, I'm allowed to have a loved one pin me at the ceremony tomorrow. It's not a big deal, and Cyclone or Mav can just do it for me, but I was thinking maybe you would pin me? But only if you want to, of course..."

You set the potato and the peeler on the counter and turned in his arms to face him. You cocked your head and your lips were parted, and you looked so much like you had when he'd first bought you a beer at the Hard Deck last year that you had his heart pounding. 

"Bradley," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Of course I want to. I already kind of assumed I was going to, even though you didn't explicitly ask me?" 

Bradley sighed in relief and rested his forehead against yours. "Thanks, Sweetheart. I should have asked sooner, but I started thinking about my tap out ceremony, and it was making me anxious."

You kissed his lips softly while you dragged your fingers through his hair. "What happened at your tap out ceremony?"

Bradley's mind drifted back to the day he graduated as a real naval aviator and nobody was there to support him. "It's embarrassing."

"I doubt that." You led him over to one of the kitchen stools and waited for him to sit. He spread his legs and let you stand between them, resting your palms on his thighs and warming him through his shorts. You waited, gently stroking him with your thumbs and kissing his cheeks until he was ready to talk. 

"My tap out was my first big ceremony, you know? I didn't realize how it was going to feel until I was there, but I had nobody. No family, no friends, nobody was there with me. And I had to watch every other officer get tapped out by someone who cared about them. The guy next to me had ten family members there. Ten! I had to wait until everyone else was tapped out and allowed to leave with someone. I had to watch them all, Sweetheart, and I stood there until the end when one of the Admirals tapped me so I could fucking leave."

"Roo," you whispered. Your eyes were brimming with tears, and he loved you for it.

"I watched Nat hesitate and almost walk back onto the stage to tap me, but we weren't super close yet back then, and I think she wasn't sure if I would have wanted her to."

You dragged your fingers slowly up his body, and he sighed when you held his face and told him, "You don't have to worry about that anymore. I'll be there for all of your ceremonies from now on. And I'm really good with Navy pins, okay? I can get them straight the first time, every time."

Bradley laughed, he couldn't help it. He'd watched you pin and unpin both your uniform shirt and his so many times. 

"I love you," he told you, and nothing had ever been truer. 

"Your parents would be proud of you, Roo." Your voice turned to a tentative whisper as you asked him, "When are you going to take me to Virginia? To see their gravesites? And get the photo albums and all your stuff?"

Bradley's heart was pounding in his chest. "You- you want to go? Visit the cemetary?"

"Of course I do. Will you take me?"

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

Saturday around lunchtime you were rushing around trying to get Bradley ready to go. "You need to be there in like thirty minutes, Bradley!" 

He was shaving around his mustache when you ran into the bathroom to grab his deodorant and add it to the bag you were packing. "I've got your white shoes and socks in here along with your hat and your deodorant. What else do you need?"

"My pins?" he asked, rinsing off his face.

"I already put them on your jacket, which is inside the garment bag!" you called from the bedroom as you ran around.

You were going to drop him off at the hotel before going to get your hair done. Then you'd come back home and finish getting ready while he rehearsed and dressed at the hotel.

"I'll meet you there no later than five o'clock for the cocktail hour. You want me to bring the Bronco?" you asked, laying your own dress out on the bed while Bradley buttoned up one of his dad's old Hawaiian shirts. 

"Absolutely, Baby Girl. Can't have them valet parking your little shit car. It would be embarrassing."

"Hey! I like my car! It's dependable!"

He leaned down and kissed you. "Just bring the Bronco."

So you dropped him off with all of his stuff and went to get your hair done. It was July in San Diego, and you didn't want to be a sweaty mess all night, so you opted for a slightly messy, low bun with some loose pieces. Then you went home to play with Tramp and do your makeup. 

"It's Daddy's big night," you told your dog as you tossed his tennis ball across the yard. Your phone vibrated in your pocket with a text from your mom reminding you to take a bunch of pictures. Then it vibrated again. Bradley had texted you a photo of himself in his uniform, and he looked hot. Like stupid hot. 

You were so dumb. His dress whites had been hanging in your shared closet for months, and you'd never once asked him to try them on for you before this week. Bradley asked you to put your flight suit on about once a week now, so you were absolutely certain he'd jump right into his dress uniform for you if you asked. You texted him back, and you knew you had to be encouraging.

You look so good, Roo. 

When you headed inside to finish your makeup, he wrote back.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: i can't wait to see you in your dress. already looking forward to taking it off later too

You pressed your lips together to suppress a moan. Your dress was beautiful. You'd never worn anything quite so formal and yet sexy in your life. Dark blue satin fabric glided across your fingers when you touched it. It was delicate and feminine yet very alluring. And if you were being honest, you picked this one out in particular just because you knew he would go crazy over it. 

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

Bradley paced around the hotel lobby, hat in hand, waiting for you to arrive. It was almost five, and the cocktail hour would be starting soon. He'd tried to make sure his hair looked nice, and really all of the bruising on his face was gone by now. He just wanted to look good for you. 

He knew how that blue dress was going to look, hugging your body and making him sweat all night. He knew how beautiful you'd look standing next to him in his formal, white uniform. And he knew you'd have every guy in that room looking at you, because you were charming and appealing. But you were with him, and you'd be pinning him tonight. 

"Roo," you called from across the lobby, and Bradley almost fell over when he turned around. Your hair was pulled back and kind of messy, just the way he liked it, and you had on blue nail polish. And your dress fit you like a second skin. It ended at your ankles, but the slit up the front of your left leg showed off so much of you, he was already breathing deeper. Bradley knew for a fact that he would be able to tell whether or not you were wearing underwear if he could just slide his fingers inside that slit, and he was dying to do just that. 

But the best part of all was that you were wearing the necklace with the charms he had given you. Actually, as far as he knew, you never took it off, which just made him want you more. 

"Sweetheart," he said, meeting you halfway across the lobby and pulling you against him. "You look incredible. In fact, you look like I should just take you back home right now." Your strappy silver shoes had such high heels, you barely had to reach up to get your arms around his neck. 

You smiled and kissed his lips with your bright red ones. "We're not leaving until I've pinned you. And even then, I'm eating whatever fancy food they are serving until I can't walk straight. And then you can take me home and peel this dress off me, okay?"

Bradley licked his lips and looked down the low cut front of your dress. You weren't wearing a bra, and now he was even more curious to know if anything was covering your pussy. "We'll see." He let his knuckles brush your satin-covered nipple before he wrapped his big hands around your waist. His palms were met with the lacy fabric covering your lower back. You arched into him and moaned his name when he kissed you, and he knew he'd never make it until he got you home later. 

"Hey, Bradshaw," called another officer who was being promoted. Of course he came over to briefly shake Bradley's hand before turning his attention to you with a big smile. 

When you introduced yourself as his girlfriend and a Lieutenant with a master's degree in software engineering, Bradley's heart swelled with pride, and he pulled you away with a nod in the other guy's direction. 

"Don't wanna miss cocktail hour, Baby Girl."

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

You were glad you had skipped lunch and opted to enjoy cocktail hour instead, because these hors d'oeuvres were absolutely delicious. The hotel ballroom looked nicer than the last five weddings you had been to combined. The stage was all set up with a string quartet at one end and the tables for the ceremony at the other. You couldn't wait to get Bradley's pin on his white jacket. 

"You want me to get you a drink from the bar?" Bradley asked, running his hand up and down your side as you fed him a bite of your mini quiche. 

"Sure, Lieutenant Commander," you practically purred, and he groaned in response.

"A beer?" he rasped, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

"No! Get me a martini or something. I don't want them to know I like cheap IPAs. That's between you and me and the Hard Deck."

Bradley walked away chuckling and you saw Commander Bickel and his wife and went to say hi to them. When Bradley returned with two martinis and handed you one, he fell into easy conversation with your boss. You waved to someone from another lab who was being promoted to Captain. And when Maverick placed a warm hand on your shoulder and hugged you, you were surprised you knew so many people here. There had to be hundreds in attendance. 

The string quartet was playing some soft music, and now you could feel Bradley's hand resting just above your butt. But soon he was kissing your cheek and telling you he needed to line up for the ceremony to start, so you took his empty glass with you to table nine where you would be eating dinner together after you pinned him. 

Bradley had explained that when they asked for those who would be pinning the officers to walk to the stage, someone would help you line up in order. You were excited that he was near the beginning alphabetically, because you couldn't wait to put that pin on him. He had worked so hard for it. 

You sat with a group of people at your table and finished your drink while you listened to a few admirals you didn't know followed by Cyclone giving speeches. When they had the officers who were being promoted stand on the stage, you clapped loudly along with everyone else. And then they called for everyone who would be pinning someone to come forward, and you practically ran in your excitement. 

You looked up at Bradley on the stage, and he was already looking back at you with the biggest smile on his face. When his name was called, you snatched his new pin off the table where it rested next to a cardstock tag with his name written in beautiful calligraphy. Your heart was pounding as you were escorted up the steps and led across the stage to where he stood, tall and proud. His hat was just the tiniest bit crooked on his wavy hair, and you could feel yourself holding back tears. 

"Hi," you whispered when you were standing right in front of him.

"Baby Girl," he whispered back. With a smile and shaky hands, you reached for the front of his uniform and added the newest pin to all of his decorations. It was perfectly placed and straight as an arrow on the first try, just like you had promised him. And with a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips, you were escorted across the stage as the next name was called. 

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

Bradley was just sitting down to eat dinner next to you, and he was already able to rank this night toward the top of the list of the best nights of his life. He wasn't surprised at all when he realized most of those nights had been ones he had spent with you. You had pinned his Lieutenant Commander insignia on him, and now that his promotion was official, he intended to enjoy the rest of the night at your side. 

You and he ordered two different entrees at your request. "Come on, Bradley. We get to try more shit that way," you whispered, rolling your eyes at him when he looked at the menu. He would do whatever you wanted. 

After dinner more musicians joined the band on stage, and dozens of desserts were brought out to the tables around the perimeter of the room. You led Bradley around, sharing mini desserts with him, scooping bites onto your fork and feeding them to him. Your eyes still shone with happiness when they dimmed the lights slightly, and Bradley was just mesmerized by you. When you licked a bit of chocolate ganache from your lip, he felt his dick throb. 

"Oh, I love this song!" you insisted when the band started playing This Magic Moment. You handed your plate to a server and thanked them before you led Bradley out to the ballroom floor where he wrapped his arms around you. 

Bradley sang to you while you danced, and you were soft and pliant in his arms as you let your cheek rest on his chest. 

"Sweeter than wine, softer than a summer night. Everything I want I have, whenever I hold you tight."

You looked up at him before kissing the longest scar on his neck. "I love your voice, Roo."

He knew he looked a little worse for wear now than he had when you met him nearly a year ago. He had a smattering of new scars, and he'd lost a bit of his muscle mass while healing from his injuries. But you always made him feel not only desirable and attractive, but important and necessary as well. 

He held you close for several songs before your boss cut in for one. Then he watched you dance with someone else you knew, then some other random guy Bradley recognized from your lab was there with his hand at your waist. Bradley finished his drink, counted to ten and then cut back in. 

"I missed you," you whispered, and he could smell the gin and chocolate on your breath. 

"I always miss you when I'm not with you," he promised, kissing your forehead.

"Yes," you giggled, adjusting his hat on his head. "I'm very missable." You'd had a few drinks, and now you were looking at him like you always did right before taking his hand and leading him to bed. He bit back a groan and considered whether or not it was too early for him to leave his own promotion banquet with you tossed over his shoulder. 

"You're fucking perfect." He held you tight and glared at your coworker when it looked like he was going to try to cut in again. The satin of your dress was gliding over his uniform as you rubbed yourself against him.

"It's so hot in here," you whispered, tracing his long scar with your fingertip before pulling out of his grasp. "I'm going to get another drink. You want one?" 

Bradley nodded and sighed. He really should make the rounds to Maverick, Cyclone and Warlock before he dragged you out of here like a caveman. "Yeah, I'm going to chat with the Admirals. You wanna come find me in a minute?"

"Of course," you replied, grinning at him over your shoulder, and Bradley watched you walk away, the blue fabric grabbing your ass the entire time. 

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

You watched Bradley conversing animatedly with Maverick from across the ballroom. He looked like he was having a great night, and you were so happy he had Maverick to talk to. 

You shuffled forward as the crowd moved. There was a long line for the bar now, as the dancing was just starting to really pick up. You took a startled step backward as someone almost stepped on your toes, and you bumped right into a tall man wearing a tuxedo. 

"I'm sorry!" you told him quickly. "I didn't realize you were right there!"

He smiled at you. "It's no problem at all. My name is Alec."

You shook his hand and introduced yourself as well. He grinned and said, "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you know... open bar."

You laughed. "Right. No need for that."

When you tried to turn back to face the front of the line, he asked you, "So, who are you here with? I saw you walk across the stage earlier for the pinning ceremony. I'm desperately hoping you're going to tell me you're here to support your brother? A cousin?" His eyes were warm as he waited for you to answer.

"I'm here with my boyfriend. He's just been promoted to Lieutenant Commander. He's an aviator." You smiled at Alec and moved as the line shifted again. 

"Damn. I guess that's what I get for hoping so hard since you're not wearing a ring. You look beautiful."

"Thanks." You blushed and examined your blue fingernails, unsure how to proceed. If you looked beautiful, it was all just for Bradley. He treated you the same when you were in bed for three days with food poisoning wearing his stained shirt as he did when you were dressed like this. 

"Well, you make sure that Lieutenant Commander of yours treats you real nice," Alec told you when it was your turn to order, and you just smiled at him.

You were tired of the martinis by this point, so you ordered two beers while Alec stood right next to you and ordered his own drink. 

"Bye," you told him with a smile as you turned to your left, practically running into your boyfriend in the process.

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

Bradley couldn't take his eyes off you as you waited in line. Every curve he loved so much was just there, on display. Everyone was allowed to look at you tonight, catch just a small glimpse of what he was treated to on a daily basis. He was literally the luckiest man in this room, and he knew it. 

He also knew he would be expected to socialize more with the higher ranking officers now that he'd been promoted, so he made an effort to do so. The other aviators had already been busting his nuts all week about how he supposedly thought he was better than them now. But honestly, he was a good three or four years older than most of them, so it was such a relief to reach the next level before they did. 

If you were to get promoted soon, it would be a dream come true for Bradley. He briefly wondered if you would change your name after you and he got married. Having two Lieutenant Commanders Bradshaw around would be a bit confusing, but he did love the idea of it. 

He pulled his focus back to what Warlock's wife was saying, but that didn't last long. He saw you almost get plowed into, but you managed to step out of the way. And then the guy behind you in line had his hands on you.

"Easy, buddy," Bradley muttered to himself with clenched fists before looking back at Cyclone's confused face. 

"As I was saying..." Cyclone rambled on. But now the guy was smiling at you, and Bradley could only imagine the unamused expression on his own face. 

"Please, excuse me," he said, plastering on his most charming smile before striding directly across the dance floor. He dodged around couples moving together in time with the music as he headed toward you. 

When you picked up two glasses of beer and turned his way, Bradley had a great view of that random guy checking out your ass. 

"Roo!" you gasped, startled to find him so close. "I hope you don't mind, I got you a beer instead of a-"

Bradley took you by the hips and pulled you against him. You held one beer out to each side as the amber liquid sloshed onto your fingers. "Roo! What are you doing?" But you moaned his name as he kissed your neck, and Bradley immediately forgot about the other guy. 

"I'm just showing you how much I love you," he whispered next to your ear as he ran his hands over your satin covered ass and ground his hardening cock against your belly. 

"Bradley!" But you were looking at him with those bedroom eyes again, and he needed to fuck you as soon as possible. 

"You look too good like this. It's not fair," he whispered, planting soft kiss after soft kiss to your lips. "Your nipples are hard, Baby Girl. I can see them pushing against that sinful blue dress." He ran his right palm across both of your tits and listened to you whimper. "You sound like you're about to beg me to fuck you."

You sucked in a breath, jostling enough to spill more beer out of both of the glasses you were still holding. "Are you going to make me beg you for it?" you whispered so softly, it took Bradley a second to process. Your pupils were blown wide now, and he could see you were squeezing your thighs together. Your breasts were rising and falling with each deep breath you took.

He wanted you to. He wanted you to beg for his cock, but he didn't want to have to ask you.

You flagged down a passing server and roughly set the glasses of beer on the tray before you wrapped your arms around Bradley's neck. Wordlessly, you started walking him backward toward the ballroom doors.    

"Please?" you asked, running your fingers along the brim of his uniform hat. "Please, fuck me." You ran your tongue up the column of his neck, and he knew he needed to get you out of this room. "Please, Bradley!" you whispered, nipping at his earlobe.  "I want you now," you whined.

Holy hell! He loved the sound of you begging for him. "I'll take care of you," he promised, leading you to the lobby.

"Please, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. There's got to be a closet or something," you whined. 

Then a devious grin spread across Bradley's lips. "Sweetheart, you look like royalty tonight. I'm not gonna fuck you in a closet. You deserve something much nicer."

With one hand at your lower back, Bradley quickly guided you to the long marble check-in counter at the far end of the lobby. Thankfully the same woman was working now that Bradley had talked to earlier.

"Marjorie, I need a favor," he said in his sweetest voice. He could hear you moaning softly next to him as you ran your hand up over his ass and inside his white uniform jacket.

"Hi! How can I help?" Marjorie asked, smiling at both of you.

"Getting ready to head home for the night, but I left something upstairs earlier when I changed into my uniform. Can I borrow a key? We'll just be a minute." 

Marjorie was either completely oblivious, or she knew exactly why Bradley was asking for the key. Either way, she coded one and handed it to him with a smile. 

"Thank you so much," he said, snatching it from her hand.

"Bradley," you whimpered. He squeezed your ass before guiding you toward the elevator bank. "Where are we going?"

He eased you back against the wall next to one of the elevator doors and selected the up arrow. He pressed his body against yours and ran his thumb along the valley between your tits. "I'm going to take you up to the Presidential Suite, Baby Girl," he told you, wrapping his hand around your neck. Your pulse was pounding against his palm. "I'm going to fuck you in the penthouse, right on Cyclone's desk."

Your moan was so loud and obscene when the doors opened, Bradley didn't think he'd even make it to the top floor with you fully clothed. He stumbled into the elevator with you and selected floor 28. Your hands were around his neck and your lips and tongue were immediately tangling with his. He pushed you back until your ass hit the wall, and then he dropped to his knees in front of you. 

"Been dying to know if you're wearing underwear all night," he growled, slipping both hands inside the slit of your dress. You were whining his name as he guided his fingers a few inches higher, and he grinned up at you when his fingers connected with some more satiny fabric.

"Bradley!" You were pleading with him now as the elevator went higher and higher. Bradley prayed the elevator wouldn't have to stop on another floor first as he looped his fingers inside the fabric, and he watched you wiggle your hips as he lowered the world's tiniest blue g-string down your legs. 

"Fuck, Baby Girl," he groaned, looking up your dress at your pretty pussy as you stepped out of the underwear in your outrageously high heels. He held them to his nose and grunted before tucking them in his jacket pocket. 

"Please, Bradley!" you begged, grabbing onto his biceps as he stood. 

With eight floors to go, Bradley nudged your legs apart with his knee, reached up your dress with his right hand and fucked you with two fingers. He kissed you to muffle your pleasured screams before nipping at your lips and saying, "That's Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw." Bradley took his hat off and set it on your head right as the bell rang for the penthouse floor, and he withdrew his fingers from your soaking slit. He smiled at you and took your hand in his wet one, and both of you ran down the hallway as fast as you could in your heels. 

As he worked the key card into the door, you kissed his neck and whispered, "Are you really going to fuck me on Cyclone's desk?" Your voice was breathless, and your eyes were wide as Bradley nodded his head and led you into the palatial suite.

He walked you past the full kitchen, the chilled bottles of champagne and the door to the bedroom and picked you up in his arms. "You begged for my cock, now I'm gonna give it to you, Sweetheart." 

He spanked your ass once before setting you down on the huge, mahogany desk. Bradley wedged himself between your legs, and you were immediately unbuttoning his uniform jacket before reaching for the front of his pants. What a gorgeous picture you painted; hard nipples straining in your dress and Bradley's hat perched on top of your head as you desperately tried to get to his cock.

"Oh God," you moaned into his mouth as he tilted your chin up and kissed you. Bradley fucked your mouth with his tongue as you unzipped his pants and pulled them down just low enough to get the job done. He realized that if someone walked into the suite, they would have a great view of his ass and get to hear the chorus of moans coming from you. And he wasn't even inside you yet.

"Spread 'em nice and wide for me," he instructed, squeezing your thighs. "Show me that pussy." But the dress was too tight to allow that. His cock was standing at attention, and you were whining for it again. He grabbed the fabric on both sides of your dress and ripped the slit higher until he could spread your legs and get to you.

"Bradley! My dress!" you complained just before he rammed his dick inside you. He tipped his head back and hissed as he bottomed out. You felt warm and slick and perfect, and he loved being buried deep inside you. 

He grabbed your chin and forced you to make eye contact with him, and your face already looked so fucked out. "That's Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw to you, and I don't give a fuck about your dress right now," he growled. Bradley slammed into you over and over, keeping your legs spread while you gripped his biceps to keep yourself upright on the desk.

"Yes, sir," you whimpered as he railed you. Bradley watched you bite your bottom lip as his hat jostled on your head. The little broken grunts and gasps you made had him going faster and harder, and he was squeezing your legs hard enough to leave marks. 

"You look so good, your dress ripped up, showing me your pussy like this," he groaned, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over. "You love being filthy, don't you?"

"Yes, Roo," you moaned. "Yes, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

"You're dirty and sweet, and I fucking love you," he ground out, rubbing your swollen clit with his thumb. You were instantly screaming and squeezing around him as he pumped into you until he was spurting his cum inside you. Bradley let his head come to rest on your shoulder as you whispered Roo over and over again. 

He knew it was a dangerous idea to linger too long here, so he withdrew from you and pulled you to your feet. As you started to get your bearings, you gasped. "I can't believe you ripped my dress."

He kissed your cheek softly and rubbed his nose along your temple. "I needed to get to that pussy, Baby Girl. I had to have it."

You moaned and mashed your lips against his, and his hat tipped further back on your head. Bradley stroked your jaw with his thumb before kneeling in front of you. "I'll buy you a new dress, but in the meantime..." He pulled several pins from his uniform jacket, including his brand new one, and carefully pinned your dress until the slit was no longer obscene. "That's better," he told you, watching his cum drip down the inside of your thigh. 

Bradley quickly buttoned and zipped his pants before you and he fled the suite, giggling the entire way back to the elevators. As you rode back down to the main floor, you wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his neck while he sang This Magic Moment and caressed your bare back.

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

I have had parts of this chapter written in my head for SO LONG!!!! I can't believe I finally get to share it with you!! Love you and thanks for reading!

PART 24

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