#they r. resting 💕💕💕

[the-cpu-system]

They're so yaoiful

[andy-clutterbuck]

9x01 | A New Beginning

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

I would let you drink from my well if you asked 🥹

(OK that sounds dirtier than I intended.)

What if......... we were fighting in a World War in North Africa together 😱💥 and I threw myself into grandiose suicide mission after grandiose suicide mission while u watched helplessly 👀😬 so u stole my clothes while I slept & burned them 😳❤️‍🔥 and we were both colleagues girls 👭🥺

[suntoru]

what are you doing up it’s 1 am 😱

i have the urge to twerk agressively in my room

[devotion-between-the-wheat]

would love to run my hands through lucifer's feathers, as he lays his head in my lap, relaxing with every touch.

[wandaslovey]

ᴍʀꜱ. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴏꜰꜰ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴡ

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7k

authors note: i’m so excited to share this with you guys - this was so much fun to write! i’m planning on writing the first few parts as chapters where one will pick up right after the other and then once i get to a certain point i’ll do random time skips within the same au. oh also! i’m starting a tag list, so comment below if you’d like to be included on the next chapter! enjoy loves! 💕 as usual, this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap (w=30, n=33, r=23), natasha and wanda being two hot intimidating lawyers (except natasha kinda steals this show in this part, especially in the beginning. don’t worry though, wanda will have her time to shine!), conversation about kinkery and reader knows very little

if you’d like to read the drabble that inspired this series, click here

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you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your white button-up blouse for the 10th time. you huff, frustrated that your wardrobe just wouldn’t cooperate with you this morning. as you look yourself over in the mirror—the rest of your outfit consisting of a mid-thigh black pencil skirt, some black nylons and black combat boots—you couldn’t help but wonder if your attire was okay for the interview.

the interview…you can’t believe you landed an interview at thee M.R. law firm. you knew how unqualified you were for the position, so you felt extra pressure to compensate somehow with your appearance.

you turn to the side in the mirror, first left and then right, scrutinizing yourself at every angle. you readjust the pieces of hair framing your face that you pulled out of your bun, before deciding you’d done all you could to look your best.

you glance at the clock on your nightstand in the reflection of the mirror, seeing it was time to go. you grab your knock-off brand purse and slip out of your apartment. when you walk down the stairs and open the door to the outside, the noise from the city fills your ears. the sounds of cars, horns, sirens, music and people all blended together, creating a sort of hum all new-yorkers were familiar with. you step out onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding some tourists that were taking a picture in front of the trendy restaurant you lived by. you hail a cab, quickly sliding into the backseat and telling the driver your destination.

now that you were settled in your seat with only the taxi drivers quiet music to distract you, the nerves you’d been attempting to snub out suddenly hit you full force. there was no way you could do this. you were sure you were just wasting your own time and the poor person who had to interview you. you knew your 6 months working as a receptionist at a dentist office nowhere near qualified you to manage things at M.R. law. you mentally curse yourself, thinking you must’ve been half asleep and entirely too desperate when you sent in your application at this place. you needed a job though—urgently. with your roommate moving back home, and no one else taking her place, you were stuck with paying the rent on your own. on top of that, you were still paying back loans for school. you knew you should cut your losses, leave new york and transfer to a much more affordable school, but you really wanted to stay as much as you could help it.

every stoplight you hit along the 20 minute drive only makes you more nervous. the fluttery feeling in your stomach turns into full blown pterodactyls by the time the driver has pulled up to the very tall M.R. building. you pass some folded up cash to the driver, mumbling out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and then step out of the car. you stare up at the intimidating building, the lettering of “maximoff-romanoff law” taunting you—daring you to step inside. you let out a stubborn exhale, squaring your shoulders and walking in with a confidence as fake as grape flavored candy.

you stride over to the front desk, noticing that the only employees in sight are all women.

“hi, i’m here for an 11 o’clock interview,” you tell one of the women behind the desk. she offers you a polite smile, giving you instructions to head into the elevator and up to the 8th floor. you nod your head, thanking her and make your way to your doomsday interview.

as the elevator doors shut behind you, you find yourself all alone in the small space. there was no background music to distract you now. you stare at the floor, noticing a slight glint to the black tiles you were standing on. you listen to the beeps counting up each floor, your eyes dragging up the stainless steel panel when the number reads 8 and the final beep sounds. the doors open and you’re immediately greeted with the sight of more women pacing around the place. some seemed to be in a rush while others were leisurely walking across the floor while chatting with a co-worker. you walk over to the front desk again, repeating what you had told the other kind lady downstairs. she gestures for you to take a seat on the couch in the waiting area, letting you know someone will grab you in a few minutes.

you take a seat on the black leather couch, figuring this piece of furniture probably costed more than the rent for your apartment. you cross your legs, interlocking your fingers together at your knee. you glance around the office, taking in the decor. it was very tasteful, some touches of greenery that went nicely with the black and dark woodsy vibe this floor was going for. you try your best to ignore the bile rising in your throat and the pterodactyls still swarming in your stomach. it was a good thing you didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

as two minutes turns into ten, and then fifteen, you can’t help but feel the urge to just get up and leave. you felt so out of place here; you couldn’t imagine working at this place with all these women who were so obviously out of your league.

just as you were settling on the idea of ditching this interview, you hear clacking footsteps making their way over to you. you didn’t dare look up yet, pretending to be very interested in the tiny hole in your pantyhose just above your knee.

“miss (y/l/n)?” the most heavenly, sultry voice calls out to you. your eyes slowly trail along the tile, up the woman’s legs covered in black slacks, her blouse and matching black suit jacket, and then finally her face. it was her.

thee mrs. romanoff.

mrs. romanoff was the person who was going to interview you? you couldn’t believe your eyes, or the situation. you clear your throat, realizing you had yet to acknowledge her calling out to you.

“yeah, that’s me,” you reply, standing on slightly wobbly legs. you watch as mrs. romanoff’s eyes slowly take in your appearance, her eyes lingering on your frame. you feel a little scrutinized, wondering if you really did mess up with what you were wearing.

“follow me.” she turns and leads the way. you stumble a bit as you follow behind her, not expecting her to have as long of a stride as she does.

“you’ll have to forgive me for the wait—we had a couple meetings run over this morning,” she talks to you over her shoulder, slowing her walk a little when she notices you’re not directly behind her like she thought.

“oh, no worries. i didn’t mind the wait.” that was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the wait that bothered you as much as the fact that you were left alone with your thoughts a little too long.

she rounds a corner at the end of the hall, pausing and gesturing for you to enter in one of the two doors that were side by side on the wall to the right. you walk through the doorframe, stepping into what you assumed was her personal office.

“have a seat, miss (y/l/n),” she says in a low voice, walking from behind you and around her desk to sit in her chair. you sit in one of the two chairs across from her, your heart thudding violently in your chest from being in such close proximity to her.

you adjust your seating position three times before finally settling in place, forcing yourself to sit still. mrs. romanoff humors you, remaining silent and patient through your nervous fidgeting.

“so, i have to say i was a little surprised to see your application come through to my desk,” she starts and you immediately feel your cheeks grow hot, the feeling of being in a place you don’t belong filling your whole body with dread.

she pauses, and you realize she was waiting for you to respond. right. this was supposed to be where you attempt to prove yourself adequate to work in this position.

“yes, um… well, admittedly i myself did think it was a stretch to apply here, but then i figured, i’m a fast learner, i’m very thorough in all i do and i enjoy learning new things. i thought i’d try my hand at something i haven’t done before.” you rattle off an answer that while it was true, it was also something you rehearsed 20 times in the mirror while getting ready before you got here. you were almost positive the slight robotic edge in your voice was noticeable.

mrs. romanoff hums in acknowledgment, nodding slightly at your rehearsed answer. “how well can you handle multi-tasking in a fast paced environment?” her lack of acknowledging your first answer puts a damper on your already fake confidence. you shift in your seat again, finding it harder to maintain eye contact with the sea of green that was her eyes.

“i would say i fare pretty well. i’m usually very good at managing stressful situations.” that was a complete lie—but most people bullshit their way through interviews, don’t they?

“usually?” she echoes, tilting her head to the side. she purses her lips, half attempting to hide a small smirk. she easily picked up on all your nervous antics the moment she saw you. you averting her gaze, walking unsteadily, fidgeting in your seat and the cute rose-y blush currently coloring your cheeks.

you clear your throat, interlocking your hands together in your lap. you notice they’ve already started to feel damp with sweat. “yeah, yeah most of the time i’d say so.”

“well, miss…” she glances down at what appeared to be your application and resume sitting in front of her on the desk. “(y/n)..you don’t sound very sure of yourself.” she sits upright in her chair, crossing her arms and leaning over the desk. your heart beats impossibly faster, the feeling of intimidation settling deep into your bones.

“no, i mean, i am sure—totally 100%.” you try to laugh, but it comes out sounding as nervous as you feel.

“okay, if that’s how you’d like to proceed…” she trails off, looking down at the papers in front of her again. you didn’t know what she meant, but your eyes fall desperately to the same papers she was looking at, as if they could provide some sort of answer to you. “what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses?”

you internally breath a sigh of relief. this was another answer you’d rehearsed in the mirror, it just needed to sound less robotic this time. “i’d say my greatest strengths are, i’m very punctual—i’m always on time if not early—um, i do all things thoroughly, as i mentioned before���i’m very reliable—hardly sick or need time off for family things, and i enjoy a good challenge. my greatest weakness is that i like to be very organized and sometimes i can spend a little too much time completing a certain project before moving onto the next.” you exhale after you finish talking, your eyes flicking across her face to try and get a sense of how she’s taking in your answer.

as you speak, you can’t help but notice that she was watching you so meticulously. it seemed that she was taking in not only your words, but your facial expressions, hand gestures and body language.

she looks at you for a moment as if she’s thinking hard on something. without taking her eyes off of you, she presses a button on her desk, the small ding from an intercom sounding. “joan, please track down mrs. maximoff and have her come into my office right away.”

your heartbeat now thrums loudly in your ears, your breath picking up its pace. you were not only going to be in the presence of mrs. romanoff but now mrs. maximoff too? never in your life had you seen such a powerful couple—and that was only in photos and billboards you’d seen around the city!

“is everything okay?” you ask nervously, feeling the permanent blush on your cheeks travel to the tips of your ears.

“everything’s fine, (y/n),” she gives you a smile but it was anything but reassuring. in fact, there was something about the expression that felt more intimidating with how devastatingly beautiful she was.

she grabs a pen and starts writing something on the paper. whatever it was was brief, but you couldn’t see clearly from your seat.

a quiet knock comes from the door and your posture becomes rigid as you hear who you assume to be mrs. maximoff entering the room.

“you called for me?” mrs. maximoff asks as she walks the length from the door to mrs. romanoff’s side. she walks around your chair and stands next to her wife, placing her palm flat against the desktop and leaning some of her weight on it.

“yes, i wanted you to meet our new interviewee,” she smiles with her lips and gestures to you in your seat. you look between the two beautiful, impeccably dressed women, feeling extremely small and insignificant. mrs. maximoff turns to look at you for the first time, a warm smile gracing her features.

“hi,” she offers simply, extending her hand to shake yours. you sit forward, reaching your arm out to shake her hand across the desk. her hand was incredibly soft and a little cold to the touch, but you wouldn’t expect anything less since the office was kept at such a cool temperature.

“mrs. maximoff is going to sit in on the rest of our interview. is that okay with you?” mrs. romanoff asks, her eyes daring you to object.

you quickly shake your head from side to side, shifting once again in your chair. “no, no that’s perfectly fine,” you reply easily, though you were feeling anything but fine. you notice mrs. maximoff giving her wife a curious glance but she doesn’t otherwise question it.

“let’s move over to the couches so we’re a little more comfortable,” mrs. romanoff stands up and heads over to the long olive green velvet sofa. you follow suit, except you take a seat in the smaller sofa, designed for only one person. mrs. maximoff sits closest to you on the long couch, brushing some of her pretty brown hair behind her shoulder. you watch as she glances back at her wife, mrs. romanoff giving her a certain look that you weren’t sure what it meant.

“so, (y/n), tells us what your career goals are,” mrs. romanoff proceeds with the interview as if the interruption never happened. you find yourself even more nervous to respond now that there were two, hot, older women sitting before you.

“umm…for now i really just need something steady that will simultaneously be giving me good work and life experience.. long term though, i’d like to become a therapist once i finish my masters program.” you bite your tongue once you finish your sentence, realizing this is not the sort of job where you tell your interviewers you’d like to pursue something that has nothing to do with their company.

“what appeals to you about becoming a therapist?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side curiously, just like mrs. romanoff had done earlier in the interview.

you lean back in your chair, a little surprised at her interest in your reply. “well, it’s a cliche answer, but i’m very passionate about helping people. it’s impossible to go through this life without getting seriously hurt and dealing with trauma. the vast majority of us have no idea how to cope or process through our experiences, so just knowing what i know, i’d like to try and be of some help for those who need it.”

the two lawyers look at you thoughtfully, mrs. maximoff nodding her head as you speak.

“that’s a very admirable passion. are you currently enrolled in a masters program?” she asks, crossing one of her legs over the other as she gets more comfortable in her seat.

“i am,” you reply with a shy smile. you never wanted to come across as bragging about your education, so you always sought to speak about it in the most humble way.

“you like school?” mrs. romanoff chimes in, leaning forward as she speaks.

your smile turns a bit rueful as you reply. “yes..i do. i know so many young people my age loathe school and all the hard work that needs to be put in, but…i love everything about it. i love taking notes, making flashcards, studying, taking tests, everything about it, i just love. i know it sounds a little crazy.” you laugh once, suddenly feeling more relaxed as you speak about something so genuinely. you feel a little more surprise again as you hear mrs. romanoff chuckle with you, nodding her head towards her brunette wife.

“sounds like somebody i know. this one here was a school addict. i had to practically pry textbooks out her hands just so we could do anything other than study,” she chuckles again, mrs. maximoff joining in with her.

“i won’t apologize for being so pointed about my studies. we both got straight A’s, didn’t we?” she jokes light-heartedly and you find yourself smiling warmly at their light banter.

mrs. maximoff turns back to face you, a smile still touching her lips. “what else do you do aside from school?” her question makes your face fall slightly as you now had to admit you were technically unemployed. you knew that didn’t look good for potential employers.

“right now, not a whole lot. just keeping busy with my studies,” you respond vaguely to which they both hum in response.

the pair of them continue asking you questions, except they become progressively more personal until they don’t attain to work or working at this position at all.

“do you like living alone? or do you prefer living with others?” was one of the questions mrs. romanoff asks you after you had explained you were currently without a roommate.

even though it was strange, you find that the more you talk about yourself, the more relaxed you feel. mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff both noticed it too. they could see more of your personality showing through as the nerves slowly but surely dissipated.

it had been near 40 minutes by the time mrs. romanoff checked her watch and noticed the time. she looked at her wife, mrs. maximoff seeming to sense her eyes on her as she automatically looked to the side. they shared a look, one of them nodding to the other before turning back to face you.

“well, we’ve kept you here much longer than was intended—i apologize for that.” mrs. romanoff says as she stands, mrs. maximoff following suit. you stand also, smoothing your skirt back over your legs. as you stand so closely to them now, you notice how they were both taller than you by a few inches, making you feel small again like you had earlier.

“it’s no big deal. i’m in no rush,” you smile shyly as you look up at the two of them. you extend your arm out, shaking both of their hands before getting ready to leave. they both give your hand a gentle squeeze and when mrs. romanoff shakes your hand, she grasps on longer than her wife, holding your gaze with a certain intensity.

“we’ll be in touch, miss (y/n),” she says smoothly, calling you out by your first name, and for some reason the combination between her voice and her eye contact made your knees feel weak.

you swallow thickly, nodding your head and thanking them both for the interview before turning away. mrs. maximoff leads you to the door to exit and walks you all the way out to the elevators. you pace the short distance in somewhat comfortable silence. when you turn to face her to say your final goodbye, your surprised to see mrs. romanoff behind her. she was following so quietly that you didn’t notice her presence.

“bye! thank you again,” you smile, stepping into the elevator once the doors open. the two women stand side by side of each other, giving you a near identical smile which portrayed some sort of knowing behind it, almost like they were expecting something.

“it was a pleasure meeting you miss (y/l/n),” mrs. maximoff calls out to you as the elevator doors slide closed.

you exhale a breath you didn’t now you were holding, slumping back against the elevator walls.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

that evening, you cook up a box of mac n cheese, too lazy to try and find the ingredients to make anything else. not to mention, your mind was still a little bit jumbled after your interview with thee lesbian power couple.

mrs. romanoff’s words kept echoing in your head.

”we’ll be in touch” she’d said. but didn’t your interview totally blow? especially at the end. it wasn’t so much an interview but rather more like a conversation where people try to get to know each other better. maybe they were looking for a personality hire? you really doubted that though.

you eat your mac n cheese while staring blankly at the wall, thinking over the whole exchange with mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff. as you mindlessly feed yourself spoonfuls of your dinner, you realize you didn’t even know their first names. you remembered you had once seen them on a billboard somewhere but didn’t remember exactly what they were. mrs. romanoff’s first name was natalie or something similar? you were at a loss with mrs. maximoff. you decide to google them to put your curiosities to rest.

pulling out your phone, you google their names and the law firm. after doing just a little bit of digging, you see their full names: natasha romanoff and wanda maximoff. ah, so you were close with mrs. romanoff’s name. you wonder if they only go by their last names at the office. it definitely seemed like their vibe to have things be so professional.

as you go throughout the rest of your evening, showering and getting ready for bed, you continue thinking about them. the longer your mind lingers on them, the less “professionally” you think about them. you couldn’t help but notice how utterly beautiful they both were. they both carried themselves with a confidence that anyone would find intimidating. there was something so forceful about their presences, but not necessarily in a bad way. it seemed like natasha—mrs.romanoff—was a little more rough around the edges, but you could see she easily held a soft spot for her wife and life partner. mrs. maximoff gave off a much more approachable vibe, but she was still intimidating in her own way.

as your mind continues wandering, you find yourself becoming more tired before you finally drift off to sleep, your brain fatigued from all your analytical thinking.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the light shining through your thin curtains. you blink a few times, slowly adjusting to the light. you blindly reach over to your nightstand, unplugging your phone from the charger. as you unlock your phone, you notice a missed call from an unknown number nearly two hours ago. you shoot up into a sitting position in your bed, suddenly feeling much more awake. it was just passed 10 am. was the unknown number a call back about your interview?

your fingers furiously swipe on your phone, quickly googling the number for M.R. law. you breath a sigh of relief when you cross reference the digits in your phone and the number online, realizing it was just a random unknown caller. you let your body fall back limply on the bed, your leg dangling off the side as you clutch your phone to your chest. that would’ve been humiliating if they called offering you the job and you didn’t pick up the phone.

as you go about your morning leisurely—not having any classes this day—you try to push the two hot lawyers out of your mind. there was no point in dwelling on them if you’d never hear from them again.

you leave your face bare of makeup, not intending on leaving the apartment and you opt for wearing comfy clothes—or “frumpy” clothes as you called them—instead of something nice.

you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of frosted flakes cereal. you let it sit there for a few minutes to soak up the milk, as soggy cereal was your favorite. you’d argue with anyone who claimed crunchy cereal was best. as you wait, you power up your laptop, intent on working on some homework.

you’re munching on your cereal, blue-light filtered glasses adorning your nose as you work on your computer screen. you were mid-bite when you hear your phone buzzing on the counter next to you. you glance down at your phone and frown slightly when you notice it looks to be the same unknown number from earlier.

you continue chewing your bite, raising the phone to your ear as you accept the call.

“hello?” you ask, your voice mumbled a bit as you still had some food in your mouth.

“good morning, miss (y/n),” you hear a warm, velvety voice greet you. after almost an hour interview with her yesterday, you’d recognize this distinct voice anywhere.

“mrs. romanoff?” you just about choke on your food as you swallow, your body tensing slightly as you feel much more alert.

“that would be correct.” you hear her chuckle softly into the phone, your tone laced with obvious surprise she must have found endearing.

“i’m so sorry! i think i missed your call earlier? i didn’t recognize the number- i had no idea it was you, i’m sorry!” you apologize quickly, thinking that if she was actually calling to offer you the job, you might have just ruined it.

“don’t worry about it. i would be surprised if you recognized it given that this is my personal number,” her voice was low and warm. it was entirely too enticing.

“oh.. umm, right. well, good morning,” you stumble slightly over your words, unsure what else to say to her.

“are you normally a late riser?” she asks with humor in her voice.

“what? oh no, not normally no. i just don’t have classes today,” you explain, a little embarrassed at her having called you out on your sleeping habits.

“i see. well, we just wanted to call and ask if you’d meet us for a coffee,” her question came out as more of a statement and you were left wondering why on earth she would want to go out for coffee with you and…wait.. did she say we?

“we?” the words echo aloud from your mind.

“yes. my wife and i,” she reiterates calmly. you look around your small excuse for a kitchen as if the reasoning behind her posing this question was written on the walls.

“like today?” you ask stupidly. of course she meant today.

“yes - today. can you meet us in 15? we’re going on lunch break. i’ll text you the address.” your eyes zip to the digital numbers plastered on the microwave. you only had 15 minutes to try and look presentable, get a cab and meet them.

“ummm..yeah. yeah sure,” you nod your head as if she could see you through the phone. you quickly hop off the stool you were sitting on, walking briskly to the bathroom with the phone still held firmly to your ear.

“perfect. we’ll see you soon.” she hangs up and you all but toss your phone on the bathroom counter, staring down at the device as if it’s offended you. you quickly snap out of it, only having 5 or so minutes to un-hobo yourself. you quickly apply some concealer on your dark spots, powder on a little blush and brush on a coat of mascara in record time. in your haste, you stumble from the bathroom to your closet, trying to find something to quickly throw on. you grab a simple white baby tee, putting it on and then aggressively stepping into some loose light wash jeans. grabbing your belongings, you half jog out the door, nearly slipping down the last two stairs of your apartment.

you quickly get a cab, thanking whatever higher power there is in your head that there was very little delay in one driving by. as the taxi driver takes you to the address you gave him, you sit forward in your seat, gathering your hair in a pony tail near the top of your head. you secure it with an elastic you always keep around your wrist and pull some pieces out to frame your face. you glance in the cab rear view mirror, seeing you looked fairly presentable. you exhale shakily, sitting back in your seat as the same nerves you felt yesterday on the way to your interview were coming back now.

what was this about? i mean, you knew it wasn’t normal to meet with potential employees for coffee. it was especially suspicious because it was mrs. romanoff *and* her wife.

your thoughts are interrupted as the taxi slows to a crawl and he pulls up to the coffee shop. you’d never been to this one before, granted there were hundreds of shops all over the city so there were probably many you hadn’t gone to. your heart leaps in your chest as you see both mrs. romanoff and mrs. maximoff waiting outside for you.

you pass the driver the money, thank him and slip out of the car. as you step onto the sidewalk, mrs. maximoff greets you with the same warm smile she’d given you when you first met. mrs. romanoff smiles too, though it’s not as wide as her wife’s.

“hello again, (y/n).” your heart skips a beat as you hear mrs. maximoff use your first name for the first time. mrs. romanoff had been calling you by your first name since you’d stepped foot into her office. you liked the way your name fell from both of their tongues.

“hi, good to see you both again,” you smile despite your nerves, making eye contact with both of them in a polite manner.

“shall we?” mrs. romanoff suggests as she opens the door for you, her wife placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to usher you inside. you inhale shakily, the unexpected contact surprising you in a pleasant way.

as the three of you file in behind the small line of people waiting to order, your eyes skim the menu, even though you already knew exactly what you wanted.

“cute outfit,” mrs. romanoff murmurs from behind you. you could hear what sounded to be amusement in her tone but you weren’t sure.

you turn to the side to face her, her being on your left and mrs. maximoff on your right just a half-step behind you. “thank you. i threw it on—literally. i was wearing something a lot less presentable when you first called.” you glance down at both of their outfits. the duality between yours and their outfits was almost laughable. they looked impeccably fashionable and you were just in street clothes.

wanda chuckles lightly at your comment. “what were you wearing before?” she asks.

“just an oversized tee and some biker shorts,” you shrug, crossing your arms casually over your chest. you always felt more comfortable when you had your arms wrapped around yourself.

as the line moves and you’re next, mrs. romanoff quickly stands in front of you, her body moving between you and the counter. “what’ll you have?” she gives you an expectant look, ready to give your order.

“an iced mocha?” you ask a little shyly, her show of putting herself between you and the cash register did something to you for some reason.

she nods, and turns to the barista, repeating your order along with hers and her wife’s. you’re about to protest, wanting to tell her she doesn’t have to pay for you, but you feel mrs. maximoff’s hand return to the small of your back, swiftly maneuvering you away from the line and over to the small cluster of tables.

you sit down in a chair she pulled out for you and you scoot yourself in as mrs. maximoff settles in her own seat across from you.

“you really don’t have to pay for me, you know,” you pipe gently, glancing over at mrs. romanoff who was standing at the counter waiting for the drinks before you turn back to mrs. maximoff.

“of course not, we want to. plus, neither her nor i would ever allow you to pay for yourself even if you insisted,” she smiles winsomely, her eyes gleaming with something warm and bright.

mrs. romanoff returns with all three coffees, somehow handling all three and setting them down in a graceful manner.

“thank you,” you give mrs. romanoff a gentle smile as your fingers interlock around the cup and you drag it closer to you.

they both take a sip from their coffees—which were both hot—before mrs. romanoff clears her throat, her eyes narrowing in on you as she leans forward on the table.

“so, i imagine you’re wondering why we asked you here.” she throws a glance at her wife who was already looking at her speak.

“it may have been on my mind…” you trail off, sounding as innocent as possible.

mrs. romanoff smiles knowingly, her eyes appraising you in a way that made you squirm slightly in your seat.

“it’s not about the job, as i’m sure you might have figured, but rather about offering a different type of position,” she begins. your brow furrows in confusion. what did she mean?

“a different position? like a cleaning job or something?” you immediately go to thinking about jobs that require little to no experience, figuring that might be all they’d have to offer given your background.

they both laugh at your guess, mrs. romanoff being the one to shake her head no.

“no, not a cleaning job,” she pauses, seeming to measure your expression before continuing. “(y/n), have you ever heard the term bdsm?”

your face goes blank and you look from mrs. romanoff to her wife who appeared to be watching you just as carefully.

“um…i think so? i’ve heard the term a few times before.” your legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly, an unfamiliar pit settling into your lower tummy at the abrupt shift in the topic of conversation.

“what do you know about it?” mrs. maximoff chimes in, tilting her head to the side which causes some of her neatly curled hair to fall forward.

you look between the two of them, unconsciously shrinking further down into your seat. this was such a taboo subject to talk about it public; you found yourself already growing warm from just the thought of this discussion.

“well, it’s..sex stuff…right? like being tied down and whipped?” you speak hesitantly in a small voice, throwing quick glances at the strangers littered across the coffee shop.

“those things can be a part of it, yes—if all parties discuss that’s something they like to participate in” mrs. romanoff explains and then continues. “what else have you heard about it? or is that the gist of what you know?”

you shrug, your shoulders slumped forward and your head bowed slightly to try and obscure your flushed cheeks. you suck your bottom lip into your mouth—your nervous habit.

mrs. maximoff pipes in again after noticing your bashfulness. “a lot of people have that imagery in mind when they hear the term ‘bdsm,’ so it’s understandable that that’s your impression. there is so much more to it though. really, bdsm is about exploring people’s sexual interests in a safe space. you learn about your limits, what you like, what you didn’t expect to like, and so much more.” you listen to her explanation intently, your mind immediately wandering and wondering where this conversation was going to go.

mrs. romanoff picks up off her wife’s words. “some people simply dabble in certain aspects of bdsm while others treat it more as a lifestyle—and for my wife and i, it is a lifestyle.”

you nod hesitantly as they both pause for a second, watching you digest this information. you’re unsure how to respond, feeling progressively more restless in your seat.

they both give each other a look before mrs romanoff nods and mrs. maximoff speaks.

“normally, for people who live this lifestyle, they draw up contracts between themselves and the person they want as their submissive.. now we know this is all very forward, but there’s just no other way to put it. we’d like to have you as our new submissive.”

your face turns bright red for reasons you’re not fully aware of. you weren’t quite sure what being a “submissive” all entailed, but you couldn’t wipe the imagery of being helplessly tied down and whipped from your mind. you’re silent as your brain flits through one imaginary scenario to the next. you were so clueless though, you weren’t sure if the things you were thinking up were things people actually did or if they were just shown in porn.

“me…? i just..well it’s just that..i’m-i don’t know if i would be your ideal candidate,” you stumble out, your eyes glued to the table as you avoid looking at either of them at all costs.

“on the contrary, (y/n), i singled you out almost immediately at our interview. i knew i wanted you. that’s why i had wanda join us.” her face softens as she notices your slight uneasiness. being a bit of a sadist though, she couldn’t help but find your innocence and embarrassment so incredibly gratifying. it only made her want you more.

your teeth worry into your bottom lip again as you look between one set of green eyes and then the other. “do you guys normally.. share, uhm..submissives?”

“not always, but we do like to when it’s possible,” wanda shares, a reassuring smile on her face. you purse your lips, chewing on the inside of your cheek as more questions arise in your head.

“how does that work? sharing i mean.” you knew there were people who participated in polyamorous relationships, and you had no issue with it, you just had trouble visualizing the dynamic.

natasha grins wickedly to herself, realizing now how truly innocent and unknowing you were. she suspected a little yesterday at the interview, but had no idea the true scope of your innocence. wanda also found herself undeniably more attracted to you after this conversation. her hands twitch in her lap, thinking of all the things she could do to you that you probably haven’t ever dreamed of.

“it works (y/n), trust me…” mrs. romanoff says seductively.

“we know this is all very foreign to you, sweetheart. you don’t have to say yes today, just think about it?” mrs. maximoff reaches across the table and affectionately holds onto your wrist. your stomach does a little flip-flop at the term of endearment paired with the affection.

there were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around you, but one thing stuck out above the rest. you wanted to learn more. you didn’t want to say no and close a door on something that you might enjoy.

“i want to.. i mean, um, i will think about it,” you clear your throat for the umpteenth time that day, pulling your hand back from mrs. maximoff’s light grasp. it was suddenly feeling like her hand was searing your skin.

“you want to what?” mrs. romanoff presses, her eyes looking at you with intensity again.

“i just meant that i want to learn more..about this,” you reply quietly, peeking at mrs. romanoff through your lashes. you notice her clench her jaw and flex her fingers that were resting on the table, but you weren’t sure what it meant.

“well, there’s a lot to learn, but luckily i’d say we’re both pretty good teachers,” mrs. maximoff grins more wickedly this time, her expression giving you a new glimpse into something you hadn’t seen in her until this point.

“why don’t we meet up again sometime this weekend? we can answer any questions you have—help you learn more about what we’re asking from you,” she adds, to which you surprisingly feel eager to agree to the idea. you find yourself already wanting to learn more, especially if the people who were going to educate you were two of the hottest women alive.

“yeah…let’s do that,” you nod once, your blush slowly creeping off your cheeks though a slight honey glow was still present.

you all begin to gather your things, mrs. maximoff noticing their lunch break was just about up. the three of you hardly touched your coffees, the conversation too intense to take swigs of the drinks.

the two of them walk you out of the shop, mrs. romanoff hailing down a cab for you. you turn to say goodbye to mrs. maximoff and find that she’s standing closer to you than expected.

“i look forward to seeing you again so soon, dragotsennaya veshch’,” she murmurs, reaching to give your arm an affectionate squeeze. you smile at her, unsure what she said but not caring much to know now.

you step closer to the cab after mrs. romanoff opens the door for you. before you can slip inside the car, mrs. romanoff leans down, murmuring in your ear.

“if you have any questions before the weekend that simply can’t wait, don’t hesitate to text me. you have my number.” her voice was a little rough which makes you shiver.

you nod slowly, sucking on your bottom lip again. you give mrs. maximoff a shy hand wave which she mimics with an amused grin. you sink down into the car seat, mrs. romanoff shutting the door behind you.

as the taxi drives away, you can’t help but look behind you as the two women grow smaller and smaller on the sidewalk. as the car turns a corner, the couple remain standing there until you disappear. you sigh and turn back around in your seat, resting heavily against the cushion behind you.

what just happened?

——————————

tag list:

@poppyshuman @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @xenaizogie @ashadash0904 @kittnii @hayeeonn @gh0sstss @beggingonmykneesforher @natashalover3000 @msvenablesbitch @ihartnat @leesromanova @alwaysgoodnight @lowlifejuliett @azaleavolkova @caramelcat123 @daretodream1307-blog @ctrlaltedits @sweetmissnothing @gecko1 @karmasgxrl @marvelwomenarehot0 @elle161989 @waaayoutofline @snazzysprig @simpforlizzie @just4natasha

[izzih22]

heyy, first of all thank you for all the fics you’ve been releasing you’ve been doing alot for our entertainment 💕I would like to request a short for you to give you a break lol.

So Azzi’s at a bar with her friends, Paige isn’t there, and the topic of relationships come up and one of Azzi’s friends is talking about how her feet were hurting so her boyfriend helped her walk to the car and azzi’s like “you walk?” (paige literally carries her) i hope you get what i’m saying😭😭 the whole one shot is just her being oblivious to bad relationship things or just things that a normal human can do for themselves because paige treats her like an absolute goddess.

You Walk?

Note: thank you so much!! I kinda made it longer so hope you like it!!

It’s one of those rare weekends with no games and no early practices. Just an off-night, a quiet pocket of time in the chaos of their season. So naturally, KK suggests the local lounge down the road that doesn’t card too hard and plays R&B remixes on Saturdays.

They roll in like they always do—sweatpants and messy buns, still talking about drills that went wrong or teammates who didn’t box out. Azzi’s with them, of course, even if she keeps glancing at her phone every few minutes.

“Paige isn’t coming,” Caroline says as they slide into a corner booth, raising a brow.

Azzi looks up, too fast. “I know.”

“She had film or something, right?” KK asks, already digging into the nachos they ordered before even sitting down.

“Yeah,” Azzi nods, checking her phone again. “Film and then treatment on her ankle.”

“Poor girl’s glued together with KT tape and stubbornness,” Ice mutters, stealing a chip.

“She’s fine,” Azzi says. “She just… doesn’t rest unless someone makes her.”

“Guess that someone is you?” Sarah teases.

Azzi shrugs, biting back a smile. “Sometimes.”

The drinks come—sodas, Shirley Temples, one rogue ginger beer Ice claims “tastes mature.” The music is mellow, the lighting soft. It’s one of those rare moments they all feel twenty-something and not like full-time athletes living on granola bars and ankle braces.

“So,” Jana says, kicking things off as she always does, “relationship question.”

KK groans. “Why do you always do this?”

“Because we’re five girls in a booth on a Saturday night and I’m trying to live a rom-com.”

Caroline snorts. “You need better material.”

Jana ignores her. “What’s the most romantic thing someone’s done for you after a game?”

Ice perks up immediately. “Ooh. Okay, not a boyfriend, but the guy I’ve been seeing lately he picked me up from that away game last weekend, right? I had on these heeled boots…bad decision…and after the game, my feet were screaming. And he walked me all the way back to the car, like arm around me, helping me limp.”

“Aww,” Sarah coos.

Caroline nods. “That’s sweet.”

Azzi, sipping her lemonade, tilts her head. “Wait… you walked?”

The table quiets.

Ice looks over. “Yeah?”

“You didn’t get carried?”

KK snorts. “What?”

Azzi blinks slowly, clearly confused. “If my feet hurt, Paige just carries me to the car.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then…

“I’m sorry,” Caroline says, setting down her drink. “She what?”

Azzi shrugs. “Carries me. Like, arms around my neck, bridal style. She opens the car door with her elbow while holding me.”

Ice stares at her. “You mean like… she’s done this more than once?”

Azzi squints, doing mental math. “It’s kind of our thing. I don’t really walk if I don’t have to after games.”

Jana’s mouth is slightly open. “You… you don’t walk?”

“Not if I’m tired.”

Sarah leans in, looking way too invested. “Does she do this in public?”

“Yeah?”

Caroline is actively holding her head in her hands. “You’re not in a relationship. You’re in a royal court.”

“I thought this was normal,” Azzi mutters, eyes narrowing.

“Azzi,” KK says seriously. “She carried your entire duffel bag and you after the Stanford game.”

“I was sore!”

“She was too!”

Azzi frowns. “She’s stronger than me.”

Everyone knows she lying. Paige is strong but Azzi is a machine. But alas they don’t say anything just smirk.

“You could have walked.”

“Could I have?” Azzi asks genuinely, like she’s never considered the possibility.

Sarah is absolutely losing it. “What else does she do for you that you think is normal?”

Azzi shrugs. “I dunno. She ties my shoes sometimes?”

“Sometimes?” Ice echoes, nearly choking on her drink.

“Well, like, when I’m wearing those shoes with the complicated laces and I don’t feel like doing it. She does them for me.”

KK throws her head back. “I’m actually gonna scream.”

“Oh,” Azzi adds thoughtfully. “She always opens my water bottles too.”

Caroline leans across the table. “Azzi. You are a D1 athlete. You have hands.”

“She gets to them before I do!”

“I’ve watched her unwrap your protein bars.”

“Only the ones with the sticky wrappers.”

“She cuts your grapes.”

“They taste better when they’re in halves!”

“Have you ever carried her to the car?” Sarah asks.

Azzi blinks. “She doesn’t like being carried.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“No…”

Jana laughs. “You are a princess and you don’t even know it.”

“She microwaves my hoodie before practice when it’s cold,” Azzi offers softly, almost defensively now.

Caroline groans. “Microwaves?!”

“It’s not weird! She wraps it in a towel and puts it in for like, fifteen seconds. So it’s warm.”

KK turns to the group. “I am dating the wrong people.”

Ice clutches her drink. “I’m not even really dating and I feel wronged.”

Azzi’s phone buzzes. She glances at it and smiles instantly.

“What is it?” Caroline asks.

“She just texted me. ‘Did you eat enough?’”

“Tell her no,” Sarah says. “So she’ll pull up with food in twenty minutes and a blanket and probably a slideshow presentation about nutrients.”

Azzi giggles, typing a reply. The girls all watch her, a mix of affectionate disbelief and exasperated envy.

“You know what’s wild,” KK says, voice a little softer now. “She really doesn’t do that for anyone else.”

“Does what?” Azzi asks, still texting.

“All of it,” Jana says, smiling. “She’s cool with us, yeah. But Paige? She spoils you. Like, in ways she doesn’t even realize.”

“She worships you,” Caroline says, not unkindly. “You’re like her favorite person.”

Azzi blinks, cheeks pinking. “She’s my favorite person too.”

There’s a little silence after that. One of those good, warm ones.

Ice sighs dramatically. “Y’all are disgusting.”

Kk raises her glass. “To not walking.”

Everyone laughs.

Azzi raises her glass too, her phone lighting up again with a message from Paige.

PAIGE:

If you’re still hungry, I can bring you something when I’m done. Or just come pick you up.

She smiles, melts a little, and types back:

AZZI:

I’m good. But you can still come pick me up if you want. I miss you.

PAIGE:

On my way.

Azzi sets her phone down, heart full. Her team is still roasting her, still in disbelief but underneath it, there’s love. So much of it.

⸻

Azzi’s just stepped out of the bar when she sees her.

Paige is parked right out front, leaning casually against the passenger door in a hoodie and joggers, arms crossed, hair pulled back in a low bun like she didn’t spend the last two hours watching film and icing. Her eyes soften the second she sees Azzi.

Azzi doesn’t even try to play it cool. She lights up instantly.

Paige pushes off the car and meets her halfway.

“Hey,” she says, already reaching to adjust Azzi’s oversized sweatshirt like it’s her job.

Azzi smiles up at her. “Hi.”

“You tired?”

Azzi leans into her. “A little.”

And without missing a beat, she lifts Azzi right off the ground, arms around her back and under her knees, bridal style. Azzi doesn’t even flinch—she just folds into it, wraps her arms around Paige’s neck, and rests her head against her shoulder like they’ve done this a thousand times.

Inside the bar, five noses are pressed up against the window.

“NO. WAY,” KK whisper-yells.

“She didn’t even ask, Paige just knew,” Ice says, jaw dropped.

“She looks so happy,” Sarah mutters, a little too emotionally invested.

“I feel like I just watched a scene from a Netflix original,” Caroline says.

“Literally how does someone look hot while carrying another adult?” Jana asks, offended.

“Did you see how she opened the door without putting Azzi down?” Ice adds. “I didn’t even know you could do that.”

KK’s filming through the window. “If my future wife doesn’t treat me like I’m made of moonlight and satin sheets, I don’t want her.”

“You think she warmed up the car too?” Sarah asks.

“She probably pre-set the seat warmer,” Caroline says.

“Y’all,” Ice says, dropping her voice like it’s a national secret, “I used to think Paige was kind of quiet and chill. But she’s not. She’s just so gone for Azzi that none of us even exist when she’s around.”

The group stares out the window as Paige carefully lowers Azzi into the car, buckles her in, then presses a kiss to her forehead like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like muscle memory.

They’re still watching as the car pulls away.

Caroline turns back to the table.

“I think we just witnessed a mythological event.”

“I feel single,” KK says dramatically.

“You are single,” Jana deadpans.

“I feel extra single,” KK corrects.

Sarah’s already texting their group chat:

Sarah: azzi literally gets carried home like a fairy tale

Sarah: if she ever says “paige isn’t that romantic” again we’re playing the window footage

Caroline opens her soda, toasts the air, and says, “To setting the bar unreasonably high.”

They all clink their glasses together.

And somewhere across town, Azzi leans into Paige’s shoulder in the car and says, “They roasted me so bad.”

Paige just smiles. “Good. Let them be jealous.”

Azzi’s grin turns soft. “I’m really lucky.”

Paige glances over at her. “I’m the lucky one.”

⸻

UConn practice, Sunday morning. Coach hasn’t even walked in yet, and the team is already stretching, half-awake, shoes only half-laced. It’s quiet until Paige walks in.

Azzi’s trailing behind her, as always, but today there’s a very specific look in her eyes. It’s the “I told them everything” look.

Paige doesn’t notice. She jogs in with her usual no-sleep-no-problem swagger, hair tied up, hoodie sleeves shoved to her elbows. She barely sets her water bottle down before…

“Oh hey, Paige,” KK calls, loud and obvious. “How are your arms feeling today?”

Paige blinks. “My arms?”

“Yeah, after carrying an entire grown woman across a parking lot last night.”

Azzi breaks immediately, hiding behind a towel.

Paige turns slowly toward her. “You told them?”

“I said one thing,” Azzi mumbles from behind the towel.

“One thing?” Caroline grins. “Girl, you gave us a thesis.”

“We know about the grapes,” Ice adds. “The microwaved hoodie. The shoelace situation.”

Ash fakes a swoon. “She carries you with the door elbow bump. I literally can’t even open my Gatorade without losing a nail.”

Paige stands there, eyes narrowing like she’s deciding who to block in practice first.

“Y’all are being dramatic,” she mutters.

“No we’re not,” Caroline says. “We’re being observant.”

“She doesn’t walk, Paige!” KK shouts, already laughing.

“Okay, but why should she walk?” Paige shoots back, deadpan. “She’s perfect.”

The gym goes silent.

Caroline turns to Ice. “Did she just…?”

“She just dropped that like it was normal,” Ice whispers.

Paige shrugs, tossing a ball lazily between her hands. “If I can carry her, why wouldn’t I? Y’all just jealous.”

“Damn right we are,” Ice says. “I limp and suffer in silence.”

Jana raises an eyebrow. “Would you carry any of us if our feet hurt?”

Paige doesn’t even blink. “No.”

“That was fast,” KK says.

“She wouldn’t even open my water bottle,” Ice adds.

“You shouldn’t need help,” Paige shrugs.

“But Azzi does?” Caroline teases.

Paige tosses the ball at her lightly. “Azzi gets help. Not the same.”

Azzi finally peeks out from behind her towel, smiling helplessly.

Caroline rolls her eyes. “You’re so whipped.”

“I’m not whipped,” Paige says, walking to Azzi like it’s automatic. “I’m just obsessed with her. Totally different.”

Azzi beams. Everyone else groans.

Coach finally walks in, blowing his whistle.

“Save the flirting for after sprints!” He yells.

“Yes, Coach!” they all echo.

But as they start warming up, Azzi’s still grinning, and Paige casually offers her a drink without her even asking. The rest of the team watches it happen like they’re seeing the northern lights.

“Grapes next,” Ice mutters.

“Pretty sure she’s already got them in the locker room,” Caroline says.

And they do. In a little Tupperware, halved.

Because Paige Bueckers may not talk about her feelings much. But everyone on the team knows one thing now: she doesn’t just love Azzi.

She lives to make her life easier.

And apparently, that includes never letting her feet touch the ground.

[wlwoceaneyes]

Lipstick Service Part 5 // Nightly whispers

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!bau!reader word count: 2182 k summary: You finally give in to the fire between you. It blazes brightly as you spend the night together. Sorry guys, just smut (hope it's not as cringe as I think it is) tags: smut (18 +), teasing, vaginal fingering, top!emily, r!receiving, oral sex, soft praise… is there something missing? If yes, hit me up (I’m new to this) A/N: Thank you for all the love! :) This was never supposed to become a series, but here we are, five parts of Unit Chief Emily Prentiss and you. If you enjoyed it, drop a comment, hit that like, or share it with someone who might too. Makes my day, truly! 💕

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

The door closes behind you, shutting out the rest of the world. The dull click of the lock echoes loud in your ears. You blink against the light and feel how close Emily is. Her breath brushes your cheek, warm and uneven. Her body heat reaches out, wraps around you like a protective veil. Suddenly, your coat feels too heavy, too warm. Your skin tingles beneath the fabric, alive with longing and the weight of anticipation.

Emily’s eyes roam over you, slow and hungry, a fire smoldering in every glance. She takes in every detail: the lipstick on your mouth, the line of your throat, the gentle rise of your collarbone, the top button of your coat. Your breath hitches. Shallow and uneven.

“You actually did it.” It’s not a question, but a quiet, reverent truth that leaves her lips.

Your fingers twitch, just slightly, but enough for her to notice. “I did what you asked,” you say, voice steady as you step toward her. You’re not touching. Not yet. But the air between you crackles. She’s the flame, and you’re already burning. “Do you want to see what’s underneath?” you ask, the words velvet-smooth on your tongue, surprised at your own boldness.

A flicker passes her lips, the hint of a smile. But her eyes are still caught in a silent war between control and desire, between what she should do and what she wants. You think she might step back. You prepare for it. But then her shoulders drop, just barely, and you know her decision has already been made.

“Show me,” she breathes, her voice a whisper laced with command, low, final and leaving no room for doubt.

A tremor runs through you, not out of fear but anticipation. Your fingers find the belt of your coat, resting there deliberately, not to tease but to show her you’re ready. For this. For her. Her pupils dilate the second you pull, your shoulders tilting back as the fabric slips off, pooling around your feet.

You stand before her, wearing nothing but your heels and lipstick.

Emily’s eyes flutter closed, like she needs a second to steady herself. And then she steps toward to you, there is no hesitation, no restraint. Her hands cup your face, warm and certain, grounding you. She searches your eyes, sees the hunger flickering in them, and pulls you in.

Her mouth finds yours, hungry and claiming. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. She kisses you like she’s been starving, like she finally has the permission to taste.

First, there’s the lipstick, smeared between you, tasting of sin and recklessness. Then there’s the weight of the night you didn’t have. And now, there’s only what comes next.

You cling to her, fingers digging into the muscles of her arms .You’re safe here, in her heat, her firmness, the way she moves with such quiet authority. She lifts you without effort, carries you until you’re backed against the wardrobe. The wood is cold against your spine, and the contrast to your fevered skin pulls a gasp from your lips.

“Do you even know what you do to me?” she whispers into your ear, her voice rough with restraint. Her hands tighten around your waist. Her mouth finds that spot behind your ear, that tender place that makes your blood coil.

You try to answer, but your mind is a blur. Your body already too far gone. “Tell me,” you manage, breathless.

Emily laughs, low, dark, and devastating. If you were wearing underwear, it would be ruined by now. “You drive me out of my goddamn mind,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing your spine, slow and reverent. There’s no rush in her touch, only something aching, sacred, like she’s finally allowing herself what she’s denied for far too long.

You feel her chest rise and fall, her teeth grazing your neck, her presence overwhelming. She’s everywhere and somehow, never close enough.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she admits, pressing her body tighter against yours, and your breath stutters.

“So have I,” you confess, and in the next second, she spins you around, lays you back on the bed, and looks down at you like a predator who’s finally caught what it’s been hunting.

You take the moment to really look at her, tousled hair, your lipstick smudged across her mouth. Her hardened nippels beneath her dark blue top, the way her curves make your whole body ache. You want to worship her with your hands. With your mouth. With everything you have.

Emily licks her lips, eyes devouring you, then she pulls the top over her head. Her shorts drop next, leaving her in nothing but a black lace slip.

“Come here,” you whisper, cheeks flushed, pulse thudding in your throat.

She takes your hand without a word, her soft fingers curling around yours, a quiet promise, grounding and electric at once. Her knee slides between your thighs, easing you open, and when she presses against the place where you’re already aching, you can’t help the sound that escapes you.

She leans down to you, and the kiss turns into a wild mess of tongues and teeth, until she bites your lower lip, gently tugs it, and buries her hand in your hair. She pulls your head back, seizing the moment to slide her tongue into your mouth, while her free hand trails down your body. You arch your back until your breasts touch hers, savoring the feeling of her hard nipples teasing yours. Her fingers wander down your stomach, cirle your hip, then slide a little lower, digging into your thigh. You whimper in frustration, which draws a low, throaty laugh from Emily.

“So impatient,” she murmurs, pulling her lips from your neck, trailing her tongue down, until she finds one of your nipples. Her lips wrap firmly around it, she sucks gently, bites softly until you can no longer hold back a moan.

“So desperate to be touched,” she adds, as her fingers graze your folds. Emily lets go of your nipple and kisses her way down your body, sitting down on her knees and withdraws from your touch. Before you can protest, her hands grip your ankles with a gentleness that makes you pause. She skillfully slips off your high heels, drops them carelessly to the floor and kisses your calf, your knee, the inside of your thigh.

You're trembling with anticipation, you can't hide it. The tension coils inside you, almost unbearable, and a flicker of shame runs through you at how deeply you need her, want her. Emily senses it, your hesitation, the vulnerability that slips through at this moment.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” she asks sweetly, before placing a kiss right where your thigh meets your hip. As you try to turn your head, her left hand shoots up, fingers firm around your chin, guiding your gaze back to her. She doesn’t let you look away and you blush at the sight of Emily between your thighs. “Look at me when I bring you to orgasm, understand?”, she commands and you swallow hard, “Eye contact, darling.”

At the sound of that pet name, something inside you shifts – a flutter, a surrender. You nod, obedient and undone, and just like that, the last trace of your shyness vanishes. Emily grins at you satisfied, eyes never leaving yours, as her tongue licks your clit slowly. Your breath falters and a desperate sound escapes your lips. It’s not enough, not nearly enough and Emily knows that. Knows exactly what she’s doing. You see it in her eyes, the glint of mischief, gleaming with wicked delight. You try to arch into her, to create friction, to find some kind of release. Anything.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she chides, and her hand leaves your chin only to press your hips firmly into the mattress. You stare at the veins that are clearly visible on the back of her hand, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Hold still,” Emily's voice dips, a shade darker now, "And remember, eyes on me. Keep them open, darling."

Before you can say anything in response, Emily lowers her head again, teasing your entrance with her tongue and collects the moisture she has created with her previous words and actions. You should be embarrassed by how wet you are, but right now, you don't care.

“Baby, you taste so good,” Emily growls, her voice vibrating through your body. Her tongue runs up with relish, caressing your clitoris and then descends again. She observes exactly how you react to her every movement, memorizes it, tests it out. She enjoys the way you squirm beneath her, wanting more, frowning desperately. “Tell me what you want,” she says between teasing and licking, “Use your words.” Emily knows how hard it is for you to articulate your desires. She knows your shyness, loves everything about it. But especially, when you outgrow yourself.

“Emily...”, her name tumbles from your lips, your breathing irregular.

“Yes?” Emily increases the pressure of her tongue, circling your clit until she suddenly sucks on it. You cry, wanting more, wanting to feel her inside you.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you finally say, having had enough of her games.

“Well, finally,” she hums against you, putting your body on alert. A finger presses between your folds until you whimper and Emily finally drives into you. You moan with pleasure, feeling her fill you up, testing how much you can take. She curls her finger slightly upwards until she hits your sweet spot and your gasping becomes a little louder. Satisfied, she increases the pace and devotes her tongue to your swollen nub again. Your pulse pounds in your ears, eyes half-lidded, the intense sensations are almost too much. Emily's silver hair tickles your thighs and you reach down confidently, pressing her head a little harder against you. Satisfied, Emily grins, increasing the pressure as desired and uses a second finger to thrust into you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and your body shakes.

Her lips brush over you as she whispers, “That's better.”

Her hand grips your hips a little tighter, probably leaving a bruise, but at the moment, you don't care at all. Her fingers slide out of you, teasing your entrance and then slide back inside. She repeats this movement over and over again while her tongue keeps working your clit with sharp precision. She is thorough, savoring every sound, every desperate buck of your hips, your sharp intake of breath as she dives into you again.

“You're so hot when you let yourself go,” she moans, burying herself between your legs again and licking you as if she would never get enough of it. You can't find your words anymore, all that escapes your lips is a strangled whimper. Your fingers tangle in her hair, desperate and shaking, tugging hard enough to draw a moan from Emily. One laced with pain, but still with pleasure.

You feel your stomach tighten and heat coils up deep inside you. Your body tenses as if you're about to fall to pieces at any moment. You're about to come and Emily looks at you with lustful eyes. She can feel her fingers being pulled deeper inside of you. “You gonna come for me, darling?”, she teases you and gently bites you while her fingers work faster, more tirelessly, "Come on. Let me feel it."

You moan as her pace picks up, slamming into you. With one last suck on your clitoris, she sends you over the edge. Your orgasm jolts through you with full force, like raging waves crashing against solid stone. It takes your breath away as your body tenses, pleasure racing through your nerves as you cry out her name and clench your legs together, the pleasure almost unbearable. Overpowering.

Your legs tremble and Emily still doesn't let go of you, she moans and licks you until you flinch out of reach from overstimulation. She groans softly at the sight, carefully slips her two fingers out of you, places one last kiss on your swollen clit and holds her wet fingers in front of her mouth. She grins boldly at you and her chin glistens as she watches you gasp for air: "Look at you, falling apart so beautifully.“

She licks her fingers clean, slowly and sensually, not breaking eye contact and enjoying the way you squirm at this sight. Moaning, you pull her up, kiss her fiercely and taste yourself on her lips.

“You're going to be my downfall, Prentiss,” you growl, and Emily arches a brow.

“Or you’ll be mine?” she shoots back, pressing her body against yours. You hitch your leg up and feel just how wet she is.

“I'm going to show you,” you murmur, kissing her with hungry fervor and guide her onto her back, “Thoroughly.”

Emily's eyes darken another shade, and then your lips close around her nipple, pulling a throaty moan from her.

Now it's your turn. All that pent-up desire erupts like a raging storm. You feed the fire that’s been smoldering between you two far too long.

[orphicsun]

Hi! I love all your work sm I just had to say that first 💕💕

I wanted to know if I could request something nsfw with sevika disciplining the reader, sevika is Silcos second hand and the reader messes up a mission or something and silcos sends sevika to correct the behavior🤭🤭

Content: Fingering (R! receiving), edging / slight orgasm denial, Sevika and her trusty cigar (I personally hate smoke but I had to make this accurate), spit kink, dom! Sevika and submissive reader, Sevika is rough with reader but it's all consensual, degradation + praise we love to see it

HII THANK YOU!! Your support means sm to me as a writer<3 This is my first time writing for Sevika which surprises me because I literally love her so much but I hope it's good:) Everyone thank anon for suggesting this

Sevika had you completely nude on her lap, pussy dripping down onto the thigh you were straddling. Three of her fingers were deep inside you, filling you to the brim. The thing was, she just wasn't moving them.

"S-Sev!! Please, just fuck me.." You whine, sounding almost comedically pathetic.

Sevika doesn't budge, though. You can only see the slight tug up-ward at her lips, a slightly cocky smile as she takes a drag off of her cigar to bluster smoke onto your unfortunately tortured face.

"Nuh-uh, baby. Only good girls who do the one thing they were told to do get fucked by me." She only curls her fingers upwards towards you g-spot, teasing you before once again not making a single movement. You practically sob at the sudden jolt of heat that her action sends through you, grasping onto her even more tightly than you already are.

It's pathetic how she so effortlessly has you screaming from just her fingers being inside you. You know you can't cum from that alone, and you can't even move because you know that if you do, you'll have no chance of redemption from her at all. You hate this more than you'd hate regular punishments. Maybe if she had you disciplined like Silco intended, then you wouldn't be so goddamn embarrassing, walls tightening around her fingers, your body involuntarily begging to be given release. Instead, you're tortured in the best way possible. You wish she'd just send you to do some dirty job instead of this.. but you still feel so filled up.

Sevika kills the cigar, putting it out on the table so that she can grip your face tightly in her metallic hand. "You fucked up today," her voice is suddenly more less teasing and more actual scolding because as much as she'd like to just fuck you as a punishment, you won't learn from it. "You could've had us all jeopardized, you know that?"

You wince as her grip tightens and try to nod, to focus on the suddenly serious conversation even with her warm, calloused hands sending slight spasms of pleasure throughout your pussy every time there's a slight movement. "I know, and I promise I won't do it again!" You try to get the rest of your speech out without any unnecessary noises, "Please, Sev.. It was a mistake."

Her eyes soften just slightly, but her grip remains. "Open your mouth. Right now." You oblige so quickly, opening wide and sticking your tongue out because you know what's to come. Sevika spits directly onto your awaiting tongue and you swallow without hesitation. She finally smiles with a the warmth of satisfaction showing through the lines, and you feel so much relief.

Sevika may be harsh with you and intimidating, particularly hot, but she still cared about you. She was worried about you, to put it plainly. She saw you as her girl to take care of, and if Silco was the one disciplining you, it wouldn't be sexy. It'd be actual physical torture. She had to keep you safe from that, and meant making sure you fuck up less. It meant at least trying to get you to listen, even during these intense sessions.

"Good girl. You wanna cum now, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Please.." Your body is begging to cum, after all the talk and lecture portion of this 'punishment', what you really need is the reward part. Sevika is so gracious, giving you a small smack on the ass with her shimmer-powered arm to get a cute squeak out of you.

"Ride my fingers, baby." And like the good girl that you are, you quickly make sure to grasp onto her shoulders for support grind against her fingers as they pump up into your drenched cunt on their own, curling so perfectly against your walls to make you see stars.

"F-Fuck!! Sev-" You can't even moan out her whole name, your body feeling so much relief all at once and yet not enough, "Fuck, you're fillin' me so nice." You know you should have some dignity and not let yourself scream say such lewd things, not hump her hand like a desperate dog, but you can't help it. She's watching your expressions, listening to your words and you can't disappoint her. You need to cum all over her knuckles.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Her voice, so deep and lovely just sends you right over whatever cliff was in your way of cumming.

"I'm cumming, Sev!!" Your walls clench and squeeze at her fingers as she pounds them knuckle-deep into your hole, causing your thighs to quiver and almost threaten to give out. Still, all you can focus on is the revelry she sends through your entire body which each wave of pleasure. It's almost mind-numbing and all you can think to yourself is, "I am never gonna fuck up another mission again." You'd be sure not to if it meant that Sevika would fuck you like this anytime you wanted to until your orgasm finally left your body, until your cunt that was so greedy for her was finally satisfied.

Maybe that was the point, though. Sevika wasn't stupid. If she withheld from you long enough, you'd eventually break. This was your break. And she was proven to be right, because the next few missions following were smooth sailing, and every time you needed some encouragement, she'd just fuck you senseless until you remembered to be more careful.

[lascvitae]

just realized you write for itzy too <333 my girls deserve some love...would you be willing to write mommy!yeji with a reader who's a little bit of a crybaby and ends up crying over something silly and yeji finds it absolutely adorable and maybe it turns into soft sex? thank you 🩷

ADORN ✵ HWANG YEJI.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. JUST LET MY LOVE,

JUST LET MY LOVE ADORN YOU .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ when you come home sad, yeji knows exactly how to cheer you up.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. mommy!yeji x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. smut (18+) ᝰ.ᐟ warning(s). soft dom!yeji, fingering (r receiving), overstimulation, chest play, praising, pet names (baby, my sweet girl, my good girl, pretty girl), yall fuck in da tub

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1.5k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty yeji with a bob #needthat also i was gonna make yn a slut cause if that was me… ANYWAY hope you like it anon 💕

masterlist.

YOU DON'T EVEN TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES. you just step inside, close the door behind you and stand there.

yeji looks up from the couch the moment she hears it.

“hey. you okay?” she says softly.

you try to answer but the words get caught in your throat.

yeji’s already walking over. “baby?”

you sniff, bottom lip poking out. “they were closed.”

she tilts her head, tone gentle. “who was?”

“…the dumpling place. i got there and the lights were off. sign flipped. closed early, i guess.” you mumble.

her brows lift slightly. “oh, love…”

“i waited all day. skipped lunch for them.” you say, and when you finish your sentence she opens her arms without a word.

you bury your face in her chest instantly. her hands come up to cradle the back of your head.

“i’m sorry, baby. you were looking forward to them all day, huh?” she whispers, holding you close.

you nod, throat tight.

“and you had a whole little plan. come home, eat your favorite food, cuddle up with me…” she says softly.

your breath hitches and you nod again, quieter this time.

“it’s okay to be sad about that. you’re not being silly.” she murmurs.

you clutch her shirt, breathing in deep. her scent calms you. something about it feels like home.

you feel her hands slowly trail down to your hips. “you want me to make something for you? or…” she asks.

you tilt your head up at her and she raises a brow, hands sliding a little lower.

“you.” you whisper.

yeji doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you for a moment, eyes soft and serious like she’s making sure.

then she leans in and kisses your forehead slowly and carefully.

her lips linger on your forehead like a promise, and then she pulls back enough to rest her hand on the side of your face.

“come on. let’s run you a bath.” she says quietly.

then she takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, flicking the light on a low setting. you hear the water start to run before you even begin to process that she’s already crouched down by the tub and checking the temperature with the back of her hand.

once it’s full enough, she pours the bubble bath liquid into the bath and stands to undress you slowly.

“arms up.” she says gently and you obey without a word.

she lifts your shirt up, presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. then your bra next. then her hands slide down to your jeans.

her fingers ghost over your hips before speaking. “still okay?”

“mhm.” you breathe.

she undresses herself next, movements slower now. your eyes trail over the curve of her waist and the subtle lines of her stomach. you swallow, warmth pooling low in your belly.

when she steps into the bath and settles down, she reaches for you instantly. “come here, pretty girl.”

you ease in between her legs, letting her guide you down until your back rests against her chest. your thighs float under the warm water and her arms find your waist instantly, cheek resting against yours.

the bubbles float around you, the scent of lavender thick in the air. the water is hot enough to relax your limbs but not enough to distract from the way yeji feels behind you.

“you okay now, baby?” she whispers, voice quiet against your skin.

you nod slowly while sighing. “yeah… just tired.”

“i know. you had a long day.” she says softly, hands skimming up your stomach,

her hands reach your chest, slipping under the water and you gasp quietly when her thumbs brush over your nipples.

“mommy…” your voice comes out small.

“shh, i’ve got you. let me take care of you.” she murmurs, fingers slow and warm, rubbing soft circles over your chest.

you squirm slightly, heat burning low in your belly. “that feels good…”

“yeah? you want more, baby?” she hums.

you nod. “please."

she shifts just a little, grip firmer now, thumbs dragging over your nipples until they harden and your hips start to rock back into her.

“you’re so sensitive today. is that why you’ve been acting like this?” she coos.

you moan softly while nodding. “just wanted you.”

“you’ve got me, baby.” her hand slips lower, fingers gliding through the water and dipping between your legs.

you inhale sharply, back arching when she slides two fingers through your folds.

“mommy—”

“i know. i know, honey.” she says gently, kissing your cheek.

her thumb finds your clit, stroking it in slow, tight circles. her other arm curls around you again, hand cupping your tit and thumb flicking your nipple in time with every motion below.

you whimper.

“fuck— mommy— feels so good—”

“you sound so pretty like this.” she breathes.

you choke on a moan, head falling back against her shoulder and hands gripping the sides of the tub.

“mommy, please— more—”

“more what, baby? tell me what you need.” she murmurs voice dripping sweetness.

“everything. need everything— your fingers, your voice— you, mommy, please—“ you pant.

“needy girl. you’re doing so good for me. let me give it to you.” she whispers, thrusting two fingers into you.

her fingers move slow at first, curling perfectly inside you while her palm brushes your clit just right every time. your hips roll down against her hand, thighs opening further.

“mommy— fuck— right there—”

“there? you mean when i do this?” she repeats, thrusting a little deeper and a little faster.

you cry out, back arching. “yes— mommy, fuck, don’t stop—”

she squeezes your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple again and your whole body stutters in the water.

“you’re gonna cum, huh? gonna cum for me?” she whispers.

“uh huh, please— please, mommy—“ you breathe frantically.

“then do it. cum for me.” she says, voice warm in your ear.

you cum with a moan that echoes off the tile, your entire body trembling as her hand keeps moving softly. the water rocks around you, bubbles clinging to your skin as your orgasm rushes through your stomach and thighs.

and she doesn’t stop. her fingers don’t move. they just press deeper, slower, her palm tight to your clit.

you whimper.

“mommy— ‘m still sensitive—”

“i know. but i think you can take it, baby. just one more.” she says, kissing your temple.

you cry out again, legs twitching as her fingers start to move inside of you again, deep, slow thrusts that make you squirm helplessly in her lap.

“you wanted me. you said so yourself. so be a good girl and let mommy spoil you.” she reminds you softly.

you cry out again, body jerking forward as she pushes you right to the edge again —your thighs tremble and your breath stutters, as your fingers slip against the rim of the tub. you reach back blindly, gripping her thigh for something to hold on to.

“mommy— please, i— i can’t—”

“you can. you’re doing so good, baby.” she whispers against your neck, hand slowing its movements.

and when your orgasm hits, it feels quieter this time. deeper. your whole body softens in her lap as you cum with a shaky gasp, whimpering her name softly.

“that’s it. there you go, my sweet girl. just like that.” she murmurs, slowing down until her fingers are just resting inside you, not moving anymore

you stay still for a long time, breathing hard, face flushed and skin damp from the steam. there’s sweat and tears you didn’t even realize spilled over again. your body’s heavy, but not in a bad way.

yeji’s hand slips away from between your legs slowly and carefully as she presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another softer one just behind your ear.

“still with me?”

you nod, resting your hand over hers on your chest instead and squeeze.

“my good girl. you’re so perfect.” she whispers.

you let out a small laugh.

“mm. water’s getting cold.” she smiles against your skin teasingly then shifts slightly behind you.

you hum. “don’t make me move.”

“never. just wanna wrap you up somewhere warm.” she promises, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

“like your arms?”

“exactly like that.” she says, already helping you sit up with so much care it makes your chest hurt.

she helps you out of the bath, wrapping you in a fluffy towel like you’re something precious. but to her, you are. her hands stay gentle even as she dries your arms and legs, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you shiver.

“let’s get you to bed.” she murmurs.

you follow, half asleep and still recovering from the high she gave you, letting her guide you under the covers. the sheets are cool, but she’s warm against your back within seconds, pulling you close and kissing the corner of your mouth.

you smile, eyes fluttering closed.

“still sad?” she whispers.

“mm… only about the dumplings.” you murmur, voice laced with sleepiness.

she chuckles into your shoulder. “i’ll wake up early tomorrow. we’ll get them together.”

you reach for her hand under the blankets and link your fingers through hers.

“i love you.”

her voice is barely audible now, low and and so full of love.

“i love you more, baby. sleep.”

and tomorrow?

you’re getting your dumplings.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[physics-of-one-piece]

Merlot & Primroses

(Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 4

AO3

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Masterlist

Tags: Female!Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Kidnapping, Gaslighting, Forced Proximity, Vomiting, Nausea, Panic Attack, Hyperventilating, Forced Hugging, Doflamingo's Comforting Skills are Non-Existent, Attempted Comfort, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Lack of Clothing Autonomy, Lingerie, Mentions of Fratricide, Grief, Angst, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Touch-Starved Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Protective Donquixote Doflamingo, Adult Themes

Word Count: 10.2k (don't look at me, don't even look at me, I'm ashamed 🫣)

A/N: The "first part" of the behemoth that became Chapter 4 bcs Doffy couldn't keep it in his pants! (I mean, I'm not complaining but daaamn, Doffy). Next part will be released... When it's released! Either 2 weeks or a month. I wish I could have made it to post both the same day but I still need to write so much for next chap so pls be patient with me and forgive me 😭! I really thought myb I would be able to write Part 2 thoroughly, but alas... Thank you everyone for all the comments and reblogs and likes, I love simping over Doffy with you all and hearing all your thoughts and talking. 💕 Also, tell me what you think about the gradient of the title, I rather like it! Dividers are my own and free to use!

I do my best tagging everything and putting in trigger warnings in the tags so don't read the chapter until you've READ all the tags for it. Love you all ❤️

Also! WE HAVE... FANART of Law "Really? Right in front of my mochi?" by @rat-quing thank you so much I'm still not over it. I'm so flattered my fic inspired you 🥹😭🫶🏻❤️

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isabeauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady @wrennyx @yan-love-reader @caldrien @rujellyroll @bonzaibaby @emilyfeetumbrella @ghostiequill @pipsterz @graceland321 @panthorastormheart @thesmolestsage @thesaltycrisp @hurricanebrownie @heroinicyfingers @t-sarah @aganhim @smol-flower-kiddo @vaniiiavengeance @sagyunaro @froggiewrites @doffyslittledove @7wanne @ohnomyhooves @tinycreature21 @aganhim @anime-fan-isa-art @fruity0salad @tavsianus @xblackxjackx @hime44444 @ripndips @shanalikeanna @multifandomgirl2018 @shirayuki-ayumi @misaneeragoni

Chapter 4

It was nothing new to see Corazon in the top executives’ lounge room. He spent most of his free time there, sitting on the large lilac armchair, either reading a book or the newspapers, drinking tea or sleeping with his head resting atop the backrest, breathing so quietly Law sometimes wondered if the man was truly sleeping at all.

There was a song playing from the gramophone, a man singing “I’d like for you and I to go ro-man-cing, say the word, your wish is my command”. 

Law didn’t know the name of it, and didn’t care very much. It was a stupid love song that made Law roll his eyes. Corazon’s taste in music was not something Law cared about, or wanted to comment on. He certainly didn’t think it was a mix of glam rock and music hall genres. Law didn’t even know there existed a mix of it.

Law wondered if Corazon and Diamante exchanged music records between each other. Corazon’s music seemed less loud, which Law appreciated. There was a softness and slowness to the song and the way the singer sang it compared to the singers Diamante liked to listen to. This song was very romantic compared to Diamante’s songs Law heard.

What captured Law’s attention today, however, and was new, was where Corazon was sitting today. His long, lanky body was sunk into a massive pink bean bag. The top executive was lounging on it, sleeping.

Law hadn’t seen this armchair in the top executives' lounge before, so he stared at it for a while.

“Do you know what that is, Law?” asked Doflamingo, walking into the room, towering behind Law. 

The way Doflamingo stood by Law resembled an adult flamingo standing by a newborn chicklet. 

Ever since Law joined the Family, he had started getting tutored by Doflamingo whenever the captain had time in his busy schedule. 

Law had to admit, he liked his lessons with Doflamingo the best, because they consisted of two of Law’s favourite things: books and studying. Even far after the day was over and he was in the bottom bunk of the bunk bed — because Buffalo would never give up the top bunk  — Law would spend time reading the book from that day. 

“It’s a bean bag,” said Law, staring at the massive pink bean bag in confusion. 

Doflamingo hummed as confirmation. “Corazon found it in one of the furniture magazines and liked it, so I bought it for him. This way, he’ll fall off his seat less.”

Law looked up to Doflamingo — he had to tilt his head back as far as he could to do so — and was greeted with the captain’s infamous unnerving smile, but it didn’t keep him from asking questions. He wasn’t afraid of Doflamingo.

“So, what, you just buy your brother whatever he wants?” asked Law. “Even if it’s a stupidly huge bean bag?”

Law waited for Doflamingo to laugh, to tell him he fell for the joke. Instead, Doflamingo stared blankly at him, as though Law had said something foolish. He stared at him for such a long time Law started feeling small.

Doflamingo always made Law feel small. It was not in a way regarding height. Law was incredibly aware how short he was and how tall Doflamingo was. No, Doflamingo made Law feel small in a way that Law felt like just a grain of sand in a desert, just a flower in a massive city, like a kid in a world that was ten thousand times bigger than him. 

Law felt like a little ember and Doflamingo like an unstoppable, massive fire.

Law knew he wouldn’t feel or remain small these last three years. He was learning to fight, to kill, to destroy. He wanted to be like Doflamingo. He wanted to destroy everything and make everyone fear him. If Law was to go out — and he was, in three years time unless they found some miraculous Devil Fruit to cure his disease — he’d go out not as a spark and a little ember, but an overwhelming, unstoppable fire, burning down as much of the world in his path as he could.

After a long moment of staring down at Law in silence that would make any normal person squirm, Doflamingo said an equally blunt, calm, “Yes.”

“Why a bean bag?” asked Law.

“Corazón and I like soft surfaces to sleep on,” said Doflamingo. “Helps us with our backs.”

Law frowned at this, the doctor in him in complete disapproval. “If you have spinal issues, you should lay on hard surfaces. Hard mattresses offer better spinal support.”

“So I can have back pain and be uncomfortable?” asked Doflamingo, like that was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. “I might have a long spine but I’m not an idiot.”

“Plus,” said Doflamingo, crossed his arms, and smirked victoriously down at the bean bag Corazón’s long body had sunk into. “It’s pink.”

Law stared at Doflamingo in shock and disbelief.

“Fufufufu! You need to know how to have fun, Law.”

Law wasn’t here to have fun. He was here because he wanted to destroy.

“Speaking of fun… how did you like yesterday?” asked Doflamingo with a wicked, broad smile.

Yesterday, they’d raided a small town and burned it to the ground. It was the first time since Flevance Law saw fire eating away at buildings.

“How did it make you feel?” Doflamingo asked.

Why would other people have the right to be happy, to be laughing, when Law’s entire country, his friends from school, his parents, and his sister were burned to ash and killed by the World Government?

They burned his country and his people. So he was going to do the same to them before his sickness took him. Those monsters deserved nothing less.

Watching the flames eat away at the town made him feel lighter, relieved. He hadn’t felt that way since escaping Flevance.

“It made me feel better,” Law said.

Doflamingo smiled. “Well, isn’t feeling better fun?”

Something coiled in Law’s stomach. He wondered if he and Doflamingo really were alike as Doflamingo said they were. 

“Isn’t destroying fun?” Doflamingo asked.

Law felt his blood go cold. Destroying felt… good.

But it didn’t feel fun.

On his spot on the bean bag, Corazon stirred, the feathers of his coat rustling as he sat up. Doflamingo smiled warmly at him.

“Do you like the bean bag, Corazón?” asked Doflamingo.

Corazon dipped his head in a nod.

“You just rest,” Doflamingo said to Corazón; his voice always turned quiet and gentle when he talked to his brother, and today was no exception. 

Doflamingo gave Corazón a smile, also different from his usual sharp ones; this one actually looked nice on him, without any menace to it. “Good work yesterday.”

Corazón nodded, and plopped his head back down onto the bean bag. It reminded Law of those big, furry, golden dogs Lami always petted when they were walking back home from school; they plopped their heads onto Lami’s lap the same way, never failing to make Lami smile and giggle.

Law decided he was reminded of those dogs because of Corazón’s golden, wavy hair. Because Corazón was not friendly or huggable at all.

By the time Law looked at the younger Donquixote brother, Corazón had already dozed off.

Doflamingo gestured him to the library, and Law had no time to think about the silliness and normalcy of Corazon sleeping on the bean bag, burying himself in books for the afternoon.

After Law was done studying, carrying the last book because he still had some reading to do of it before he was satisfied for the day, he exited the library and found his jaw on the floor.

Corazon was still sleeping on the bean bag, but now, Buffalo and Baby 5 were using his thighs as beds.

“What are you doing?” asked Law, frowning at them for their stupid stunt. If Corazon woke up, he was undoubtedly going to punch them and toss them into the wall. It was brave, but stupid.

“Cora-san is comfy, dasuyan!” said Buffalo, smiling with his buckteeth.

“Come lay down, Law!” said Baby 5, giggling. 

Law frowned. Carefully, he approached the bean bag, and Corazon, whose limbs were spread out. He started to climb the bean bag.

Slowly… slowly…

To think he was more afraid of Corazon than he was of Doflamingo… could anyone blame him? Corazon was absolutely nuts. He could throw Law across the entire length of the ship if he wanted to, and Law would definitely break a few bones if Corazon did that. Corazon seemed to really like chucking Law and grabbing him by his hat to do so, like Law was some chuckable toy for Corazon, not a sick child.

Law took a breath. The last thing he wanted was for Baby 5 and Buffalo to tease him about being a coward for not wanting to use Corazon like a big bed. 

Law sat down between Corazon’s spread legs, beside Buffalo and Baby 5. The two giggled happily to have him join them. Law paid them no mind, and opened up his book to finish reading it.

Eventually, Law dozed off, slumping on Corazon’s stomach.

A few hours later, Rosinante woke up.

‘What the…’ thought the marine, looking down at the weight on his body. Baby 5 and Buffalo were comfortably sleeping on his thighs, and Law, much to his surprise, had joined them, sleeping on his stomach.

Rosinante stared at Law for a moment longer. Was it his imagination, or did the white spot on Law’s chest climb up to the kid’s collarbone? 

Rosinante felt his heart clench. 

Since when was he a pillow for these little squirts?

Rosinante stared at the ceiling of the Numancia blankly, wondering what urged him to take on this mission - duty, more or less was the answer to that - that led him to becoming a body pillow for three crazy kids. He barely felt the weight of Law and Baby 5, but he definitely felt the weight of Buffalo’s body slung across his left thigh.

Rosinante let out a sigh. He didn’t feel like tossing them off. He was far, far too comfortable in the marshmallowy softness of the bean bag to even think of lifting himself from it. 

He’d give them a break from trying to run them off today.

Rosinante slumped his head back down, closed his eyes, glad for the dark purple sunglasses covering him from the light of the candles, and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, Doflamingo returned to the room in search for his brother, and once he entered, promptly froze at the sight before him.

‘What the…’ thought the pirate captain, processing the vision before him.

‘Holy shit,’ Doflamingo thought, his heart skipping a beat. Was he dreaming?

Doflamingo blinked numerous times, even pinched himself to wake up, but the scenery didn’t change. It was his little brother, sleeping on the bean bag, Law, Baby 5 and Buffalo sleeping on different parts of his body. Law’s position surprised Doflamingo the most; the boy was sleeping on his brother’s stomach, his book on his little chest, his arms and legs spread out in a starfish position, snoring softly, deep in sleep.

‘Holy shit.’ thought Doflamingo, a smile blooming on his face, followed by a delighted giggle.

Rosi was so cute with the kids! 

Doflamingo needed to take a picture.

He needed to take a picture right now!

Heart racing, long fingers nearly shaking from delight, Doflamingo started rummaging through his feather coat wildly, praying to saints he had a camera snail in the numerous pockets somewhere.

Doflamingo pulled out a pink camera snail from his feather coat. He started snapping multiple pictures with the camera snail, chuckling.

Doflamingo smiled to himself. This was going to be such good blackmail material.

Scratch that.

He’s going to frame this and put it with the rest of their family pictures, print it and put it on the fridge, print another and put it in the Family album, then print a bigger one to fit on a wall and put it on the wall in his office.

His little brother was still the most adorable being in the world, and nobody could convince Doflamingo otherwise.

Doflamingo grinned ear to ear, his eyes squinting with the smile behind his sunglasses.

Baby 5 was excited to be the one given the task to lead you across the ship. Before you had the chance to blink to process the thought of a child who could transform her hand to a weapon at any time escorting you to the captain’s cabin — Doflamingo’s cabin — the little girl grabbed your hand and led you along, out of the galley. The moment those gentle, tiny hands had gripped onto yours, you felt a softness take over you, much like with Law.

And much like with Law, you let Baby 5 take you wherever the hell she pleased, because how were you supposed to fight against such a tiny hand clutching onto yours, an unspoken indication of the child’s trust?

It was too bad you were in the ship’s underbelly. If you were still on deck, you’d attempt to fling yourself off the deck and into the water. Screw the hundred meter drop, that’s nothing compared to being flown across the sky by Doflamingo.

Baby 5 led you through the wooden maze, the extravagant paintings framed on the walls reminding you with what sort of money the entire ship was built. The two of you reached the tail end of the ship. 

“There it is!” said Baby 5 excitedly.

The two of you stopped in front of large white doors with a golden handle. Baby 5 pulled out a key from the pocket of her maid dress.

It was a golden key with Doflamingo’s jolly roger symbol shaping its bow. Baby 5 put the key into the lock and turned it. After a click, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled down the golden handle, opening the tall white doors.

When you didn’t dare enter, she took your hand again, giggling, leading you into the space.

Your jaw hit the floor.

The captain’s cabin was huge. The chessboard black-white floor pattern stretched out across the room, making you feel like a chess piece the moment you stepped in. 

On the right, on a pink carpet were two large lavender couches facing each other, a dark mahogany table between them, covered by a feather quill and paper scattered all over it. Bookshelves and storage compartments lined the walls. A large map of the North Blue was framed on the wall, and a large black flag with Doflamingo’s jolly roger in white was pinned beside it, above the couch.

Five tall windows stretched along the wall, wall-mounted candelabras between each. A circular golden breakfast table with a glass surface paired with four large golden-framed, lilac tufted chairs sat in front of the windows.

It felt like the room of royalty. It unnervingly reminded you of one of the breakfast rooms in Pangea Castle you had the luck to be in while working as King Riku’s translator, with the golden table, the golden chairs, the golden framings on walls…

It felt as grand and as opulent as the rooms in Mariejois.

Baby 5 led you to another set of double doors to the right. These had Doflamingo's jolly roger framed in gold on each side. Baby 5 unlocked the room with a golden-shaped flamingo key.

Doflamingo’s quarters were large. Furs, feathers, silk and satins filled the space. It was flamboyant, but so tasteful it felt almost sacred. Yours and Rosinante’s bedroom was plain and plebeian in comparison.

A three and a half meter long golden bed stood against the wall, its golden headboard tall, a dark red tufted headrest surface taking up most of its large space. Above the tufted surface, the curved top edges of the headboard were decorated with golden carvings of feathers leading to the top center of the headboard where the golden shape of Doflamingo’s jolly roger was carved, grinning its golden, menacing, toothy grin at you.

The massive bed was covered by numerous layers of warm covers; first and foremost was a thick pink feather blanket. Beneath it was a polar bear fur blanket, a tiger fur blanket, a dark red merlot duvet, and beneath it all, a merlot red sheet. The two feather pillows were covered by silken merlot pillowcases. Underneath and around the area of the bed was a pink-stained tiger skin rug.

You went down and sat on the bed. The mattress was so soft it felt like you were sitting on a marshmallow.

Doflamingo certainly had a refined taste.

“Wow!” said Baby 5, looking around in awe. “I’ve never been in Young Master’s quarters! They’re so nice!”

Nice was one way to say this entire room is worth more than a small island’s treasury.

You got up and looked into the closet installed into the wall, parting the panels to look at the clothes inside.

This was enough to fill both yours and Rosinante’s closets. Doflamingo was the complete opposite of Rosinante. He had so much clothes, each garment fashionable and expensive. It felt overwhelming simply looking at all the clothes hanging in his closet, a wheel of all colours, all expensive and up to the latest fashion. Whichever colour you thought of, you could spot it. 

There were a lot of capris pants, too, in rather… interesting colours and patterns.

What captured your attention the most were the pointed, low heel, white-black dress shoes. They fit Doflamingo the most somehow, another fashionable piece of clothing.

“You know, Young Master isn’t bad,” said Baby 5. “Cora-san was the mean one of the two of them. Cora-san always whacked us into walls for just getting in his way.”

Stay calm. She’s just a kid. A kid who can shoot you by transforming her arm into a gun, but still a kid.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “That must have hurt.”

Baby 5 shrugged nonchalantly. “He always hit me.”

You could imagine Rosinante scowling and saying, “To try to scare you into running away, you stubborn, stupid, overly brave brat.”

“So I didn’t care. He took Law away, though, and turned him against us. I’m angry at him for that.”

You stared at the girl. Is that what she thought? Sure, you could see that from her point of view, Rosinante kidnapped Law, but in the end, Law made his own decisions on who to stay with at the end of it all based on what he saw of a person. Law was far too smart and very aware of what people were good or bad based on their actions. He didn’t join Doflamingo out of some naivety - Law was very aware how destructive and evil Doflamingo was, and decided Doflamingo was the right fit to help Law get his anger at the world out.

It was thanks to your husband opening up his heart to Law, crying for Law, fighting tooth and nail to cure him even if it meant he’d die trying, that Law chose Rosinante.

In the end, all Law wanted was for someone to treat him as a human, not as some patient or a disease, or a weapon. For someone he could trust. For someone who wouldn’t be afraid of him, or throw him away. For someone to care.

You gazed at Baby 5, feeling an intense swell of sadness the longer you looked at her. 

These children are already a lost cause. There’s no use talking to them, trying to explain the world of adults and right and wrong to them. This girl probably already killed someone. Just like Law did.

They weren’t your problem. They weren't.

But damn it, did your heart hurt for them. These poor kids.

You wondered if your husband thought the same. He must have. He must have wanted to take them all and save them. But he could only take one, and that one was Law, because Law was truly dying. Because Law was a D. He wasn’t meant to be Doflamingo’s minion. That boy was going to flip the world around one day, and frankly, you didn’t care if that meant flipping it for better or for worse, and you didn't care. If anyone wanted Law, they’d have to go through you first. 

You didn’t care anymore about Law’s ancestry, and neither did Rosinante. To you, Law was Law.

And Law had to live.

“Oh! Come see your wardrobe!” said Baby 5 excitedly, taking you by the hand again and walking to the other wardrobe doors. When she opened them, your jaw dropped.

Dresses, jackets and coats of luxury brands in many colors were hanging on the long hanger. On the bottom were boots, heels and sandals of the same quality - luxurious, pricey, out of your paygrade.

There were quite a few black clothes, which was good. Doflamingo couldn’t really tell you what to wear, and you were going to wear black from tomorrow on. You noticed a lacking amount of pants, and a rather alarming amount of dresses and skirts. There were a few dress shirts and blouses. On the installed top shelves were fur hats, gloves and scarves. You opened the bottom drawers, and felt your breath stop. There were pantyhouses, tights, stockings…

You weren’t used to that many clothes, nor did you want to own that many. It was overwhelming.

A color caught your eye when you opened one of the drawers filled with sleeping clothes, chemises, night shirts and the like.

What the fuck? 

It was a beautiful pajama set. 

Wine red.

Merlot red.

The shorts and camisole were both satin a merlot red color. Black lace covered the v-neck of the camisole, its intricate pattern flowing out from the hem of the shorts.

You nearly screamed. You noticed another lingerie garment, black one this time. You reached out and unfolded it, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. It was a one-piece black lingerie, the sort of piece meant for one thing only.

Seduction.

You quickly put the garment back among the hanged clothes so Baby 5 doesn’t see the risque sleepwear. You felt your head burn from the heat on your face. How could Doflamingo tell his crew to buy something like that for you? Maybe they chose to buy it on their own to mess with you. You could definitely imagine Diamante being the sort of guy to suggest it to have a nice laugh at your misfortune. 

You shook your head. Maybe that bodysuit lingerie wasn’t yours (even though it still had the price tag on its collar). Maybe one of the women Doflamingo undoubtedly charmed into bed with him had left it behind... You were impressed by whichever woman spent the night with Doflamingo, that they didn’t turn tail and run away full speed at the sight of Doflamingo’s wicked, dark grin. 

You shuddered uncomfortably from head to toe at the mere memory of that grin. 

Doflamingo undoubtedly was many women’s preferred type of man, you supposed. The sort of type they might regret sleeping with later when all is said and done, but… who were you to judge? You dated, married and very much slept with his sweet adorable little brother.

You loved a man in a high-ranking marine officer uniform.

Did Doflamingo let women he didn’t know in here, or onto the ship?

Thankfully, there was a nice black silk pajama set with buttons on the long-sleeved shirt and long sleeping pants. Not thick enough, but with all the thick covers and duvets covering Doflamingo’s bed, you weren’t worried about lack of warmth.

“Young Master says he’ll buy you more in Beliera. These clothes should last the week until we reach a city to buy you good clothes.”

You didn’t understand what good clothes meant to Baby 5. What was wrong with these? They looked brand new, were your size, and some of the coats were from highly reputable fashion houses. One coat was even padded on the inside from Drum Island’s snow rabbit fur.

“Thank you, Baby 5,” you say politely, because she can kill you, and you are tired. “You were really helpful.”

You want to go to sleep. If you wish it hard enough, maybe you’ll get lucky and wake up next to Rosinante with Law dive bombing your husband to wake him up, and this will all have been a very very bad nightmare.

Baby 5’s eyes lit up, shining. “I was?”

You smiled gently at the girl. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?” asked Baby 5, looking up at you with her big dark blue eyes.

“Sure,” you responded, mindful to keep your voice soft and calm; the last thing you want to do is scare the kid who can transform her hand into a gun.

“Are you really Cora-san’s wife?” Baby 5 asked.

“Yes,” you said. “I am.”

Baby 5’s eyes lit up.

You do your best not to giggle at the adorableness. Pirate apprentice she may be, but a kid was still a kid at heart.

“Why on earth would you marry a jerk like Corazón?” asked Baby 5.

The word jerk and Rosinante didn’t fit together in a sentence for you. The word jerk and Doflamingo fit together in a sentence much more.

You were so surprised by her question that your lips parted slightly, leaving you to stare at the eleven-year-old girl with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” she said quickly, sounding and looking — scared. You never saw a kid be scared of you. “That was rude to say!”

“It’s okay,” you said, forcing a tiny smile. You knew even if you told her your husband wasn’t as violent toward kids as he painted himself to be during his undercover mission, you were sure Baby 5 wouldn’t trust you.

“Let’s see…" you said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "you asked me what made me marry him, right?”

Baby 5 nodded.

You smiled. “He didn’t let me fall the first time we met.”

Baby 5 tilted her head.

“We both bumped into each other and fell over, but he instinctually made sure I didn’t hit my head on the cobblestone. He also asked me if I was okay, and helped me up. He apologized, as well, and it was a sincere apology, so it showed me he could own up to his mistakes and that he cares about other people’s feelings.”

“That sounds like something out of a fairy tale!” said Baby 5 in awe, squealing excitedly. “Like meeting a prince!”

You smiled softly, the memory making you warm and sad at the same time. “Yeah, I guess so.” You chuckled. It was the first time you smiled since receiving the transponder snail call from Tsuru. “I’m a lucky woman.”

You froze. Your smile fell. Not am. Were. You were a lucky woman. Rosinante is gone.

Baby 5 noticed the sudden shift in your mood. "Are you okay?”

“I found out he died last night.” you said.

“Oh.” said Baby 5.

A long silence settled over the two of you.

Baby 5 spoke up. “I don’t think Cora-san suffered.”

Your eyes widened, the title Cora-san reminding you of...

“Cora-san!” yelled Law. " You’re on fire again!”

Rosinante blinked, then looked down upon himself, and, much to nobody’s surprise, he indeed was on fire. The end of his coat was enveloped by flames, burning the black feathers.  

Slowly, your husband’s eyes bulged wide open in a comedic show of surprise. The befuddled look on his face made you smile fondly; he looked so cute.

Rosinante shrieked.

“Bath!” yelled Rosinante. “Bath! Aaaaa!”

Your husband went running to the closest bathroom on the ground floor of the house, tripping twice by the time he got to the bathroom.

This was why you didn’t have vases anywhere. 

Law smirked. You raised an eyebrow.

“I  want to pick the cabbage from the garden and make some for Cora-san.” 

You were pleasantly surprised. It was the first time Law wanted to cook something by himself since he arrived here.

You hummed, smiling. “What good timing that Rosi isn’t here to hear you ask that because his coat caught fire.”

“Happy circumstance,” said Law calmly, his poker face extremely impressive for a thirteen-year-old kid.

“Uh-huh,” you drawled dubiously, smiling knowingly at the boy. “I may be a normal citizen, but I know all your little pirate tricks, Law.”

“No you don’t,” said Law, but he didn’t sound quite sure.

You giggled. Law was adorable.

“What do you want to make for him?” you asked.

“I don’t know…” said Law.

“How about we make a tonkatsu?” you suggested. “We’ll shred the cabbage and serve it on the same plate with fried pork cutlets.”

“Can Cora-san and I cook it?” Law asked, and you were starting to realize why he wanted to get to the cabbage garden in the first place. “You’ve been making us meals since we got here, and Cora-san’s like a food vacuum.” 

You chuckled at the description of your husband’s appetite. 

“Sneaky,” you said, then smiled. “Alright. I’ll accept your offer of not having to cook today. I don’t mind taking a break and letting you boys in the kitchen.”

“Come on, before Cora-san comes back!” said Law, grabbing your hand with his small fingers and leading you after him.

You reminded yourself not to cheer in happiness. The fact Law had initiated the contact all on his own was a good sign he was starting to feel comfortable with you. You felt your eyes water in joy. You blinked them away, not wanting to cry during this happy moment as you followed Law (saints, he was fast considering how short he was) out of the living room, out the house, down the porch, and into the garden full of ripe vegetables.

In truth, behind all that mask of coolness and murderous tendencies, Law was a sweet, precious boy.

The two of you made it to the garden, and headed for the rows of cabbages. Law scouted the cabbages with his sharp, grey eyes, looking for the perfect one. You simply stood there, fighting not to smile at the concentration on his face while looking at cabbages of all things. Law looked so serious…

“That one,” said Law, pointing to the largest cabbage in the lines of cabbages.

“I can pull it out,” blurted Law. “Well… I think I can.”

Awww. you thought, smiling.

Law squatted down, pushed the large outer leaves to expose the stem, enveloped the cabbage with his hands, and pulled it. The cabbage moved, but didn’t leave the earth. 

Law frowned. He tried again, harder now, with more force. The stem didn't budge.

Law tried again. He tugged at the cabbage hard, his forehead creasing as he strained himself.  Sweat was starting to accumulate on his temples and forehead. 

“Stupid… thing…” muttered Law, baring his clenched teeth, closing his eyes tight. “Come on!”

Another herculean pull, and Law fell on his back with a yelp. The cabbage had won their tug-of-war, leaving the boy panting and lying in the dirt.

“Are you okay?” you asked, reaching a hand out to him. For a moment, Law looked surprised, but then, he put his little hand in yours and let you pull him back to his feet.

“I’m fine,” said Law, catching his breath, brushing off the dirt from his knees. You patted down the back of his yellow shirt away from the dirt, as well.

You and Law looked at the cabbage. Despite it not being animate, you both shared the same sentiment. The vegetable was mocking you.

“We can get a knife -” you started.

“No!” said Law breathlessly. He gulped down. “I’m doing it bare-handed!”

“Do you want me to pull you a bit?” you asked.

“Only a little,” said Law sternly. It was very clear this was a matter of pride to him. He looked distraught, glaring down at the cabbage.

You nodded. You respected Law’s determination. He knew his own limits. 

“Okay,” you said, squatting down. “Where do you want me to pull you?”

Law looked surprised for a moment at the question, but he soon covered it, and said confidently, “Around my stomach is fine.”

You put your hands around Law’s stomach, aware of how much Law was trusting you.

“We go on three,” said Law.

“Got it,” you said, voice serious.

"One..." said Law.

A long arm wrapped around your stomach.

You nearly shrieked at the massive arm wrapped around your stomach, but in the next moment, you identified it and closed your mouth, because nobody else had arms that could envelop your body fully except Rosinante.

You pulled your head up to the sky. Rosinante put his index finger on his lips in a shushing motion, smiling at you. You beamed at your husband.

“Two…”

Rosinante's hand was warm and large on your waist, his long fingertips touching the back of your spine, sending goosebumps across your entire body.

It was not the time to be thinking about your husband’s large, warm hands and how much you would like them buried between (or wrapped around) your thighs.

“Three!” yelled Law.

All three of you fell to the floor. Rosinante, of course, cushioned your fall, and you landed on his large chest, Law landing atop your knees.

You stared at the clear blue sky, breathless, your husband’s forearm resting below your chest, his long arm enveloping your entire body. You felt heat in your chest and cheeks.

“Ha!” yelled Law victoriously, lifting the large vegetable high above his head under the shining sun like a triumphant gladiator at the Dressrosa Colosseum. “The cabbage is mine!”

You heard a “pf” above your head, and as you and Law tilted your heads up to the source of the sound, Rosinante laughed heartily, the sound gentle and loving, his white teeth in full view.

“Eh? Since when was Cora-san here?” asked Law.

You giggled. “He tripped and we fell atop him.”

Law smirked. “Heh.”

“Look, Cora-san!” said Law, showing your husband the cabbage, leaves, stem, root and all, which was two times bigger than Law’s head. “I pulled out the biggest one!”

Rosinante managed out a, “Good job!” between his fits of laughter, reaching down to pat Law’s back gently.

“Let’s go cook it!” said Law excitedly. You stared at the boy, happiness blooming in your chest at the happiness on Law’s face.

Rosinante just laughed louder and harder, even as Law pulled at his fingers with his hand to get him to get a move on.

“You… you go ahead, Law. I’ll be… right behind you…” Rosinante managed.

Giggling like a little devil, Law ran back to the house with his prize. 

Rosinante’s laughter eventually lessened, and you couldn’t help but admire him. He was so beautiful. His golden hair shone under the sun, his brown eyes warm, his smile bright.

You couldn’t help it. You leaned forward on his lap, straightened up, and kissed him. Rosinante didn’t mind. He welcomed the kiss, his lips moving against yours passionately, hungry for your kiss. His hands settled on your back, pulling you flush to him.

“Hurry up, Cora-san!” Law yelled from the house. “You can kiss your wife after we cook my cabbage!”

Rosinante ignored Law, slipping his tongue inside the cavern of your mouth to taste you. You moaned, your fingers burying deeper into his hair.

“Cora-san!” yelled Law again. 

Rosinante growled, gave you another peck, and with much hesitation, parted from your lips. You giggled, resting your hands on his chest.

“The kid’s such a cockblocker,” mumbled Rosinante under his breath grumpily, resting his head on your shoulder with an exhausted sigh. “First he sets my coat on fire to sneak out with you, then this!”

You gasped at the word, and hissed, “Rosinante!” then slapped your husband on the chest.

Rosinante yelped. 

“But he is!” argued your husband, his brown eyes soft and teary, on the verge of crying. “It’s not like he can’t cook, he’s a better cook than me! You should try his mushroom soup, it’s out of this world. You know, I’m starting to think the D. in his name isn’t for the clan of D. but for dickhea-”

You grabbed your husband’s soft cheek and pulled at it. 

“Ow ow ow!”

You let go of his cheek, message made.

“You can be so oblivious,”  you said. Rosinante whined, his brown eyes big and puppy-like, pouting at you. “Law wants to cook with you. He wanted to surprise you with the cabbage, that’s why he set your coat on fire.”

Rosinante blinked multiple times.

“Oh,” said Rosinante. A big, goofy smile blossomed across his face. “That’s adorable~”

“Cora-san!”

Law sounded like he was going to throw a frying pan at your husband from the window.

“Coming!” chirped Rosinante.

Rosinante smirked down at you, and your heart skipped ten beats. “Up you go, mi amor.”

You shrieked as your husband’s arm wrapped around you, picked you up off the ground, hoisting you upward, two metres high, your stomach dropping as you ascended suddenly, your arms instinctually winding around Rosinante’s thick neck as you came to a stop below his chest.

“I’m the luckiest woman in the world,” you said out loud, staring at your husband lovingly.

“You’re wrong,” said Rosinante seriously, looking at you with firm belief in his brown eyes. “I’m the lucky one. The universe might have made me unlucky in many things by making me a klutz and having Doffy as my older brother…”

“Rosi…” you murmured sadly, tears stinging at your eyes.

Rosinante’s expression changed, brightening completely. He beamed at you, handsome and beautiful. “But it gave me luck for the most important thing, so I’m happy to be clumsy and have Doffy as my older brother, cus I got lucky with you as my wife in return!”

Your throat clogged up. How did you get so lucky with such a wonderful man like Rosinante?

“I don’t think you’re unlucky,” you said, clenching the soft fabric of his pink, heart pattern dress shirt between your fingers. “After all, your clumsiness is how we met, remember?”

Rosinante chuckled, an adorable pink blush staining his cheeks as he smiled awkwardly. “That was embarrassing…”

“No,” you said lovingly, resting your head against his broad chest, listening to the thump thump of his heart below your ear. “It was wonderful. I love you, Rosi.”

Rosinante looked down at you softly, with such love your heart melted. His hands brought you closer to his chest, his long, large fingers tightening around your knees protectively.

“I love you, too.” he said, the confession soft and gentle, his warm voice settling over you, filling your body. “Thanks for marrying me.”

You giggled. “Right back at you, Commander Donquixote.”

Rosinante chuckled.

The two of you made it back into the house, where Law waited, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Sorry, my love. Kid calls,” he said, and you giggled.

Rosinante kissed you again, then placed you carefully on the white couch, atop his black feather coat, and headed to the kitchen.

“Are you done shoving your tongue down (Y/N)-san’s throat?”

Rosinante squawked, and you were no better.

“How do you know about the… that?!” shrieked Rosinante.

“I saw Doflamingo do it with a lady. Diamante sent me to get him and I saw it.”

You were dying of giggles at this point.

Rosinante sighed, putting a hand over his head, feeling an incoming headache. “My brother needs to be put in the seventh level of Impel Down...”

“I thought Impel Down has six levels,” said Law.

“No, the seventh level is where the Navy keeps the horn dogs.” said Rosinante. "Or horn birds!" Rosinante let out a laugh. “Get it? Cause Doffy's a flamingo!”

Law stared at your husband with an unimpressed look, an unsaid "How are you an adult?" clearly written on his face. You snorted.

“They should put you in there too, then, Cora-san.” said Law bluntly.

It was your turn to burst out laughing. Law should be a comedian. His comedic timing and delivery are impeccable.

“That’s so mean, Law!” cried Rosinante. “I thought you wanted to cook cabbage with me?”

It was Law who stammered now, getting tongue-tied. A faint pink dusted his cheeks.

“Only if you promise not to set anything on fire!” said Law, as though he hadn’t wanted to cook with Rosinante the entire time.

“Yes, Captain!” said Rosinante, saluting.

You giggled as Law blushed further. The sweet boy looked like he was going to melt into a puddle of mushroom soup. It was absolutely adorable. But you could see Law was happy. You sent the boy a thumbs up, to which Law flushed red, squawking.

Rosinante laughed, the sound deep and soft, carefree, gentle and warm, filling the house with a homeliness you sorely missed. It filled your heart with love, embraced you in the feel of safety, making butterflies flutter free in your belly.

“Don’t worry, I’m a good cook, Law! When we moved here, I made a full lunch for my wife and took her on a picnic date, and she loved my food!”

‘I loved the dessert after the food, too.’ you thought, smiling to yourself at the memory of what happened after all the food was eaten.

“Liar!” accused Law without any bite to the word, pointing a ladle at the tall blond. “There’s no way you cooked without setting yourself on fire! And a picnic? No way!”

“It’s true,” you said from your place in the living room, speaking loudly to reach the kitchen. “It was one of our dates.”

Law looked at you all the far way from the kitchen like you’d betrayed him.

“See?” asked Rosinante cheerily, beaming at Law.

While Rosinante and Law started on the meal, you fell atop Rosinante’s black feather coat with a blissful sigh.

It smelled like him. Coal and roses. You smiled into the feathers, grabbing the coat and rolling over, wrapping yourself up in it. 

You relaxed back into the plush whiteness of the couch, covering yourself in your husband’s black feather coat. You opened the Grand Line Magazine to kill some time while your husband and his ward cooked. You sighed happily, closing your eyes, all your muscles loosening, any plans for the day vaporizing away. It was nice that they were cooking today. You could take a nice little nap on the couch.

Ten minutes later, Law and Rosinante set the kitchen on fire.

Well… there goes the cabbage.

Law.

Oh saints.

Law.

“Young Master’s executions are always quick.” said Baby 5, unaware of the memories running through your mind. “So I don’t think Cora-san suffered.”

Execution. Baby 5 called it.

Executions are sentences for condemned criminals, those who have broken the law. For criminals.

Celestial Dragons execute people, too. 

Doflamingo executed Rosinante for the sin of betraying him. It wasn’t that Rosinante commited a crime against the world. It was that Rosinante commited a crime against Doflamingo.

You could hear your breaths start to quicken. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s right -” Baby 5 trailed off after she pointed to another white door with golden trimmings on its surface because you rushed right into the bathroom and closed the doors behind yourself.

Tears leaked out of your trembling eyes.

Rosinante.

Your lungs were on fire.

Rosinante.

Your body was in pain.

Rosinante.

Your heart was in pieces.

How were you even standing on these quivering legs of yours?

You collapsed on your knees in front of the toilet, clutching at your heaving chest. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

Were you having a panic attack?

Nausea built up in your stomach, trailing up, all the way to your throat. You gagged.

I’m gonna throw up.

That was the last thought you had before you violently threw up into the porcelain bowl of the toilet.

There goes the souffle.

You panted, eyes wide, staring in shock at the water stained with the physical materialisation of your disgust and terror. For a moment, you didn’t know where you were, or what was happening.

For a moment, you opened your mouth to form the syllables of your husband’s name, knew that Rosi was rushing to the bathroom the moment he heard you throw your guts up, you needed to tell him something was wrong, something was really, really wrong, it all hurt, he needed to get you to a hospital —

“Ro-” you choked, only to stop midway, another spasm of pain hitting your ribcage, like you aggressively pulled a muscle.

Rosi wasn't coming. That's why it hurt. Because Rosi was dead, he wasn’t here, he was dead, dead, dead —

Breathe.

Just breathe.

That’s all you need to do.

Breathe.

You rested your body on the cold tiles. It was easier this way. The floor was freezing, but it was better than the heat. Your body was on fire, your back and collar covered in sweat. You hoped you'd shiver soon. Better to shiver than sweat.

You didn't know how long you laid there, lying on the floor, stabilising your breaths, waiting for your body and organs to calm down.

When the pain in your chest fully abated, when your ribs didn't feel like they were squeezing onto your heart, when your body finally regained normal temperature and when your breaths calmed...

You exhaled in relief. You waited a few more seconds. Let it all settle down.

Then, you sat up and breathed some more. You took that time to look around the bathroom.

There was a porcelain white, flat rim clawfoot tub against the wall, its handle and feet golden.

Beside the tub was a walk-in, rectangular shower on the left, separated by a single glass door. The shower space was tiled with soft pink tiles all across from top to bottom. It had a golden shower head high above the ceiling, and a golden hand shower mounted on the handle above golden temperature valves.

It reminded you of the luxury honeymoon suite you and Rosinante stayed in on your honeymoon in Water 7.

After a few more moments, you carefully got up.

Your hands were trembling. You were panting, breathing rapidly, your stomach feeling empty and too crowded all at once. You looked at your reflection in the mirror; you’ve never looked so terrified before, never was your face dripping with perspiration brought by fear you’d been withholding the entire day, burying it deep inside you to the best of your abilities.

You are surrounded by people on the ship, but you’ve never felt so alone. 

It’s just the waves. Just the waves. You take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe.

You washed your face and mouth, wiping your face with the towel, then went back outside to Baby 5.

“Sorry, I guess I’m still gaining my sea legs,” you said lightly, forcing a small smile on your face. The last thing you wanted was for her to tell Doflamingo you got violently sick just by interacting with him and his crew for an hour.

There was a gramophone with a large golden flaring trumpet horn on the tall mahogany cabinet beside the armchair. There was a record in the gramophone already. Out of curiosity, you put the needle on the edge, letting the record play. 

It was a classical piece, a solo of a piano. Of course Doflamingo likes classical music…

The piano played through the horn softly, slowly, with a sort of tune that reminded you of the peacefulness of a rainy day. A tenderness leaked out from the piano the further the sound played.

“Do you like it?”

You screamed like a banshee, at the top of your lungs, embarrassingly high and for a good length of five full seconds, jumping a full meter high, leaping away from Doflamingo’s deep voice.

It unnerved you how a man so huge could sneak up on you with such silence. Rosi had been able to do the same thing, but you could always pick up his presence because he was clumsy. 

“You —” Doflamingo continued laughing, all his white, large teeth in sight, his smile stretching from ear to ear, forming dimples on his cheeks. “— jumped so high —” More deep, dark, amused laughter came from the massive man. “— like a rabbit, fufufu!” 

Doflamingo laughed more, the sound loud and uproarious, his broad shoulders and wide chest shaking with the laughter, the pink feathers of his coat swaying from the movement of his body. 

You scrambled for the needle and pulled it off the record, turning off the sound of the piano.

“She likes the clothes, Young Master!” said Baby 5 energetically, undoubtedly happy she was useful.

“I sure hope so, fufufu!” said Doflamingo.

“There’s some more souffles in the kitchen,” said Doflamingo secretly, in a sneaky, mischievous tone, smile wide and up to no good. Baby 5’s eyes widened. You could feel her mouth water for the desert. “How about you go snatch some before Buffalo gets his hands on them? But don’t say I told you, hm?”

“Really? Thanks, Young Master!” Baby 5 headed for the doors, waving at you. “Bye, (Y/N)-san! See you at dinner!”

“Bye,” you said weakly, even though you wanted to beg Baby 5 to stay. You didn’t want to be alone with Doflamingo.

You looked at Doflamingo. It shouldn’t be him.

You shouldn’t be looking at Doflamingo.

You should be looking at Rosi.

“Answer my question.”

There was a roughness to his voice, an impatience to it, a demand more than a suggestion.

You clenched your teeth.

Say it. Just say it.

You clenched your jaw tight.

“It’s nice,” you said, but because you were a marine’s wife, added before you could stop: “For a pirate.”

Doflamingo smiled in that unnerving way. "I suppose it is."

Doflamingo walked to the alcohol cabinet, taking off his gloves. He opened the glass doors, scanned through the wines, and pulled out a dark red bottle. He placed it on the small, round table near the armchair. On the label was written Grand Vin de Bordeaux and under it was the name of the merlot wine Châteaux Meyne.

“Châteaux Meyne. It’s my favourite,” he said, lifting the crimson bottle. “Has a great bitter after kick.”

He extended his arm, offering the bottle to you. You took it, mindful not to touch his large, long, tanned fingers. You took a sniff of it, and groaned, offering it back to him.

“It doesn’t smell like merlot,” you said, brows furrowing and nose scrunching with distaste; the scent of alcohol was strongly wafting from the bottle, overwhelmingly heavy. “Your poor liver.”

Doflamingo let out a loud laugh, taking the bottle from you. “I said the same thing to Corazon about his lungs.”

Without anything more, Doflamingo drank straight from the bottle, taking easy, smooth gulps.

After he had his fill, Doflamingo exhaled loudly, deep and pleased. You felt yourself shudder, both in surprise and shock. That was not a sound a polite man made in public. It was the sort of sound you mostly heard with Rosi. In bed. After and while Rosi cummed. Sometimes Rosi was loud when he cummed, sometimes the sounds he released when he came were grunts, moans, but sometimes, it was that. 

Doflamingo can behave like a royal one moment, but then a pirate the next. A gentleman one moment, a brute the next. It confused you. 

You took a large step back from him. Your legs felt light and weak. Doflamingo put the bottle back on the round coffee table beside the armchair.

“How do you like the clothes?” he asked.

“If you’d let me bring some of my clothes, you wouldn’t need to spend your money.” you said, not feeling anything at all right now. You felt empty. You didn’t care about the clothes. You’d throw them all away if it meant having Rosi back.

Doflamingo gave you a smile; goosebumps traveled up your spine. “I don’t mind. I like spending money on you.”

“There’s a great sleeping robe in there.”

You felt your hackles rise, remembering the red satin pajama set and the black lingerie bodysuit.

“First you kidnap me, now you’re telling me what to wear?” you asked.

“Fufufu! I didn’t kidnap you.” said Doflamingo, pink feathers atop his shoulders shaking with the movement of them as he chuckled. “You went with me on your own.”

Doflamingo tilted his head and smiled at you, arrogant and wicked. You glared at him, a growl building in your throat.  Both of you knew that you only went because he threatened to kill everyone on the island, but the way he was spinning it like you went willingly got on your nerves.

“And, I wouldn’t dare to tell a lady what she should wear. I’m only…” He smiled again, sending goosebumps down your spine, “suggesting. It can get cold on the ship, after all.” Despite not being able to see his eyes, his gaze was no less intense through the crimson sunglasses as he gazed down on you with a sharp, unsettling focus and intent. “And pretty women like you should wear pretty things.”

The way he smiled, the way he talked… It made you squirm uncomfortably. It made you want to run away and hide. Instead, you held eye contact with him.

You wondered how much force you’d need to use your bare hands to rip his ribcage open, rip his heart out, and toss it and his body into the sea.

You hated him. You hated him, hated him, hated him so much you wanted to scream.

You needed to look at something else, anything else. A chessboard caught your eye. There were still pieces on it, as though the players stopped playing mid-game. You surveyed the pieces with your eyes. Both kings were still on the board.

“That’s my game with Law," said Doflamingo. "I’m waiting for him so we can finish it. I pasted the pieces to the board.”

“We started playing it to expand his approach to strategies. I kept winning, but Law kept coming back.” Doflamingo chuckled, the sound wicked and menacing. “Kept losing, until this game. This was the last game before Corazon took him away. We were both stuck. I was really proud, fufufu! He managed to play me to a standstill.”

“You know, I thought he was only a traitor. But not an… not an actual marine.” Doflamingo smirked. “That surprised me. I’m even more surprised he handed Law into Navy custody.” Doflamingo was too busy gesturing with his hands and watching the chessboard to notice your eyes widening. “Now that was really surprising. Law hates anything connected to the World Government, but I guess the marines were the safest option.”

Doflamingo thinks Law is with the Navy.  Nice going, Rosi.

“I wonder what lies my brother put in Law’s head.”

“They weren’t lies,” you said. “Messing up your plans… that was just icing on the cake. You underestimated Rosi, and you paid for it by losing Law and the Op-Op Fruit.”

Doflamingo smiled ear to ear. “You’re really angry.”

“Yes,” you said, blood boiling in your veins. It surprised you how steam wasn’t coming out of every pore of your skin with the heat and rage in your blood. “I’m angry. Didn’t me shooting at you show you I’m angry?”

He chuckled, like it was something funny. “Yeah. It did.”

Doflamingo walked to the bed and sat down beside you. His broad frame took up a lot of the space you thought was yours. No space was yours on this ship, especially not his bed.

Doflamingo rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands hang loosely down.

He was quiet for long moments. It didn’t look like he would speak until he did.

“I know how lonely grief can be,” he said, tone more quiet, intimate. “When I lost my mother, I was left to deal alone with my grief. Father and Rosi were useless. We barely buried Mother before I had to go scavenge for food.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Rosinante told you about his childhood only once, but once had been enough to leave you hugging him to your chest and bawling your eyes out.

“But Doffy… he wasn’t like me. I never heard him cry like he cried when mother died. But after he was done, he got up and said we should bury mother. Like he hadn’t cried at all.”

Doflamingo leaned down. He was so close. Close enough for you to see your reflection, painted crimson in the lenses of his one-way sunglasses. You looked pathetic. Absolutely weak and pathetic.

Doflamingo looked down at your left hand. You felt his gaze on the golden wedding ring on your ring finger. His forehead creased, the line of his mouth turning down. It was such a cold, heartless, disgusted look on his face it froze the blood in your veins, making your heart drop.

It was the exact same look of Celestial Dragons in Mariejois, looking down on people like the people’s mere existence insulted them. Like people were ants and pebbles in their path.

Doflamingo moved his right hand, and placed it atop yours.

You jumped in your skin.

Doflamingo’s hand felt different from Rosinante’s, even like this. Doflamingo’s palm was bigger, his fingers longer and thicker, the weight of it starkly different. His tanned palm covered your hand completely, lying atop it. His tanned fingers curled down, flexing, grabbing hold of your palm, encircling it completely from one side to another. 

Your breath caught, held in your lungs, your entire body frightened. It felt like your hand was caught in a bear trap.

“I’m not going to leave you to go through it alone,” he said, voice firm and serious, his fingers squeezing your hand gently, mindful of his strength. You didn’t expect any regard from him, so it surprised you, leaving your brain scrambling to keep up with the shifts of his mood. “I know you feel alone without him, but I’m right here. From now on, I’ll take care of you. I know you don’t want to, but that’s what I’m going to do.”

You said nothing. You felt empty. It didn’t feel like there was anything inside you. 

You could feel the heat of Doflamingo's hand, warming up your trembling one.

“I know healing will take time.” he whispered, his deep voice so painfully gentle and soft you realized he truly was Rosinante’s older brother. They both had such gentle voices when they were speaking quietly.

Doflamingo reached forward with his arm, wrapping it around your back. He squeezed you close to him, like a child with his favorite teddy bear that he ripped apart on his own and was promising to stitch it back to health. The merlot of his suit filled your sight, the scents of bergamot and sea salt filling your nose, and you could feel it faintly beneath your ear where your face was pressed to his chest.

The beat of his heart.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step of the way, my cute little sister-in-law.”

How dare he smile at you, how dare he look at you? How can he bring himself to smile when he killed his brother? You want to punch it off his face. But you barely reach his thigh height, and you can’t leap high enough to attempt to do such a thing. You’d probably get yourself tossed like a ragdoll into the wall for the effort, or something worse.

Get your hand off me, you pirate scum. You damn asshole. You’re no family to me.

Why? Why couldn’t you come out and say it? Were you that gutless? Were you this much of a coward? Were you all bark and no bite?

Doflamingo exhaled at the continued silence from you, sounding disappointed.

“I’m locking you inside during the night for now, so you don’t do something reckless.”

You said nothing.

“I still have some work to do, but I’ll be back to take you to dinner. Get some rest until then.”

You nodded.

“Sweet dreams,” said Doflamingo.

Doflamingo kissed you on the cheek, got off his massive bed, and left in a flutter of pink feathers.

The click of the lock brought a strange feeling of relief to the massive bedroom. You exhale breaths you’d been holding, panting out the fear you’d held trapped in your lungs. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. You feel more safe locked in than free. At least you know nobody will enter except him.

You start to breathe again. Your body trembled. Panting, shaking, you take out the small picture you always kept in your bra, hidden away.

Your lips trembled. A sob slipped out of you, a frightened little whimper following through.

You put your hand over your mouth, muffling your pathetic sobs, your entire body convulsing with the pained sounds coming out of your mouth. 

You remembered the words Rosinante said to you in his vows on your wedding day.

“He said ‘just follow the compass that beats in your chest’. You are the compass that beats in my chest.”

“You are my flag.”

Without you here, I’m all alone. you thought, sobbing. Sounds of agony left your mouth, shaking you down to your bones. You hugged the pillow, wishing it was your husband instead.

Your compass was gone. You were lost at sea, without a home to go to - Rosinante was your home. Your flag was burned to cinders, ripped to shreds, six bullets in his chest, his blood on the snow.

Memories overflowed within you, and more tears streamed down your face.

Your time with Rosinante and Law felt like a dream.

“I love you!” Rosinante yelled, spinning you around in the air, the black feathers of his coat whirling around you like wings of an angel.

You kissed your angelic husband with all the love in the world.

The dream is over, and it will never be the way it was.

Rosinante is gone, Law is lost and hiding, and you’re in a nightmare now.

“I love you.”

Those were the last words you and Rosinante said to each other.

Rosinante’s “I love you.” sounds a lot like goodbye now.

Before you know it, before you can stop it — and you try, you try to stop it so hard you nearly suffocate in the attempt — a miserable, loud sob rips itself out of your chest, shaking you to your core.

It sounds wretched. It sounds pathetic. Your ribcage hurts from the sadness it holds, the sadness that needs to get out unless it kills you.

You cling to the picture of Rosinante and Law, holding their smiling faces and the beautiful colours in the clutch of your trembling fingers.

Executed.

Executed.

Like Rosi was a… a… a dog. Like Rosi did something wrong, when it was Doflamingo who did everything wrong. Like Rosi’s use was done, like Rosi was deemed worthless the moment he stopped being loyal.

The tears stream out of your eyes.

Rosinante didn’t deserve to be killed like a dog.

Your hands clutch the picture, and you start to bawl aloud, letting go.

You cry. You cry so much.

Outside the room, Doflamingo isn’t smiling. His lips are set in a downward arc, shaping a deep, displeased frown as the sounds of your sobs reach his ears.

Doflamingo enjoyed watching people cry, hearing the vermin scream, sob and cry as he hurt them, played with them, terrified them, as he did whatever he wanted to them because he had the birthright to do so. It was fun. 

Doflamingo didn’t like hearing you cry, not over an idiot like his little brother who couldn’t even pull through for you, who died and left you behind.

Doflamingo put his gloved hands in the pockets of his merlot suit pants, and walked out of his cabin, locking the doors behind himself. He walked down the hallway, the frown remaining on his face, the skin of his browline and forehead creasing.

The pink feathers of his coat swayed with every step, a royal mantle following its king.

You were Doflamingo’s responsibility now, and Doflamingo would make sure you were happy here. It would take a while, but eventually, you’ll get over it, and accept your new life here.

You belonged to Doflamingo the moment Rosinante took his last breath. The moment Rosinante’s heart beat its last beat, you became Doflamingo’s. He’d take better care of you than his clumsy idiot of a brother ever did.

Scene of Corazon sleeping on the bean bag with the kids was inspired by this FANART

A/N: Doflamingo really saw that merlot red satin pajama set and said “I'll buy that, that's totally normal to buy my sister-in-law who I widowed!” HE'S MANIFESTING 🤣🤣🤣 Reader is already his in his head (not romantically quite yet but he is definitely already FOND of her), Reader just needs to catch up even though Doffy is going at Gear 5 speed. Also, if nobody noticed my Gear 2 (my fav gear) reference I will sit down and cry a lot. I finally wrote the damn ring scene, I kept forgetting that Reader is actively wearing her wedding ring. Apparently, wearing it on the left hand is bcs the left arm is believed to have a vein that leads to the heart, so there's that! Doffy is about to have internal monologues about that wedding ring and how much he hates it and I will die laughing while writing it 🤣🤣

[forever-rogue]

Hi Bee!! Idk if you’ve heard Hozier’s new song Too Sweet but it’s giving our grumpy man Joel trying to keep his distance from r cause he thinks she’s too sweet for him and he’d hurt her, idk if you’re taking requests but if you could write something along those lines ugh that would be so great 😭💗

AN | Hi, hello, this has been sitting in my inbox for literal ages, and it’s been drafted for a while, and here we are. It’s time to get back on my Joel bs (not that it ever left). Enjoy💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader 

Warnings | None

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He liked to watch you.

That revelation alone made him feel like a creep. He quickly chugged the rest of his strong, black coffee in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner as he looked around to make sure nobody had caught onto him. He didn’t want the local gossip mill to start spreading rumors; it wasn’t like there was a ton else to do. 

When nobody appeared to be staring at him or offering him judgmental looks, he relaxed slightly and sunk further down in his spot in the small booth. It was moments like these that made him thankful for the small semblance of his life; it allowed him to get away with just being himself.

A plate of pancakes smothered in syrup was in front of him, half eaten and half forgotten as he drank his way through several cups of coffee. If Ellie was here, she’d chide him for both the sugary breakfast and caffeine overload. He always encouraged her to have a well balanced meal and she’d never let him live it down. Especially in what was his old age as she liked to remind him 

When you turned around, something else having caught your attention, he quickly shifted his gaze back to his plate. An ancient crossword book was next to him, a hobby he’d picked up over the last couple of years and he gave it his full attention. Or maybe he was willing it to come alive and swallow him whole. That sounded like a better option than having you catching him staring at you. Again. As usual. 

He didn’t dare to look up, making up his mind to keep his gaze down for the time being. Maybe for the rest of eternity. He wasn’t sure.

“Hey there,” he froze at the sound of your voice, heart thrumming in his chest and his blood practically singing. When Joel didn’t respond at first, a small frown tugged down the corners of your mouth, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he tore his gaze from the aging wood of the sticky table to find you watching him with bright, curious eyes and a smile he loved more than he cared to admit, “‘m alright.”

You relaxed slightly as you smiled at him, his big, brown eyes looking at you nervously, “cool. Listen, there’s a few of us that are going apple picking later, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me - us?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, mind racing as he tried to figure out what the best response was. From the expectant look on your mind, he wanted to say yes, wanted to make sure you had the best time apple picking ever, but instead he said, “sorry, I can’t. I’ve got a few things that need to be taken care of ‘round here.”

“Oh,” your smile faltered slightly before you recovered, taking a small step back. Joel wished he could take it back but knew that he had to stick to his guns, “that’s fine. I just…thought I’d ask. Well, I’ll see you around, Joel. Take care.”

With a soft smile and even more shy wave, you walked away and back to the table with your friends, refusing to spare him another glance. Joel groaned internally, wishing he’d something different or that you had had a different reaction. If you hated him, things would have been much easier.

But life rarely worked out that way. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hummed to yourself as you brushed out the horse's mane. It wasn't the worst job in the world and at the very least you had some company. Even if it wasn't the most talkative company imaginable. But then again, half the people around you weren’t very talkative anyway.

“You have been looking very shiny, Kiri,” you told her, and she made a small sound as you softly played with a few locks of her shiny mane. When you pulled out a carrot and fed it to her as you petted her, she nuzzled closer to you, causing you to laugh sweetly, “and I see your love can still be bought so easily.”

Joel watched from the entrance to the stables, almost frozen as the scene unfolded. It felt wrong in a way, like he’d stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have, intruding on a private moment. Marin eventually sensed his presence as directed her inky gaze towards him, huffing in acknowledgment. You followed her gaze and locked eyes with Joel, your heart skipping a few beats as you stood there. Eventually you caught yourself and cleared your throat awkwardly, “h-hey Joel. Everything alright?”

He made a sound in the back of his throat as he nodded, slowly taking a few steps in your direction. He truly wasn’t a talkative man, especially not in the morning hours as you’d found over the time since you’d met him. After a few moments of nothing but the sound of blood rushing in your ears and Kiri’s soft breaths, he was at your side, gently reaching over and petting Kiri. She immediately took to him, neighing softly as she leaned into him for more petting.

“Such a traitor,” your voice was much too sweet to hold any venom as you watched the two of them. Joel had a tender way about him, and you wondered how many other people saw that side of him. He was gruff, sure, but he was a lot more than what simply met the eye. 

“She and I go way back,” he said eventually, his voice warm and low, sending a shiver down your spine, “took a while to get her to trust me though. But she’s a good old girl.”

“She wasn’t a big fan of me either,” you whispered as you put your hand on her neck right next to Joel’s. You couldn’t help but stare at your hands, mesmerized by how much larger his hand was compared to yours, “I think we’re working up to being friends.”

“She’s a good judge of character,” you could have sworn he moved his hand closer to yours as you looked anywhere but him. He had a way of making you feel a million different ways all at once. The two of you stood there in contemplative silence for a few moments before you came to your senses and took a step back, immediately sticking your hands into pockets of your jacket. 

“I-I, ugh,” you shrugged your shoulders lightly, allowing yourself a quick look at his honey brown eyes. His expression was questioning, searching yours to try and find out how you were really feeling, “I should get going. I promised Maritza I’d help chop some firewood for the big bonfire tomorrow.”

The last time you had left the ball in his court, waiting to see how he would respond to your invitation. This time it was your turn. He was giving you the option of either staying there with him or walking away. You felt so torn; part of you wanted to stay there and be with him, in whatever capacity that entailed.  The other part of you wanted to walk far away and leave him alone. He was trouble they said, and although he hadn’t done anything to support that theory, he hadn’t tried to deny it either.

Whatever he was, Joel Miller was something. And in that moment you felt overwhelmed by everything all at once and decided to just walk away. 

“See you around?” he offered meekly as you took a few steps back, offering him what was a weak nod at best.

You turned and headed out of the stable without another word, leaving Joel and Kiri together. The two of them looked at each other, and Joel gave her a few more pets, “I don’t know either. But I think I might have ruined everything, if there ever even was anything.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A couple of weeks had passed since you’d had any sort of encounter with Joel. It was definitely purposeful, even if you weren't willing to admit that much to yourself. Just as Joel had finally allowed himself to get closer to you, you'd started to pull away. It felt like such a cat and mouse game, despite the fact that you did have feelings for him. You just couldn't bring yourself to be around him knowing he didn't feel the same way about you.

He couldn't help that he didn't like you in that sense, just as you couldn't help the fact that you liked him. 

The natural solution for you was just to avoid him entirely. Entirely stupid, but wholly effective.

Until he managed to track you down anyway. Not that it was hard in Jackson; the town was big, all things considered, but not that big.

“Hey stranger,” you startled, almost dropping the plate in your hand as you looked up to find Joel watching you intently. You let out a small huff as you set the plate onto the counter of the small diner you helped to run.

“Hi,” you whispered softly, drying off your hands and trying to seem casual as you leaned against the counter, “can I help you with anything?”

“There is one thing,” he leaned on the counter, his warm smell making its way over to you. He always smelled so damn good, “you wanna tell me if I did something to cause you to avoid me entirely?”

“I haven't…” the lie died on your lips as he arched an eyebrow at you. You shrugged your shoulders and picked at a spot in the aged wood, “I've just been busy. It's nothing more than that.”

“Oh honey,” he leaned in, his gaze trained intently on yours, “I may be old and I may be dumb, but I do know when someone's lying.”

“I'm not-”

“It's written all over your face,” he insisted and your cheeks warmed up, “and you've got absolutely no poker face. With your facial expressions, you might as well be screaming.”

“I…” you inhaled deeply before letting out a soft sigh. You found it incredibly hard to look at him; he could read you way too well, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it seem…like I was mad at you or anything.”

“You're not?”

“I'm not,” you confirmed softly.

“Then why are you avoiding me like I'm about to turn you into one of the infected?” He wasn't going to let this go. You knew him well enough to know that much and you had still fallen for it. You swallowed thickly and cast your gaze around, annoyed and thankful for the fact that there were only a couple of stragglers inside, “if you want me to go, I can go. You just have to tell me.”

“I didn't want you to think I was weird or to make you uncomfortable,” you whispered as you put your hand on his forearm to stop him from leaving, “because I…ugh, I-I like you. And I just didn't want to make it awkward. Which I just proceeded to do, but at least you know the truth.”

He pulled his arm out from under your touch and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Your heart sank into your stomach as you waited for him to say something. You leaned back and made yourself as small as possible, “was that so hard to admit?”

“Joel, I-”

“And whatever made you think I didn't like you?” Your gaze snapped to him as your heart seemed to stop working, “I ain't ever said that, have I?”

“No, I mean it like…ugh. I mean, I asked you to go apple picking, and you said no so quickly so I just figured I’d overstepped.”

“I know how you meant it,” he insisted and you were positive that your heart was going to burst through your ribcage, “and you're still wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen,” he moved closer so he was almost directly in front of you again, “I'm not…a great man. I've seen and done things that I wouldn't ever want you to even think about. And you are…everything I'm not. And I'm not a good match for you, but I sure as hell can't stay away from you. You keep drawing me in, and I'm tired of trying to stay away from my feelings.”

“Oh,” you blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he'd said. Either he'd said something entirely different or you'd just gotten a whole confession, “oh?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed softly as you turned your head to the side and looked at him so sweetly, “I'm sorry if that's not something you wanted to hear, but I'm putting all my cards onto the table.”

“But…why?” You let out an exasperated breath, “why me? Why now?”

“I don't think I need to justify the why you with an answer,” he insisted, “why now? Because ever since you've been avoiding me like the plague and I haven't been able to see you, I realized just how much I needed that. How much I needed to see you. I want to be around you. I need to be around you. And fuck it if that makes me a bad man.”

This time when you looked at him, you couldn't hide the smile that was threatening to break your face in half. Your entire face felt like it was on fire as you opened and closed your mouth a few times before you finally managed a small, “you're right - fuck it.”

The two of you stood there for a while, grinning at one another, before you realized that you were still in the middle of the diner.  By this point, quite a few of the straggling patrons had turned their attention to you. Your cheeks were burning as you took a step back and cleared your throat.

“Umm…maybe we should save the rest of this for later,” your voice was small again and you felt shy, despite the fact that the man had all but confessed his love for you, “I can meet you when I’m off?”

“How much longer until you’re off?”

“A couple of hours,” you shrugged, “maybe less if it continues to be this slow.”

“I can wait,” the corner of his mouth tugged up as he went to take a seat at the counter, pretending to contemplate what he was going to order, “what do you recommend?”

“Huh?” you looked at him dumbfounded; but you knew that Joel didn’t half-ass do things, he threw his whole ass into it as Ellie liked to say.

“What do you recommend I order off the menu?”

“Oh,” you shook your head before playfully rolling your eyes at him, “I see where this is going.”

“Do you?” he pretended to ask innocently, “‘cause I was thinking I’m pretty hungry and it’s fairly cold outside so I might as well get inside and have a meal for a few hours.”

“Okay,” you bit your lip before turning around to make him his coffee just how he liked it. Just like he had always been paying attention to you, you were always paying attention to him, “here’s your coffee. And I can see what the chef can put together for such a hungry man.”

“Thank you kindly,” he took the cups, letting his fingers linger on yours for a few moments, “such amazing service around here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Unfortunately, a lot of the townspeople seemed to have the same idea that it was the perfect time to get inside and warm up with warm food and drinks.  The crowd didn’t let up and your desire to leave early with Joel quickly disappeared.  But that didn’t deter him; he sat there, sneaking in a few words here and there but mostly he watched you. 

Watched how you never rude to anyone despite being frazzled; how you never lost the smile on your face; how you listened to everyone with rapt attention.  You were good and kind, and that made him want to hesitate and take back everything he had said earlier.  However, now that he had said it all and gotten it out there, he wouldn’t take it back. He couldn’t.

When your shift was finally over and you were able to get a reprieve,  Joel waited outside for you.  A small part of you was surprised that he had waited but another part of you hadn’t expected anything else.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a small smile, which he eagerly returned, “thanks for waiting.”

“Didn’t have much else going on,” he shrugged it off like it had been no big deal. He was always busy with something. People relied on him an enormous amount, even if they didn’t realize it.

“So…” he had started walking and you had fallen in line with him. 

Before you could say anything else he stopped and turned towards you, his dark eyes searched yours. Joel gently took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Without even thinking about it, you leaned into his touch, your lips partly slightly. 

After a couple moments of pause, in which he was clearly giving you the option of pulling away or stopping him, he leaned and brushed his lips over yours. Softly at first, and then slowly with more urgency and need. All you could do was lean into him and his touch. If this was what kissing Joel was like, you never wanted it to end. 

But eventually he pulled away, both of you in need of a breath of air. You just looked at him with wide, happy eyes. 

“So…” he picked up where you had left off before continuing to walk. You were so caught off guard that you didn’t follow at first, “you coming?”

“Yes,” you promised breathlessly as you jogged to catch up to him, “so…”

[daisyblog]

Happy Birthday Husband

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN’s instagram post wishing Harry a happy birthday.

ynstyles

liked by annetwist, gemmastyles and 2,892,623 others

ynstyles happy birthday to my husband and best friend. There is no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. I am so lucky to have you by my side through all the good and bad times. You really are my rock Harry❤️

happy birthday to the best daddy. Your cuddles and nighttime lullabies are my favourite and I can’t wait to celebrate with you today💕

Have the best day gorgeous, we love and adore you more than you know💕🩵

Love YN, Grace and baby boy😘🤍

View all 6,892 comments

louist91 Happy Birthday Harold!!

annetwist Happy Birthday my baby boy🥳💙

harrystyles I love you❤️

gemmastyles 🥰💞

lottietomlinson Happy birthday Harry🥳

niallhoran happy birthday H x

jefezoff Happy Birthday big H!

marktommo1111 happy birthday Harry! Have a great day son x

louteasdale HBD babes🫶🏼

zayn happy birthday brother x

the.daisytomlinson Happy Birthday Harry!! 🎈🎂

mitchrowland Happy Birthday H!

j_corden Happiest of birthdays H! See you soon x

thephoebetomlinson Happy birthday🥰

bradgouldtraining Happy birthday H!

pillowpersonpp happy birthday bossman🎈🎂🥳

harryfan8 HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

harryfan4 happy birthday to my favourite🥳🎈🎂🥳🎈🎂

1dfan5 How is Harry 31 already?!?!?!?!

Tag List:

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats@harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour@bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @indierockgirrl@buckybarnessimpp @ashleighsss @jerseygirlinca @fake-coolbeans @itsmytimetoodream@treehouse-mouse @mrs-anna-styles211994 @macy-tpwk @mrs-anna-styles211994 @fruity-harry

[dc418writes]

•Lemons & Limes•

✨Pairing✨: Terrence Richmondxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Safe to say, maybe you shouldn’t be left alone…and you should probably listen to your husband

🚨: mention of a deceased relative, pretty much all fluff💕

A/N🎤: hi☺️! So this is my submission for Terry’s Birthday Bash created by @megamindsecretlair ! I think it’s such a great and sweet idea that’ll definitely add some much needed fun to the community🌸! Feel free to participate if you’d like, and don’t forget to support the other submissions!

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

You just had to mess with that electrical panel.

All you had to do was wait until Terry came home so he could try to figure out what happened, - like he told you to do - but no. That overly confident, hyper-independent part of you was so convinced you could fix it after recalling an episode of some home renovation show that you half watched as you occasionally dozed off.

“Seems easy enough, I just flip the switch off and on, and things should work again,” you said to yourself as you opened the mounted panel. Sure enough, all the lights in the house switched off after pushing the large black switch to the left. When you pushed it to the right though, you were still surrounded by darkness. You tried again, and again, yet still nothing prompting your subdued panic to boil over.

Now here you sat in your husband’s Ford truck, nervously twirling your thumbs around themselves as you waited for him to get you both checked in at a nearby hotel. And of all days, on his birthday.

The chill of the night air briefly touching your skin has goosebumps raising along your arms as Terry slides into the drivers seat with a sigh.

“Everything okay?”

“They’re booked,” he answers pulling the seatbelt across his body until it locks with a click. “And so is every other hotel in town.” Gotta love college basketball playoff season.

“Oh…well one night without lights-,”

“We don’t know how long it’s gonna take to fix,” he counters carefully pulling out onto the busy road. “Might even have to re-wire everything, which could mean more than a night without lights.”

Well if you didn’t feel terrible before..

“It’s a motel about 30 minutes out. We can stay there tonight and figure out the rest tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you shyly mumble beginning to nervously twirl your thumbs again. Just as to the hotel, Terry doesn’t say a word during the ride to your next destination and you don’t either. The only sound coming from the truck’s rumble and the radio station playing a mix of old and new R&B.

You’re sure he’s just quiet because he’s trying to think of what to do next; how to handle your house’s faulty wiring and its impending cost. His silence only makes your guilt more suffocating though, convinced that it might be you and your hardheaded tendencies that’s finally snapped his last nerve.

“What do you wanna eat?,” he finally asks turning down the busy strip filled with bright, neon signs for clubs, bars, and restaurants. Admittedly most weren’t outwardly pleasing, but you could still find a good meal and an equally good time.

You shrug. “M’not really hungry.”

“…what all did you eat today?,” he asks taking turns looking at you and the cars ahead.

“Um…breakfast with you earlier…and some crackers...”

After turning into the drive thru for Wingz & Thingz, you can feel Terry’s sea-green eyes practically attached to the side of your face. That famous side eye already saying, “Girl please, we both know you starving so why you playin games?,” before he could.

“What?,” you ask daring to meet his eyes pretending like you didn’t know that he knew something was up. He simply kisses his teeth before answering the employee through the staticky speaker.

“Can I get a 10 piece hot honey, extra wet, with fries, and a 15 piece lemon pepper please?”

“I said-,”

“I heard you,” he retorts with a hint of a smirk to his full lips that has you bashfully biting at the corner of yours.

“Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

-

The rusted, metal door of your room opens with a heavy thud as it knocks against the adjoining wall making it rattle. Ever the protector, Terry has you stand outside - but still close by - while he checks to make sure nothing is off. Both of your respective duffles slung over his broad shoulders as if they weighed nothing.

“It’s good,” he calls signaling it’s okay for you to enter. However once you cross the doorway, you can’t fully say you agree on ‘good’. The multicolored, geometric comforter was something straight out of the 70s, which matched the orangish-red carpet and overall aesthetic of the outdated room. Gingerly sitting in the light brown, swivel chair next to the window, you feel that pang of guilt again taking in your slightly depressing surroundings, and how all of this is ultimately your fault.

“I know it’s not the best, but-,”

“Are you mad at me?,” you finally ask just wanting everything out in the open rather than your mind constantly go back and forth.

“Why would I be mad?,” he asks with a quirked brow as he sets your bags to the side.

“Because I didn’t listen and messed up everything. Because we’re here in this room with questionable stains on the carpet, and I’m sure equally strange ones on the sheets, on your birthday when we should home and you stretched out in your favorite chair.” You could hear the brown leather crackle and pop now as he shifted to get more comfortable before eventually reaching out for you as you passed to join him. Hell, it was your favorite chair too.

“First off, I haven’t been excited about my birthday since I was…what..16? So I wasn’t expecting anything huge,” he replies stepping closer and closer until he can squat in front of you placing his large hands on your knees. “And I’m not mad at you. That’s what’s been bothering you?”

“Well, you barely talked in the car which is different than how you were this morning. Clearly it’s something and I figured it was me being hardheaded.”

“Respectfully baby, I knew you were hardheaded before we got married and know it’s not gonna change no time soon. I made my bed, I know how to lie in it.” Your feigned shock and playful smack to Terry’s shoulder has all his 32 showing in that adorable laugh of his.

“Hey, at least I admit it!” Unlike your own mother who swore she didn’t know where you got it from.

“You right.” Terry’s laughs settle into a low sigh as he lets his thumbs run along the insides of your knees. “Really though, I’m more frustrated and annoyed than mad. Again, not at you. My damn half-brained cousin should’ve been come to look at the wires, but it was always something. Guess I’m no better though still calling when I know he’s not gonna show.

“So if anything, all this is my fault. I know you were just trying to help.”

“It’s not your fault either,” you try to soothe resting your hands on either side of his neck. Your manicured nails lightly scratching his nape has a low hum of appreciation rumbling his chest. “Really, it’s whoever stayed there last because they knew and didn’t say nothing. I hope they always stump their pinky toe.”

“Damn, so violent.” You simply shrug making your husband deeply chuckle with a shake of his head. “Alright food first or shower?”

“Food! I’m starving and honestly scared of that bathroom...”

“Oh now you starvin?,” Terry smirks gently pulling you out of the chair. “Could’ve sworn-,”

“Yes I know, I know it’s in the past now,” you playfully roll your eyes shooing him towards your waiting containers. “Food please?”

With his back turned, you hope he doesn’t notice you sneakily digging into your bag to retrieve his gift wrapped neatly in shiny, silver paper. You should’ve known better though seeing that your husband was an ex marine trained to be hyperaware of his environment.

“I know that’s not what I think it is,” Terry announces as soon as you stand up again. His thick arms crossed in front of his chest when he turns around. “You didn’t have-,”

“I heard you,” you smirk stepping closer with his gift in hand. “It’s still your birthday though, and if you think I’m not getting you anything at all, you clearly don’t know me.”

You don’t miss the small smile that curls his lips when he takes the rectangular box making you giddily smile yourself. Once he’s ripped through the paper, his chest tightens at the familiar, gold, Casio watch waiting in its clear case. The underside purposely facing upward so Terry could see the inscription of his initials and a set of coordinates.

“It’s where your uncle was stationed. I talked with your grandma and she helped me find it.”

Terry adored his uncle Louie, practically idolizing him since he was a child. Wherever Louie went, little Terry wanted to go eagerly standing by his room door with shoes on the wrong foot waiting for him to walk out. Some of Terry’s best memories were riding around in the passenger seat of his black on black mustang - much to his grandmother’s displeasure - with the windows down as they sped down the highway going any and everywhere. Louie was ultimately the reason he signed up for the military, still wanting to be like his infamous uncle even in his young adult years.

Terry still had a hard time forgiving himself for missing the funeral. Was honestly still pissed at his higher ups for not approving his request.

“He’d understand baby. He knows how them people can be,” his grandmother tried to comfort over the phone. “He knows how much you love him.”

“She wasn’t quite sure if it was the same one-,”

“It’s perfect.” As many times as he got in trouble for putting it on, he’d be able to pick it out from any lineup. “Thank you.”

Free hand on your hip, he pulls your body closer so his lips can meet yours immediately taking the day’s earlier stresses away.

“Happy Birthday. It’s not exactly how I envisioned giving it to you, but-,”

“I don’t care about presentation and all that. I’m breathing. I’m with you. I promise that’s all I need baby.”

+ so I feel like this didn’t come out the way I wanted, but then again maybe it’s just me 🤷🏽‍♀️ lol. Either way I hope you enjoyed🌸 and Happy Birthday to my imaginary husband and baby fahtha Mr. Terry Richmond🥰✨!!

[hy6erion]

I love your work ! Spend the weekend reading it all !!💕

Was wondering if I can request something cute with mel shutting up R with a kiss when she talks about nerd stuff

𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✰⍣..𝐌𝐞𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬- 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥.

The night unfolds in slow, luxurious strokes, a painting made of candlelight and the scent of warm jasmine oil curling through the still air. The silk-draped walls of Mel’s chambers breathe in gold and shadow, catching the flicker of the flames in a way that makes the space feel suspended—untouched by time, untouched by anything but the quiet hum of the city beyond.

And in the heart of it, there is you.

Your body is half-curled into the velvet embrace of her chaise, bare feet tucked beneath you, the weight of a thick research book resting against your thighs. You are a scholar first, a seeker of knowledge before all else, and tonight is no exception.

Mel watches you from her place beside you, her body a study in practiced ease—one arm draped along the back of the chaise, the other cradling a glass of wine between her fingers. She is not a woman who moves without purpose. Every tilt of her head, every shift of her gaze, is calculated—designed to disarm, to draw in, to conquer without force.

And yet, with you, she only watches. Listens. Waits.

You have yet to notice.

Your thoughts are elsewhere, carried away on the tide of your own endless curiosity. She can see it in the way your fingers twitch against the edge of the page, in the way your lips part—just slightly—before the words come spilling forth.

“Did you know,” you begin, voice quiet, though threaded with that familiar excitement, “that mana resonance in an enclosed system can mimic organic energy cycles? If properly refined, it could—”

She lets you speak.

Because how could she not?

Your voice moves like water, fluid and untamed, slipping through the cracks of everything structured and expected. You are not careful with your words—not in the way she is. You do not weigh them like weapons or measure them like currency. You offer them freely, without hesitation, without fear of scarcity.

And gods, it is mesmerizing.

“—Heimerdinger’s equations suggest a degradation over time, but I think there’s an alternative model he failed to consider—”

Mel shifts, the movement slow, deliberate.

You don’t notice. Not yet.

“—which, if applied correctly, could lead to a near-zero energy loss in transitional states, but the real question is whether—”

She reaches out. Her fingers find your jaw, the touch feather-light, as if tracing the edges of something fragile, something precious.

And at last—finally—your words falter.

The breath between them catches, uncertain, unfinished. Mel smiles.

“You were saying?” she murmurs, her voice honeyed silk, warm and knowing.

You blink, your mind caught between the unraveling of theory and the sudden, grounding presence of her touch.

“I—I was just explaining that—”

Mel tilts your face up, just enough to catch the flickering glow of candlelight in your eyes.

“Yes?”

The syllable is a whisper, a challenge wrapped in something softer.

You swallow. “That the—”

Mel kisses you. It is not rushed. It is not desperate. It is the slow press of warmth against parted lips, the quiet hum of something inevitable unfurling between the space of a breath.

She tastes of wine and something sweeter, something richer—something that lingers even after she pulls back, leaving only the ghost of her touch against your mouth.

Silence drapes itself over the room like silk, thick and heavy, waiting to be disturbed.

Mel watches you with a gaze too knowing, too self-satisfied.

“Much better,” she muses, the curve of her lips betraying the amusement she does not speak.

You inhale sharply, blinking as though trying to recalibrate your thoughts—trying to remember the shape of the sentence you had been building, the argument you had been forming.

It is gone. Utterly, entirely gone.

“You—” The word is breathless, half-formed. You shake your head, as if that might clear it. “You could have just asked me to stop talking.”

Mel hums, low in her throat, her fingers still tracing lazy patterns along your jaw.

“And deny myself the pleasure of watching you unravel?”

Your breath catches.

The way she says it—the way the word curls around her tongue like something intimate, something meant only for the two of you—sends a flush of heat pooling beneath your skin.

Mel’s smile deepens. Ah. So easy. So devastatingly easy.

She shifts closer, not quite touching, but close enough that the warmth of her presence presses against you like a second skin. Close enough that when she speaks again, her words brush against the corner of your mouth.

“I rather like this method.”

Your pulse is a traitor, betraying you in the way it quickens beneath her touch.

The sharp edges of your mind—so precise, so measured—have gone soft, dulled by the haze of something unfamiliar, something intoxicating.

You are a woman of logic. A woman of reason.

And yet, here you are, utterly undone by nothing more than the careful placement of Mel Medarda’s lips against yours.

She sees it. She sees everything.

And gods, she enjoys it. But she is not cruel.

So, she waits.

Waits for you to find your breath again. Waits for you to find the words you are so used to wielding with ease.

You inhale. You exhale.

And then, very quietly, you murmur:

“…Would you do it again?”

Mel’s breath hitches—so softly, so imperceptibly, that you might have imagined it.

But you didn’t.

A slow, deliberate smile unfurls across her lips, golden eyes gleaming with something deeper, something satisfied.

“Darling,” she murmurs, brushing a thumb over the corner of your mouth, “all you ever had to do was ask.”

And this time—when she kisses you—there are no more words between you.

Only the quiet, steady hum of something waiting to be understood.

[aventurineswife]

Heey :3

I'm a bit new to HSR but I would love to make a request regardless. A platonic request with a reader that lost their parents at a very young age and somehow ended up with the listed characters With Boothill, Aventurine, Gallagher, Gepard (if I requested over the character limit just chip some off <33)

Reader is like in their teen years

Fragments of Fate

Tags: Boothill x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Gepard x Reader, Teen!Reader, Platonic Relationships, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff with Angst, Protective Characters, Emotional Bonding, Slow Burn Friendship.

Warnings: Mentions of Parental Loss, Themes of Grief and Trauma, Violence (Mild/Implied), Angst with a Happy/Bittersweet Ending, Possible Depictions of Flashbacks (Trauma-Related), Protective Behavior.

A/N: WELCOME TO THE FANDOM!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR STAY AND DON'T LET THE WEIRD PEOPLE GET TO YOU!! 🤗💕💖

[Part 2]

The galaxy was vast, unkind, and unrelenting—traits Boothill understood better than most. When he found you wandering the outskirts of a ruined settlement, it felt like staring into a mirror of his past. A teen, lost and alone, with nothing but the smoldering remains of a life stolen too soon. You reminded him of himself, crying in the snow all those years ago.

The first thing Boothill taught you was how to defend yourself.

"Out here," he said, crouched by the fire with his mechanical hand resting on his holstered revolver, "you either draw fast, or you're done for." His eyes locked onto you, and for the first time since meeting him, you saw something other than sharp wit and vengeance in his expression—concern.

But Boothill wasn’t a teacher in the traditional sense. His lessons came wrapped in stories of survival, laughter, and his signature dramatic flair. He showed you how to handle a blaster, track footprints across barren wastelands, and recognize when to stand your ground—or when to run.

One evening, as the two of you watched stars streak across the dark sky, Boothill broke his usual bravado. "The world’s gonna throw you into the dirt," he said softly, his shark-like teeth catching the firelight. "But you? You’re gonna get back up every time. You hear me, kid?"

In Boothill, you found a guardian who didn’t pity you but saw your strength—even when you didn’t see it yourself.

Meeting Aventurine wasn’t a chance encounter; it was destiny orchestrated by a gambler who always bet on himself. You stumbled into his orbit during a skirmish between the IPC and local rebels, a frightened teen who had lost everything. He could have walked away—after all, you were just another face in a galaxy filled with suffering. But something about the fire in your eyes stopped him.

"You’ve got guts, kid," he remarked, adjusting his glasses as he ushered you into the safety of his suite. "Stick with me, and you might just learn how to play this game called life."

Life with Aventurine was a whirlwind of unpredictability. He taught you how to navigate high-stakes situations, whether it was bluffing your way out of trouble or making calculated risks that turned the odds in your favor.

One day, he handed you a deck of cards, each one worn and bearing faint marks from years of use. "Lesson one," he said with a smirk. "The game’s rigged, but that doesn’t mean you can’t win."

Aventurine’s mentorship wasn’t about coddling. He challenged you, pushed you to think ahead, and celebrated your victories with genuine pride. Yet, there were moments of vulnerability—late-night conversations where he’d share fragments of his own tragic past. "We’re not so different, you and I," he admitted one night, his voice quieter than usual. "We both know what it’s like to lose everything. But here’s the trick, kid: we don’t let it break us."

With Aventurine, you learned that survival wasn’t just about strength—it was about strategy, resilience, and knowing when to bet it all.

When Gepard found you, it was during one of the harshest Fragmentum attacks Belobog had ever faced. You were huddled in the ruins of a home, clutching a makeshift weapon and trembling with fear. The sight of you—so young, so lost—stirred something deep within him.

"You’re safe now," he said, his voice steady and reassuring as he extended a gloved hand. "I’ll protect you. That’s a promise."

Life under Gepard’s care was structured and disciplined, but never harsh. He treated you with kindness and respect, understanding the pain of loss in a way only someone who had carried the weight of duty could.

He taught you how to wield a weapon—not for revenge, but for defense. "Strength isn’t about defeating your enemies," he said during a training session. "It’s about protecting what matters most."

Gepard’s lessons extended beyond combat. He instilled in you a sense of responsibility and compassion, encouraging you to help others even when the world seemed bleak. Under his guidance, you began to rebuild your confidence, finding purpose in small acts of courage and kindness.

One night, as snow fell softly outside the city walls, Gepard joined you by the fire. "I know it’s hard," he said, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "But you’re not alone anymore. You have a family here—with me, with the Silvermane Guards. And together, we’ll face whatever comes."

With Gepard, you found more than a protector—you found a father figure who believed in you, even when you struggled to believe in yourself.