#* he searches for a bug spray

[hcmteam]

The man the myth the human? For a human who has done many things, he looks rather plain. No worries. There are some bots who would thank him for his service but who knows how he'd react to giant green wasp...

— Excuse him, he hopefully didn’t understood that right. A giant what?

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

THE ITCH- J. TODD

day twenty five of the june bug masterlist

pairing: boyfriend! jason x fem! reader

word count: 1k

summary: when you cant stop itching your bug bites, jason does the only thing left he can think of- tying you up.

warnings: this is all fluff but lots of sexual tension, innuendos and flirting, pet names etc

“You can't scratch bunny or it's just gonna get worse.” Jason scolded you as he sat you down on the bathroom vanity, frown etched on his face.

You didn't care. You had to itch.

You were completely swollen, covered from head to toe in bug bites. They coated your arms and legs, even places you don't even know where possible for them to reach.

You glared at him as he went over to the bathtub, turning the handles as water began to flow. Itching your arms again, nails scratching the skin until blood drew.

You didn't even know how this was fucking possible. You had practically smothered yourself in bug spray, inhaling it for this exact reason- you knew how bad of a reaction you got from those thirsty bloodsuckers.

“I have to itch.”

“If you keep itching I’ll have to tie your hands together.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips at the thought. “Sounds kinky.”

He rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair before adding the oatmeal bath treatment to the running water, an attempt to soothe your wounds. 

It was torture, really- being forced to sit and not scratch.

Which is exactly how you ended up in that oatmeal bath with your hands tied together by soft rope.

“I’m gonna kill you.” you grumbled, staring blankly ahead at the wall in front of you as Jason chuckled behind you, dragging a washcloth across your back.

“Kinda hard to do that when you’re tied up, isn’t it?”

“I’m creative, I can find a way. Or multiple. Say Jay, has anyone tried to drown you before?”

He rolled his eyes, scrubbing a bar of soap across your skin, attempting to soothe your bites. You hated that it felt good.

“I’m doing this for you, silly.” he stated, as if he was scolding a five year old for restrictions on the cookie jar.

You huffed. “I can wash myself.”

“I know you can sweetheart. And you can be as mad at me as you want, but you’ll be thanking me later when you aren’t scarred .”

Well, he did have a point there. Still, you tried to flick him with water, though it became difficult with your hands literally tied. When he was satisfied with your soak, he helped you out of the bathtub and began to rub you dry with a soft towel from the linen closet.

It smelt like him.

You tried not to stare at him too much as he knelt down, drying your legs and thighs.

You could get used to this sight more often.

You were the only person Jason Todd had ever knelt too. And you wanted to keep it that way.

“Are you sure this can’t be sexual?” you asked coyly, biting your lip as he looked up, a little gleam in his eye as he lifted your leg up to rest on him, planting a gentle kiss to the skin.

“When you’re not tempted to itch, I’m sure something could be arranged where you’re all tied up for me.” he murmured, his words making your breathing hitch.

“What if I want to scratch you instead?”

His eyebrow raised. “Might be difficult to do so if your body is tied.”

You swallowed. “M-my body?”

He smirked. “I have some tricks up my sleeve.”

Holy fuck he was so hot.

You were so lost in thought you didn’t even realize he had grabbed hydrocortisone and had started applying it to the welts. “Cmon my little prisoner let’s get you to bed.” he cooed, slipping your hand into his, tugging you over to your bedroom.

“How long am I your prisoner?” you asked meekly, clenching your thighs together. He shrugged, back turned to you as he searched for a clean set of pj shorts for you to wear. It appeared tonight there would be no top for you. Which was honestly a blessing in disguise, because of how hot and sticky it was.

“However long I want you to be.”

“So forever?” you asked, lifting your legs one at a time, leaning against him for balance as he slid the fabrics up your legs.

“Something along those lines.” he laughed.

“Ya know, if you’re my prisoner that means I can make you do whatever I want to do.”

You pursed your lips together. “Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“And then what would you have me do?”

The tickle of his breath had you jump as he slipped behind you, tucking your hair onto one shoulder- leaning down to whisper into the other.

“Oh I can think of a lot of things sweetheart. But that’s for another time. For now, you’re going to sleep.”

You grumbled incoherently, letting him guide you over to your bed, the cool, plush sheets feeling nice against your itching skin. “Do I have to sleep like this?” you whined, curling into his chest like a cat as you stretched, feeling the rope began to loosen.

He hadn't tugged it too tightly, an indicator that you could break free at any point. Still, you kept your hands loosely tied as you let him codle you, pulling you in closer as he teased you, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to doze off.

He murmured something like a sweet dreams prisoner as he stroked your arm, gently soothing the itch- letting you drift off to sleep.

[todosdream]

I can fix that | ony

2.7k wrds. black fem reader. fluff.

warnings: cursing, men can be sucky, bluecollar!ony, flirting

pliers, pliers, pliers, you think to yourself as you search through the store.

about a week ago, the stream on your shower head started acting funny. at first you could just hit it a couple of times with the perfect amount of strength and it’d be knocked back into its senses. over time, the trick started to work less and less.

one particularly frustrating day led to a swing with too much umph in it, unfortunately knocking the thing out of commission. after a brief moment of frustrated silence, you decided to just replace it. you’ve already picked out the fancy massage shower head you want. now, here you are in good ‘ole home depot, searching for all the tools needed.

you’re roaming the aisles and trying to look like you have at least the slightest clue what you’re doing, even though your source of knowledge for the particular task at hand is just… well, the internet. it probably isn’t a good idea, you doing this yourself, but there’s no way you’re paying out the ass for something you can let youtube guide you through. hopefully you won’t make it worse. if all else fails, you can just continue to take baths for now.

“pliers!” you smile to yourself when you notice the rack. your smile slowly but surely dwindles when you realize just how many types there are up on the wall, the variation of colors and shapes immediately making you regret your decision. “what the fuck,” you mumble.

combination, flat nose, linesman… the list goes on and on and on.

before you can let out a sigh of frustration, you hear the agitating sound of someone clearing their throat behind you. “need help, little lady?” a voice calls, sounding almost slimey in its delivery.

you turn, top lip already itching to raise in irritation, but you see it’s one of the employees. the bright orange apron is an insult to your eyes, but it’s not as bad as the look on the guy’s face. “oh. um... yeah, if you don’t mind. I just need a pair of pliers to change out my shower head,” you say casually.

he hums with a raise of his eyebrow, eyes flicking up and down your form. it’s a judgemental gaze, very telling for how this conversation is about to go.

oh, brother.

“you sure you can do that all by yourself? pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to get your hands dirty,” he drawls, a smirk tugging at his lips. it almost makes you want to gag.

“I’m sure,” you say blandly. you definitely didn’t come here to talk to mr. greasy, despite his attempt. “I just need a basic pair of pliers. please and thanks.”

he doesn’t seem to like your tone, smirk falling as his ego is bruised. he must pull shit like this all the time. it’s a wonder his ass hasn’t been fired.

“well, I can’t just sell you anything basic, sweetie. that’d be doing you a disservice,” he tries again. he walks past you to the wall display, gesturing with his arms. you get a whiff of funk every time he moves. “these here are top notch. definitely what I’d recommend. there’s no way you’ll mess up.”

before you can give the nastiest eye roll manageable, a voice grumbles from behind you.

“aye, bruh, you can chill with all that sales shit.”

ony had approached behind you a few moments prior, several feet back as he waited for the two of you to move and stop blocking the wall.

his trip to the store was supposed to be simple. he just wanted to get a new pair of tongue and groove pliers, maybe some more bug spray for his home, and then get an icee from the gas station after working all day in the damn heat.

but here he is, sighing softly to himself as he listens to the worker attempt to ruin both of your days. he figured he’d put himself and you out of your misery.

when you turn to inspect the newcomer, who’s quite frankly saying what you were thinking, it’s like a scene from a movie. you can hear the imaginary music playing and everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.

behind you is the finest man you’ve ever seen. dark skin, locs pulled up into a messy bun, bushy eyebrows pulled into a slight frown. he’s handsome, kind of like the men you’d expect to be in a monthly calendar of fine ass, hardworking beaus. light brown eyes, beard in slight need of a trim. his arms are crossed and big, covered in tattoos and small scars, and his form towers over yours. rugged but sexy.

“that’s what I’m supposed to do, sir,” the worker says with a tight smile. “is there anywhere I can point you to? I’m a bit busy helping this girl right now. as you can see.”

your gaze flickers back and forth, taking in both men’s demeanors. now, how did I end up in this? you ask yourself.

“nah. I’m good here,” ony responds with a shrug. his gaze is steady and doesn’t even shift your way. he stares down the employee with a calm look, seemingly unbothered. “this young lady don’t need you in her face if you gone be condescending. and she needs a basic tool for a basic job, not something she’ll have to spend big money on to use once.”

the worker’s eyes narrow, but before he can respond, someone speaks over the intercom.

“buford please report to aisle 13. buford please report to aisle 13.”

the worker, now outed as buford, huffs and crosses his arms. “alright, miss, I’ll be right back, okay? if this guy bothers you, just come grab me.” you give a tight lipped smile in response. “yeah, sure. thanks.”

with one last (supposedly threatening) look to ony, the employee walks off, grumbling softly under his breath. there’s a quiet tsk from the man still standing next to you, and he shakes his head as he watches the other retreat.

“sorry about that,” ony says with a nod in buford’s direction. his tone is softer now, but not overly so, and the strength of his gaze is now on you. it causes a warm feeling to bloom within you and a small smile to tug at your lips.

“yeah. being a woman means unfortunately being used to it,” you say with a soft laugh. “I’m not opposed to a knight in shining armor from time to time, though.” you tilt your head with the tease, a flirty sparkle in your eyes.

hm. ony doesn’t like that fact that you’re used to it, though he understands. but he does like the flirting tease from you.

his eyebrow raises as a smile crawls onto his face. such a pretty belle you are. and a fun personality is there too, he can tell. “I ain’t a knight, I’ll tell you that. but I can fix that shower head for you. if you want.”

“mmm, I don’t know,” you say, a playfully suspicious look on your face. “you’re still a man. don’t want just any stranger in my home.”

“I don’t have to be a stranger,” he smiles, obviously quite tickled. the action makes a deep dimple appear on one side, as if the man could get any finer. “but I do this shit forreal, I swear. here, let me getchu my card.”

he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a slightly crumpled business card, handing the item to you. you take the card and glance over it, noticing the lackluster design layout and plethora of services offered.

“interesting design. onyankpon, huh?”

“close. onyankopon, but I go by ony,” he says lowly, correcting your pronunciation. he tilts his head a bit, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “that face says you think it’s less than interesting. what’s ya name, pretty?”

“ᥫ᭡,” you answer with a smile. “the seems… slightly legit, I guess. I keep that thang on me though, so how about an exchange of services, mr. ony? I can design a new card for you. this is cute and all, but I can make it better.”

the idea is appealing to the man, but you’re where his full interest lies. there’s a teasing tug in the way you interact with him. he likes it. “a trade,” he says with a nod. “I can do that. I was fully ready to do it at no fee, though, darlin’.”

you shrug, face warming just a smidgen. “I don’t mind. keeps my skills sharp.” you pause, looking him up and down. “you are legit, right?” you question with a squint of your eyes.

ony chuckles then, rubbing at his jaw. “I’m forreal. got a truck with my name on it and everything.”

you hum and place your hands on your hips. “‘kay then. I don’t have to buy the pliers anymore, right? this place is a nightmare. spooky.”

ony shakes his head, dimple on full display with his handsome grin. you’re just too cute to him, all jokes and beauty. “nah. I do, though. ‘scuse me, ᥫ᭡.”

the sound of your name from his lips sounds unfairly addictive. you look up at him as he reaches over your shoulder, body close but not close enough. he keeps his eyes on yours as he grabs the pliers he needs, the scent of his cologne only adding to the experience.

gah damn.

the man gives you another charming smile as he steps back. “I have to go do another job in a few, but call that number when you wanna schedule somethin’. hope to see you later, pretty. don’t leave me hangin’, yeah?”

ᥫ᭡

“nice spot you got, darlin’,” ony murmurs as he walks through the doorway. it’s a cute sight, seeing his large frame treat your comfy home with so much respect.

he wipes his work boots on your doormat for a long moment, ensuring he won’t track anything around. he’s sure to adjust his work belt so he doesn’t budge anything. he’s looking around with rapt curiosity.

“thanks. took me a while to decorate how I liked, but it was worth it,” you smile. “c’mon, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

ony follows behind you, wondering if you wore the cute lounge outfit you have on for him. he intentionally keeps his thoughts respectful, but little does he know, you absolutely did.

he steps into the bathroom behind you, noticing the scent of jasmine and sandalwood from the wax warmer. your place is definitely a woman’s place in all the best ways, and he has no choice but to smile when he sees how cohesive the decor is.

“okay, darlin’. lemme take a look,” he mumbles. you step aside and wait with your fingers interlocked. after stepping into the shower and looking over the situation, he lets out a focused hum.

“yeah, definitely time for a new one. I’ll get this off real quick, you’ll be good as new in a few,” he nods. “where’s the replacement?”

“right here in the sink,” you point, happy to help. it feels like opening the door when someone carries a couch or something. like you’re not doing the hard work but still contributing.

ony lets out a warm chuckle, once again amused. you’re just happy to be here and he adores that. “good. you mind handing it to me when I ask?”

“nope!” you chime.

he shakes his head with a grin, dimple once again capturing your heart. he works efficiently for the next few moments, quickly dismantling, cleaning, and prepping. “alright, pretty,” he murmurs, holding out his hand.

you happily plop the replacement head into his hand and he takes it with a smile. “a lil helper, huh?” he asks as he easily completes his task. “alright. I just need to check for leaks and you’ll be good to go. easy peasy.”

“perfect, thanks so much, ony, I really appreciate it,” you smile. who knew a trip to home depot could kill two birds with one stone? free assistance with the shower and a fine ass man.

“no problem,” he chuckles. “just leave a good review on my site,” he winks.

“will do. five stars, I promise,” you grin. “I’m gonna run to the other room real fast.”

ony lets put a hum of acknowledgement as he checks over the shower head, vigilantly searching for leaks. you turn to exit, heading to the living room to grab the small cardboard box on your coffee table.

“what’s that?” you hear him ask from behind you. you turn and shake the box in your hands, enjoying the rattle. “your cards! you didn’t forget about our deal, did you?”

the man smiles as he crosses his arm, leaning on the doorframe. “I told you I was fine with doing it for free.”

“oh, well,” you roll your eyes. “c’mon, check em out. I only got a few in case you didn’t like ‘em.”

he hums as he approaches you, stopping just short of your frame to take the box from your hands. he lifts the lid and slides a couple out, eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees the new look.

“damn. this shit look professional as hell. I like the color too.”

“yeah?” you smile. “I made sure it looked as nice as possible, some color to liven it up a little. added your logo from your site. now you just need to keep them in something so they’re not rumpled when you hand them out.”

he chuckles in response and nods. “hell yeah. I like these much better, forreal. thanks, ᥫ᭡.”

“no problem,” you wave dismissively. it really hadn’t taken long at all. “service for service, right? I would’ve struggled with the shower, and no disrespect, that card was all over the place. misaligned, boring with no color. hope you didn’t pay the designer much.”

ony licks his lips and sheepishly rubs at his jaw. “mm. I was the designer, pretty.”

“oop-“ you immediately respond, laughing softly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like that.” you did, but now you felt bad, so you feel the need to spare his feelings as much as you can. he probably tried his hardest.

“s’no problem. you were right. this is definitely an upgrade,” he nods, waving the card in his hand. he can’t be mad if he just doesn’t have the skill, and he never got around to paying someone to do it. “makes me feel all official and shit with my name on my truck and now this. I’d say this was a good trade. except…”

“except?” you ask with a raise of your brow. you were pretty sure you did a damn good job, checking several times that the design was crisp and typo free.

“except,” he starts, “I traded for you to redesign my card. not print them.”

you blink at him. “I’m missing your point? I told you I only got a few.”

he shrugs, twinkle of mischief in his brown eyes. “still paid for them. that’s technically a service and a purchase. it ain’t fair, y’know?”

“I mean, it’s not really a big deal…” you trail off with a mumble.

“ᥫ᭡,” he says warmly, looking at you with a dimpled smile and a tilt of his head. “I’m tryna ask you on a date. just go with it.”

you blink again before you have to fight a smile. cute. really cute. he’s fun.

“hmmm,” you start, tapping your chin. you’re playing the part now, and you have to admit it’s very amusing. “you might be right about that. s’not a fair trade. we should discuss this further.”

“mhm,” he smirks. “how about… dinner? my treat.”

you bite you lip and tilt your head slightly. “dinner and a drink,” you rebutt.

his smirk widens, a twinkle in his eye. “dinner and drinks.”

“you’re a bad negotiator. you know that?” you question, squinting playfully.

“I don’t know, I feel like I should throw in some extra for emotional distress,” he shrugs. “an unfair trade can be a lot to deal with, you know.”

you laugh and shake your head in disbelief.

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal, mr. ony. dinner and drinks, I’m sold.”

a/n: just a little meetcute :) get the title reference?

this is inspired by one of my text aus lmao. writing a lil everyday is kinda gettin me out this funk ngl. feedback always welcome and wanted <3

[revelboo]

Waspinator is such a fun character and the way you did him in the worker bee series is chefs kiss! We need to show that bug some more love! Give him a big smooch!

(Sorry for this deranged comment/ask, hope you’re having a good day!)

He’s a bit slow, but he tries his best

Worker Bee Pt 7

Waspinator x Reader

• Leaning out into the hall, you make sure your unwanted houseguest is still preoccupied with the TV and the brightly colored animated movie playing. And he’s still sitting on your broken couch, staring with wide optics. Because finding out his short attention span means he’s easily distracted is something you plan to milk. Even though you’re annoyed about having to sneak around your own house as you slip into the bathroom and lock the door as quietly as possible. Just want to take a shower without your big shadow following you and having to explain why he can’t join you. Somehow, you’ve got to get rid of him, you’re just not sure how as you turn on the water to get warm.

• Antenna lifting at the sound of water, his head turns. Realizes his little friend isn’t nearby and slowly stands to stalk through your home, your hive. Wings flicking restlessly as he searches for you room by room, passing by a shut door. This room you don’t like him entering, pushing him away when he tries to follow you. Reaching out, he tugs on the door handle and the whole door pops loose from its hinges, his antenna flattening back. Didn’t mean to do that and now you’ll be angry again. A clear door inside the room opening enough for you poke your head out, hair wet. “Get out!” A wash rack? Antenna perking up even though you’re annoyed with him, he grabs the handle and pulls, seeing your wet shape on the other side fighting to keep the door closed until you get dragged out when he wins and opens it. “Waspinator, don’t you dare.”

• “Heat,” he purrs, voice buzzing as he backs you into the walk in shower and tips his face up into the spray. Ignoring the fact that you’re naked or not caring, even if you do care. A lot. While your shower isn’t small, it’s definitely not meant for you and him both. One of his wings brushing you as you end up against the back wall to avoid pressing up against him. “Waspinator shares,” he adds, shifting sideways so he’s looking at you and you can at least get some water, too. No way to get out without sliding against him, either. Miserable, you turn your back on him and try to wash as quickly as possible.

• Is that stuff why you smell that way? Mandibles rasping against your shoulder as he tries to scent the container in your hands, you startle, hip and back hitting the wall and then just sliding down to the bottom in an awkward sprawl. Reaching to grip your upper arms, he picks you back up. “I just wanted a shower,” you mutter, tone unhappy as you don’t fight his hold. Antenna flattening back when you start leaking, eyes watering. Doesn’t know how to fix this. Are you hurt? Clawed servos gentle, he takes your little, soft rag and tries to help, ignoring as you swat at him, making a funny hitching noise.

• Torn between wanting to cry and laugh hysterically as he tries to help you wash, your forehead just thumps against his hard chassis. Why can’t he just leave you alone? What exactly did you do to deserve this humiliation? Tensing when his servos cup the back of your head, reminding you that you’re naked and that while it means nothing to your idiot, alien dog, you care. Ducking out of his grip and brushing against him as he makes a funny clicking noise with his mandibles, you nearly fall trying to get out of the shower. Grabbing a towel and dripping wet, you run to your bedroom, aware that there’s soap in your hair and burning your eyes and you’re just too over it to care anymore.

• His little friend is upset again. Servos flexing as he drops the cloth, he steps out of your tiny wash rack and flicks his wings until they’re dry. Trying to figure out what he did wrong this time. Knows he doesn’t do the right thing a lot, that he has trouble focusing, that he’s broken and that why he’s hated by everyone. He deserves to be punished. But he tries to be useful, because this place with you feels warmer than anywhere he’s ever been. Wants to stay with you even if he annoys you, even if you want him to leave, because your hands are soft and kind. Even angry with him, you never lash out. You talk to him, explain what he did wrong. The water is still running, warm and tempting, but he heads down the hall to find you. Needing to understand why you’re upset, what he did. Doesn’t even mind if you punish him just as long as he can stay here with you.

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[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑! 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your people have a legend: mermaids only ever fall in love once. you never put much thought into it, until you come across a band of human pirates.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: romance dawn trio x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: sleep who's she? ~7k baby (1.7k intro, 1.4k luffy, 2k nami, 1.9k zoro)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: my contribution to mermay... on the last day of may, it gets increasingly more unhinged, sanji kinda gets bullied, robin is carrying the last two relationships, my own made up mermaid courting rituals, biting, a bit of violence

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: i had this playlist on repeat while writing 🙆

The last island had warned the waters to come were infested with dark creatures of slithering scales and tempting voices. Creatures that pull you in deep and leave you out to dry a corpse. Born from seafoam, storms, and desire. Mermaids.

“Mermaids?” Zoro drawled. 

“I met a mermaid once,” said Usopp, and everyone groaned unanimously. “She tried to take me down, but my charms were just too much, so she let me go.”

Everyone surely believed him, of course. 

And of course the motley crew ignored every reservation and warning and sailed headfirst into the treacherous sea. At first, nothing at all was out of the ordinary. The morning fog hung tentatively over the water splashing at the ship's hull as it powered through. Sure, the sun could’ve shined a bit brighter through the thick clouds, but it was a lovely day for adventure.

Nami stood at the helm keeping an eye on the horizon, relishing in the breeze hitting her face, when you heard an odd buzzing in her ear. She swiped at the air and rubbed her ear on her shoulder, but the sound only grew louder. Puffing her cheeks, she turned to ask Sanji to get her the bug spray, when she noticed he too was messing with his ears. 

She laid eyes on each of the crew scattered around the deck, enjoying the cool weather. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, faces screwing up as though in pain. 

“Do you guys hear that?” she asked needlessly, gathering their attention.

Zoro cupped his ears, nodding. “Yeah, it’s like…”

“Buzzing,” Luffy finished. He kept swatting at the air, searching out for some fly assaulting him.

“No, it’s… it’s singing.” Sanji faced the waters, the words of the village folk coming back to him as his eyes widened. He whipped back around to lock eyes with Nami just as she put everything together too.

She gasped. “Mermaids.”

The ship rocked and the weather shifted drastically in seconds. Already thick clouds doubled in number, drawing close and creating a swirling mass in the sky. Waves rumbled and rose to crash over the deck, sending the crew into hysteria to grab their bearings. 

And on top of it all, the most beautiful melody rose above the chaos, filtering into the ears of the crew and blocking all else out. Usopp’s hands slackened around the rope he held steady, eyes glazing over as he leaned toward the far off sound. Sanji’s eyes flickered up to the sky, roamed over the gray clouds, and fell to the waters below, his mind dizzied by the beauty and lithe of the voices. Zoro stumbled drunkenly over his own two feet, desire furling in the pit of his stomach, legs carrying him to the edge of the ship to catch a glimpse of the one singing to him. Luffy froze midclimb up to the crowsnest, head darting this way and that, mind clouded. Nami gritted her teeth, resolve formed to not give in to the angelic, mystifying, amazing song sung just for her—she left the helm unguarded, leaping to join her friends in calling out to the seas. 

The crew’s voices overlapped in thier pleading for the woman to come near, to give them all that the song promised. Their every dream would come true, if only the mermaid would help them into the water. The pod of mermaids encircled the ship, their harmonies intertwining in one mind. The ship might have kept on drifting, guided by rough waters manipulated by the mermaids’ hand, and crashed right into the reef and all the crew would be scooped up by the she-beasts, thrust into the deep to drown,

If not for one voice which rose above the rest in a demanding, desperate order: “STOP!”

Instantly, the clouds parted and sun bled through. The song fell through to indignant shrieks, splashes dying down to ripples as shiny tails descended into the blue. Nami blinked awake, feeling hungover and headached, looking blearily out on the water. Vision clearing, she caught a sight she would never forget; a woman lain on the far rocks, a single beam of sun illuminating the vibrant scales running along her skin till they met at a tail dipping into the water. 

The fact that their ship was headed right for those jagged rocks was an afterthought. She lurched back and sped into motion, barking out furious orders and smacking the men upside the head to push them into gear. Sanji stood frozen at the ship’s rail, gripping the wood in a vice, eyes glued to the creature. “Nami, it’s—”

“I know!” She gripped his shirt and whipped him around, slapping the side of his face a few times. “We’re going to crash!”

Sanji blinked, shook his head, and raced to grab a flinging rope, jumping high and tying in down in one swoop. Nami bolted to the steer, an eye out the window as she pulled with all her might to change their course. Usopp soon joined her, guiding the ship bit by bit to the left’s clear passage. She fell backward when Zoro’s shout reached them, “We’re clear!”

Risking a moment of peace, the navigator cupped her hands over her face, allowing her body to calm all its flighting-fighting instincts. The calm lasted for all of five seconds before the screaming began.

“Luffy! What—Why—What?!”

Nami sprang upright, locking eyes with Usopp, and the two sighed in unison before heading above deck. Whatever Nami expected, it wasn’t the terrified, shivering form of a mermaid baring her two fangs at a looming Luffy. The others stood a ways away, unsure what to do with themselves, but certain they didn’t want to get involved with this.

“Luffy!” Nami cried. “Did you drag her up here?”

Given the mermaid’s following hiss, Nami assumed that was the case. Luffy inched closer still, and the mermaid lost all her gusto, face falling as she scrambled away form him, dragging her tail behind her. 

The mermaid was beautiful; that was the common thread of thought. Her damp hair hung all around her face, nearly covering her deep eyes. Scales creeped up her torso and faded into skin around her chest. Her every movement was caught by the sun, her scales shimmering rainbow reflections into the air around her. 

“Stay back,” she hissed out, eyes narrowing upon Luffy. “Demon.”

Usopp scoffed, grabbing the mermaid’s sharp attention. “What, long-nose?”

Ruffling, chuckled awkwardly, he looked around at his friends for help, receiving nothing but raised brows. “I just mean—you’re the mermaid.”

The mermaid blinked slowly. She seemed to have forgotten the threat before her, all attention directed at a quivering Usopp. “I’m the demon? I’m the one who saved you. You think my people decided to let you live on their own?” She laughed, and the sound had a pretty ring to it. “No. I commanded them.”

Her eyes darted back to Luffy as he took to sitting criss-crossed in front of her. “I should have let you and this demon-child die on the rocks.”

It soon became obvious she knew Luffy ate a devil-fruit just by one look at him, and she was not happy about it. Luffy only tilted his head at her hostility, a little frown on his face. “Are all mermaids this rude?”

You balked, gaping before snapping your mouth shut, not dignifying him with a reply. Luffy persisted. “I like your tail. What do you mean you saved us? Why?”

Curling your tail closer to yourself, hands holding your upper body up, you glanced from the pirate captain to each of his crew. They didn’t look too threatening, but you’d learned long ago to never trust a human’s looks. Many a mermaid died on the grounds of humans looking nice. So Luffy’s question begged an answer. Why did you save them?

You shrugged a shoulder, eyes drifting out to sea. “My people need to eat.”

Usopp gulped. “We’re very gamy. You wouldn’t like us—”

“I wasn’t done speaking,” she quipped back, a brow raised. “Mers are carnivores by nature. Normally, we steer clear of humans.” You sneered at the word. “We find your kind to be a predator, and we’re a peaceful people.” The swordsman scoffed and rolled his eyes at that. 

“But times have changed. The fish have fled this sea.” You took a deep breath, shakily letting it out. “My people are starving, and they look to me as their princess for guidance.” Quickly clearing your throat to hide how the topic gloomed you, you snapped, “All that is to say that I strictly forbade the hunting of humans despite the starvation. They disobeyed me. That is why I helped you.”

You faced them all as your tail began to glimmer even brighter, slowly but surely parting down the middle. Your face contorted slightly as your scales seemed to mold into your skin, leaving you bear before the crew of pirates. You shivered in the breeze, raising your gaze once more. “Any other questions?”

There seemed to be none, silence running around the deck, and you prepared to jump back into the water before your parents sent the guard to find you, when the demon-child spoke up.

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded, face taken by seriousness. “How do we bring the fish back?”

You blinked once, then twice, and then a third time for good measure, but nothing in his expression betrayed hilarity. He wasn’t pulling your fin. The devil-fruit eater meant to help you. 

Demon. That’s what he was. You knew this fully well. It’s what your parents taught you from a young age. Devil-fruit eaters are the enemy of the sea, and thus the enemy of the mers. You’d followed this rule all your life… but then you looked at the one they called Luffy, you really looked at him right in his face… and none of that made any sense anymore.

Sure enough, Luffy led the charge against the oil corporation mining near your peoples’ home, threatening convincing them to move elsewhere. Within a few days of the miners’ departure, some mers managed to coax schools of fish back to their reefs. With the ecosystem and chain of life restored, the Straw Hat Pirates had no reason to stay.

And really, neither did you. What you did have, however, was a reason to go with the pirates. Adventure, the life you’d always dreamed of, away from the reef you’d felt tethered to for so long… and a certain member of the crew who had caught your rapt, undying attention.

There’s a legend that mermaids only fall in love once, never to find another who would fill the gap in their hearts. You would always call it foolish romance… but really, there might be something to it.

LUFFY

You were a goner the moment he offered to help you with those big, genuine eyes of his. As much as you tried to deny it—and you did try to deny it—you were falling in love with a human. A devil-fruit eater at that. What had you been reduced to?

And yet, there was no denying it. Especially not when you couldn’t bear to go an hour without laying eyes on him. Your mother said it was normal for mers to feel… possessive over the one who holds their affection, and that fact was not lost on you as you slithered through the water, approaching the pirate lazed out on the rocks he’d dragged you from about a week before.

Your eyes rose above the water first, little grin still below the surface. Luffy looked so relaxed, eyes on the clouds, every once in a while glancing at his crew on the anchored ship nearby. You braced your hands on the cool stone and launched yourself upward, fanged smile gleaming as water splashed Luffy’s legs. His laugh had you keening closer, dragging your tail along the rocks. Luffy grinned for all of two seconds before the seawater sunk in. Instantly drowsy, he tried to offer up another smile as you winced.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “I always forget.”

He laughed it off, already recovering as he shifted to face you. Luffy’s eyes followed your tail to where your fins dipped into the sea. “If only I could swim with you. Bet it’s fun.”

“If only.” You shared a smile for a little too long, but it never grew uncomfortable. Lingering in the moment, you gazed over at his ship, melancholy taking over as your smile faltered. “So… you’re leaving soon?”

“In the morning.” You clicked your tongue and tried your best to act nonchalant, failing miserably as you pursed your lips and combed through your hair.

“Why not tonight?” you offered with a tight grin. “You should get away as fast as possible. I don’t know how one becomes pirate king but it's not by sticking around a boring reef and its boring princess. Ha! I’ll even help bring your anchor up faster! Then you can be out by sundown.”

The silence crept up your spine, getting you all antsy as you lowered your gaze to the rippling waters. Shoulders tense, you could feel Luffy’s eyes on your profile as you picked at the algae along the rocks. He probably thought you were an idiot, rambling like that. And if so, that was fine. It would make him leaving so much easier. 

Luffy inched toward you and ducked to meet your gaze. “Come with us.”

“What!” You hit an octave the best soprano would envy, losing your grip and slipping right off the rock back into the water. Your hands grabbed at the slippery stone, panic all over your face before you plunged under the surface. 

You drifted under the waves, unmoving as the words replayed over and over in your head, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Glancing up at Luffy’s bright laughter, you caught sight of him peering down into the sea, his face muddled by reflections and ripples. He couldn’t be serious. He just couldn’t. 

Luffy grew nervous when you didn’t resurface, leaning over the water to catch a glimpse of your shimmery tail, when as quick as lightning you broke the surface and came nose to nose with him. Blinking wide, you breathed deeply, so close you felt his every exhale on your skin. “You mean it?”

“‘Course!” Luffy offered you his hand despite the fact he’d lose all his strength the moment he touched your sea-soaked skin. “Wanna join my crew?”

Yes. You wanted nothing more than to follow him to the end s of the earth and then some. Part of you had been hoping he would ask. The rest of you longed to take his hand and smother him in hugs till he pried you off him. But… the water swirled around your tail, threatening to carry you off in a current, and your lips quivered down. 

“I… I can’t!” you cried, dipping underwater before he could catch you, darting off into the blue. Panic bubbled in your chest, strangled gasps sending pops of air into the water around you. No matter what you wanted, you were bound to this reef. Your home, your kingdom… and above all that, to ever think of running off with a human was foolish beyond measure! So you wasted away all night long, lamenting around the sea, hiding above the coral and sands. 

Luffy watched the water all morning, trusting you would show despite your disappearance implying otherwise. Nami set a hand on his shoulder. “Luffy, she’s not coming.”

He had to hope. You wanted to go, he saw it in your eyes, and he wanted you to go too. Luffy didn’t think he could bear leaving without you, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew from the moment he met you that he needed you on his crew—but why? He searched his head for an answer, coming up short. Giving the sea one last hopeful glance, Luffy sighed and gave Nami the go-ahead. 

The ship had barely sailed off when a shimmery, sparkling thing leaped out of the water, shouted his name, and plunged back into the blue. Luffy raced to the ship’s edge, a smile creeping up his face. You raked a trail of seaspray behind you as you darted just below the surface. Again, you propelled yourself out of the water. “Wait!”

Luffy threw his head back laughing, holding down his hat on his head. He shot Nami an I told you so look, to which she rolled her eyes and turned, lest he catch her pleased smirk. A round of chuckles ran amongst the crew as they slowed the ship’s leave, not that it mattered; Luffy was already slingshotting his rubber arms out at you, and the next time you appeared arcing through the air, your shout turned into a yelp as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you in. Another panicked shout of his name left you before you collided with the rubber man, the pair of you rolling to the deck.

You worried your tail crushed him, the hefty weight of it landing on his legs, but all reservations fizzled out the moment his arms wrapped you up in a warm embrace. Luffy’s head found your shoulder, your hands hooking around his shoulders. “I’m covered in seawater…”

“Don’ care,” Luffy muttered into your skin even as he weakened and sank into you. “I knew you’d come with us.”

“With you,” you corrected instinctively, pulling away to stare right into his eyes. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

He giggled softly. Luffy’s arms unraveled as he opted to instead cup your shoulders. “Good.”

From then on, where one went, you’d soon find the other. Not only on your end; Luffy quickly grew so accustomed to your presence that he began to wait for you to start eating, much to the amazement of his friends (Zoro almost admitted he was jealous before he saw the hints of puppy love in his captain’s eyes, and decided to let it go for now). 

You still had some things to wear off before you fully let yourself admit you were falling for a human. Luffy seemed to be completely comfortable just going around holding your hand, swinging them between your bodies as your cheeks warmed. Luffy never strayed far from your side, comfortably resting an arm on your shoulder or some other contact. You never completely told him off for it, somewhat liking how his warmth contrasted with the cold of your sea-ridden body.  

Now, it’s a given that Luffy cannot swim. He ate a devil fruit—everyone knew this fact very well. But now Luffy had his mermaid with him! All his faith went into knowing you would always swim to his rescue should he need it, so what’s the harm if he got a little bit more reckless surrounding the sea?

(The harm is to your stress. By God, he would be the end of you one way or another).

The number of times one of the crew has called your name, given you this tired and sorry look, and pointed out to sea. Luffy was likely to be flapping about in the distance. The most recent occurrence, Sanji set a hand on your shoulder and went to let down a rope ladder. “I’ll help you back up, lovely.”

Outwardly, you might gripe about holding his hand and having to save his devil-fruit ass from drowning every other week—but inwardly? You’d turn hell over before you let Luffy die. So you held his hand tightly in yours, wearing a smile so small only Luffy’s keen eye could see. 

NAMI

Without really realizing it, Nami had fallen headfirst for your awkward, waterlogged, fishy kind of charm (and she wasn’t at all going to complain). She first started feeling it when the freshly victorious crew met your mer royalty parents at the surface, your tail mesmerizing as it dipped just into the water, your upper body propped up onto some scattered rocks. Your eyes filled with hope the longer you spoke to them in words too far to reach. Majestic. That’s the only word to describe you.

Well, majestic and graceless. That second descriptor was added when you rolled off the rocks into the water, beaming up at your parents before doing a figure eight around the sea and vaulting into the air. You flipped tail over head, cackling as you hit the water with a splash. A tiny laugh left Nami, eyes shining.

She was the first to help haul you up a rope ladder, hands clutching your damp arms. Nami met your smile steadfastly. “What’d you tell them?”

You giggled, cheeks warm at how you practically laid across her legs, the rest of the crew gathered around. “I just told ‘em I found something worth leaving for.”

(You’d told them you found a pretty human girl and had to leave with her or else you would probably die).

You promised to return for your birthright throne one day, though that promise hurt you. You had a duty to your people after all, no matter how pretty Nami was. But until then, you had today, and you would make the most of it. 

Love wasn’t enough of a word to describe what you felt looking at Nami, and obsession was a bit too extreme (though Usopp would teasingly disagree). You simply… couldn’t help but gravitate toward her any chance there was, ever in her orbit. Where Nami was, you were soon to be found. Nami never told you to screw off or give her space; on the contrary, when your shoulder brushed hers, she pressed into you fervently, skin to skin and warm.

It only took a month for you to throw all caution to the wind and do the only thing you knew—go forth with the mer courting rituals (you were hopelessly at a loss, only doing what you’d seen the older mers do to beckon the attention of their intended).

Nami, clueless, accepted each gift of dazzling seashells and shimmery pearls with alighted smiles, taking you in her arms even when you smelled of the kelp forest you’d swam through to find the treasures. She laughed off the bites you gave her wrists, arms, and sometimes shoulders, snickering about how it tickled. And she sat and listened to every song you sat her down to listen to, closing her eyes as the melody calmed her, never needing any actual enchantment to draw her in. 

In turn, you assumed her habir of buying you things was some sort of human ritual. Why else would Nami’s cheeks be so rosy as she handed you a luxury hairbrush you’d raved about seeing in a shop window? 

“Did you see this new pearl she brought me?” Nami leaned toward Robin giddily, rolling the pearl in her palms. Her lip between her teeth, she stifled a too bright smile. “I’ll have enough to make a bracelet if hse keeps this up.”

“Then I’d say you’ll soon have a bracelet,” Robin mused, turning a page in her book. Nami tilted her head, eyes narrowed.

“What’s so funny?”

Robin’s lips curled up into a grin, eyes darting up to meet Nami’s. She barely contained her mirth as she flipped the book around and handed it over. “Nami, she’s been courting you.”

Jaw slack, Nami poured over the open page, heart stuttering. She slapped a hand to her temple, huffing a laugh. “So by giving her gifts, I’ve been courting her back?”

Humming, Robin took her book and closed it gently. She turned to face Nami entirely, brows raised. “You don’t seem upset.”

“I’m not,” Nami quipped, cheeks warming instantly. Robin chuckled behind her hand. “I—I mean—Uhm…”

The older woman stood and set a hand on Nami’s shoulder. “I’d expect an invite to swim fairly soon.”

Sure enough, not a day later, you shyly slinked up to Nami as she headed to the galley for dinner. Your hand found her wrist, tugging her aside as Zoro and Robin passed by wearing matching grins. You stared at your feet uncharacteristically, shuffling back and forth. Nami felt hot all over. She reached out a lissome finger to wrap around your pinky, whispering, “What is it?”

Swallowing thickly, you huffed a confident breath and snapped your head up. “Would-you-go-on-a-swim-with-me-tomorrow?”

A little smile worked its way up Nami’s face. Your eyes squeezed shut the second you finished your sentence, wincing like she might lash out. “I’d like that.”

Your whole face lit up, eyes wide as saucers. “O-Okay. At sunset. We’ll be docked at that island by then, right?”

Nami nodded and pulled you into the galley. Right as she passed through the door, before she could catch the teasing glances of the others, she turned and mumbled, “It’s a date.”

Nobody questioned it when you hissed your fangs at poor Usopp, booting him out of his seat right next to Nami, and promptly plopped down next to the grinning navigator.

Sunset came to slowly, in your opinion. All day you’d been tripping over nothing, nervous hands making your awkward legs even more coltish than usual. Around evening, the ship tipped too far left far too quickly, sending you careening right into Nami. You dragged the both of you down to the deck, face hidden in your hands as she laughed brightly.

And finally, the sun descended across the sky, shooting oranges and yellows and pinks into the clouds. 

The wind kissed your face as you leaned against the ship’d railing, eyes darting back and forth over the rippled waters below. Fish flittered at the surface, bubbling her and there, muttering awful curses at each other. Nami sidled up beside you, eyeing your profile before gazing down. 

You snickered, drawing her attention. “Fish hear all sorts of swears and insults from the sailors. I wish you could understand them because I will never be caught translating that mess.”

Your laugh trickled off as you looked at her, eyes trailing up and down her form. She wore one of her bikini tops and a pair of shorts, nothing too special, but something flared up in your chest at the sight of her. Skin prickling, you whipped around and found Sanji not too far away. The cook took a drag of his cigarette, admiring eyes set on Nami. Your fangs peeked out of your lips, trilling a low hiss. Sanji choked and nearly dropped his cig into the sea, catching it betwixt his fingers at the last second.

Nami’s laughed gently, taking your arm and swinging one leg over the ailing, then the other. You gazed into her eyes deeply. “C’mon,” she smiled. “I thought we were swimming?”

With that, she jumped off the ship and plunged into the sea. You jerked forward, watching bubbles fizzle up from the deep before Nami’s head popped back into sight. She kicked into deeper water, calling for you. Taking a moment to sike yourself up, you stood precariously on the ship’s railing, preparing to make a graceful dive after her—when your foot slipped.

Yelping, you tottered offbalance and fell face first off the ship, just barely flipping around to land feet first in the water. The water fizzled and bubbled all around you, the usual sting of scales surfacing from the depths of your skin causing you to squirm slightly. Your senses enhanced instantly, so Nami’s rich, boisterous laughter flowed down from the air to the sea, embarrassment flooding your body. Slowly, you swam upward, water parting over your head and dripping donw your face. 

Eyes hooded, you came to face to face with Nami’s state of hilarity, clutching her sides as she struggled to remain above water. You waded toward her, hands finding her sides and giving her a break from kicking even as your eyes avoided her own. She hooked her finger under your chin, grin cheeky. “I thought it was cute.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” you grunted. 

Nami rolled her eyes and kicked away form you. “I thought we were swimming?”

“Not here,” you said, coming back to your sense. You reached for her hand and led her along the coast. “This way.”

You placed her arms around your neck and sped through the water, taking the pair of you far from the prying eyes of the crew and nearby sailors. Nami tucked her face into the crook of your neck, chuckling as seaspray stung her skin. Your tail propelled you toward a secluded cove you once visited with your aunt’s migrant pod, and you reached your destination in no time at all.

Now, Nami had done her research. She knew what to expect… But then you actually started to swim, your tail not making the usual constant up an down movements. You took a deep breath, eyed her hopefully, and parted the water by arcing your arms outward. Using a single, powerful thrust of your tail, you glided through the water like a piercing arrow, rotating in a spiral corkscrew. You circled Nami, who treaded water with a confused furrow in her brow. 

She had been picturing the Dance of Sea Hearts all day, and yet she hadn’t come close. 

Taking a breath, Nami gulped some air and ducked under the surface, flinging open her eyes. The salty water stung her eyes but she remained wide eyed, gaze trailing after your lithe curves and spirals. She caught your eye and the whole world seemed shifted all at once.

Suddenly pickiing up speed, you swam on your side round and round Nami, creating a current that spun Nami in a circle. Cheeks puffed of air, she went up for another bout of air and sank back down in one fluid motion. It was odd sort of dance, your fins brushing her skin and your hands tangling in her hair, taking her hands and spinning Nami in circles till the girl’s lack of oxygen and dizziness created a euphoric lightedheadness. But she trusted you, so she rose up for air and descended under the waves once more. 

When you finally started to sing, Nami wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to return to the surface. You were one person yet your voice sounded like a choir, echoes forming under the water and overwhelming every living creature in the vicinity with the beauty of your vocalizations. She remembered when she heard your people singing her crew to thier watery depths… and this was nothing like that. Their voices beckoned her forth with promises of jewels and safety of wealth… but you didn’t promise anything other than the safety of your love. 

Nami’s lips returned to the surface, sucking in as much air as she could. As the water closed around the crown of her head once more, you floated right in front of her, careful to not allow any enchantment into your voice. You wanted to do this right, not the way your people usually took the hearts of humans. Lips parted, you strung out your song—the song your father sang to your mother, and her mother to her father, and his father to his partner, and so on. 

The dazed look in Nami’s eyes was nearly concerning, and you nearly feared you’d let slip some magic, when her hands cupped your cheeks and her forehead collided with yours. Bubbles flew form your mouth, song halted instantly. Nami gave you a tilted grin, picking up the melody where you’d dropped it, and you were putty in her hands. 

Deeper the pair of you sank into the waves, your arms enveloping her body and holding her close, your tail curling around her legs. Noses brushing, your voices twinned together as your smiles rose to greet each other. Nami tapped your arm rapidly, on the brink of suffocation, and you swiftly swam the both of you back to the surface. 

Gasping in air, Nami curled her arms round your neck, lungs no longer straining under the power of the sea. “Are we, like, mermaid married now?”

You laughed awkwardly, nosing her cheek. “Not exactly… Do you understand what I’m asking?”

“I do.”

“And?”

She pecked your lips. “I like you too.”

Though your heart threatened to sink, you accepted her kiss wholeheartedly, vowing to someday make her understand the depth of what you felt for her. The night grew long and full of laughter, splashing water hitting your faces as you committed a dance of your own making: having fun.

ZORO

Zoro knew the moment he laid eyes on you that you were dangerous. 

With sharp fangs, fins that flared when angry, and the most hypnotizing eyes that made him feel things when he looked in them—you were close to the myths he heard growing up on his home island. Except, unlike the myths, you were kind, and maybe that’s what made it worse.

Zoro also knew something else the moment he saw you jump in the way of a sword strike from an oil miner and proceeded to tear him to shreds. With a mumbled curse and flushed face, he felt a thump in his heart as you heaved, dark eyes taking him in like you intended to devour him whole. But then you smiled, corners of your mouth curling to reveal shiny teeth that should have been threatening, and all he could think was a very firm shit.

He wasn’t getting a crush on a mermaid. 

Yet, he found his eyes always drifting to you one way or another. And that voice—you swore you never used your enchantments on anyone, finding it unethical, but you had to be doing something to him. Each morning you went up to the crows nest and sang a song. Zoro was able to name every single one by now, but he’d rather die than admit it. 

(But you knew, having a keen eye to catch his eyes fluttering closed whilst you spun your melodies).

You composed yourself far better despite feeling a similar tug in his direction. You were a princess, after all—albeit a feral sea princess, but you held poise nonetheless. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that every time you laid eyes on Zoro you had this innate desire to bite him. Maybe then the cook would get the message and stop staring.

Either way, it was really only a matter of time before the culmination of looks, touches, and songs took its final toll on you both. 

You sat with Robin on the steps leading up to the helm, you head propped in your hands, eyes unabashedly laid upon the swordsman training on the deck below. Robin’s eyes drifted up from her journal, flicking between you and the source of your admination, before shaking her head. “You could talk to him, you know.”

Blinking, you glanced her way. “I do talk to him.”

“I mean,” Robin laughed. “Talk to him. About you and him.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. It would complicate things.”

“And constantly undressing him with your eyes doesn’t?”

You cast her a little glare. “Don’t test me.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin shoved your shoulder, nearly sending you falling donw the stairs. “I’m sick of watching you two. It’s sickening. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of your own romantic customs?”

Cheeks burning, you stammered over incoherent words and wobbled to your feet. Pausing to breathe, you peered over your shoulder, losing yourself for a moment as you caught sight of the grace with which he moved. He moved on from lifting weights, instead going over his katas and form with sword, the Wado Ichimonji. 

Robin’s chuckles brought you back to reality. Pouting, you gritted out, “Shut up.” You whirled around and meant to march right up to Zoro—what you were going to say was the issue of future you—but you walked head first into a broad chest and fell in a heap of limbs on the ground. 

Zoro’s eyes went wide, motionless as you glared up at him only for your eyes to soften instantly. Zoro huffed a laugh and reached out his hand. You eagerly accepted his help, jumping back to your feet and falling right into your habit of admiring every detail in his face. Your surprisingly strong grip remained on his wrist, your eyes darting between the flesh of his arm to his chesnut eyes. Zoro frowned deeply, confused, trying to tug his hand away and reeling at how strong your vice was. 

Blinking quickly out of your trance, you released him, stared blankly, and bolted below deck. Zoro watched carefully, having half a mind to call you back; he’d walked over to talk to you, after all. He liked talking to you (it was a shocking revelation he was still having trouble accepting).

Robin felt like an intruder on such moments, yet always found herself in the middle. She snapped shit her journal and Zoro’s head snapped in her direction, quickly darting his attention elsewhere. Robin let loose a sigh of exasperation. 

“Ridiculous.” Before Zoro could process whatever that meant, Robin was gone, leaving Zoro clutching his hand ot his chest and wondering why his skin crawled with the lingering sensation of your touch. He really couldn’t take much more of this. And neither could the crew.

“Every time they speak I feel like I’m walking in on a hook up,” Nami complained to Sanji. “They make asking about the weather feel sensual.”

Sanji chuckled to that. “Patience. Not everyone is as emotionally aware as you, darling.”

A week passed, and the usual brief glances and looks of longing exchanged readily. And then came the night of your watch. Everyone always knew when you had watch because you made it everyone else’s problem the whole day. Groaning and grunting, you lamented your lost sleep, and the others usually chuckled behind their hands whilst you sighed.

Usually, you spent your watch alone, charting the stars to pass the time and singing old sea shanties to keep yourself awake. But tonight was different; tonight, someone joined you.

Zoro’s footsteps thunked against the deck, startling you from your daydream. Shoulders dropping, you sent him a smile and went back to leaning against the mast. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” Zoro sighed. He followed you gaze to the night sky. “Have they moved?”

“Have they—?” You paused to stare at him, mirth glittering in your eyes. “Have the stars moved?”

He flushed from his neck to his nose, only worsening at the sight of your blue-moon smile. “You know—are there new ones? Constellations. Don’t new ones appear when we’re in different areas?”

His frantic explanations only humored you more, dragging tiny chuckles out of you even as you nodded. “I know what you mean. Sorry for laughing… There are new ones. See there?” You sidled up to him and pointed to the left side of the sky. “There’s the South Mother. I could never see her back at my reef.”

Zoro’s brows met. “South Mother?”

“I think you call her Ursa Major,” you explained. “To us, she’s our ancestor, banished to the stars for loving a human.” Realizing how close you’d drawn to him, you glanced at Zoro before swiftly clearing your throat and stepping away. The tranquil quiet filled the space between you, before the stories of your childhood rose to the surface of your memory.

“My mother always told that story as a warning. Never deal with humans. They get you cast among the stars.” A tiny scoff left you, smile forming. “But my father? He told me South Mother was a revolutionary. Why shouldn’t she have loved a human? If she found one worth her time, then that’s her choice.”

You chanced a look at Zoro, locking eyes with him. You found it in yourself to not look away. “I always liked my father’s version better.”

Zoro nodded tentatively, unsure what to say if he should say anything at all. He settled for sitting against the mast, motioning for you to join him. You dropped down quickly, taking a spot on his right and resting you head against the wood. Minutes went by in blissful silence.

“Can I bite you?”

The question caught him off guard, Zoro lurching up to stare at you. His jaw agape, he found your expression to be one of utter seriousness, blinking at him expectantly. His swallowed thickly. “I—In what context?”

You shifted around to face him, waiting for him to do the same. “In the context that I want to bite you so no one else does.”

Reeling, Zoro managed a laugh, lips curling upward. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone else biting me.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gods, what was he doing? He lowered his gaze, watching your hands fidget nervously with your boot laces. You were nervous… Glancing up, he saw that same nervous energy swarming your face. “Can I ask why you’re worried someone else will bite me?”

You thought back to your conversation with Robin, and her advice, and regretted ever bringing any of this up in the first place. It was all so stupid. You’d done so well of pushing all of this down… but he was waiting for an answer, and you’re quite certain you’d give Zoro anything he wanted.

“In my culture,” you started, “we bite those we… feel things for. It lets others know they’re talking with someone.”

Zoro understood what you actually wanted to say, no matter how hidden in your words it was. “And you want to talk with me?”

You wanted so much more than that. Honestly, you were clinging to your composure. He’s lucky you even asked first. “Yes. I do. And I don’t want you… talking to anyone else.”

Squinting at the space over Zoro’s shoulder, you awaited the blow of rejection. Surely, Zoro had other options. He was a warrior—strong, wise under all that moss on his head, and kind. Yet slowly, Zoro moved into your line of sight. His heart thundered around in his ribcage, his next sentence feeling silly, yet true. 

“Humans do something similar,” he offered. “You bite me… and I’ll bite you.”

You hadn’t expected to get this far. Nodding gently, you threw caution to the wind along with all the pretense. “All that is to say… I… Well, I understand the South Mother because I met you.”

Zoro’s gaze softened, his hands drawing you closer till his exhale fanned your face. You knelt before each other, a single question in his eyes, to which you nod and lean in if only to be near him. His hand cradled the back of your head, lips dancing across the skin of your neck, finding the spot that made you squirm and biting. Zoro had no fangs to sink into your flesh but it hardly made a difference; the mark was there, along with several others littered along your shoulder.

Letting out a shaky breath you gripped Zoro’s jaw before he could go any further and brought his face level with yours. Running your tongue over your two jutting fangs, you muttered, “Where?”

Zoro craned his neck to the side, his breathing heavy and pupils consuming his irises. You gently traced the line of his jaw, completely enamored, before latching onto the skin where his neck met his collarbone. Careful to not wound him, you bit down just enough to leave your mark. Zoro’s slight hiss had you soothing your tongue over the mark, remembering the feel of his lips on your skin, and copied his earlier ministrations. Zoro would deny it over and over, but he whined, and you would take that knowledge to your watery grave.

Come morning, imagine the crew’s surprise walking into the galley expecting the usual dance of awkward feelings, only to find the pair of you thick as thieves showing off the fresh territorial markings splayed across your necks. 

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s @murnsondock

[m1d-45]

snapshot

summary: short, soft moments with your lover, featuring tighnari and neuvillette (separately) in that order.

word count: ~1k composite

-> warnings: big mention of bugs in tighnari's ! none shown but theyre discussed, as are bug bites. none for neuvi.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

bug bites were common among forest rangers. a special bug repellent was included in every pack, a black bottle with plain instructions. tighnari put effort into making it easy to apply and easier to understand, constantly finding new ways to promote its usage. if gone untreated, even small beestings can become serious. add onto it the fact that he was the one that inevitably had to treat them, and he had every motivation to ensure it was used. he made sure that spares were easily accessible, included demonstrations in training, and emphasized the importance of proper application before every patrol.

so why in teyvat did you keep getting bit?

every time, without fail, you returned from patrol scratching your wrist or ankle or wherever you inevitably got bit. and every time, he had to be the one to drag you to the medical hut. at least if you acknowledged the severity of the situation and brought your injuries to him on your own, that’d be understandable. he understood that the feeling of lotion wan’t bearable for everyone—he was in the process of transforming it into a mist to make it even easier—and he’d be happy to find ways to keep you inside if that was the case. there was no shortage of small chores to be done, and with collei now in full recovery, you could easily take her place.

but no. of course not. that would be too easy. his partner happened to be the most stubborn ranger on the squad, with the worst affinity for bugs he’d ever seen.

“how does this always happen to you?”

you shrug, pulling his mint plant off the shelf and beginning to tear off a few leaves. part of him is proud you at least know the proper treatment, though it’s quickly overshadowed by the angry swelling on your hand. he takes the leaves and nudges you toward the chair, searching his drawers for the rest of the poultice.

“how long ago did you get bit?”

“maybe half an hour.”

“half an-” he twisted open the tin with too much force, sighing. “and you didn’t come back immediately why?”

he can hear the smile in your voice. “it wasn’t that serious.”

“…what color was it?”

“yellow.”

“really?”

“and striped. probably a wasp.”

he didn’t know how you had the energy to be sassy, tearing the leaves into shreds and mixing it into the tin. your eyes were red with tears and you hissed when he spread the medicine over your wrist, clearly in pain. the area around your bite was hot to the touch, and he could feel his ears pull back in worry.

“why do you insist on going on patrol?” why do you insist on getting hurt?

“it’s not a big deal.” i don’t care about my pain.

“it is.” i do.

he wiped off his hands and grabbed a roll of bandages, wrapping your hand. your fingers flinched whenever he pulled it too tight. how could you insist on putting yourself at risk like this?

he taped down the end, holding your hand in his. “if it gets too itchy, come back to me, okay?” will you let me care for you?

“of course i will.” i’ll try.

he brought your hand to his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

maybe this time, you’d mean it.

rain was common in fontaine. gutters lined every road and fountains sprayed wherever there was enough room to put one. carved bricks channeled water out of the plazas, every inch of the city designed with rainfall in mind. steep roofs fell over wide awnings, thick greeting rugs in front of every building. when it rained, it poured, though no puddles lay in the streets. sharp lights cut through the dense fog hanging over ivory walls, lighting up the city even when the clouds blocked out the sun.

but the world did not come to a standstill merely because the weather asked it to. boots were sold covered in waterproof wax, many-layered skirts designed to flick off water in a single twirl. fashion was as beautiful as it was untouchable, the very idea of something being vulnerable to waterlog appalling and confusing. who would create such a thing? who would wear it without an umbrella? and, entirely separate from that: who would ever consider leaving the house without an umbrella?

umbrellas were as vital to fashion as they were to the ever-changing weather. they came in every color and shape, made to match every conceivable outfit one could wear. and if, by some miracle, you couldn’t find one that did, there were a plethora of boutiques offering custom embroidery. the steambird was eager to comment on the shifting designs across officials’ umbrellas, trends flowing in and out of their fashion column like the tide. everyone who worked in the court that had stepped outside on a rainy day—which was about as common as the sun rising—had their appearance meticulously documented; unless they refused being in the paper, of course, in which case other less-reputable sources picked up the story instead.

all were reported on, making the front page if not the headline. all, but one.

the iudex did not carry an umbrella. he also declined to entertain any questions as to why, merely stating that simple fact and moving on with his day. his hair clung to his face, even his suit darker with water. he walked down the less crowded roads so he wouldn’t bump into anybody, seeming entirely unbothered by the rain. sometimes he’d turn a palm toward the sky, as if checking that it was still there, and then continue on his way.

you always hated this habit of his. no matter how many times he insisted that he wouldn’t get sick, it was always worrying to open your door and find your lover soaked from head to toe. no water slips from him to your floors, not even from the soles of his boots, the click of his heels and your worried tone the only sound in the house. it was already late as it was, and there was no point to fuss about details at this hour.

“what happened?”

he shed his coat, suspended droplets hovering in the air around him. “the marechaussee phantom were called to mount automnequi; a melusine was badly injured by a rogue mek, and a fisherman had to pull her from the sea. i paid her a visit after work.”

that would explain things. he lets you wipe off his face, careful not to smudge the eyeliner that never seems to fade. already, the rain was beginning to let up, lightening from a downpour. rain in fontaine was as fickle as it was frequent…

“is she alright?”

“of course. the gardiennage provides excellent doctors.”

“then there’s no need to worry.” cupping his now-dry face in your hands, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “she’ll be back in her feet in no time.”

the slightest of smiles crossed his face, his hands keeping yours on him. outside, the skies were clearing, pale blue quickly streaming through the clouds.

perhaps umbrellas would fall out of fashion soon, if rains could cease before they truly had the chance to begin.

[storiesabouteli]

See ya! // Noel Gallagher (Single Dad) X Reader! (Fluff).

prompt: you found a lost child and helped her find her father...

words: 2K.

 Before ending up in your lap, the child had a lost look in her eyes, searching among the miniature trees that stood at her height. Your eyes drifted from your book, and it didn’t take long for you to notice that there was no adult nearby.

 She was hesitant, her eyes filled with tears, and her dark eyebrows drawn in a painful line. Somewhere between your gentle words, she broke down, letting your hand comfort her trembling shoulders as she sobbed in despair, “I can’t find Daddy.” 

 You nodded, looking into her blue eyes, trying to make her feel safe. "I can help you," you whispered, and her little sobs began to ease. You draped your jacket around her shoulders, and her tiny hands squeezed yours.

 "When was the last time you saw him? What does he look like?"

 She searched the area with her eyes, feet rooted to the spot, her red nose slowly returning to its natural color.

 "Does he tell you to stay in the same place when you get lost? So it’s easier to find you?"

 That made her look you up and down, and despite trying to hold it back, you laughed. "My mom used to say the same thing, can you believe that?"

 Noticing her hesitation, you opened your bag to show her what was inside—a small bag for the picnic mat you’d been sitting on, your book, some lip balm, and a coin purse you opened to show her the coins. You explained you forgot the bug spray, like always, and always ended up regretting it.

 "Uncle Liam talks a lot, just like you. I like that. Daddy is really quiet and always has a serious face."

 You laughed. Her words were getting lighter, and her mixed-up letters and accent, shaped by her age, were adorable.

 "Okay, so he walks around with a grumpy face..."

 She nodded, her expression more amused now.

 "He has a lot of hair. The other dads usually don’t."

 You agreed, imagining a man with a full head of hair and thick eyebrows, just like hers—definitely a genetic trait.

 You weren’t going anywhere. You figured he’d pass by at some point, and you’d still be there, right by her side, making sure nothing bad happened to her.

 She rested her head on your arm—clearly tired, but just as clearly not ready to close her eyes.

 "He’ll find you," you whispered, watching her glance from you to the park around her.

 You had already told security and said you’d wait.

 "Sal,"

 The man’s voice was much louder than both of yours combined. That alone made your arm, which was wrapped around her, fall away as she stood and ran straight into his arms.

 You watched as his arms closed tightly around her waist, pulling her into a fierce embrace. He wore a single pinky ring, and his fingers clutched the back of her clothes with intensity. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glossy, and when he finally opened them, he took in every detail of her face like he was memorizing it.

 "I’m sorry, I know I should’ve waited for you."

 It felt like a scene out of a film—the kind of moment you know could happen to someone, just never to you.

 She hugged him again, and he let her curl into him for as long as he thought she needed. Then he looked over at you and gave a brief smile, nodding. His gaze lingered on yours a little longer than one might expect—just long enough to feel like it wasn’t quite everyday stuff, but also nothing inappropriate given the moment.

 "It were twenty minutes, y’know? Felt like bloody eternity," he said, the thick Manchester accent curling around the words. You weren't entirely used to the sound, so you stepped a little closer to catch it all.

 The way he said it was almost like he was trying to justify himself—but with the worry written all over his face, the little pink bag slung over his shoulder, the towel peeking out, and the joy in Sally’s eyes as she looked up at him like he was her hero, there wasn’t really anything to question.

 You smiled, and when he reached his hand out for a shake, your instinct was to lean in and go for a hug instead.

 As your arms met and he caught your waist when you slightly stumbled, your cheeks warmed, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. For a few seconds, he was close—close enough to make it a little awkward. He smelled like mint gum and that kind of dad cologne you could never quite describe.

 You laughed at your own thought, then added, "I’m not from here, I get that hugging strangers probably isn’t the norm, but I’m getting used to it."

 He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to like that you hadn’t apologized for it—though he clearly understood the context.

 His cheeks and the tip of his nose went red again, this time even more than before.

 "Noel," he said, introducing himself. He barely opened his mouth when he spoke, maybe because he didn’t think the gap between his front teeth was charming, even though you thought it kind of was. The fact he seemed shy about it only made him more attractive.

 Sal’s hand hadn’t let go of his. Noel kept her close, protectively, but the moment you said your name, she gave a little tug—almost like a reminder that she was still there.

 "And this’s my little Sally—glad she’s alright, thanks to you," he added, his accent rich with that unmistakable Manchester warmth.

 She waved, and you waved back.

 Noel tried to take off your jacket from around her, saying hers was in his bag, but Sal resisted with a stubborn shake of her head and a tiny pout—like it was her armor now. You figured it was fine, even if it turned Noel beet red.

 You were relieved, really. In the end, she was safe with her dad.

 You grabbed your bag, stood, and folded your mat to pack it away—there was no reason for you to stay anymore.

 But as you did, you heard a low whisper from him to the girl, "Ask her to come for a coffee with us."

 Then came the unmistakable shuffle of a bag and what you imagined was Noel nudging her with his elbow.

 "You ask her," her voice came back, much clearer than his.

 "I don’t even drink coffee," she murmured under her breath, trying to hold back a smile.

 "Don’t wanna come with us?" he asked just as you turned around. He did seem quieter than the uncles Sally had mentioned—he asked it like someone who was trying to sound confident but fighting off a war inside.

 "We’re going for coffee. Well, he is—I like hot chocolate," Sal added, and you nodded.

 The thought of letting them walk away without you was starting to feel oddly wrong. 

 It hadn’t been a quick thing; time seemed to slow down like it was what everyone needed. Noel waited for you to order and helped Sally choose a pie, placing both her drink order and his. Sal was chatty in a way he wasn’t—not that she was a motor-mouth. She sat on his lap, her cheek resting against his chest, and sleepiness seemed to wash over her. Every now and then her arms would wrap around his waist, and he’d kiss the top of her head, and she’d close her eyes. The girl looked just like him.

 “Y’alreet, been ‘ere long?” 

 “No, I moved last week. I live just down the road from the stadium. It’s been nice,” you said, shifting your gaze from Sal to his. He nodded, eyes still on you, and you held his gaze. The colour returned to your cheeks, and you found yourself liking that more than you meant to.

 “I like the weather... I might miss the vitamin D, but it feels cosy.”

 He laughed—that wide, almost toothless kind of laugh he had. He scratched his face, more precisely his jaw, then looked away for a moment before turning back to you.

 “There’s a café just on the corner near you, one of the best around. You should check it out.”

 You nodded, already knowing it—you’d been there before.

 “You two should take me there,” you said, your attention drifting to the menu again, then back to him before your words fully sank in.

 Noel wasn’t slow, but fatherhood had softened that kind of awareness a bit. He chuckled, and you raised your brows as if to say, I mean it.

 Sal would still be dreaming if it weren’t for the smell of cocoa at the table. You had to admit, seeing him as a dad stirred something different in you. He’d folded napkins under her cup and plate, and she did make a mess, like any kid. There were moments she paused to play with the cutlery or tried dipping her finger in the hot chocolate, and Noel had to step in—but always calmly, speaking softly. Even if it took a moment, she eventually understood.

 He also respected her pace. Even while talking to you, he made it clear he was there for her, never rushing her to match your rhythm. In the end, she couldn’t quite finish her pie, and Noel had to take the last bites for her. And she made a point of putting spoonfuls in his mouth.

 They were adorable. It was unfair he felt the need to apologise for having lost sight of her for a few minutes earlier. 

 In the end, he insisted on paying the bill. But since Sal needed to go to the bathroom, you were the one who got the check and ended up breaking that agreement.

 “It were on me—just a thank you, like,” he said.

 The older lady taking payment overheard and whispered, “He’s a bit gruff like that with everyone.”

 That made Sal giggle, and the furrow between Noel’s brows softened even as he shook his head.

 “He hides it well,” you teased, sweetening his cheeks again. He responded with, “Right, next time’s on me then.”

 You smiled brightly, your teeth showing more than before.

 “Sal, we’re gonna see each other again,” you said. She looked just as excited about it as you.

 Noel picked her up, and she immediately clung to his neck. The sight of him with this blonde girl, her pink bag slung across his shoulder, was oddly comforting.

 “We’ll return your jacket...” he worried, but you dismissed it as unnecessary with a shake of your head.

 “Want mine? You might get cold.”

 He was about to set her down, but you touched his shoulder gently.

 “Noel, it’s fine. I’m not cold.”

 He nodded, and you later realised maybe you should’ve taken it. Sal had turned your jacket into a blanket. It wasn’t that cold, but she was cuddled into it and had now actually fallen asleep.

 “So,” you whispered, hands in your pockets, not avoiding his gaze.

 “D’you come t’the park often, then?”

 “Yeah, usually late afternoons. My place still doesn’t feel much like home, y’know?”

 He understood, "We do an’ all."

 “That’s alright. I’ll be here tomorrow,” you said, biting your lip, a soft smile playing on your mouth. 

 Noel thought it was sweet how easy it was to read you—how you didn’t hide when something pleased you. Like the little hum you let out with your first bite of brownie. Or the relief on your face when Sal found him. Or how you lit up when he blushed.

 “I’ll be here, same time, waitin’ for you... and for Sal. Gonna get her some presents, maybe bows or a bit o’ cake...”

 You were still smiling, and he stepped closer, opening his free arm. You didn’t hesitate—wrapped your arms around him. The scent of mint and cologne filled your lungs, getting even better as he gently stroked your back from top to bottom.

 Before you pulled away, he placed a short kiss to the top of your head—and it felt right.

 He stayed with you until your taxi arrived.

 “Thank you,” he said after a long, comfortable silence between you two, eyes meeting, not needing to say anything more.

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.3k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 5 "The Coat"

“Get away. Get away! Get away!”

As if the radroach could fucking understand you…

You were perched up several feet above the floor, clinging to a boarded-up window so desperately the old wood was about ready to give under your nails.

After roughly two weeks of sleeping on the ground with your overstuffed backpack as a pillow or curling up uncomfortably in the back seat of a rusted dingy car while the ghoul slept in the front, you’d found shelter. An abandoned, crumbling building that used to be a school if you had to judge by what was left of the paint on the walls, the toppled-over and ransacked lockers, and the sloppy drawings. It was perfect for a night of rest; you’d stumbled upon a mostly empty classroom on the second floor in a good enough condition to make camp. You’d even managed to find a stained old mattress stuffed under a desk while scavenging.

Unfortunately, your exploration had caused enough disturbance and soon you learned that the place wasn’t abandoned, it was infested.

The ghoul had reacted as soon as he’d heard the scuttling of the roaches, flinging both you and the mattress inside the room before slamming the door shut before an orchestral of shots ensued. You would have cried in both love and appreciation if one of the damn things hadn’t crawled out from a crack in the ceiling, now you were just crying.

A nasty shiver wracks you to the core when the oversized bug stops vigorously bumping against the corner of the room and dashes towards you. The skin on your knuckles is scraped off as you rip your hand out of the tight crevice between the boards. Your fingers are soaked, wreaking of lavender as you spray another good chunk of your perfume bottle at the roach before it gets any closer.

It hisses and makes a sharp turn, away from the floral scent and back to trying to climb up the wall. Now you were both suffering, you because this was the only bottle of perfume you’d packed, and the radroach because it was choking on it.

Vile little thing…

You shriek when it skitters over to your backpack, lured in by the tasty goods inside, tapping on it with twitchy antennae. The rations, water, everything you owned were in there and your stomach twists with anxiety as your pulse skyrockets. The fact that the roach was trying to discern if it was worth ripping apart the zipper or not made the whole situation even worse.

It was big, ugly and maybe had an ounce of intelligence. Great…

Spurred on by hopelessness, you contemplate just chugging the perfume bottle at it to deter it.

“Get the frick away from there you nasty – ” with arm bent back and ready to fire you screech one last time because maybe it’ll listen this time.

“– The hell you screechin’ like a banshee for?!”

The gunshots cease shortly before your savior-to-be barges in, practically kicking the door open. When searching eyes find you hanging off the boards nailed to the window his scolding expression shifts, eyebrows knit together and his head tilts to the side. The intense lavender smell clashes into him and he waves a hand over his face with a throaty cough.

“What in God’s – ”

“ – Kill it. Kill it. Kill it! Please!” you stammer on, about ready to crawl up the ceiling if it gets any closer again.

At the sound of the door opening, the roach stops vigorously munching on the strap of your backpack and lifts its antennae high. It zips towards the exit, all scuttling legs and fluttering wings, and dodges the ghoul’s heel when he tries to stomp it dead. He aims the pistol as it dashes down the corridor, the barrel still heavy with smoke, then with a dissatisfied flick of his tongue decides otherwise.

Not worth it.

Then his attention is back to you and he rests his hands on his hips, rancorous that a radroach had managed to teach you how to climb while he’d failed.

“Get the fuck down.” he grumbles and stuffs his weapon back in its holster before shutting the door. The adrenaline subsides and you see his feet dragging as he approaches the laid-out mattress. It’s barely noticeable but after spending a decent amount of time constantly in his presence you’ve learned to distinguish the little changes in the way he carries himself.

He kicks the mattress to the wall and plops down with a gruff moan, leaning back and letting the tension sag off his shoulders.

You manage to pry yourself off the window, gently lowering yourself until your feet reach the floor. Wobbly legs guide you to the ruffled-up backpack for a quick inspection; one of the straps is nearly chewed off, hanging onto a few sturdy threads. You pinch the ruined fabric between your fingers, folding it from side to side with a concerned frown.

There was no way to fix this, not without a sewing kit, and despite practically stuffing the entirety of the vault inside the spacious bag, that was one of the few things you’d not thought of bringing along. There was a chance of finding something of the sort once you reached Tillburry, but for now, you’d have to carry it on one shoulder and pray that the one good strap wouldn’t snap under the weight.

“Mind tellin’ me why this place suddenly smells like a brothel?”

You turn to look back at the ghoul’s disgruntled face as he fishes his canteen out of his bandolier. The black expression already has him bracing for the utter bullshit about to spill from your mouth.

“Well,…the bug came out of nowhere and – ” your eyes roll to the side as you try to string together an explanation that didn’t sound bogus. “ – And you were busy with the rest and I didn’t know what to do.” you’re facing away as you struggle to drag the backpack to the mattress, then let out a small, strangled grunt. You sit on the edge, gracing him with enough room to sprawl out if he wants to. The zipper is forced open before your good hand sinks inside, rummaging for a box of band-aids you knew you’d have a reason to bring along. “And I couldn’t just run out cuz the door was closed…So I sprayed it. With perfume.”

You steal a glimpse of him over your shoulder, bottom lip sucked in between your teeth.

The bastard fucking cackles.

“Jesus Christ, woman…” he wipes a few stray droplets from his chin and you wish he’d do the same with that toothy smirk.

“Quick thinking?” you’re defensive and it makes him crack up even more. You scowl and avert your attention back to your provisions, peeking inside the pack with one eye squinted shut. “I had to do something.”

“That’s the best you came up with?”

The teasing makes your throat clench, but you keep your glare pointed down and away from him. He had the right to say whatever he wanted, he’d kept you relatively safe during your journey even if he made sure to be a prominent pain in the ass while doing so. You were a well-mannered lady, stuck to your moral code, and behaved in the polite way you had been taught. But sometimes the ghoul came dangerously close to having you cuss him out.

“Well, I don’t have a weapon, do I?” you snip and once your fingers finally brush against the familiar band-aid box, you clutch it with frustrated strength and pull it out. “I’m not exactly able to defend myself.”

The wasteland might have started getting on your nerves a little, either that or your friendly neighborhood bounty hunter was rubbing off on you. It was most likely a combination of the two. The lack of proper sleep, limited water, the constant blazing sun, you should have brought a hat, the fact that everything and everyone was suddenly out to have your head on a pike, plus his inability to offer a single sentence that didn’t contain at least one demeaning remark in it. Your patience was being tested, you were cranky, but you’d persevere, you were determined to do so.

“Ain’t gonna happen, Darlin’.” he shuts down your vague proposition, his tone dropping a few octaves as he rests his head against the wall. He lets one of his legs relax flat against the softness of the mattress, the canteen being tapped against his other, into the side of his bent knee and in a lazy fashion, an old habit. “Would sooner give my pistol to the radroach.”

“How nice.” you give him a sleazy smile before letting out your pent-up irritation on the squished box in your hand, ripping off the lid and tossing it away.

Your tantrum has him suppressing more than a few nasty statements. He grits his teeth, swirling his tongue around the sip of water locked in his mouth, a niche way of keeping his lips sealed long enough for his dissatisfaction with your passive-aggression. He swallows before smacking his lips once and swishing around the canteen to check how much more he has left, then finally speaks.

“Lose the attitude.” the typical rasp in his voice is smoothed out after he’s finally wet his gullet. He spares you a lingering glance without the usual dominating intensity present – a good way to ask you to quit it because it’s been a rough day, he’s tired and just wants to brood before shut-eye. “Ain’t gonna get you far.”

You comply with a nasal huff and scoot back against the wall before bringing your knees to your chest with a handful of band-aids tucked between your fingers. Your bleeding hand shakes a tad too much and you lay it over one of your knees to keep it steady. The dying sun rays seep past the boarded-up windows and bounce off your torn-up skin, the thin sheet of blood sparkles and it would have been disturbingly pretty if it didn’t sting like a bitch. You pinch the band-aid wrapper between your teeth and tear it open before covering up your first bruised knuckle.

Sometimes you wondered what was going on in that boiled egg head of his. On some nights he was willing to hold a conversation or re-tell a story from his younger days of surviving in the wasteland and they were gruesome but interesting. Then there were late evenings such as this one, where he’d just sit in silence, eyes distant and recalling scenarios that tugged at the corners of his lips when he thought you weren’t looking. You tried not to engage him when he was entranced, instead just scarfing down a granola bar or a few deviled eggs before curling up and forcing your eyes shut. You hoped he’d tell you one day, maybe when he trusted you enough to open up to deeper topics.

Still…

Talkative or not, he was pleasant company, even though he’d tied you to a tree once because he’d mistaken you trying to hide to relieve yourself as an attempt at running away and cheating him out of his caps.

Your lips purse at the memory.

That particular night had been a rather bumpy ride.

Once your scrapes are thoroughly covered you flex your hand, temporarily satisfied with your handiwork. The ghoul takes off his gloves and secures a beaten-up can of peaches from his bandolier, the distinct number of your vault plastered on the front. He hooks a finger around the clasp and pops it open, then his mouth pinches in a snarl. He pulls his thumb away, a shallow gash painted across and hastily filling with scarlet red.

“Shit.”

It was probably your constant presence over the past weeks and your welcoming and quiet nature synergizing with his spiteful and venomous one, but he didn’t spot you leaning closer until your fingers were wrapping your last band-aid over his cut. Your thumbs rub over his, making sure the thing sticks well.

It’s a stab to the heart because he’s aware there is no underlying intent behind your gentle display, it’s who you are – stupid and soft and too much for the world.

“Stupid t’ waste your last one considering is gonna heal in a few.” he means at as a scold, another lesson he never knew he’d need to teach, but it comes out too hushed, his words are faltering. His jaw locks and his lungs give out when you smile so tenderly and sometimes…

…Sometimes he lies to himself that you’ve only ever smiled like that for him.

After that, he sinks into an ocean of hatred, he gives you a cold shoulder, spits venom, and pushes you back at an arm’s length. Because what was a man to do when he kept beating down a stray dog and it kept nuzzling its snout in his palm? You were supposed to break a week ago, hell, even two weeks ago, start a fit and give him enough reason to leave you behind. The only thing he got was a grumpy hiss every so often when you were beyond sleep-deprived and missing a good cup of coffee.

“It’s okay.” you nod in reassurance and settle back. The sweet scent of his dinner softens the stench of lavender and it reminds you that you’ve been starving since early afternoon. “I have enough gauze to last me a while.” you dig through your provisions before scoring a package of saltines.

You don’t ask him if he wants any because he gives you a lecture every time about rationing your food. Instead, you take three intact crackers and dip them in his can. He stops digging his fingers through the mushy peaches and gives you a look, then speaks.

“Already said I’d take ya t’ Tillburry, Sweetheart.” his actions defy his condescension; he gathers a good amount of syrup on one cracker and presses it into his tongue, making sure not a drop is wasted. “Can stop tryin’a butter me up.”

“Hm?” you blink at him, then rush to fetch out a bottle of water when the crumbs tickle your throat. “I’m not, Mister…” you respond after washing down the tasteless saltines and gasping for air. “We’re a unit now, right? And you do most of the work…so it’s only fair.” it’s sincere and he might not see your face fully as you wipe your mouth and then keep it covered as you speak while chewing, but he’s learned enough to know that if you were hiding something you’d rather keep your tongue tied over lying.

Your reasoning sinks into him like the fangs of a deathclaw and he’s a little annoyed because he’s supposed to be the one telling you that:

“You need more food than me.”

Indeed, he does, but he’s a stingy man who’d rather starve a little and keep moving over stopping somewhere and restocking. He’d barely even taken any food from your vault, most of the tato sack was stuffed with Pip-boys and stimpaks intended for selling, along with a few spring water bottles.

The ghoul reaches over, plucking the larger half of your crackers and you have no plan of complaining, staying true to your word. But then he wiggles the lid completely off the can and sets it between you two and you’re suddenly so overwhelmed, but make no noise, afraid that whatever had possessed him would startle and leave. You scoot a bit closer and are the first to initiate your shared meal, dragging a syrup-dosed slice of peach and cupping a hand under your coated saltine to keep from making a mess of the mattress.

He waits until you’re done, avoiding your skin like the plague, but you only see it as a gentlemanly gesture, blind to the hidden war he’s forced to wage every time you come in contact.

The wasteland is merciless both day and night, the fluctuation of temperature’s had you feeling unwell rather often – going to sleep shivering and then waking up drenched in sweat. The sun had been slow in hiding behind the desolate horizon, but once it had and everything was dim, you noticed it.

There’s a nip in the air, it makes your fingers falter around your treat and the syrup pours down your chin before you’re able to properly stuff it in your mouth. You make a squeamish sound and brace to catch the sticky drops threatening to stain your dress, hunching forward to at least have them fall on the floorboards if you miss.

He clicks his tongue and wipes the back of his palm under your chin, gathering up the viscous sweetness.

“Sloppy girl.” he rumbles, self-taught to be unaffected by the cheery thumbs-up you give him because your mouth is too full for a proper thanks. Then he’s stuck as his first instinct is to lick the syrup off, he muses, and his tongue retreats from pressing against the back of his teeth; he wipes it in his coat instead.

The food might have not been enough to sate you, but a shared meal filled the heart more than the stomach, and you were satisfied with just a light snack spread between you both. The wrapper is crinkled up, but instead of throwing it to the side, you decide to keep it and stuff it in your backpack – a warm memory to keep you going when harder times come.

As you dust off the crumbs from your chest and lap he picks up the can and slurps out the remaining contents at the bottom. He milds out the sugar numbing his tongue with the last two sips of his canteen then lets his head roll to the side, whiskey-colored eyes trained on your sprawled-out legs.

“Y’know this gonna rip in another week or so.” he’s tugging at the stretchy fabric of your tights.

“Mm, probably.” you agree with lips curling back into your mouth, then your brows rise as you consider the unavoidable possibility. “But I’ll just fit in better with the folk here, right? So it’s not all bad. Plus, this won’t be my outfit forever.”

“Always the Positive Patty.” he scoffs with a twisted grin and takes off his hat, leaving it on top of his bandolier.

“Someone has to be.” you’re biting back a cheeky smile as you pull out a thin, creamy yellow blazer from the bottom of your pack and fling it over your shoulders. “You’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, Mister…No offense.”

“ ‘M too old t’ wag my tail anymore, Sweetheart.”

The temperature drop adds a tremble to your voice, the knitted top isn’t enough to fend off the nip at your skin, and regarding the fact that it’s still not pitch black outside, you’re starting to anticipate how much colder it will get. There’s no way for the ghoul to light a fire indoors either, there’s no ventilation for the smoke. Plus, despite the room stinking like lavender, there’s no telling how many radroaches you’ll be welcoming by tempting them with a constant light source. You’ll have to make do with what you’ve got.

“How old?” you cheep while untying your boots, then slide them off with a relieved breath.

Regarding all the difficulties and dangers of the wasteland, walking was your biggest enemy. Your boots were comfortable enough to prevent a majority of blisters, but you still suffered from a few. Your feet were pulsing from overexertion and some nights the discomfort was so intense that you had to knead it out of them. 

You stretch your toes with a groan and roll your ankles, earning a few satisfying pops.

“Old.” he answers and you have a feeling that’s all he’s willing to give away.

Your shoulders ache as you flex them, skin raw and red beneath the blazer from the coarse straps of your backpack digging into them daily. You’re sore all over and it’s disheartening sometimes because you often compare your struggles to the ghoul who is unphased by everything. Then you’re reminded you’re still new to this and adjusting and he’s a strict teacher who would have no problem berating you if you weren’t living up to his standards. You’re not doing all that bad, you think, keeping things on a positive note because he sure as hell wouldn’t.

You’re about to reach forward and give your poor feet the love they deserve, but freeze for a moment and then turn to the side and stuff your good hand in the pocket of your pack.

“Now where did I put this thing…”

The sun wasn’t just cruel, it was dehydrating, and you were taught to drink water only when on the brink of passing out. You could manage that, but your lips took the most noticeable damage and you wound up having to coat them with Vaseline to prevent them from cracking.

“Ah, there it is!” you pop the cap off and dab a finger inside before lathering your lips and rubbing them together to spread out the greasy substance evenly.

The ghoul rests beside you, eyes sown shut and head dipped low, already succumbing to exhaustion.

You’re a perceptive little thing and sometimes you like to stick your nose where you shouldn’t so when you take him in while silently smacking your glossy mouth you notice that he is in a worse condition than yours. Thoughtless actions are a part of human nature and it’s been a while since you grew accustomed to the lack of personal space since starting your journey with him. You didn’t consider the potential consequences when you tilted closer to him with a Vaseline-covered forefinger extended, determined to give his chapped mouth a hint of relief.

But he’s also a perceptive man and he too acts on instinct.

A startled cry escapes you when you’re flattened on your back, pinned beneath him, and with a knife to your throat.

“The fuck you think you’re doin’?” he hisses and it’s dangerously prickly.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry.” you squeal and crane your neck to the side to ease the press of the blade. “I just thought your lips were chapped and – ” your eyes crack open to find him puffing ragged breaths only an inch or two from you, your arms are squished between your bodies. He catches your wrist when it bends closer to his snarling maw. “ – It’s just Vaseline. For skin conditions. It’ll help. Promise.”

“D’ I fuckin’ loo – ” he tenses when your finger dashes over the ridges of his mouth.

His entire body goes rigid as the wet sensation is registered in his brain and so does your audacity. The fact that you were this brave has him boiling. Who the fuck did you think you were?

There’s unease coiling in your belly as he stares down at you but doesn’t grasp that you’re there. You can almost see the cogs in his head turning and you make a vain attempt at escaping from his hold before he snaps back to reality.

You might have overstepped a tiny bit. Should have complied when he was about to shut down your act of care instead of forcing it on him before he could even finish speaking. Sometimes you forget the power imbalance because it’s not coded in your system that anyone would be unnecessarily violent with a woman. He’s proven you wrong plenty and it still fails to click and you can’t commit it to memory.

He presses his weight on your perked-up knees, uncaring how your feet dig into his stomach, practically forcing you to fold in half. His teeth grit so hard they threaten to crack.

When the veins on his forehead bulge, you know you’re in for a rough time.

“You fucking little – ”

He manhandles you on your stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs, and wrestles your hands behind your back.

“Ow, ow, ow. Ow!” you whine under him, wincing when he grips your wrists in place and the weight from your upper body disappears. Then you’re painfully aware of how cold it had become and a chill runs up your spine. You hear the ruffling of leather, then feel the coarse rope graze your sensitive skin. “Wait! No, no, no, no – ” you thrash between his solid thighs and he shifts his position to lock your wiggling legs between his knees. You try to look back but only manage to make yourself choke when your Adam’s apple bops against the mattress. “I just wanted to – ”

“ – Been too good t’ you.” he barks down your protests and once the rope is secured around your hands, he pulls hard enough to make you cry out. “Forgot ya place, Missy?” his tone was biting and you let loose a pleading mewl, but his gestures didn’t soften one bit. He turns you on your side, glaring daggers down at you. “Lemme remind you.” he leans so close you can feel his breath on your ear, hot and cold. “I ain’t your fuckin’ friend. I ain’t your fuckin’ daddy and I ain’t your Prince Charmin’.”

You’re curling in on yourself as he stuffs animosity down your throat. The scarce moonlight makes him look like a fiend. You hide beneath the collar of your blazer, shielding yourself from his scalding eyes and it brings some comfort to your battered mood.

Your doing…your mistake.

Jesus, you’d tipped him over real bad this time.

Over freaking Vaseline of all things…

You’d seen him like this before. It was his go-to façade when dealing with hostiles of any kind, it was him stepping back into the shoes of a merciless, vile creature devoid of humanity. You’d seen it plenty but never targeted at you.

And it was fucking terrifying.

“Only reason you’re alive is cuz you owe me caps.” he shoves you into the wall and your knees collide into it with a deaf thump. “Now keep ya mouth shut n’ go the fuck to sleep.”

Your bottom lip quivers as the dull pain in your knees spreads. Your feet ache, your wrists pulse and your shoulder screams from having to endure your whole weight. You swallow a mixture of ropy saliva and salty tears and breathe extra carefully just so you don’t let him hear you sniffling.

“Had enough o’ you.” he lumbers down next to you, back to back but no contact, and you’re just left shaken up and with a wide-eyed expression.

Once the air settles the chill of the night creeps up your legs, seeping through your tights and licking at your skin until you shudder.

You couldn’t blame his brutish punishment or his harrowing words even if they carved wretchedness into your heart. He’d given you the truth, no sugarcoating, straight and simple. Your safe transportation was business; you weren’t out on a magical adventure. He wasn’t even being cruel, he was being honest and pointedly agitated because you were getting too comfortable. You were the one trying to dazzle him with your charades and big dreams of making it into the wasteland like some fucked-up alternative to Hollywood.  

He mumbles something pissy when you shiver for the second time, readjusts, and curls an arm under his head.

The deal was to get you to Tillburry and leave you there for a few weeks, let you adjust and gather up the caps you owe, then come back to collect his pay. You were wrong to think of him as a friend, he’d discarded the title each time you had flung it at him. But it was confusing when his actions refuted his tongue.

“Quit it.” the ghoul warns when you fail to suppress another shiver so prominent it makes your teeth chatter.

“Sorry, Mister.” you manage to say, forehead pressing against the cool wall as you try to steady your breathing and fight off the incessant jitters. “Is just cold…”

He was gentle when he’d eased the stimpak into your calf to save your infected ankle. He used you to lure out hostiles, but he always stuffed you in the safest corner he could find when you were settling down to sleep. He always rolled his eyes when your feet gave out in the middle of the road, but never left you behind. And sure, he was a ghoul, his regeneration and dulled pain receptors were commendable, but he still took bullets for you. You couldn’t be convinced that it was just his job because you didn’t want to be. You wanted him to care.

When another shiver takes hold of you he sighs. You feel the mattress dip next to your legs followed by the rustling of heavy fabric. Another apology is ready to shoot past your frowning lips, a thread of pleads to not kick you out of the room and into the roach-infested corridor on standby. Anticipation has your toes curling and your heart hammers because he’s doing something behind you and you can’t turn around to see. You almost want to cry because you can’t even let the man rest without being a menace.

He’d given you beyond what you deserved, but you were greedy and still coveted for more.

“Gonna be the death o’ me…”

You twitch when you’re abruptly shrouded in unfamiliar heat, a tattered blanket draped over you, covering your curled-up form completely; his coat. A shattered hum is all you can spare.

The faint scent of detergent still lingers, but there’s also something else, a musk, a rich odor that you can’t compare to anything you’ve smelt before. The smell of him. It clings to your skin like a needy lover, merges with yours and marks you up as part of his turf.

He settles back down without another word, away from you, of course.

You inhale deep and slow, let the aroma overwhelm your senses, and shut your eyes at the buzz it causes in your stomach. Your wrists tug at the restraints with the need to pull the coat tighter around you, then you’re reminded you’re tied up, but you can’t be bothered to care anymore.

Hot then cold, sweet then sour. He never sticks to one, always bounces between the two and it’s peevishly perplexing, but it makes his tenderness so much more addicting after a rough tussle.

When you’re drunk and sated, you emerge from the warm darkness, enough for your lips to feel the cold again instead of ghosting against the leathery fabric. Glazed over, heavy-lidded eyes, blown-out pupils directed at the wall, but all your consciousness comes up with is him.

“Don’t want you to be cold, Mister.”

You tuck your feet under the warmth and the blood returns to your numb toes. Your stomach bursts with an alien flutter that punches through you until it reaches your thrumming heart and nurtures a sparkling new emotion.

“Go t’ sleep, Sweet pea.”

Coherence has been slain by a vague opponent, leaving you bare to the current pumping through your veins. Self-indulgent and needy, your knees are used as leverage, sunken into the wall and pushing you away until you find solace in the curve of his spine. The heat emitting from him is even greater than that of his coat and it dusts a hue on your cheeks, slightly darker than your natural tone. The chill stings against your heated flesh.

Your eyelids fall and your nose burrowed back into the comfort of your blanket as you suffocate on his scent once again. It cradles you gently, until your head is spinning and you feel like body and soul are nearly split apart. You’re levitating, floating in a pitch-black sea that’s guiding you into the embrace of slumber.

A steady breath comes from him, he doesn’t move nor protest.

He’s a kind man. He indulges you, lets you wander through a foggy forest because soon you’ll be separated and he won’t have to deal with you anymore. That’s all you need from him and you’re so grateful.

It’s not him murdering threats that has kept you alive thus far, it’s just him being present. Because you’re not just alive, you’re living for the first time and he was there from the beginning.

“G’night, Mister.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

<<< Chapter 4

Chapter 6 >>>

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Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @ one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard @rockst4rkitty @lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish

[houserautha]

These Destined Touches

Summary: Feyd-Rautha’s POV from Part 4. You know what scene I’m referencing.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 741

Warnings: female masturbation, male masturbation. A lot of masturbation.

A/N: You don’t necessarily need to have read These Destined Ends to read this, everyone needs to be able to enjoy Feyd masturbating. (But you should read TDE)

"Do not be so easily influenced by a girl," the Baron had sneered at him. Smoke billowed from his lips, and Feyd had tried to focus on it instead of the urge to strangle his uncle.

He hated that the Baron saw through him so effortlessly, had exploited his weakness like turning over a rock and exposing the wriggling bugs underneath. Feyd did not like weakness. He had pruned all of them from his mind — or, at least, that's what he thought.

Feyd was out on an errand for his uncle, collecting payment from someone on his endless payroll. Usually he enjoyed these errands. More often than not they ended in violence, in a chase, in the clean swipe of his blade across a jugular. He practically lived for the resulting warm spray of blood on his face. But he found himself loathing the task because it took him from you.

He wanted to know what you were doing, what you were thinking. He wanted to see the glint in your eye when he purposefully provoked you.

Feyd needed to purge you from his mind.

So he sought out a well known tailor on the planet and commissioned a dress for you, knowing that you would sooner gouge out your eyes than deny him and let him triumph. Feyd wanted to humiliate you thoroughly, strip you of your confidence and drive you from his thoughts.

He hadn't expected you to strip, however, to stand naked before him like some sort of resplendent goddess. Feyd couldn't drink you in fast enough, committing to memory every inch of your body and the way your nipples pebbled in the cool air or perhaps with your own arousal. It had done the opposite of what he wanted, rooting you even more deeply into his mind.

"I'll see you at dinner," he said flippantly. He had turned and strode from the room before you could notice his tented pants.

Feyd's anger stoked his hardening cock, though, no matter how much he tried to will it away. Eventually he gave up in soothing his desire — it wouldn't go away, not as long as the sight of your naked form was still burned behind his eyelids. And so he stormed to your shared quarters, flinging open the doors to search for you, the searing words he wanted to unleash burning his tongue. But you were nowhere to be found.

Then he heard it: the sweetest sound, breathy and needing, over the roar of the shower. It stopped him in his tracks. Steam poured out from under the door of the bathroom.

Feyd dared closer.

And there it is again.

He can feel heat pool down to his cock, swollen head twitching at the sound of your whimpers and moans. You’re pleasuring yourself.

“Feyd,” he heard you sigh.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Feyd, fearing that you might catch him — or worse, he might cum right there — slipped out of the chambers. His feet carried him to his strategy room, blissfully dark and empty. The door has barely closed behind him when he’s fumbling for his pants, his cock.

He glided his digits along the underside of it and then circled the head, breath hitching in his throat as he imagined your hand in placement of his. Feyd dragged his fingers up over his slit, gathering the pre-cum and slicking his cock with it. He groaned. Goaded by the image of you naked, he gripped the length of his member and began stroking it, hips bucking in response to his touch.

Feyd conjured the memory of you, summoned to mind what it might feel like to plunge his cock inside you. He thrusted faster into his hand. Would you still look at him with that glint in your eye as you rode him?

His hand blurred over his shaft, wrist snapping to wring out his own pleasure. Feyd closed his eyes as his orgasm crested, breath sawing from his chest faster and faster. “Fuck!” He growled.

Cum shot from his throbbing cock, over his hand and stomach. He worked through the climax and the shuddering aftershocks, lids fluttering, tongue darting out to wet his parted lips. Feyd lingered for a moment, then quickly went to work cleaning himself and fastening his pants. He licked up the residual black cum from his fingers, plotting exactly how he was going to get you back for this transgression at dinner.

Tags:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen

[bumblebeeswrite]

NIGHT OWLS | JASON HOCHBERG

Part 2 to Morning Birds

summary: You suggest another all nighter, but Jason has a better idea

word count: 1,781

CW: fluff to the max again, kissing, sharing a bed

@yearsbecomingcool this one is for you

A few days had passed since the all-nighter that had shifted something fundamental between you and Jason. Things weren't drastically different on the surface – camp duties continued, kids needed wrangling, and schedules had to be kept. But underneath the routine, a new current flowed. Stolen glances across the mess hall held more weight, accidental brushes of hands sent sparks flying, and conversations, even mundane ones about bug spray or activity planning, felt charged with unspoken understanding. You’d found yourselves gravitating towards each other during free moments, sharing quiet jokes or simply enjoying the comfortable silence that now existed alongside the easy conversation.

The memory of waking up on the bunk of his cabin, his vest still draped over you, and seeing him asleep in the chair lingered vividly. It felt both incredibly intimate and slightly unfinished.

As evening activities wound down one night, the familiar longing for that quiet connection pulled at you. The campfire was just starting, the younger campers already buzzing with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the crowd for Jason. You spotted him near the edge of the woods, talking quietly with one of the other senior counselors, Liam. Waiting until Liam clapped Jason on the shoulder and headed towards the fire, you made your way over.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached. The setting sun cast long shadows, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

Jason turned, a warm smile instantly lighting up his face. "Hey, you. Skipping out on the marshmallow roasting already?"

"Thinking about it," you admitted, kicking lightly at a pinecone on the ground. "It's just… it's a really clear night. Almost like the other night." You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. "I was thinking… maybe another trip up to Makeout Point? See if Orion's still visible?" The suggestion felt bold, laying your cards on the table.

Jason's smile softened, his eyes searching yours. He seemed to consider it for a moment, glancing towards the darkening path that led up the hill. You saw a flicker of something in his expression – fondness, maybe, but also a hint of weariness.

"As tempting as that sounds," he began slowly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "and believe me, it does… I'm beat. Today was… a lot." He managed a small, apologetic grimace. "Dealing with the canoe incident took more out of me than I thought."

Your heart sank slightly. "Oh. Okay, yeah, no worries. I get it." You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"But," he continued, stepping a little closer, lowering his voice slightly so only you could hear over the distant campfire songs, "I have a counter-proposal."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. How about… an early night? My cabin. We could, you know, just hang out. Talk. Maybe actually sleep this time? In beds?" He looked endearingly awkward, a faint flush rising on his neck. "Or, well, a bunk bed. Singular."

Your breath hitched. His cabin. An early night. Not the separate sleeping arrangements of last time, but an implicit invitation to share his space, his bed. The suggestion hung in the air, thick with possibility and a healthy dose of nervous tension. It was bolder than your own suggestion, in its own quiet way.

"Okay," you heard yourself say, your voice quieter than intended. "Yeah, okay. That sounds… nice."

"Nice?" He echoed, a teasing glint in his eyes, though the nervousness was still there. "Cool. Let's, uh, make a discreet exit then?"

Slipping away from the main camp area felt different this time – less like a secret adventure and more like a deliberate step towards something new. The walk to his cabin was filled with a strange mix of comfortable silence and buzzing anticipation. You were acutely aware of his presence beside you, the way his arm occasionally brushed yours, the sound of his footsteps matching yours on the pine needle-covered path.

Inside his cabin, the familiar clutter felt welcoming. He'd tidied up slightly since your last visit – the books were stacked more neatly, the sketch pad closed. He switched on a small lamp on his desk, casting a warm, soft glow over the room, much gentler than the harsh fluorescent lights of the mess hall.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the cabin's lone bunk bed. It was built into the wall, a sturdy wooden structure with a mattress on the bottom level, piled with a couple of blankets and pillows. The top bunk seemed to be used for storage, holding a duffel bag and some folded clothes.

Comfortable. Right. You perched awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, feeling suddenly shy. Jason busied himself for a moment, fiddling with the lamp's switch, then turned back to you, leaning against his small desk. An awkward silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant sound of the campfire and the chirping crickets outside.

"So," you started, trying to break the tension. "No forbidden cereal tonight?"

He chuckled, the sound warm in the small space. "Nah, figured we'd skip the kitchen raid this time. Less chance of getting busted." He pushed off the desk and sat on the other end of the bunk, facing you, leaving a careful distance between you. "Besides, I'm actually tired enough to sleep."

"Me too," you admitted. The exhaustion from the day was catching up, but it was overshadowed by the nervous energy humming beneath your skin.

You talked for a while, the conversation softer, more subdued than your marathon talk at Makeout Point. You spoke about the day's events, the funny things campers had said, the small frustrations and joys of the job. It was easy, familiar, yet underscored by the awareness of where you were – alone, together, in his small cabin, inches away from him.

As the conversation lulled, the silence returned, but this time it felt heavier, charged with unspoken questions. Jason looked down at his hands, then met your gaze, his expression serious but gentle.

"So, uh," he started, clearing his throat. "About the sleeping arrangements…" He gestured towards the bunk. "It's… not huge. But it's definitely big enough for two. If… if you want?" He looked uncertain, vulnerable, a stark contrast to his usual quiet confidence. "No pressure, obviously. The floor is still an option. Or the chair of torture."

You looked at the bunk, then at him. The image of him sleeping uncomfortably in the chair while you took the bunk flashed through your mind. The thought of repeating that scenario felt wrong now. You wanted to be closer.

"The bunk sounds good," you said softly, holding his gaze. "If you're sure?"

A slow smile spread across his face, full of relief and something deeper. "Yeah. I'm sure."

There was a moment of awkward shuffling as you both figured out the logistics. Kicking off your shoes, deciding who went in first. You ended up sliding in against the wall, pulling the blanket up. Jason switched off the lamp, plunging the cabin into near darkness, save for the moonlight filtering through the window. You heard him move, felt the mattress dip as he carefully lay down beside you, initially facing the room.

He didn't immediately touch you, leaving a sliver of space between your backs. But the proximity was electric. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, hear the soft sound of his breathing. The air felt thick with anticipation.

"Comfortable?" His voice was a low murmur in the dark.

"Yeah," you whispered back. "It's... cozy." You paused. "You?"

"Yeah," he replied, his voice closer now. "Better than the chair, anyway."

You smiled in the darkness. A moment passed. Then, slowly, tentatively, he shifted, rolling onto his side to face you. In the dim moonlight, you could just make out the outline of his face, his eyes finding yours in the darkness.

"So," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is… nice."

"Yeah," you agreed softly. "It is." You hesitated, then added, "Nicer than Makeout Point, maybe?"

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through the mattress. "Different kind of nice. Less… potential for raccoon interruptions." He paused, his thumb gently stroking the blanket near your arm. "Things have felt… different, since that night. Haven't they?"

Your breath caught. "Yeah," you admitted. "Different. Good different."

"Good different," he echoed thoughtfully. "I like good different." His fingers found yours under the blanket, lacing together loosely. His touch was warm, slightly calloused from camp work, and incredibly grounding. "I've, uh… I've been wanting to do this. Just… be here. With you. Without needing the excuse of an all-nighter."

Your heart swelled. "Me too," you whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

He shifted slightly closer, his face just inches from yours now. You could feel the warmth of his breath, see the way the moonlight caught the curve of his lips. His gaze flickered down to your mouth for a split second before meeting your eyes again, a question held within them.

Time seemed to slow down. The distant sounds of the camp faded away completely, leaving only the sound of your intertwined breathing, the beat of your heart against your ribs, the electric anticipation crackling in the small space between you.

He hesitated for one more heartbeat, as if waiting for a sign. You gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in. His lips met yours softly, tentatively at first, a gentle pressure that sent a jolt straight through you. It wasn't rushed or demanding, but questioning, exploring. You responded instinctively, tilting your head slightly, deepening the kiss just a fraction. It was sweet, warm, and tasted faintly of the campfire smoke still clinging to his clothes. His other hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

The kiss lingered, a perfect moment suspended in the quiet darkness of the cabin. It held all the unspoken feelings, the nervous energy, the comfortable silences, and the growing affection of the past few days. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, you were both slightly breathless.

"Wow," he breathed out, his voice husky.

"Yeah," you whispered back, a smile spreading across your face, feeling ridiculously happy.

He didn't move away, keeping his forehead pressed gently to yours, his hand still cupping your cheek. His arm was still around your waist, holding you close. Cocooned in the warmth and darkness, wrapped in his arms, the awkwardness had completely melted away, replaced by a profound sense of rightness and a thrilling new beginning. Falling asleep like this, truly together after that first, perfect kiss, felt inevitable and incredibly sweet.

[glitterforashes]

𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 ; 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

>>> sally fisher and larry johnson as per usual, fluff, comfort for sal, usual tomfooleries for larry, lake hc’s. enjoy!

𝐬𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 —

doesn’t like to swim, just sits on the shore

will get in to about waist length if you ask nicely

hates being splashed. will immediately get back out

brings his gameboy in case he gets bored

usually only goes with you, larry, ash and todd. wont go alone or one on one with anyone.

doesn’t wear just swim trunks, wears a tshirt over them

refuses to get his hair wet like a little girl

burns. so bad. needs to be absolutely slathered in sunscreen to not go up in flames

“sally, get in the water! it’s so waaarm!” you whined at him, wading through the lake that was surprisingly clear. even if you went deep, you could still see your toes beneath the water. “no, i’m good.” he called back to you, face hidden behind his beloved gameboy. you, todd and ash all stood about waist length in the water, just wading around and talking. sally refused to get in, and larry had run back to ash’s car to get the cooler. something was clearly wrong with sally. usually he’d get in, even if it was only to his ankles. with a pout on your lips, you slicked your hair back and climbed out of the water, set on finding out what was bothering your beloved boy. you plopped down on the rickety lawn chair next to him, crossing one leg over the other and facing your body towards him, giving him your utmost attention. “what’s the matter, sal?” you asked softly, gently running your fingers against his pale arm. “nothing. just don’t feel like swimming today.” he mumbled, keeping focus solely on the game. you looked at him, studying his face. “sal, i know there’s something wrong. what’s bugging you?” his shoulders slumped as he sighed, lowering the game boy. he looked over at you, vulnerability in his eyes. “are you interested in todd?” he asked, searching your face. your eyes widened. “what? no. where did that come from?” “just.. you two have been spending a lot of time together. it’s okay if you don’t want to be with me anymore.” your shoulders slumped and you reached out, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. “no, sally. you’re the only one i want. besides.. i’m pretty sure todd swings the other way, if you know what i mean.” sal chuckled a bit, seeming to loosen up. “yeah. okay. sorry, (y/n).” you shook your head and leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss against the cheek of his mask. “nothing to be sorry for, sally-wally.” your laugh echoed across the lake as he physically cringed, you could practically see his face through the mask. “please. never call me that again.” “okay, sally wally pooh.”

𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

wears big goofy goggles and swims down to the deep parts of the lake to find cool rocks for you.

religiously wears a goofy pair of duck print swim shorts.

ties his hair up in a bun, you love it.

REFUSES to wear sunscreen, always gets sunburnt. turns tan the next day, but complains about the sunburn until then.

likes it when you make sandwiches for him and bring them to the lake. tears them up. absolutely devours them.

sleeps on the ride back home.

likes going to the lake one on one with you, but will also go with the others.

likes to use water guns when the others are around.

“larry, please just put sunscreen on your shoulders if anything.” “no, (y/n)! sunscreen is for losers.” you hovered over him as he tugged goggles onto his face, heavily insistent on burning to a crisp. “sunscreen is not for losers, it’s for people who don’t want to get melanoma and look like a raisin by the age of twenty.” he huffed and spread his arms out finally, doing a little turn so you could coat all the visible parts of his body in sunscreen. luckily, it was the spray on kind, so his complaining was minimal. after that dramatic scene, you two were splashing about, scaring every fish within a ten mile radius. “larry! stop it, you’re getting water up my nose!” you screeched, coughing up and blowing out water from basically ever sinus you possibly could. he laughed as he bombarded you with comically large splashes, absolutely drenching your face and hair in the span of four seconds. that went on until you got close enough to grab a handful of his hair and shove his head under the water, effectively stopping his attacks and almost drowning him. you two went home soggy, tired, and hungry, collapsing onto his bed. lisa found you both hours later and snapped a picture. now, hanging on larry’s fridge is a candid shot of you and him, sprawled out across the bed, sheets wet, tangled in each others limbs. larry has his head at the foot of the bed and one of his legs hanging off the side, while you have your head resting against his abdomen and your legs propped up against the wall. however, the part lisa liked the most was the fact despite being asleep, you two had managed to find each others hands and interlock pinkies.

[dsireland86]

A LONG HOT SUMMER

Chapter 1

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86

It was so freaking hot you swear you could fry an egg on concrete. You don't mind it, the muggy humid heat of Louisiana being something you grew up in as a kid. Your Grandparents used to live here and you and your brother would spend almost every long hot summer with them. So it was something you could handle. But this band; absolutely not. Their northern nature made them divas when it came to the heat and never, in your life, have you heard so much complaining and whining from a bunch of guys as you have in the last seventy-two hours. It was so bad you wanted to glue your earbuds in just to get a few minutes of peace and quiet. 

The only one who seemed to handle it as well as you was Folio, and that’s because he has what your granddad used to call “fisherman’s skin” ; special skin that allows them to adapt to any climate. You knew he wasn’t serious, but now that you think about it, maybe he was right. The memory makes you smile as you enter the tour bus. Nicholas is the only one here, sprawled out on the couch in only a pair of shorts. “It’s too hot, Y/N.” The corners of your mouth lift at his confession. “You’re a diva, Nick.” He chuckles. “I am when it comes to this freaking heat. I’ll take Virginia weather any day over this shit.” 

Shaking your head, you move towards the bunks, yours specifically, and dig into your duffle bag in search of a new shirt to change into. You settle for the dark green tank and quickly change, feeling refreshed once you're done. After a few sprays of your favorite body spray you turn around and walk right into Noah’s chest, throwing your hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. 

“Fucking hell, Noah! Seriously!” Playfully, you slap him in the stomach and push him out of the way. “It’s not my fault you’re blind.” Your eyes widen. “I didn’t even hear you!” “Okay, well then deaf, too.” “Eat shit, Noah.” “Fuck you, Princess.” You narrow your eyes in a scowl. You hate when Noah calls you that. “I’ve been trying too, but she won't let me,” Folio says, coming up behind you and grabbing you by the hips. He plants a quick kiss on the side of your neck, making your heart skip a beat. The idea of you and Folio together has always made your stomach flutter. He’s been your crush ever since your brother introduced you to him years ago and no other guy has ever compared to him. You thought by now you would’ve told him how you felt, but since he’s never said how he feels about you, you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. Others have told you it’s obvious how Folio feels, but you aren’t one to just assume because of how he acts. Folio has always been a fun, playful kind of guy, and reading the signs wrong would be an utter embarrassment for you.

He kisses the side of your head, and tickles your sides, making you squeal and you elbow him in the stomach. He keels over pretending to be hurt. “Y/N, baby, please,” Folio begs, falling to the floor while clutching his stomach. “Fuck, you hurt me,” he complains, trying to hid his smile. You cross your arms as you hover over him. “Sucks for you,” you tease. He sticks his bottom lip out, pretending to pout, and lowers his head. That’s when the long tattooed arms snake around you, trapping you tightly against the body they belong to, and you know you’re in trouble. “Hmmm, my little bug is caught in a trap,” Noah whispers in your ear. “Let go of me Noah, or I'll kick you where it hurts most.” Your aggressive attempt makes Noah smile and he chuckles while locking one of his legs around yours. All, if any, advantages you have on him are officially gone now. “I'd like to see you try, Princess.” You growl in frustration. “Stop calling me that! You know I hate it.” Noah laughs again. “I don’t have anything else to call you! Unless you want me to call you a pigeon, or maybe piglet.” You grunt and try to break away. “Or how about little fox or maybe little fluffy bunny? Fluffy bunny! There it is!” Growling, you slam your foot down on top of Noah’s, hoping it will make him let you go, but it does absolutely nothing except make him laugh more. 

After a few more worthless attempts to break free, you know you’re not going to win this game so you go limp, letting yourself become dead weight in Noah’s arms. “Uh, Folio, I think I broke your girl,” he says and you smile at Noah’s choice words. Folio grabs his sunglasses that fell and instantly jumps to his feet and comes to your rescue. ”You break my girl, I’ll break your face,” he asserts as Noah brings you back to your feet. You catch Folio’s reference about you and it leaves you wondering. His smile is so infectious though as it spreads across his face and you can’t help but smile back. “You're lucky today, Princess,” Noah smirks, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before letting you go. “You’re still a jerk,” you say with a grin. “You’re still a bitch,” he replies, poking you in the belly. Not everyone is lucky enough to get Noah's playful side, but you are. That says a lot. 

“Come with me,” Nick says softly in your ear, bringing you back to reality. He slides his sunglasses on and takes your hand and leads you down the steps of the bus. The hot, humid air hits you the second you step outside, making the first outside breath difficult. “Wait, hold up, where are you two going?” Matt questions. My eyes shift from Folio to Matt. “There’s something I want to show Y/N. It's not far.” Matt’s eyes bounce over the two of you then narrow. “Just for a few minutes Matt. We’ll be right back and then we can leave.” Matt smiles. “If I were you Y/N, I'd be worried if he makes it last only a few minutes.” You snicker, holding your hand over your mouth and turning away from Matt’s gaze. “Oh my god, will you quit already, we're not sleeping together,” Folio states.

Your cheeks are red and Jolly notices. “Then why is Y/N blushing like that?” Folio turns and looks at you, grinning at the sight of your very red cheeks. He knows how easily embarrassed you can get sometimes, but it’s one thing he really loves about you. It gives him a reason to get protective. Jolly is laughing, but you can’t even look him in the face. “I’m just playing Y/N.” He detects the embarrassment in you and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist as he lays a kiss on the top of your head. “Alright, can we go now,” Folio pleads with eagerness in his voice. It has you wondering what could possibly be so important.

“Fine, twenty minutes. Don’t be late or we’re leaving both your asses,” Matt forewarns us, climbing up into the bus after Jolly. You and Nick both laugh. “No you won’t, Matt. You need us too much.” You tug on Folio’s arm, and he gets the hint, leading you further away from the bus. “Don't you hurt my little sister, Folio. I will fuck you up,” Matt yells behind you. 

“Will you please slow down!” you giggle, trying your best to keep up with Nick as he pulls you through the woods, practically running. “I can’t. We only have twenty minutes; less now. I want to make sure you have enough time to enjoy it.” “Enjoy what,” huffing a laugh. He doesn't answer, so you stop suddenly, letting your hand slip out of Nick’s. A loud clap of thunder rattles the sky as he turns to you, noticing the enigmatic look in your eyes, “What?” 

You can’t see his eyes because of how dark his glasses are, but you know he’s staring at you, drinking you in like water. You don't know if it's the thunder or the sound of your heart that's so loud but when he closes the gap that separates your body from his, running his calloused fingers down your cheek and his thumb over your lips, you sigh, knowing it's definitely your heart. Fidgeting with your fingers, your knees want to buckle, but you try your hardest to keep your composure. Something is very different about the way Folio is acting around you and it should make you question his intention, but you don’t. You welcome it instead, like the thunderstorm you know is coming, with open arms.

As you gaze at him, barely able to breath, you let your eyes wander over his face, taking in the little things about him that make him so irresistible to you, stopping at his lips. Their shape is perfect, matching the rest of his facial features perfectly, but the fullness of them, how perfect the bottom one is for nipping and biting, even sucking when the intensity of the things you would let him do to you gets to be too much, makes the thin fabric beneath your shorts wet. You clench your jaw and your forehead furrows as you fight to push away the not so innocent visions plaguing your thoughts. “You must be thinking of some nice things, your cheeks are flushed,” Folio points out with a smirk. Bringing your hands to your cheeks, you grin, slightly down turning your head, and when you’ve looked back up at him, your breath hitches when you see he’s removed his sunglasses and his eyes are fixed heavily on you.

Your nerves feel like they’re on fire and your knees are undoubtedly weak now. You know you look a mess, body already moist with sweat and your hair everywhere from the humidity, even though you have it pulled up, but that doesn’t seem to bother Folio. He surprises you by taking your face between his hands and leaning in, softly kissing you and stealing your breath away. It’s a long kiss, and deep, and you can’t help but notice the way Folio’s body leans into yours and presses firmly against it. You grip his red sleeveless shirt and take a deep breath even though your lips are still pressed tightly to his. The scent of him engulfs your senses and you suddenly want him everywhere on you. It’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep yourself together. 

But the moment Folio slides his tongue across your bottom lip, making you whimper, you know you’re done for. You know what he wants. Slightly opening your mouth, he slides his tongue in and captures yours, pulling the moan you’ve been holding back from your lungs. He releases his warm breath over you and between his taste and the scent, the mint toothpaste he used this morning still lingers and it makes you pull him in closer to you, wanting to feel every movement of his body against yours.  

“Shit,” he breathes when you part, but don’t let go of each other. He grins, laying his forehead against yours and slips a hand behind your head, bringing you in for one more soft kiss. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His confession surprises you and you wonder if there's a chance that he might tell you how he feels about you. Catching the twinkle in his eyes before it fades, you give Nick your best smile. He clenches his teeth together, making that tight jaw line of his appear, the one that gives you some of the best dreams of making out with him and possibly going even further, play through your mind like your favorite movie.  “You want to tell me what you're thinking, baby, or do I have to guess?” Your panties are soaked now. If it wasn't for you still being in Nick's arms, you'd be on the ground. “You’re trembling.” “Ha, I wonder why.”

A small smile finds its way into the corner of his mouth. “Do I make you tremble?” His brown eyes widen, but his expression is serious as he drags his finger down the side of your arm to the front of your stomach, resting right above the waistband of your shorts. You slowly nod in response to his question earning you another smirk before he lowers his face to your neck and drags his tongue lightly over your skin, taking a small bit of it into his mouth. The feeling of him sucking on you excites you, making your muscles tighten and the fire in your abdomen grow. You moan as you squeeze his shirt tightly in your hands again, letting the heat of the moment rip through your body. “Your skin tastes so good,” he tells you when he brings his head up to face you. “I wonder if the other parts of you taste just as good.” You feel the heart spread across your cheeks, causing Folio to chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you retort with a smug smile. “I would, Baby.”

You grin, bringing your fingers to his lips and tracing with the tips of your fingers. You can feel that familiar tingle building up in the bottom of your stomach, the one that always comes when you think about Folio; the one that makes you squeeze your thighs together. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, biting it to keep from kissing him again, and Nick notices.   “Come on,” his alluring brown eyes taking your breath captive as his hand takes yours again. “Where almost there.” 

You come to a clearing and hear the sound of flowing water before you can even see the river that's just up ahead. But that's not what makes you stop and hold still. It's what's in the center of the clearing that takes your breath away. Before you, a few feet away, are two trees intertwined with what appears to be a heart formed in the middle, made from the bending of their long branches and green leaves. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and it literally has you holding your breath. Bringing your hands to your mouth, you stare at it in amazement, moving closer while paying no mind to another clap of thunder, leaving Nick behind.

“I had to show you before we left. I found it yesterday when I was looking for the river.” You are utterly speechless, not just because of the trees, but also because Nick has made it a point to show you this, admitting that two trees forming a heart reminds him of you. You know this means something big, coming from Nick. He's not one to throw thoughts and feelings around or out to just anybody. You turn to look at him only to find he's already staring at you. The look in his eyes makes your heart skip.  “Judging by the look on your face I'm assuming you like it?” “I love it,” you croak, because speaking is proving to be difficult at the moment. Folio laughs “I knew you would.” Tears slip from your eyes and slide down your cheeks and you're suddenly super embarrassed that you're crying. “Hey come here, Doll,” he pleads, taking you into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck while he slides his around your waist, his hands finding their way to your bottom and squeezing it.

His strong tug into him is just enough for you to know he’s serious about what he’s wanting; you feeling just how hard he is for you beneath his black shorts. The thought makes you forget you have knees at all and you can't help but give in to his demand. It’s an insatiable feeling, the hard thickness of his length pressed entirely against your sex. You feel him twitch, as if knocking upon your entrance,  leaving you wanting more. Folio grunts and stagers a bit, almost losing balance, but gives you his sweet lopsided grin with narrowed eyes, taking a quick look at his watch. “We still have about ten minutes.” You want to believe he's serious, but you don't want to assume. Instead you laugh and continue to play his game. “You really want our first time together to last less than ten minutes out in the middle of the woods in broad daylight? Not to mention there’s an impending storm coming.”

Folio looks up at the dark cloud-covered sky just as deep thunder rolls again. He laughs, shoulders bouncing to prove just how funny it is to him and you shove your hands deep into his back pockets, pushing yourself into him. “Fuck, Y/N, if you do that again, you're gonna leave me with no other choice.” He peers down at you, suddenly staring as if you're his next meal, and every nerve in your body is instantly on fire. You didn't mean anything by it. You're just playing the flirty game with him. But you're so nervous you feel light-headed so you quickly remove your hands from his pockets.  “Hey hold up now, I didn't say you had to take your hands away,” playfully reaching for them to shove them back in his pockets. You giggle followed by a loud squeal as Nick picks you up and spins you, putting you back down after your three persistent pleas.

“I want our first time together to be someplace special. Someplace where we can be loud as fuck and no one will hear or care about what we're doing.” His expression is serious, but you know he's really not; is he? “Wow, okay, tell me how you really feel,” you say, shocked by his bluntness. “Okay, you really want to know how I really feel?” His question is more of dare than anything, but you play along anyway. “Sure, lay it on me Folio,” you tease. Leaning up against the side of a tree, Folio stands there staring at you for a minute. “I'm in love with you Y/N. I dream about you, I think about you constantly. I can’t stop. But even if I could, I don't think I'd want to.” 

Folio drops his gaze, his soft brown eyes covered by the rim of his Harley ball cap. You know he's nervous. You know he's never been this bold with a girl before. But you're so shocked by his confession that you have no idea what to do. Your forehead creases and your mouth goes dry as you try to think of something to say, but fail. Is Nick being for real? When he doesn't look at you, you can't help but feel that he is being serious, and that softens your heart. Not acknowledging him would be mean and you have no intention of hurting him. So, you make the first move. 

“Do you want there to be a first time between us, Nick?” His hesitation scares you a little despite what he just told you. Finally, he looks up at you with a small smile hiding in the corner of his lips and you swear his eyes are glistening. “I want a first, a second, a third… a million times… however many times you want until you get sick of me.” You let out a shaky laugh, floored that this is actually happening. “I don't think that's possible,” shaking your head at him. “Mmm… yeah it's pretty possible.”  There's a quiet moment between you. “Come here,” Folio calls to you with a quick flick of his head, and you do. He brings his hand to your neck, gently sliding his calloused fingers down your soft, delicate skin, causing shivers to ripple throughout your whole body. You want those hands everywhere on you now and you're not ashamed to admit it now that you know how he feels about you. “What if I bring my ski mask, you know the one,”

“Yes,” you say, trying to hide your excitement. You've had plenty of daydreams about him and the mask. “I’m quite aware of it, but isn’t that more Noah’s thing than yours?” Folio removes his ball cap and pushes his hair back. He looks so good to you right now as you picture him coming at you with said ski mask. If he was wearing it right now with the same look in his eyes you’d be willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. Your skin heats up and you can feel it creeping over your cheeks as your heart pounds against your chest and you can feel damp fabric between your legs as you squeeze your thighs together. Folio notices. “Thinking about it aren’t you, Doll,” he questions, licking his lips. His warm breath on your neck as he leans in to taste your skin leaves you breathless. “Thinking about you and me together, and what it would feel like having me inside you? What it would feel like getting fucked by me with just a ski mask on.”

Folio’s hands that are back on your hips dig their fingertips into your skin and your muscles tighten beneath his touch as you try to keep yourself up before your knees completely buckle. “Alright, that’s enough Nick,” you say with a shaky breath, reluctantly pushing his hands away. “You know I want to, right?” he asks in a somber tone. “I do. So do I,” hoping he can see the seriousness on your face. “I want you too.” He smiles and you release the tight breath you’ve been holding. “I want it to be on your terms, not mine.” His face softens and the tension goes away, and you melt into the sweetness you now see. “Thank you,” you whisper. He pulls you in for a deep kiss and you feel a rush of relief being in his arms this way. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.” You didn’t realize how much sexual tension was really between the two of you. “Well, you're the one who brought it up,” reminding you with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you're the one who started it,” lightly shoving him away from you. “Mmm, technically your brother did.”

He taps the end of your nose as you think of a comeback. You have none. “Okay, fair point.” Folio smiles at you while taking a deep breath. “Let's head back, before Matt really does kill us both.” You agree and turn to leave, but stop instantly. “Wait, take my picture,” you say, handing Folio your phone. Grinning, he takes your hand. “I have a better idea,” as he leads you over to the trees. The thunder rolls again, and you start to feel the sprinkles of rain that are quickly turning into droplets. Wrapping his arm around you so that you're snug in the crook of his shoulder, Nick says your name and you look up at him. His lips land on yours and you fall into his kiss as you hear the snap of the camera go off, signaling he took the picture. “Hey! Nick!” Folio grins and takes off running through the pouring rain with you quickly in tow. 

After one more show in Louisiana, one in Mississippi, two in Florida, and two in Texas, the heat and humidity has all of you done for. You’re ready to go home. There is more work to be done once you get there, back to L.A., but a much needed break is first. Matt already has his entire month off planned, Noah too. Bryan will be knee deep in photos and rug making, Nicholas is flying home to Virginia, Jolly wants to sleep, but Folio has yet to mention anything. He’ll probably whisk away quietly on his bike for a long ride or a fishing trip, where you’ll be left to miss him like an insane person. But that’s okay. Everyone could use time apart.   

You yawn and pull the hood further down to cover your eyes. The merch hoodie you’re wearing is actually Noah's and you confiscated it without him knowing. But you know he doesn’t mind. Settling deeper into the couch and in the hoodie, you feel a looming presence over you, and you have a good idea of who it is. “Up,” Folio orders, tapping your legs. You obey, laying them back down on his lap once he sits down. “Are you alive under there?” “Barely,” you mumble. Your arms are crossed over your chest and the hood completely covers your face. “Alright,” Folio chuckles. “Well, are you listening?” You sigh. “Depends on what you’re saying.” You feel a warm hand slip under the hoodie first and then your shirt, sliding across the skin of your belly while making its way further up, filling your entire body up with goosebumps. “How about now; listening now?” You shake your head while smiling, but you know Folio can’t see it.

The hand moves from right below your breasts, further south to right above the waistband of your leggings, stopping as if to think, but then continuing down overtop the fabric and over your heated sex that’s throbbing with lust from Folio’s teasing. Instantly, you sit up and pull the hood off, meeting with Folio’s face mere inches from you. “How about now,” he says with that adorable smile. You shake your head once more, the familiar tingling engulfing you between your legs, begging for one more touch from Nick’s fingers. He grins, leans in and kisses you, while sliding a finger between your covered folds, feeling you squirm and wiggle beneath him. Just his touch alone is sending you quickly to the edge. “Mmm… I want to feel more of that from you,” Nick says, once he sits back. “You're such a tease, you know that?” You shake your head and grin, sitting back without the hood this time. “So, really, are you listening?” You smile big, and shake your head again, watching Folio’s eyes grow dark and wide. You know what he wants and you’re playing his tightened strings so well, that they are about to snap. “I’m kidding, yes, I’m listening,” you say, attempting to pull him away from the ledge.

You prop your head on your fist, staring at the man before you who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice you staring at him. Folio is beautiful, with all the perfect little things that make him so irresistibly hot at the same time. From the earring in his left ear, to the hoop in his nose, the large tattoo on his neck and the massive one on his chest. From his sweet disposition, to affectionate, caring heart, Nick was everything you wanted; physically and inwardly. He always made you feel safe and you knew at this moment you didn't want or need anything else. Folio was enough. “I know what I want to do once we're home,” he says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. You grin seeing him so excited about whatever it is he’s about to show you. “I found this really cool fishing spot up in Washington called Trout Lake Cozy Cabins. Apparently they have some of the best trout fishing there. I wanna take the bike and go.” Your heart falls at the thought of him leaving, especially so soon after getting home, but you’re not about to rain on his parade.

“That sounds like a great time,” trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. “Good, because you’re coming with me.” Your eyes dart up to Nick’s and you see him grinning. “You’re serious,” you say more as an affirmation than a question. “Yeah I’m serious. We need to get away together if we’re going to give this thing between us a shot.” “This thing?” Your eyes narrow and you sit up, scooting closer to Folio’s legs. “Yeah, this thing,” he confirms, licking his lips, looking you up and down as you move closer. “And what is this thing,” you whisper over his lips. Your eyes drop from his to his lips and you’re restraining everything in you to not reach out and grab him, pull him into you, and devour every part of his sweet face that’s got you going mad for him. “Mmmmm, it’s a really great thing,” he answers, his entire body still, but his breath is shaky. “And there’s an us?” Your heart is pounding so hard you wonder if he can hear it. “I’d really, really like for there to be an us,” he whispers as your hand grazes over his hard length that’s very obvious to your eyes at the moment.   

“If you two seriously don’t quit, I’m throwing you out,” Matt barks as he walks by. You can hear the laughter hiding behind your brother’s tone and know there isn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice. But still, you and Folio back off each other, allowing some breathing room. “So, you want to go here,” you say once you’ve taken a look at the place he’s pulled up on his phone. It’s very beautiful. It’s rural, quiet, and private; it’s the perfect place for you two. “I've already booked “The Pines” cabin for us.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?” “Seriously.” “How far is it?” “Does it matter?” “It does if I’m going to be stuck with your ass, alone.” Folio pretends to be hurt. “I know you’re joking.” “Oh, but am I Folio?” You narrow your eyes and give him a smirk. You watch as his face grows a little anxious. You burst out laughing, earning you a ton of tickles to which your squeals turn into small screams. “It’s eight hundred and thirty-seven miles,” Nick finally tells you. “Whew, that’s a lot of miles. How many hours?” “Twelve and a half by the time we stop for gas and rest.” 

“Wow… that’s a long time alone with you on a bike. I’m not sure I can do that Nick.” You try to keep your face as serious as you can and it works. Nick’s head falls and you know you’ve made him feel terrible. “Oh my gosh, I’m kidding,” you scootch into his lap and wrap him around you as much as possible. “I’m so kidding,” you say again, placing soft kisses all over him. Folio raises his head to look at you and now you’re the one who feels terrible. “You really have to stop fucking with my head like that. My feelings too; I’m sensitive.” The baby face he’s giving you makes you fold into him and bury yourself there. “I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest.” “It’s fine. I’ll just make you pay for it later.” You freeze at the sudden change in Folio’s voice, sitting up and staring at him. “Seriously?” “Am I?” The mischievous glint in his eyes is too much and you bite your lip, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much. “Come with me and find out?” Folio smiles at you. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out once we get home.” Getting up, you head towards the bathroom, pleased with yourself. “Seriously, Y/N!” “Yup, seriously, Folio,” chuckling at yourself because you already know the answer.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[floridaboiler]

What Is The Main Ingredient of WD-40?

Before you read to the end, does anybody know what the main ingredient of WD-40?

No Cheating.....

WD-40 ~ Who knew!

I had a neighbour who bought a new pickup.

I got up very early one Sunday morning and saw that someone had spray

painted red all around the sides of this beige truck (for some unknown

reason).

I went over, woke him up, and told him the bad news.

He was very upset and was trying to figure out what to do ....

probably nothing until Monday morning, since nothing was open.

Another neighbour came out and told him to get his WD-40 and clean it off.

It removed the unwanted paint beautifully and did not harm his paint

job that was on the truck. I was impressed!

WD-40 who knew?

"Water Displacement #40".

The product began from a search for a rust preventative solvent and

degreaser to protect missile parts.

WD-40 was created in 1953, by three technicians at the San Diego

Rocket Chemical Company.

Its name comes from the project that was to find a 'Water

Displacement' Compound.

They were finally successful for a formulation, with their fortieth

attempt, thus WD-40. The 'Convair Company' bought it in bulk to

protect their atlas missile parts.

Ken East (one of the original founders) says there is nothing in WD-40

that would hurt you.

When you read the 'shower door' part, try it. It's the first thing

that has ever cleaned that spotty shower door. If yours is plastic,

it works just as well as on glass. It's a miracle!

Then try it on your stove-top.

It's now shinier than it's ever been.

You'll be amazed.

WD-40 Uses:

1. Protects silver from tarnishing.

2. Removes road tar and grime from cars.

3. Cleans and lubricates guitar strings.

4. Gives floor that 'just-waxed' sheen without making them slippery.

5. Keeps the flies off of Cows, Horses, and other Farm Critters.

6. Restores and cleans chalkboards.

7. Removes lipstick stains.

8. Loosens stubborn zippers.

9. Untangles jewellery chains.

10. Removes stains from stainless steel sinks.

11. Removes dirt and grime from the barbecue grill.

12. Keeps ceramic/terracotta garden pots from oxidising.

13. Removes tomato stains from clothing.

14. Keeps glass shower doors free of water spots.

15. Camouflages scratches in ceramic and marble floors.

16. Keeps scissors working smoothly.

17. Lubricates noisy door hinges on both home and vehicles doors.

18. It removes that nasty tar and scuff marks from the kitchen

flooring. It doesn't seem to harm the finish and you won't have to

scrub nearly as hard to get them off. Just remember to open some

windows if you have a lot of marks.

19. Remove those nasty bug guts that will eat away the finish

on your car if not removed quickly!

20. Gives a children's playground gym slide a shine for a super fast slide.

21. Lubricates gearshift and mower deck lever for ease of handling on

riding mowers.

22. Rids kids rocking chair and swings of squeaky noises.

23. Lubricates tracks in sticking home windows and makes them easier to open.

24. Spraying an umbrella stem makes it easier to open and close.

25. Restores and cleans padded leather dashboards in vehicles, as well

as vinyl bumpers.

26. Restores and cleans roof racks on vehicles.

27. Lubricates and stops squeaks in electric fans.

28. Lubricates wheel sprockets on tricycles, wagons and bicycles for

easy handling.

29. Lubricates fan belts on washers and dryers and keeps them running smoothly.

30. Keeps rust from forming on saws and saw blades, and other tools.

31. Removes grease splatters from stove-tops.

32. Keeps bathroom mirror from fogging.

33. Lubricates prosthetic limbs.

34. Keeps pigeons off the balcony (they hate the smell).

35. Removes all traces of duct tape.

36. Folks even spray it on their arms, hands, and knees to relieve

arthritis pain.

37. Florida 's favourite use is: 'cleans and removes love bugs from

grills and bumpers.'

38. The favourite use in the state of New York , it protects the Statue

of Liberty from the elements.

39. WD-40 attracts fish. Spray a little on live bait or lures and you

will be catching the big one in no time. Also, it's a lot cheaper than

the chemical attractants that are made for just that purpose. Keep

in mind though, using some chemical laced baits or lures for fishing

are not allowed in some states.

40. Use it for fire ant bites. It takes the sting away immediately and

stops the itch.

41. It is great for removing crayon from walls. Spray it on the marks

and wipe with a clean rag.

42. Also, if you've discovered that your teenage daughter has washed

and dried a tube of lipstick with a load of laundry, saturate the

lipstick spots with WD-40 and rewash. Presto! The lipstick is gone!

43. If you spray it inside a wet distributor cap, it will displace the

moisture, allowing the engine to start.

My discovery, Ants don't like it..................

P.S.

As for that Basic, Main Ingredient.......

Well.... it's FISH OIL....

Now This Is Definitely Worth SHARING!!

[lakesbian]

My bugs were now successfully settling on him, oddly giving me a better sense of his movements than my eyes had, and I was directing them not to sting or bite, so he wouldn’t have an easy time finding them.  They began to cluster on him, and somehow I felt like that was slowing him down even more. The onslaught had been softened, and he wasn’t half as effective at keeping me off balance, now.  He couldn’t effectively see my posture to know the optimal places to strike, so I was able to get my feet firmly on the ground.  I lashed out twice with my fists, but my hits lacked impact.  Something to do with his power, I suspected, as well as his ability to move fast enough to roll with any hits he felt connecting. So I grabbed a weapon he couldn’t react to, my pepper spray, and directed a stream of it into his face.  Then I instructed the bugs I’d gathered on him to bite and sting.

this is one of those moments in worm where i don't know if it was intended to be humorous, but the phrasing always makes me laugh. something about the italics on "then" and the "so" cutting off this serious, lengthy analysis with this visual of her just casually standing there spraying a massive amount of pepperspray right at the face of this blinded guy covered in bugs fucking kills me. it feels like slapstick comedy. especially because the next thing that happens is This:

The effect was immediate, and dramatic.  You’ve never really seen someone flip out until you’ve seen a speedster flip out.  He fell to the ground, stood, tumbled over a chair, then was up the next second, lunging for a table, blindly patting it down in the hopes of finding something to wash his eyes out with.  I felt him slow down dramatically, increasing his own strength enough to allow himself to check the cups and pitchers. I had bugs on the table he was searching, and the only liquid there was wine.  Anticipating he would continue looking for some relief, I moved closer to the table nearest me. Sure enough, he darted over to the same table and began searching.  I took one long step to my left, reached behind my back, and gripped the foam handle of my extendable baton with both hands.  Like a golf club, I swung it up and between his legs.

LIKE A GOLF CLUB.

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Three - Champagne Coast

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous Chapter

For the first time in a long time, you’re excited for the weekend. Usually, you’d stay home playing computer games, reading, watching TV or movies, and rocking back and forth while the spray from the shower falls on your head. While you enjoyed doing those things, you finally had something to do. Something that teenagers like you should do.

Ellie’s party was tonight and despite you having an entire closet full of clothes, you still didn’t have anything to wear. You open up Pinterest on your computer and search ‘party outfit ideas’ but everything that was coming up was very outdated. While you appreciated the party scene of the 2010s, you wanted to fit in, and that required a lot more than a turquoise peplum top and a mustache skater skirt. 

You settled on something that you would have worn to a low key party back in California. A black sheer long sleeve, a jean mini skirt, and bug tights clung to your body in a way that you could only describe as ‘tight.’ You looked at yourself in the mirror and for the first time in a long time, you thought that you were beautiful. With a little mascara, concealer, and lip gloss, you were ready to go. 

When you put on the mini skirt, you didn’t consider the fact that you had to bike to Ellie’s house. You looked around your empty neighborhood and sighed with relief. Everyone was inside eating dinner or getting ready for bed so luckily no one was out. 

You mount your bike and curse at the cold breeze that travels through your tights. The thin layer that covered your legs did nothing to protect against the cold Washington air. Thankfully you were smart enough to grab your leather jacket on the way out so you weren’t freezing to death, but living in California for seventeen years did not prepare you for this. 

Ellie’s house was about a twenty-minute bike ride away from yours. The ride had been smooth until you got to an uphill part. You hopped off your bike and walked up the hill, not wanting to exert yourself more than you needed to. Despite the hill messing up your flow, everything was still going fine. That was until you heard a car honk at you. 

The headlights of the truck blinded you. You squint your eyes and put your arm up in a way that would block the harsh light from your eyes. 

Owen pulled up next to you. “Need a ride?” he asked, a toothpick dangling from his lips. 

You’d rather ride your bike downhill into oncoming traffic than get in a car with him. You don’t know how Abby does it. 

“No thanks,” you said as you mounted your bike once again and peddled faster than your life depended on it. 

Owen sped off. You prayed that a police officer was hiding around the corner, ready to prosecute anyone who was speeding at this time of night, but maybe the higher power in the sky was done answering your prayers. As you pulled into Ellie’s driveway, you saw his car parked haphazardly on the street. You leaned your bike against her garage and walked to the front door. 

You would have knocked but you doubt that anyone would hear you over the music. You turn the knob and you’re greeted by the smell of alcohol, sweat, and weed. People are dancing, drinking with their friends, and gossiping in a circle. You make your way through the house, looking for any familiar faces but every corner you turn you’re met with a wall or people who don’t know who you are. 

That is until you see Dina and Jesse sitting on the couch accompanied by someone you haven’t met before. He looks to be around your age, maybe a little bit older. He has mid-length hair pulled up into a man bun and an untidy beard. Your friends from California would have thought that he was cute.  

Dina sees you and waves at you to join them. You walk over to them, stepping over a few stray red solo cups and sit on the armrest of the couch. Your shoulders drop and you smile softly. You can finally let your guard down now that you’re around some familiar faces. 

“You look amazing. You need to tell me where you get your clothes from!” Dina gushes over your outfit while you try not to let the compliment get to your head. 

It took you a while to get comfortable in your body. You would always compare yourself to your friends. They were the girls with the perfect beach bodies. You would wear whatever they wore and eat whatever they ate, but your body never looked like theirs. You hated yourself for existing in the body that you were born with, but one day something clicked within you and you finally started to appreciate all the things your body does for you. Once you were comfortable in the body that the Universe gave you, you were able to express yourself in the way that you wanted. 

The man sitting next to Jesse clears his throat and Jesse's eyes light up, almost as if he remembered something that he had forgotten.

“Oh, right. This is Manny.” Jesse points to the guy next to him who outstretched his hand to shake yours. His hands are a bit rough and calloused which means that he must work with them a lot. 

You introduce yourself to Manny and smile politely at him. There’s something about him that makes your heart melt. Maybe it’s his smile or the way that his hands feel in yours. 

“Manny’s the Captain of the wrestling team and the president of the ceramic club,” Dina comments.

“Oh? How come I’ve never seen you around school then?”

Jesse snorts, “Well, he’s either making out with his girlfriend, making bowls in the ceramics classroom, or smoking in his car. Either way, he’s never in class.” 

Manny hits Jesse on the back of the neck. “Hey, Nora’s not my girlfriend anymore and I do go to class.”

“Yeah, barely.”

Ellie waltzes over with a blunt and takes her place on Dina’s lap. She takes a hit, inhales it, and exhales in Dina’s face. This exchange makes Jesse gag. 

“Get a room!” he jokes.

Ellie scoffs, “It’s my house!”

“Break it up, you two.” Dina laughs and takes the blunt from Ellie. 

As they get into their own conversation on the couch, you get up and make your way to the kitchen. You aren’t much of a drinker but since you’re here you might as well live a little. You nearly jump for joy when you see the red bottle of grenadine on the table as well as some Sprite. No one can ever go wrong with a Dirty Shirley. 

As you pour everything into a cup, you sense someone’s presence behind you. Maybe it’s just some random kid who had the same idea as you, but once that dirty smell hits your nose, you crinkle your nose. 

“I didn’t know you drank. I thought you were a good girl” 

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops. You never want to be called a good girl, especially from Owen. You don’t want to turn around but you have to. God only knows what he’s doing behind you. 

You turn and walk backward, staring at him like he’s Ghostface and you're one of his unlucky victims. Your back hits the edge of the counter and your drink spills a little on the floor. He’s got you caged now, there’s no way you can escape without him catching you. You look at everyone dancing and chatting. Oh, how you wish you could have been one of those carefree people just letting loose on the dance floor. But no. You just had to get a drink. 

“You know, Abby doesn’t need to know what happens between us. I know you two are friends and all but-” he doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you spill your drink all over the front of his shirt. 

You don’t know what gave you the courage to do that but the fact that he was so willing to cheat on Abby, one of the nicest people you’ve met at Lakeview just irks you. You could never betray Abby like that. 

Owen looks down at his shirt which gives you the perfect chance to escape. 

“This was from J.Crew you bitch!” You hear him say as you push through the people in the crowd. You say ‘excuse me’ and ‘sorry’ as you move through them. Some of them give you dirty looks as you pass by but that's a problem for later, right now, you need to get somewhere quiet and secluded. 

You run up the stairs and into the first room you see. You slam the door behind you and slide down it, your chest heaving as you try and catch your breath. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your head on them.

“Ellie doesn’t want people-” Abby says before she turns around. When she sees that it’s you, she kneels in front of you and asks “Are you okay?”

You haven’t seen Abby since Mr. Miller suggested that you tutor her. You wanted to ask her what was wrong but you never got the chance to. She seemed too delicate to answer questions at that moment.

You look up at her and nod, “Yeah, I’m okay. I just needed a break.” 

Abby sits next to you. “I get it. Sometimes these parties get a little too much for me so I come up here. It’s their guest room so Ellie doesn’t really care but upstairs is still off-limits to randos.” 

“Abby, what was that in the hallway the other day?”

Her smile dissolves into regret as she looks at you. The events of that day replayed in her head. “I’m sorry about that. I guess I was just upset that I was finally bad at something.” 

“Hey, maybe you can tutor me. I need math help and you’re in AP Calc so I’m pretty sure you’re a math wizard. If you do that then we’re even.” 

“You, little lady, have yourself a deal.” 

You shake hands, sealing the deal.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

[desi2go]

A tiny bee

pairing: Hyunjin x reader

warning: fluff

author's note: this idea came to me as I saw a clip of one of the BTS members, hiding for a bee. It's short but I hope you'll like it.

Saying that Hyunjin likes bugs is a big lie. At the latest when he sprayed the mosquitoes with insect spray and meanwhile performed a dance routine, you couldn't deny that he loathed insects more than anything.

Well, you didn't like insects either, at least when they suck your blood.

As one of their make-up artists, you nearly followed them everywhere. On concerts or shooting videos, you were always there, making sure that they looked fabulous.

Stray Kids was filming another music video for their upcoming album. As always, you applied Felix's and Changbin's make-up, chatting with the friendly members. The only one left was Hyunjin. He already waited for you for the touch up.

When Felix and Changbin were finished, they walked to the others, leaving Hyunjin and you alone. You turned to him and started working.

Quickly, you grabbed another brush, blending the concealer in. Hyunjin watched you curious through half closed eyes. He always did that, observing you.

At first it was spooky but you got used to it. And you couldn't deny that there wasn't some tension between you, but not in the bad way. He liked to talk to you and spend much time with you whenever he could or so it seemed. And you grew fond of it as well, always searching for his companion wherever you had time.

You tried to keep your professionalism but sometimes it was hard when you work so close to the person you find extremely attractive.

Carefully, you brushed some of his hairs away, grabbing another brush.

In this moment he squirmed, jumping towards you and hid his face between your neck and chest.

You felt his hot breath against your skin even through the fabric of your shirt was between it.

"What is wrong?" You asked him, eying the environment and placing your hands on his shoulders.

He just squirmed again towards you. Then, you heard it. A bee. Just a tiny bee. Carefully, you shooed the bug away with your hands as it wanted to sit on Hyunjin's hair. After some attempts, you had successfully chased it away.

"Is it away?" He mumbled.

You laughed. "Yes. I successfully defended you against a tiny bee"

He brought some distance between you, looking you in the eyes while he pouted.

"It can sting!" He defended himself. Amused you smirked.

"You're dramatic. The bee probably is more afraid of you" you stated.

He wanted to return something when Bang Chan came towards you. Giving you a smile.

"Hyunjin, what is taking so long?" He questioned. From behind him, Seungmin's head popped up.

"I saw him cuddling with Y/n!" He shouted teasingly. Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

"I wasn't. I was scared! There was a bee" he defended, crossing his arms.

Chan giggled. "Of course. But please do the cuddling later. We are already behind the schedule" he scolded with a knowing smirk.

You and Hyunjin blushed, you played with your brushes, adjusting them to keep you distracted from the redness that crept up your face. While he looked around, suddenly finding the environment extremely interesting.

"Just admit that you like y/n and you want to be near her!" Seungmin added.

Hyunjin quickly shot up and walking past Bang Chan, giving Seungmin a bold look.