#Around 3100 words

[sokayisaidiot]

Siblinghood, Platonic Soulmates, or Romance

Analyzing the Relationship Between Ezra Bridger and Sabine Wren

In this post, I will continue from my previous one, having offered a simplified overview but delving into one of the most common criticizing talking points. Please remember that this analysis is from a writing perspective and my own experiences as I am an amateur writer. I welcome comments and reblogs with your thoughts.

For context:

1. Relationships in Star Wars 2. Explanation of These Three Types of Relationships 3. Female Characters in Relationships 4. Ideals and Themes in Star Wars Rebels 5. Ezra and Sabine's Relationship 6. Conclusion

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

Relationships in Star Wars

Critics sometimes claim that certain types of relationships are overrepresented in Star Wars, but it's essential to remember that the franchise features a variety of relationship dynamics. Here are some well-known examples:

Siblinghood:

- Luke and Leia (twins) - Ahsoka Tano and Anakin Skywalker (no blood) - Garazeb Orrelios and Ezra Bridger (no blood) - The Son and Daughter (literal Force beings) - Sabine and Tristan Wren (blood relatives) - Maul, Savage Opress, and Feral (same planet)

Platonic Soulmates:

- Han and Chewbacca - R2-D2 and C-3PO - Boba Fett & Fennec Shand - Din Djarin & Bo Katan Kryze - Chirrut Imwe & Baze Malbus

Romantic:

- Han Solo & Princess Leia - Anakin Skywalker & Padme Amidala - Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze - Kanan Jarrus & Hera Syndulla - Bail & Breha Organa

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

Each relationship explained and how to write it

Siblinghood

Definition A sibling is a term used to describe a brother or sister, which means they share at least one biological or adoptive parent. Siblings are individuals who are part of the same family and are connected through their familial relationships.

Writing points

Individuality: Portray each sibling as a unique individual with distinct traits.

Birth Order: Consider birth order dynamics and how it affects their roles.

Conflict and Love: Explore both rivalry and support in their relationship.

Shared Memories: Use shared childhood memories to deepen their connection.

Complex Emotions: Show a range of emotions, from love to resentment.

Character Development: Use their relationship to drive character growth.

Realistic Dialogue: Make their interactions and dialogues authentic.

Backstory: Develop a backstory with shared and separate experiences.

Conflict Resolution: Show how they handle conflicts within the relationship.

Evolution: Depict how their relationship changes over time.

External Influences: Consider how outside factors impact their dynamic.

Platonic Soulmates

Definition The term "Platonic soulmates" combines two concepts: "Platonic" and "soulmates."

Platonic: In the context of relationships, "Platonic" refers to a non-romantic or non-sexual connection.

Soulmates: It's a belief that there is a special, deep, and sometimes predestined connection between two people that goes beyond ordinary friendship or partnership.

When you combine these concepts, "Platonic soulmates" refers to two individuals who share an exceptionally close, deep, and meaningful non-romantic or non-sexual bond. They may have a connection that feels almost destined, as if their souls are deeply intertwined, but it doesn't involve romantic or sexual attraction.

Writing points

Unique Bond: Highlight the exceptional and non-romantic connection they share.

Common Values: Emphasize shared values, interests, and life goals that deepen their bond.

Unconditional Support: Show their unwavering support, trust, and emotional safety.

Enduring Relationship: Illustrate how their bond withstands time and challenges.

Conflict Resolution: Explore how they handle disagreements with maturity and empathy.

Growth Inspiration: Demonstrate how they inspire personal growth in each other.

Non-Romantic Nature: Clarify that their connection is platonic, not romantic.

Emotional Depth: Dive into their deep emotional connection and comfort.

Shared Moments: Highlight significant life experiences they've shared.

Respectful Boundaries: Show how they respect each other's boundaries.

External Influences: Consider how external factors affect their connection.

Remember that platonic soulmate relationships are diverse and can manifest in various ways. They provide an opportunity to explore deep emotional connections and the profound impact such connections can have on individuals' lives.

Romantic

Definition In everyday conversation, "romantic" is often used to describe anything related to love, affection, or relationships. It can refer to someone who is inclined towards love and affection or to something that evokes feelings of love and beauty. The exact meaning of "romantic" can vary depending on the context in which it is used.

Romantic Love: Deep emotional affection, attraction, and passion between two individuals, forming the basis for relationships like dating, courtship, and marriage.

Romantic Relationship: A partnership based on romantic love, including dating, committed relationships, or marriage, characterized by emotional closeness and physical affection.

Romantic Gestures: Actions expressing love, affection, and admiration in romantic contexts, such as giving flowers, writing love letters, or planning surprise dates.

Romanticism: A cultural movement originating in the late 18th century, emphasizing emotions, individualism, and the sublime in literature, art, and philosophy, often celebrating nature, imagination, and powerful emotions.

Writing points

Chemistry and Attraction: Establish a strong attraction between the partners.

Character Development: Use the relationship to develop and evolve the characters.

Conflict and Tension: Introduce challenges to make the relationship engaging.

Communication: Show effective communication and miscommunication between partners.

Shared Moments: Highlight meaningful experiences they share.

Individual Lives: Balance their personal lives with the relationship.

Trust and Vulnerability: Explore trust and emotional openness.

Intimacy: Address physical and emotional intimacy.

External Influences: Include the impact of outside factors.

Conflict Resolution: Demonstrate how they handle conflicts.

Long-Term Compatibility: Consider their compatibility for the future.

Realistic Challenges: Create believable obstacles.

Romantic Gestures: Showcase meaningful acts of love.

Character Flaws: Develop imperfections in the characters.

Resolution: Provide a satisfying conclusion to their relationship arc.

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

Girls in Relationships:

This section explores how certain female characters in Star Wars maintain their own identities while being involved in romantic relationships.

Padmé Amidala

Character: It might be considered a bold choice, but as Dave Filoni is known as the TCW and SWR guru, I genuinely appreciate Padmé's character. She embodies the spirit of self-reliance, often adopting the motto, "I'll handle it myself," when she witnesses suffering. As a compassionate and principled member of the Senate, she values diplomacy over violence, serving as a commendable role model by prioritizing dialogue and care for others. Her character shines brightest in episodes where she grapples with political conflicts.

Romance: Transitioning to the subject of her romantic involvement, Padmé and Anakin's relationship has sparked numerous discussions. Despite the uncertainty and occasional turbulence, there is genuine love between them. She envisions a future with him, refusing to give up on him even in the face of his inner struggles. Padmé recognizes Anakin's mental anguish and does her utmost to support him, though the complexities of their circumstances often double their challenges.

Ahsoka Tano

Character: Ahsoka stands as one of the most well-crafted female characters in Star Wars lore, undergoing significant growth and development throughout The Clone Wars (TCW). She evolves from an overconfident and naive child into a mature, thoughtful, and highly respected adult. Her journey is marked by substantial mistakes and profound realizations.

Romance: While Ahsoka experiences various connections throughout TCW, the most notable is with Lux. However, this romance primarily serves as a vehicle for her character development. Lux provides her with insights into the Separatists' perspective on the war and later the Death Watch. While Ahsoka does express interest in him, it's not in a deeply romantic sense. Instead, she's appreciative of the knowledge and experiences gained from their interactions.

Leia Organa

Character: Leia, our first main character introduction, immediately captivates with her compelling beginning. She's taken captive but never succumbs to fear, displaying strength and resolve. Her resilience shines through as she becomes one of the Rebellion's leaders, commanding respect from all quarters. She remains unyielding in her role, displaying a fiery temperament and quick wit reminiscent of her father, while proving to be even more resolute than her brother, a Jedi.

Romance: The iconic romance between Leia and Han Solo portrays the smuggler and the princess in a refreshing light. Instead of conforming to outdated stereotypes, Leia wears the metaphorical pants in their relationship, with Han providing unwavering support. He respects her position and authority, saving personal matters for their private moments. The dynamic is built on trust and mutual respect, avoiding the cliché of a one-sided romance. Notably, this is evident in Return of the Jedi (ROTJ), where Leia gets shot, and Han's caring demeanor is juxtaposed with his trademark smirk as she reveals her weapon. He's the one to express his love, illustrating the mutual affection and growth of both characters.

Hera

Character: Hera serves as the capable captain of the Ghost and its crew, supported by her right-hand man, Kanan, and the astromech droid, Chopper. Despite being a mother, she remains a crucial figure in the New Republic, leading missions and flight teams. Hera defies convention by maintaining her position of power while nurturing a romantic relationship with Kanan.

Romance: In contrast to traditional depictions where women are often portrayed as pining and emotional while men are serious, Hera and Kanan's dynamic reverses these roles. Kanan actively pursues the relationship, while Hera takes on a more serious and authoritative role. This unconventional approach adds depth to their relationship and challenges traditional gender norms.

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

The Ideals of Rebels' Story and Its Setup Points:

Both the Star Wars Prequels and the Original Trilogy are anchored in the theme of battling oppressive regimes striving for absolute control. The Prequels delve into how this oppression came to be, forming a pivotal narrative standpoint. In contrast, The Clone Wars (TCW) primarily focuses on world-building, offering in-depth explorations of various factions and societies within the galaxy. While TCW provides a comprehensive view of the galaxy during a civil war, it doesn't follow a single large crew's story.

On the other hand, Star Wars Rebels (SWR) places a character-driven focus at its core. Unlike some other Star Wars media, such as movies, series, or shorts, SWR doesn't extensively explore different locations or delve into background storytelling. Instead, it prioritizes character development and episodic narratives.

To clarify my previous statement, SWR serves as a bridge between Episode 3 and Episode 4 of the Star Wars saga. It fills in the gaps, revealing the journey and sacrifices necessary to achieve freedom. The series commences with Ezra, a newly-minted Jedi Padawan, in a galaxy where Jedi are hunted down. He joins the nascent rebellion, which is just beginning to take shape. Ezra represents a glimmer of hope in a desolate world, even as forces of darkness attempt to extinguish that light.

This underscores the significance of SWR. Episode 4 depicted the Rebellion in its full-fledged form, with a substantial crew and support from multiple fronts. However, SWR sheds light on the challenges and sacrifices that made such achievements possible. It demonstrates that what was accomplished required immense personal sacrifice.

The Jedi aspect is exemplified through Kanan, who embodies the essence of a true Jedi. Ezra, too, matures into this role over time. Kanan's journey is unique; he was in the midst of his Padawan training when Order 66 unfolded. He never completed his training in the traditional sense and couldn't fully embrace the Jedi rules and traditions, which often felt restrictive and suffocating. Unbeknownst to him, his love for, attachment to, and bond with his lover, Padawan, and the rest of the crew went against traditional Jedi norms. However, this deviation allowed him to learn things the Jedi should have known centuries ago. Kanan eventually felt the full embrace of the Force, despite his past mistakes and moments of foolishness. He ultimately met his end as a true Jedi Knight.

As for Sabine, her character's growth and journey revolve around taking responsibility for her past mistakes and evolving into a stronger individual. Her journey includes abandoning the Imperial Academy, which produced weapons harmful to her people. This decision placed her family in jeopardy, with the majority of Mandalorians harboring animosity towards her. Despite these challenges, she emerged stronger with the support of those around her and a willingness to confront her past without forgetting or ignoring it.

The relationship between Ezra and Sabine in SWR was intentionally left ambiguous, making it challenging to definitively categorize. While the series provides hints through Ezra's statements, it remains open to interpretation. The internet, as expected, has embraced the ambiguity and given rise to various interpretations, showcasing the power of fan engagement and ship culture.

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

Ezra and Sabine, Examined from Every Angle:

This section breaks down how each of these interpretations aligns with the characteristics of these relationship types.

Siblinghood

Individuality: With Siblings, there come different personalities. One can be chaotic and the other calm. That’s what we see in that case what can be considered normal in a family. You have the artistic child with her younger brother being more traditional and following his father.

Birth Order: This being one of the strongest arguments with this relationship. It’s for many great to see nonblood people considering each other as found family, where in situation where one lost their family or their family was not good, there are still others that are as close as those you share blood with.

Conflict and Love: This is more of a thing that can be seen with the training of the dark saber, in which the one sibling, who is good at something, that they consider their specialty, having to have share it with the other, as they see it being taken away or provoking the other as they think they are better at something.

Shared Memories: Both have abandonment issues over their family, and they share a lot of missions together.

Complex Emotions: Once again going back to the dark saber training, you could interpret that scene where Ezra is saying that Sabine at least still has family, while he has only one family left, that she is not respecting

Character Development: This can be interpretation for the end of rebels

Realistic Dialogue: A lot of people regard them bickering as sibling bickering

Backstory: In the start, it is implied that with Zeb, she is one that takes him under her wing as a older sister role

Conflict Resolution: They talk to each other

Evolution: It can be them growing older and seeing each other as equals

External Influences: within the ghost crew, they consider each other as family. Hera especially, so its easy to take this as it can be seen that every member implies it for themselves.

Platonic Soulmates

Unique Bond: They are not really romantically nor as siblings introduced in season 3 and 4

Common Values: Both want to free their respective people, destroy the empire and find a place in the galaxy.

Unconditional Support: Within the end, Sabine never states to be romantically involved but she does stay on Lothal, keeps his memorable things in check and waits from him to return.

Enduring Relationship: Both are willing to entrust each other to a lot of things and giving each other the chance to make things happen.

Conflict Resolution: They talk.

Growth Inspiration: Within the season 1 and 2 where Ezra constantly flirts openly to Season 3 and 4 where it is not seen as a romantic way.

Non-Romantic Nature: Barely Romantic gestures of touch in the traditional sense or talking about the feeling to each other, but in a respectable comrade way.

Emotional Depth: Their connection through their past and need to make better of their mistakes while helping each other out of those.

Shared Moments: Their missions

Respectful Boundaries: With Ezra stopping the flirting to concentrate and help Sabine

External Influences: The ghost crew being a close family through common goals and connection gives them a more bigger leeway

Romantic

Chemistry and Attraction: It is clear that Ezra still has an crush on Sabine, with him meeting her for the first time, being enamored with her beauty. Their chemistry is working and expendable. Sabine later is more open for more.

Character Development: From the young kid who has a crush with no real idea to an jedi that keeps it low to fulfill his duty, Ezra evolves within 4 seasons to a more mature way of admiring Sabine while having respect for her. Within the episode where Kanan and Sabine 

Conflict and Tension: From the end of rebels, where Ezra sacrifices himself to keep his loved one self but leaving Sabine alone and confused to Sabine not listening to him when he tells her to or when she does not give him a lot of decision power over her.

Communication: Sabine not being able to trust anyone really to her getting the closest to Ezra for even supporting him on way to dangerous missions and Ezra 

Shared Moments: From the intimate closeness of holding him by his waist to fly to safety, to him keeping her steady on the loath wolves and both refusing to let the other get hurt.

Individual Lives: When it comes to Krownest, Sabine splits up for a little while, when Ezra takes on other missions. They know when they have to do something alone and they have their own bigger problems in the end.

Trust and Vulnerability: Within the later seasons (3 and 4) Sabine opens up to Ezra about her own Demons and gives her full trust to him. Both can depend each other’s live on the other. But when it comes to

Intimacy: Sabine has no problem holding Ezra closer while Ezra still gets flustered a bit(speaking escape Jetpack scene). But other than that they have no problem being closer.

External Influences: Both Chopper and Zeb have been making fun of Ezra and Kanan is aware to some known extend as he has to be the done calming Ezra down, when Sabine is in a Dangerous situation.

Conflict Resolution: On the battlefield its Sabine being the aggressor and Ezra the shield. With other conflicts, it is that Sabine needs time to herself and Ezra worrying but respecting her needs.

Long-Term Compatibility: Sabine cannot imagine a life without Ezra in it and Ezra has stated that he wants to come home to her (as well as the others).

Realistic Challenges: Sabine knowing that 10 years have gone by since Ezra disappeared and still being ever so loyal to him. Ezra, while knowing Sabines competence, still often not wanting her on solo missions.

Romantic Gestures: The Birthday gift from Sabine. The consistent support of Ezra. 

Character Flaws: The way they cannot see other one in pain and taking full front and lying in front of the other.

Resolution: They give each other full trust on the final mission with Sabine on her way towards him.

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

Endcut:

In summary, this post aims to offer multiple perspectives on the dynamic between Ezra and Sabine, emphasizing that all three interpretations are valid based on the available knowledge.

Please note that this is a complex analysis, and the nature of their relationship remains open to interpretation.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You rendered Bradley speechless and left him wondering if your students were the ones who wanted to know what he looked like or if it was really you who was curious. He wanted to know everything about you, but the urge to ask for more was mingling with his duty to keep things professional. You and he teetered on the edge... until you didn't.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley looking hot

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley found himself homesick in a way he never did before. He still had weeks and weeks of this deployment to go, stuck on the aircraft carrier, endlessly curious about someone he barely knew anything about and a classroom full of kids he'd never met. But he felt like he wanted to know more about you and them. 

At least he was too busy now to dwell on the fact that it had been days since the last mail call. He was never one who was lined up, eager to collect something from a loved one. Vanessa and all of his other ex girlfriends never sent him handwritten notes or snacks. He'd gotten sporadic emails in the past, but nothing that made him smile and laugh out loud. Never anything that made him sad when he realized he had reached the end of the note, hoping for more.

He wanted to go back to the lounge and check his email, but he was afraid he'd have nothing new to read. There was really nobody else other than you who would send him anything right now, and he was sure you had something better to do with your time than comment on the photos he'd send of his jet and the engine parts. And even if you had written back, how long could he really keep this conversation with you going? How soon would you run out of interest in his deployment?

Bradley knew he'd be much better at talking to you in person, but how the hell was he supposed to get there? Jesus Christ, you were probably married. You probably already had someone back home wrapped around your fingers, and here he was, still thinking about you. 

"Pitiful," he muttered, making his way to the lounge anyway. He would keep it professional with you. One hundred percent. But he still wanted to know if your students got to see the photos and if they had any questions about them. 

When he logged into his email account, his heart skipped around a bit when he saw that he had something new from you. Then he opened it up and read it, and his lips parted softly in surprise at what you'd sent.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now. 

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

Bradley read it again. Still surprised, he read it a third time. Were you the one asking for the photo? It seemed like you might be. Or was he just projecting here? Shit. Maybe. He'd been thinking about how he'd respond if you asked him something personal, and this felt like you and he were teetering right on the edge.

You even echoed his own thoughts, but it still made him warm all over to know that you looked forward to hearing from him. That it made your day better when he sent an email. He decided he was going to keep this going as long as he could.

He logged out again and headed to the mess hall for dinner, because there was no point in responding until he had the photo you just asked him for. One where you'd be able to see exactly what every inch of him looked like. As he ate his meatloaf, his thoughts all settled on that one pertinent question: were your students really the ones who were curious about how he looked, or were you? Because it sounded like it could be the latter. He fucking hoped it was. And he fucking hoped you wouldn't be disappointed after tomorrow when he sent you exactly what was asked of him.

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

You thought you were ready, but you weren't. Not for this. Not for him. Not even close. Thankfully it was still early enough that none of your students were in the classroom with you, because Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw had responded to your slightly tipsy email from a few nights ago. He sent exactly one photo, and your only response was to softly moan, "Holy hell."

To say he was attractive looking standing there in his flight suit next to the jet with his name on the side of it would have been the understatement of the century. He was hot. Unbelievably hot. Top tier. You shamelessly zoomed in to get an even better look at his face which was complete with a crooked little smile and a fucking mustache.

"Who does he think he is?" you asked the empty room, voice filled with need. "The audacity."

Even his messy, wavy hair looked soft enough for you to want to rub your face and lips against it. Where did that idea come from? You uncrossed and recrossed your legs as the most delightful thoughts filled your mind. You already knew he was sweet, kind, attentive and humble, but now you knew he was easy on the eyes, too. If only you could hear his voice. 

After several minutes of uninterrupted gawking, you realized he'd written a few sentences to you as well, addressing you just as he always had. But this felt more personal. Maybe a little intimate.

For reference, I'm 6'1" and 205 pounds. That should give you and your kiddos a good size comparison, yeah? Also, just a little curious myself here.... are you sure they were the only ones who wanted to know what I look like? Or did you want to know, too?

So he called you out. Your whole body felt too hot and too light. You were floating off of your chair even as your heart pounded. You must be two feet in the air by now. He already knew what you looked like, but now you cared more than ever what he thought about you. Because you had a massive crush on your classroom pen pal.

"How embarrassing. You drunk emailed him! How are you supposed to respond to this?" you whispered as you closed your laptop and pressed your fingers to your lips. It was hard to tell if his tone was playful or not. He was smiling in the photo, which made you think that he was. But perhaps he was trying to put a stop to any topic of conversation that could be considered personal. 

Then it hit you like a bolt of lightning. No way was this man single. He was handsome. That would have been enough on its own. But he also had an impressive career, all of his hair, and he was tall. And that didn't even scrape the surface of his sweet personality! You couldn't embarrass yourself further. You just couldn't. You wanted him to keep writing to your class, because they were already so attached to him. You couldn't ruin this for them. 

When your students came flooding into the room, they led off with the same question they had every morning now. "Did we get anything in the mail from Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

"Not yet," you replied, still trying to decide how to respond to his photo. "But hopefully soon. He did email another picture though."

All of them were immediately headed for your desk, wanting to see what their pen pal looked like. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself as you opened up that photo again, and then the kids all interjected into your thoughts.

"His jet is so cool!"

"It's huge!"

"He looks exactly how I thought he would!"

"Can he send us more stuff?"

It took you a good, long while to get them all into their seats. Clearly you weren't the only one who was entranced by him. Their questions overflowed, most of which still had to do with the aviation topics you'd been teaching them. Bradley Bradshaw had turned your classroom upside down, in a good way. And the more you thought about it, the more you just wanted to make sure you weren't missing out on something here. This man was better looking than the last three guys you went out with all combined, and he already made you feel tingly inside before you knew that for a fact.

You went home after work and did it again. You drank some wine and logged into your work email account and wrote back to him less than a day after he wrote to you. Part of you recognized that you'd look desperate, but you simply had to know so you could stop thinking about him if necessary. You started typing. 

It was definitely, absolutely my students who wanted to know what you look like. It had nothing to do with me. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. That being said...nice photo. Very nice.

My kids also wanted me to ask you if your spouse or significant other is in the Navy. And they'd like to know how old your kids are if you have any. Once again, just to be clear, I'm only asking these things on their behalf...

"Send," you whispered, doing it before you could stop yourself. Then you were left with your intrusive thoughts and the rest of the wine, ultimately deciding to just go to bed. He wasn't going to respond right away. He was busy working. You just hoped it didn't take too long. 

But it did. Days passed. You normally tried not to think about your work email account during the weekends, let alone check it. Saturday was miserable as you logged in almost hourly to check and double check if you had something new from Lieutenant Bradshaw. It was so bad, you ended up initiating a movie night with some of your friends, opting to lock your phone in the center console of your car rather than take it into the theater. 

Sunday was no better. You took yourself to the beach for the afternoon to try to read and sunbathe. But there was a group of guys in US NAVY TOP GUN shirts playing football, and you wondered if Bradley ever did this kind of thing with his friends. Or his family. Jesus Christ, why couldn't he just write back and tell you if he had a pretty wife and six adorable kids who loved to play football on the beach with him?

When two of the guys in the TOP GUN shirts purposely threw the football toward your towel and tried to play it off as an accident, you didn't even feel like returning their flirtatious banter. Neither of them had a mustache or soft looking brown hair. Neither of them left you wanting to know more. 

You went home and tried so hard not to check your work email, but you failed miserably. But then you were happy you caved, because he wrote back. Bradley Bradshaw actually responded again. And a few seconds later, you were giggling and trying to control the squeal that escaped your lips.

When the mail arrived on the aircraft carrier yesterday, I was one of the first officers in line, and I wasn't disappointed. I got the second box from your class, and I can't wait to start reading and responding to everyone's notes this week. I'll let you know when you've got more mail coming your way. 

Since your students seem to be showing quite an interest in my personal life, please let them know I actually don't have a spouse or significant other at all. Nor do I have any kids. Their letters (and your emails, too) are the only ones I'm getting this deployment. No one else has been writing to me. Nobody stateside is waiting for me. I hope that answers their questions to your liking.

And now it's your turn to answer a question for me. Is there a guy in your life who is going to try to beat the crap out of me if I tell you that I think you're gorgeous? 

I'll just be waiting impatiently for your response.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

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

Bradley was so tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that only comes after the completion of a dangerous mission when your adrenaline finally wears off. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to be back at home in his bed in San Diego with a soft, warm body next to his and a sweet voice in his ear. But he was picturing your face and your body, already convinced you'd have the sweetest voice he'd ever heard.

Shit. He needed to focus on what the admirals had to say instead of drift into daydreams.

"No need to report to the strategy room in the morning, Lieutenant," his commanding officer said as Bradley unzipped the top of his flight suit. "Take some time to rest."

He saluted the admiral and walked off toward his bunk and a hot shower. But even as the steamy water eased the ache in his muscles, he thought about how he already knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now. Not when he still had a few messages from your students to respond to. Not when those notes always made him smile.

This time you'd only included a very short note in the box, but it wasn't typed up and printed out. It was written in your pretty penmanship on a sheet of lined paper.

Lt Bradshaw,

I hope this package finds you well. Please prepare yourself for approximately seven hundred more questions. Thanks again for sharing your time with us.

He didn't mind one bit. In all actuality, he was living for this shit, already thinking about how he could maybe visit your classroom someday soon. Several of the kids asked him if he could. They all asked him to take more pictures of life on the aircraft carrier. Then he laughed for a solid minute over the photo that Jayden sent of his Cocker Spaniel named Vanessa. 

But Bradley had purposely been neglecting his email inbox for the last few days. He was too afraid to read your words telling him that you were in fact taken, and that he was stupid for thinking you'd been the one who wanted to know what he looked like. He was rather enjoying the delusion that you might let him tell you how pretty he thought you were over email and maybe someday in person. He decided to respond to the rest of the notes in the box before getting rejected, otherwise it would be too hard to do this.

He finished writing back to Oliver and Cooper and then tucked the box away under his bed before drifting off to sleep while dreaming of his own bed. But the next day, he had literally no work to do. He's been given the entire day off. He hit the gym and avoided the married woman like the plague. Then he ate lunch and contemplated going back to the gym again, but his feet carried him to the lounge instead. At the very least, he promised you that he'd let you know when you had mail on the way so the kids could get excited. He should take the time to tell you he'd be sending more responses to your class by air mail.

Somehow Bradley had convinced himself so thoroughly that you were in a relationship, he almost couldn't fathom anything else. But there was a new message from you in his inbox, and it felt like a gift when he opened and read it.

Lt Bradshaw,

I must say, I was surprised to find out that my emails and the letters from my class are the only ones making their way to you. Not that I'm complaining. Not one bit. I just find it hard to believe that you don't have a lot of interested parties hoping for a chance to be the one you think about when you're deployed and all alone.

My last boyfriend didn't like it when I talked about my fourth graders. He didn't really see any value in what I do for a living. He would have never taken the time to read something they wrote let alone answer their questions individually. So no, there's nobody who would be upset with you for making me feel like there are butterflies permanently living in my belly now. If you want to tell me you think I'm gorgeous, I'm certainly not going to stop you.

Here's my personal, non school affiliated email address. Just in case you feel like using it. If not, you can keep responding here, and I can take the hint that we went far enough.

I hope you're doing well and staying safe.

Frantically, Bradley checked the date and time stamp. "Fuck," he growled, his fingers not quite able to keep up with his brain when he realized you'd sent this to him days ago. More than five days ago! "Shit. Fuck!" He had been keeping you waiting! As soon as he got his hands working at the same speed as his thoughts, he copied and pasted your personal email address and started a new thread like his life depended on it.

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

You were just curling up with a cup of sleepy time tea after a long day at work, wishing someone would put you out of your misery, when your phone vibrated on the couch cushion next to your leg. You were half tempted to ignore it, reasoning that it was probably time to accept the fact that Bradley Bradshaw already lost interest in you and delete his photos from your downloads folder. You should learn how to stop embarrassing yourself.

Then you glanced down and saw that you had a new email. It was from a now familiar sender. It had been sent to your personal account. You immediately scrambled to unlock your phone and read it.

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'd like to take it further.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

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

What the fuck, Bradley, you smooth man! Take it further, take it further, take it further! I love how impatient they get when they want to hear from each other. Now go ahead and get a little more personal. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who sent me messages and asks about this fic.

PART 4

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

[crazyoffher]

ALL I NEED.

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: a crew-mate’s lingering eyes on your secret girlfriend sends you into a jealous fit.

warnings: smut (18+) — oral + fingering (j receiving), short-lived dom!jenna + sub!r turned into dom!r + sub!jenna, jealousy, begging.

word amount: 3100+

a/n: idk how to feel about this

“Do you see the way he’s looking at her?” As you gaped at the sight of Jenna droning on about something to a crew member almost twice her age, you could only watch from a distance because Jenna was too engrossed in her conversation to notice that his eyes were lurching over her body.

“He looks like he’s about to take her right there, right now.” You slapped Mason’s chest, pushing him away slightly at the incline of his joke. He and Jasmin were the only two on the Scream cast who knew about your lingering “crush” on Jenna, and the fact that Jenna and Mason had a kiss scene coming up didn’t exactly help your nerves.

“If it helps, I’ll kiss her a second less than I’m supposed to.” You pushed him again, farther this time, and he only chuckled at you before gazing his eyes back at Jenna and the crew member, his name Brandon. “You can intervene on that.”

“Yeah, and how will I do that?”

He thought about it for a second, his eyes lighting up once he figured out an excuse for you to give, and you could only picture a lightbulb above his head as well. “Tell her that one of the producers needs her for some line changes!”

“And what do I do when I tell her that one of the producers isn’t actually looking for her?” That’s where you got him stumped, mouth gaping open before closing while in thought. His phone buzzed, and he eyed the message he received before shoving the phone down his pocket and turning to you. “I have to go to makeup for the next scene, but just get her away from him. He’s been staring for too long.”

He patted your back before heading out of the lounge room you were all in. You groaned, your feet trudging toward the two, and you could feel Brandon’s gaze of annoyance as he found you approaching him and Jenna.

“Hey, Jen.” You pronounced the nickname you had for her that you proclaimed nobody else could use, and Jenna would always giggle at the maintenance you had for the nickname.

“(Y/N), we’re actually in a pretty good conversation right now, so if you could just-”

“Well, I’ve come here to interrupt that conversation because one of the producers needs Jenna for line changes. My lady,” You held out your hand to her, bowing slightly, and she laughed at you, taking your hand before saying her goodbyes to Brandon. You tried your absolute hardest not to smirk at his vexed expression.

“Now, can I be honest with you?” You questioned Jenna. She turned to you with furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes, visibly confused. “Honest about?”

“Well, the producers don’t actually need you. I just needed to get you away from him.” You only looked forward, feeling that eye contact with Jenna would only make you feel uneasy, but all you got out of her was a giggle.

“I’ve told you countless times, baby, you don’t need to be jealous of anybody. Don’t think I’m oblivious to the way he looks at me.” She halted you, encircling your waist with her arms while resting her chin on your chest and peering up at you.

“Then why do you allow him to look at you like that?” You unraveled her arms from your waist with a hint of spite in your eyes. Jenna didn’t remove her chin from your chest, though, and instead raveled her arms around your shoulders, shooting back, “Why do you allow everyone to think that you only have a crush on me instead of the real truth?”

“For your own sake. You said it yourself; you aren’t comfortable yet with people knowing about us. So much, considering you like to be risky.” You looked up and down the hall you were in, empty but accessible to anybody who could catch you and Jenna in the position that you were in, faces only inches away from kissing.

“I said I didn’t want the public to know; I never said anything about our friends.”

You scoffed and tried to push her away, but her grip on you only tightened. “Please, Mason can’t keep a secret if his life depended on it, and if Brandon found out, he would probably out us because of his own jealousy, even if anybody were to actually believe him.”

Basking in your clear jealousy, Jenna’s fingers tapped against the back of your neck. It sent shivers down your spine; goosebumps rose, and all you could do was gaze down at her as you anticipated her reply. “You’re jealous, and I love it when you’re jealous, though for all the wrong reasons.”

You could only allow her to control you, one hand slithering from your neck to grab your hand, guiding it from her chest down to her hips, stopping just below an area you’ve grown to know as sensitive to your touch.

You groaned. “You asshole,” and with that, you pulled her back by her shoulders into a room that stood behind where the two of you had formerly been, reaching behind Jenna to turn the knob of the door and pushing her into the room. With your foot, you shut the door closed with a bang, your thumb and index fingers grazing the lock to turn it over.

The small room, littered with only a couch, television, and desk, was to be used for actors to go over their lines in solitude if they didn’t find their trailers compatible enough due to outside commotion. You’d be lying if you said you and Jenna hadn’t used the couch for more adult-like themes (and maybe the desk), and you remembered holding back snickers when one of the producers texted the cast group chat, asking whoever was using the room for “inappropriate reasons”, that they would stop.

Immediately, you rushed forward, Jenna’s body colliding with yours with the same goal in mind. Your lips met hers, hands hooking around her waist as you drove your hips into hers with no patience in your strut. She gasped at the feeling of your clothed core raking against hers, your tongue traveling all around her mouth, lips pulling away with a pop but not before you clenched your teeth into her bottom lip, drawing blood.

Jenna sighed in contentment as your lips met her neck, turning the both of you around so that you could sit on the couch, pulling Jenna by her back to sit on your lap with your lips never leaving their place. “I think I need to get you jealous more often.”

“You do that, and I’ll start edging you.” Your lips traveled around her neck, littering her with small hickeys that the makeup crew were going to have a field day covering up. Your lips met her pulse point, drawing a breathy moan out of Jenna. When you started sucking on that area, her hands moved to your chest, grabbing your button-up shirt and pulling it out of your pants, ripping it open, and causing a button or two to fly off the garment. She groaned at the sight of you left in just a white tank top, your breasts pushing up in her direction.

In the scene you had filmed not too long ago, the set took place at a party, your character dressed as an 1800’s businessman for whatever reason, and Jenna’s character was a pirate, leaving her in fishnet stocking and jean shorts that rode up whenever she sat down.

You removed your lips from her neck, replacing her hands with yours, and pushed yourself up to remove the shirt from your body. You caught the eye of a button when you were going to throw the collared shirt on the floor. “You ripped off a button!”

“So?” Jenna’s lips met yours again; her tongue shoved into your mouth while her hands raked from your stomach to your breasts, palming at them through the tank top’s fabrication, blocking her access to the two things she loved the most.

You pulled away from her, tugging at Jenna’s shirt and yanking it over her head, her pirate’s bandana coming off in the process. “You want our relationship to be secret, but you don’t even know the definition of it. Hickeys on your neck, popped buttons on my shirt, and you’re not expecting the crew to get a whiff of what’s going on?”

“Then let them,” her hips bucked at the feeling of your cold hands slithering under her bra, wasting no time in feeling all around her as your fingers clipped onto her nipples, tugging at them and releasing a groan out of Jenna, “let them know that you’re all mine.”

“You know just as well as I do that you don’t mean that.” You removed your hands from their position, placing them on her ass and pulling her up with you before dropping her back on the couch.

You kneeled in her presence, hands gripping her knees as you widened the space in between her legs, her shorts riding up, exposing her tan thighs covered by the stockings. You removed her shorts, unbuttoning them at a fast pace before sliding them off, tugging off her shoes as well in the process. 

You ran your hands through her smooth skin, taking in the sight of Jenna’s perfectly-shaped thighs covered by the stockings, and you’d be lying if you said your mouth didn’t water at the sight. Driving in the sight once more, you moved your hand up to her hip, grabbing the hem of the stockings and taking them off of her, leaving her bottom half in only her underwear. You smirked at the wet patch that sat in the middle of the cloth, your fingers tapping at her thighs.

“Baby, it’s only you thinking that it’s because I’m—oh, shit.” You hushed Jenna by pushing your index finger against her clit, circling the sensitive nub painfully slowly, the friction from her underwear only building up her urge to take you right there and then. “You were saying?

Your head dipped down between Jenna’s legs, moving away from where she needed you the most to kiss and nip at her inner thighs. Your hands moved from their position on her knees, replacing themselves around her thighs and rubbing up and down as you licked at the reddening bite marks you had imbedded into her skin.

“Since you want to be such a bitch,” you moved Jenna’s underwear only slightly, tongue licking at the outline of her cunt, causing her to buck her hips up, “and try to make me jealous with fucking Brandon,” you slid two fingers under the wettening cloth, fingers trailing over her folds, and Jenna gripped the couch with impatience, “then fucking beg for it.”

Her mind completely disregarded your hand in her panties, and her head flew down to meet your gaze. “What?” Despite being possessive and rough, per Jenna’s own needs, in almost all the times you and Jenna had engaged sexually, you never took it to the next level. Until now.

“I know you’re not deaf, Jen. Beg for it.” You repeated, head maneuvering so your nose was brushing against her clothed clit while you spoke in cold breaths, watching Jenna’s thighs clench and unclench at the breeze. You could feel Jenna’s hand slither into your hair, digging her nails into the follicles to try and pull you closer to her, but your head didn’t budge.

You grabbed her hand, pinning it down along with her other hand that was approaching your scalp as well, keeping them tightly still at her sides. You stuck out your tongue, flexing it into a more narrow shape before licking the fabrication that kept Jenna sealed. You flicked one, two, then three kitten-like licks at her nub, urgently removing your hands from her wrists and pinning down her hips that bucked their way up into your face, trying to get a pleasurable sensation but to no use. “I’m not giving you shit until I hear you whine how bad you want this.”

Jenna moved to speak, breathing unevenly, but her words never vocalized themselves because you moved her panties more to the side with your right hand, running your index finger down her throbbing cunt, then back up, all while you watched her facial expressions change at each movement. “Please, (Y/N).”

“Please what?” Your finger stroked itself down her cunt again, this time stopping where you could feel her hole pulse under your touch. She whined, her hips desperately trying to push down into your finger, but your left hand still held a firm grip on her bony frame, your hand pushing down the right side of her hip and your elbow pushing down the left side. “I’m not going to do anything that can remotely get you off until you tell me what you want.”

“Just fuck me!” She groaned out, her face heating up hotter than ever as she caught sight of you staring back at her with such an innocent glint in your eyes. Such innocent eyes could fool anybody unless they saw what you were doing to Jenna, using your approach to somehow make the situation much direr. 

“Fuck me as hard as you can. Please, god, I just want to feel you.” Her whines were loud, letting you know that the producers awareness of such dirty nonsense going on in the room told you that you weren’t at fault, but instead Jenna’s unawareness of how loud she was.

You purred into her center. “There you go, sweetheart.” Your middle finger pushed against your index finger, inserting the two digits into her core. Jenna let out a low groan, basking in the relief of what you had just made her wait for, even if it was her own fault. She’d never blame herself for a halt on her pleasure, even if it was her own fault, and she’d make more than sure to get you back for your teasing later.

You pumped your fingers, letting Jenna get used to the feeling while gradually moving faster to get her going. As you sped up, Jenna’s face morphed into expressions that you could cum from just looking at, letting your mind get to you as you found yourself subconsciously thrusting your hips into the space between Jenna’s legs on the couch.

You stopped your hip movement, eyeing Jenna to see her head sprawled back, mouth agape, and letting out a loud moan when your lips met her clit. Sucking feverishly, you bit down on the sensitive nub to send her a warning, seeing as she managed to roll her hips around your mouth despite your tough grip on her. “Don’t,” was all you muttered before sucking on her clit again, Jenna whining at the vibrations your word sent throughout her cunt.

Jenna could feel the coil in her stomach starting to tighten, the pleasure becoming more unbearable while you attacked her cunt, mouth and tongue swirling and sucking around her clit and two fingers pumping in and out of her. You bit down on her clit again, causing a moan to erupt from her. Jenna’s hands rode up her stomach and up to her chest to palm at her own breasts, eyes shutting at the pleasure build-up, finding herself closer to releasing.

You noticed this; your attack on her clit the same, but you switched up your finger movement, shoving them into her knuckle-deep and curling them, pumping them in and out a couple times before locating her g-spot. You pushed into it, making her yell out your name along with a squeaking whimper. “Fuck! Go faster!”

You did just that, keeping your fingers curled as you grazed her g-spot continuously, her knuckles white, still gripping onto her breasts that were bound to be littered with small bruises soon. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna cum.”

You only hummed, sucking Jenna’s nub harder and watching her body start to twitch, hands leaving their death grip on her breasts to bury in your hair, pulling you into her deeper. “Ugh, don’t stop! I’m gonna-” and with a low moan of your name, the coil in her stomach snapped, her body jolting from her orgasm. You slowed your fingers, uncurling them, and after she had calmed down, pulled them out and gazed at your fingers covered in her slick.

Calmed down from your former jealous rage, you stood up, kneeling over Jenna’s panting frame on the couch to engulf her in a kiss that she immediately reciprocated, her hands flying up to cup your cheeks. Without a word, you took your index finger and put it up to Jenna’s lips, mouth parting without a second thought and you stuck your finger in, mentally groaning at the sensation of her tongue swirling all around your fingers in desperation to taste her own cum.

Popping your finger out of Jenna’s mouth, your eyes never faltered from hers as you stuck your middle finger into your mouth, fighting to roll your eyes back at the taste of her. 

Once more, you two met in a kiss, her arms wrapping around your shoulders to pull you deeper, a goal to pleasure you just as much lingering in her mind.

You felt a buzz at your knee, startling you, and you pulled away from Jenna. “What the-” You moved your knee to the side, Jenna’s phone revealing itself to be the culprit of the odd vibrations. She picked it up, her eyes widening slightly at the messages that littered her phone from the cast group chat, letting her know that shooting was supposed to continue about five minutes earlier, but they couldn’t shoot without Jenna herself.

“Oh shit.” She sighed, and you skimmed the messages from the angle you found yourself in, getting the memo that she needed to leave. You stood up straight, gathering Jenna’s clothes off the floor as she stood up and stretched, trying her hardest to fix her hair before retying her pirate’s bandana.

Once she got dressed, she pulled you in for one last kiss, murmuring in your ear, “I’ll deal with you later,” before heading for the door.

“Jenna?” She halted, turning to face you at the call of her name, the doorknob in her hand. “Yeah?”

“You might want to stop by the makeup crew.” You pointed to her neck, reminding her that she was covered with hickeys, some larger than the others.

Feeling her neck, she winced at the multiple bruisings that littered her, giving you a glare before heading out. “Asshole.”

☟ ☟ ☟

taglist (so far): @grandpatrolnut @jennas-10 @annalestern @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe

[loving-barnes]

A Touch Of Hope (Logan Howlett)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x female mutant reader

Summary: After a mission went wrong, Logan brought an injured mutant into the school. And with that, new hope has arisen - for mutants, for the school, even for Logan.

General warning: graphic depictions of violence, smut, explicit language and more.

This story is for 18+ audience. Minors DNI.

Author's note: I love that Logan is tall in the movies. They... fucked up. And I am here for it. The reader is a female. I don't do any description BUT she has long hair (I'm sorry). If you find something, let me know. I am writing this for fun, not rushing and just enjoying the process.

Set in an alternative universe. In other words - I can do what I like.

• Begin Again (Chapter One) After a failed mission, Logan unexpectedly brings home an injured mutant. | Words: 5300+

• 'Hell' (Chapter Two)  Y/N shares how she escaped 'hell’. | Words: 4300+

• Spark (Chapter Three) Charles reveals something more about Y/N's mutation. | Words: 3800+

• Window of Opportunity (Chapter Four) In Salem, Logan and Y/N have the opportunity to save the boy. | Words: 5200+

• Revelation (Chapter Five) Scott decided to be a dick and share something he shouldn’t. | Words: 4300+

• Better (Chapter Six) Things are slowly turning around. Or are they? | Words: 3100+

• Bar (Chapter Seven) It’s a fun night out at a bar. | Words: 3300+

• Bonding Moment (Chapter Eight) The students get to know Y/N a little more. | Words: 3700+

• Babysitting Gone Wrong (Chapter Nine) Charles asked Logan and Y/N to babysit the students while the rest of the staff was away for the weekend. | Words: 6200+

• Need (Chapter Ten) Things move forward between Logan and Y/N. | Words: 4300+

Staff: Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy (Beast), Piotr Rasputin (Colossus), Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Bobby (Iceman), Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler), Kitty Pryde, Anna Marie (Rogue), Ororo Munroe (Storm), Logan Howlett (Wolverine), Scott Summers (Cyclops), Jean Grey, Peter Maximoff (Quicksilver)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [38] - Gladiolus

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: Strength builds in time.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, mentions of threat.

Word Count: 3100

Series Masterlist

Alright then.

Perhaps you owed Benedict an apology.

Ever since you had walked in on him and Madame Delacroix right after their escapade at her shop, you hadn’t stopped reminding him of his very frequent adventures with different ladies in the ton but in your defense, you had no idea the act was this…

Pleasurable.

Divine, even.

Yet, it raised one simple issue; the marriage bliss kept you too busy to pay attention to anything else. Honestly it didn’t feel like an issue at all to you -or to Benedict you were guessing- but you had lost the complete track of time in the last couple of days and you had to force yourself to think straight.

You put your shift on and walked to grab your dressing gown, your body aching in the most pleasant way and you bit down a smile as the memory of last night flashed through your mind, but then heard Benedict taking a deep breath, rising from his deep slumber.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice hoarse from sleep and you looked over your shoulder, the sight making your heart skip a beat. He looked absolutely gorgeous, his hair all messy while he ran a hand over his glimmering blue eyes, the sunlight falling on his chiseled chest. You could feel the familiar desire sending sparks through your system but forced yourself to focus, shaking your head slightly.

“Good morning,” you said, dragging your gaze away from him to look around the room for the items of clothing of yours that Benedict had thrown around the room in his haste to get you out of them. “Did I wake you up?”

“No—what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

His head shot up. “What?”

“For the day!” you added quickly and grabbed your corset off the floor. “I’m leaving for the day.”

“Why?”

“Benedict,” you said and motioned between you. “Perhaps it has escaped your notice but we have a problem.”

He tilted his head, confusion etched in his features. “A problem?” he repeated. “What problem?”

You tried to concentrate but it was rather hard when that fire was swirling in your lower stomach, the more you looked at him, the more you wanted to climb back in the bed and—

You cleared your throat, looking up at the ceiling, causing Benedict to look up as well.

“What’s happening?”

“If I look at you I’m going to get back in the bed so I refuse to.”

“How is that a bad thing?” he asked with a grin and you shot him a glance, then looked up at the ceiling again.

“You know, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but we have a lovely ceiling.”

“My love, what are you talking about?”

You felt a smile warm your face, then grabbed your dress off the floor as well before turning to him, heaving a sigh.

“First of all, you were right about it being…divine,” you said, then narrowed your eyes. “Wipe that smile off your face.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender and you put your clothes on the sofa.

“That being said, do you not think we’re being a bit…fixated?”

“Fixated?”

“When was the last time you painted?”

“A week ago.”

“When was the last time you and I actually communicated with another person more than an hour without rushing to the nearest room?”

“There was the gala—”

“Gordon’s guest room.”

He hissed in a breath. “Right. Good point.”

“And I have a greenhouse,” you told him, putting your hands on your hips. “Ask me when the last time I’ve been there was.”

“…A week ago?”

“A week ago!”

“I mean Mr. Binsted is taking care of—”

Even you could hear the petulant tone in your voice; “It doesn’t matter, it’s my greenhouse!”

“Darling it’s not like it’s going anywhere—”

“Listen,” you cut him off. “I have a greenhouse with very rare plants. And flowers.”

“Mm hm.”

“Not to mention, I have the rarest flower in the world, in the aforementioned greenhouse.”

“I heard a thing or two about that, yeah.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re the love of my life,” you said, making a smile curl his lips, that softness apparent in his gaze again while you pointed at the window, stomping on your foot. “But my greenhouse!”

“Right.”

“It has my favorite flower in there!”

“Hasn’t escaped my notice my love,” he said with a grin, almost humoring you and you nodded your head.

“So that’s what we’re doing today—no, don’t get out of the bed until I’m away,” you stopped him as he swung his legs over the bed and you looked up at the ceiling. “Wait until I leave.”

“Why?”

“Because neither of us can be trusted,” you stated. “So we’re not to cross paths today.”

“The whole day?!” Benedict asked in shock and you flailed your arms.

“To repeat, we cannot be trusted apparently!” you said. “You—you take the studio side of the house and I’ll be in the greenhouse and we are going to be…calm.”

“Calm?”

“Yes, calm,” you said and heaved a deep sigh and turned your gaze to him again. “It’s alright. We can do this, I have faith in us.”

“I don’t.”

“Ben!”

“Shall I lie to you?” he asked with a small laugh and you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes again.

“I’m leaving,” you said. “See you tonight at the ball, not one second before.”

“Darling to repeat, we live in the same house—”

“We’ll meet there!” you said. “I mean it.”

“We’re going in different carriages?”

“Do you not remember what happened the last time we were in the same carriage?”

He gave you that lopsided grin you loved so much, making your stomach do a happy flip.

“Oh trust me, I do remember,” he said and you felt your cheeks burn, then you shook your head slightly and grabbed your clothes off the sofa.

“I’ll see you at the ball,” you said and walked through the door connecting his room to yours, painfully aware of the smile on your face.

                                             *

It was as if you were in a happy dream and if that was the case, you never wanted to wake up. You were sure that it had been hours since you stepped foot into the greenhouse based on the sun, but you could swear it had only been minutes. It wasn’t until you heard a knock on the door that you snapped out of your haze and looked over your shoulder, your hands still in the pot.

“Josie?”

“Wow,” she said, looking around. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head and pulled your hands out of the pot to take off your gloves. “Welcome.”

“I mean you mentioned it the other day and I figured…” she said, motioning around. “This is impressive.”

“Look!” you turned around to grab the pot you had been working on and held it up, a bright smile on your face. “It’s a Queen of the Night Tulip!”

“Pretty.”

“And the one to your right is a Ghost Orchid, and—that’s Middlemist Red! My favorite!”

She forced a smile.

“You’re never leaving this place, are you?”

“Never,” you said with a laugh and walked to the next pot, which was a gladiolus flower. Josie took a deep breath.

“So,” she said. “She came to see me.”

“Hm?” you asked, looking at her again. “Who?”

She blinked a couple of times.

“Mother,” she said. “Mother came to see me. Are you alright?”

You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach, your happy mood getting dim like a sudden shadow on a sunny day but you pressed your lips together.

“Yeah,” you said. “Sorry I was just distracted. But none of us told them you were here, how did she…?”

“Must have heard from someone in the ton.”

“What did she say?”

“She uh… remember how she found those letters between me and Bess?”

“And threw them in the fire before father—” a bitter taste appeared in your mouth as you tried to shake off the memory. “Yes?”

“Well as it turns out she didn’t throw all of them in the fire,” she said. “There is one left, and she is threatening to show it to not only uncle but also the whole ton unless I give them money.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning back to the shelf.

“God damn it,” you muttered. “So not only are they using Teddy as a leverage for more money from uncle, they’re also—”

“Using Bess and Andrew,” she finished your sentence for you. “Yes. I don’t care what happens to me if the ton hears, but I can’t see them get hurt Y/N.”

You nodded your head.

“Of course not,” you said, running a hand over your eyes. “No that’s—that’s not going to happen. Did you tell them?”

“They were outside when mother decided to pay the visit,” she said. “I’ll tell them when I get home. I just wanted you to know before anyone else, just in case.”

You heaved a sigh, then walked to pull her into a hug.

“Josie…”

“I’m fine,” she said almost mechanically even though she wrapped her arms around you to hold you tight. “You know me, I can handle mother and father.”

You bit inside your cheek and pulled back to look at her better, holding her hand to squeeze it in an assuring manner.

“I know,” you said, remembering how relieved you felt when Benedict told you the same thing. “But you don’t have to handle them alone.”

She tried to smile and took a shaky breath, then looked around.

“Well alright then,” she said. “Go ahead, tell me all about these flowers.”

                                                *

By the time Josie left it was near evening, and though you had told Benedict you would be taking separate carriages, you were so desperate to talk to him that you had ended up changing your mind. He looked quite surprised to see you waiting for him by the carriage but he knew something was troubling you with one look at your face.

So you had spent the entire road to the ball telling him about what happened.

“Letters?” he asked as he helped you out of the carriage when it stopped in front of the Elwick house. You took his hand and stepped out, then placed your hand on his arm while you walked towards the house.

“Letters,” you said. “Josie eloped very soon after that because—well, you can imagine how mother and father reacted.”

Benedict clenched his jaw. “Unbelievable,” he said. “You know, I was thinking I should talk to your father again and this just proves I must.”

“The last time you talked, you punched him.”

“I don’t have any regrets over that.”

“Neither do I, I’m glad you did,” you said. “That being said, I’m not putting your wellbeing over him getting what he deserves, so no.”

You both entered the house and passed through the foyer, the music getting louder and louder as you approached the ballroom.

“Y/N—”

“No way,” you insisted. “I get that you’re angry at them, and trust me I’m angry as well. Me and Josie, but I told you before. My father is not worth your attention, let alone your fury.”

He reached to hold your hand, running his thumb over your skin as if trying to assure you and you offered him a small smile.

“I’m alright.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know?”

You heaved a sigh and shrugged your shoulders, catching the sight of Andrew out of the corner of your eye, Benedict following your gaze.

“Did she tell him?”

“She said she would—I just didn’t think mother would actually go to Josie’s house,” you said. “My parents didn’t even know she was back in the country, so to come up with that plan as soon as they found out she’s here… I knew they were evil, I just didn’t think they’d be that fast.”

Benedict’s head snapped up.

“Wait,” he said. “They didn’t know she was here?”

“No,” you said. “The last they heard, Josie was going to Spain with Andrew and Bess so I figure they still thought she was there. Even I didn’t know she was coming back until she arrived here, there is no way they had an inkling.”

Benedict’s brows furrowed as if he was in deep thought, then he raised your hand to press a kiss on it.

“Just give me one moment my love, I will be back,” he said and strode to Andrew, muttering something to him before Andrew nodded and they both walked away. You frowned in confusion but then someone touched your arm, making you turn to them.

“Lottie!”

“Oh thank God you’re here, you’re going to save me,” Lottie said, linking her arm with yours and pulling you to the foyer, making you let out a small laugh.

“What? What is happening?”

“Tony hasn’t arrived yet and everyone is asking me a lot of questions about the wedding that I don’t even know the answers to,” she said as you followed her through the foyer. “And my mama has been taken hostage by other mamas who want to be invited to the engagement ball that I haven’t even planned yet it seems, so you’re to be my savior. We’re going to the backyard.”

You repressed a laugh. “There might be people there as well, you know.”

“Fewer people who will not be as enthusiastic to ask me questions, I’m hoping.”

You hummed as you both stepped out of the house to the backyard. “If someone does approach, do you want me to threaten them?”

“Goodness no!” she said. “That would be very rude!”

“What if they are approaching you to ask you questions about the engagement ball you haven’t planned yet?”

She thought for a moment, her lips pulling into a pout as if she was torn between decisions.

“Don’t threaten them verbally, just glare at them please?”

“Understood.”

“I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m the happiest lady in the entire world but—” she huffed as you two sat down on a bench. “Everyone has something to ask and nobody leaves us alone anymore Y/N! With Tony, it’s as if everyone swore to…”

“Interrupt you?” you said with a grin and she looked abashed for a moment.

“…Yes.”

“So I’m guessing no other scandalous behavior has taken place?”

“Y/N!”

“Just a question,” you teased her and she heaved a tormented sigh.

“If only,” she sulked. “Everyone seems to watch us closer now that we’re engaged.”

“Tell Anthony patience is a virtue,” you said, trying to stop the smirk on your face and she nodded.

“I have.”

You let out a small laugh. “Lottie, you’re too sweet.”

“Thank you—how about you and Benny?” she asked and you blinked a couple of times, clearing your throat.

“Hm?”

“I mean no one has seen you on a social outing of the ton for almost a week,” she said. “Everyone has a lot of ideas about the reason.”

“Such as?”

“You’d tell me if you were with child, would you not?”

Your eyes widened, your breath getting caught in your throat.

“What?!” you asked. “No—I mean yes I would tell you but no Lottie, that’s not what is happening!”

“Good,” she said. “Because you see, I have many things I wish to shop for before your baby gets here—”

“That baby is nonexistent as we speak, Lottie.”

“And I’d like a pre-warning,” she said like she wasn’t listening and you scoffed.

“So that’s what the ton thinks?”

“Some of them,” she said. “Why haven’t you been attending outings then?”

You shifted your weight, trying to come up with an excuse but thankfully you saw Benedict approaching out of the corner of your eye.

“Oh look, Benedict is here!” you said, motioning at him and he gave you a smile.

“Charlie.”

“Benny, hello!”

“Anthony just arrived, he was looking for you,” Benedict said, pointing back at the house with his thumb and Lottie let out a breath.

“Oh thank God,” she said, standing up. “Benny, have you seen anyone asking him questions about our engagement ball?”

Benedict made a face. “Please stop reminding me you’re engaged to my brother, I’m still not completely alright with that idea.”

You raised your brows and Lottie rolled her eyes.

“You do realize that you will be the best man, do you not?” she asked as if teasing him, making him let out a whine.

“Charlie!”

“I’ll see you inside Y/N.”

“See you inside,” you said with a laugh and watched her walk away. Benedict heaved a sigh and sat beside you.

“So they’re actually going to get married then?”

“Seems like it,” you said, patting him on the arm as if trying to assure him. “Will you be alright?”

“Ask me again later,” Benedict said and stole a look at you. “How about you?”

“I’m alright with them getting married, I don’t know why you’re making it such a big issue—”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said and you paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m fine, I just…” you let out a bitter laugh. “It’s rather surprising but it shouldn’t be. It’s just that, I’ve been so happy lately that I almost forgot they were here to cause trouble, does that make sense?”

“It absolutely does,” he said with that soft light in his eyes. “But it is going to be alright, I promise you.”

“What did you and Andrew talk about?” you asked, gazing up at him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Nothing important, I just asked about your parents.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Benedict.”

“Yes my love?”

“That will not distract me,” you pointed at him while trying very hard to not let it distract you, making him chuckle.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about,” he assured you. “I’m not putting myself or anyone you care about in danger, I swear to you.”

You pursed your lips, then heaved a sigh and turned a little to face the backyard, putting your head on his shoulder. He entwined his fingers with yours, pressing a kiss on top of your head before burying his nose into your hair.

“Let’s stay here for a while?” you asked. “I like being alone with you even when we’re not…you know.”

A small laugh vibrated his chest. “Same here darling.”

You heaved a sigh, then frowned when the thought hit you. “But we’re still going to—”

“Way ahead of you, they have a library on the other side of the house.”

“Good,” you said, a small smirk curling your lips as you stole a look at him. “I happen to be an admirer of books.”

Chapter 39

[zirobitches]

One Piece Domestic Fluff

I'll crawl home to her - Sir Crocodile x GN!Reader

Note: Not related to soulmate AU i just love croc

Summary: Devil fruit users are weakened by seawater, and I'm convinced some of them really hate all water as a result. Anyways reader comes back from a trip to find their partner Croc greasy af.

Tags: domestic fluff, takes place during cross guild era, slight angst? just taking care of ur mans, just domestic things. also implied/mentioned nudity bc yall take a bath together, also Buggy mention (i kind of insult him but i swear i love him i just dont find clowns hot)

Words: 3100+

AN: I'm usually an angst/slow-burn writer but I needed some fluff. this has not been beta-ed and i'm posting as soon as i get done writing. it is currently 2am. lmk if there's big errors. thanks ily bye

There was a knock at your cabin door.

“Come in,” you call across the room. The door swings open and one of the crew of your ship peeks his head in.

“The island is finally in sight, we should be arriving by 5.” He reports.

“Thank you, go ahead and make sure the rest of the crew makes preparations.” He nods in reply and the door shuts behind him. You sigh, and lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

It had been almost three months since you had last seen Crocodile. You two have had longer separations, courtesy of Strawhat and the Marines, but that did not make it easier. You weren’t supposed to go this long originally, but certain encounters with some old Whitebeard crew on your end had incurred some delays. That was then followed by the official disbandment of the Seven Warlords, and Crocodile had to extend your reunion date to take advantage of the situation.

Now that the Cross Guild has been established, and no one was chasing you or Crocodile, you could finally find each other again.

Stepping onto land had never felt so good. Everyone that you passed or tried to speak to you was blurred due to your tunnel vision. You scanned the small crowd that had come to the dock to greet you, looking for the familiar tall figure.

Instead, you are stopped by a clown.

“Y/N, right?” You froze at the brightly colored monstrosity in front of you. He seemed familiar for some reason.

“Sir Croc sent me to get you, he and Mihawk had some business to wrap up before you arrived.” The clown continued to talk to you, but you were distracted by his large red nose. You recognized him from the posters - he was Buggy the Clown, the pirate who originally began Buggy’s Delivery Service, now known as Cross Guild. But you were just wondering why the red nose looked so realistic. Surely it’s not real?

“Y/N? I’ll show you to his room, it’s where he told me to bring you.” The nose was real, but you now had more important things to think about.

“His room should be fine, thank you.” You finally replied, making eye contact. Just to be met with freaky pale blue eyes. This man did not win the genetics lottery.

Buggy continued to ramble as he showed you around. Your mind however was not retaining any of it. After three months of not seeing Crocodile, the person you held most dear in the world, you were itching to see him again, and being closer to your goal did not put you at ease. Instead, you were even more anxious. Even this slight delay due to Mihawk had you peeved.

Finally, you arrived at a large gilded door. It was very Crocodile - a  golden gilded frame for a large black door, granted all doors had to be large to allow someone like Croc through. You reached for the matching golden handle on the door and walked into his - no, your room.

Buggy wished you well and ran off before you could say goodbye. You didn’t listen to him much, but it was easy to tell that he was terrified of Crocodile.

You chuckled and closed the door behind you. A quick sweep of the room told you you had beaten Crocodile to the room. You sighed and tossed a backpack you had brought on a nearby couch.

The room was massive - it was easily the size of a small apartment. The first half of the room was a lounge; a large fireplace to your right with the couch and coffee table in front of it, and a Crocodile-sized armchair in the corner. To your left was a desk, already drowned in papers - why being a pirate created so much paperwork, you would never know. The second half was the bedroom. At the center of the back wall was a massive 4 post-bed - absurdly large, even for Crocodile. Both of you could lay in bed at the same time and never accidentally touch. But the fancy, if not gaudy decor that covered the entire room was not surprising to you.

Sir Crocodile had always been partial to the baroque style.

You made your way to the bed and climbed onto it. You may have to ask for some steps to be installed if you are supposed to sleep here every night. You sunk into the bed and let out a long sigh. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be much longer till he arrived.

Then, as if summoned by your thoughts, the door opened again and Crocodile stepped in. You immediately sat up on the bed and looked at him.

The purple vest wasn’t your favorite look on Crocodile, but right now just having him in sight brought a grin to your face.

As soon as he saw you he vanished into sand and then reappeared on the bed in front of you. You inadvertently sucked in a breath - you were used to seeing him use his devil fruit powers, but having him so near - his face now less than a foot away from yours - well, you weren’t prepared for it.

“Hello my love,” Croc’s voice swept over you, the deep rasp of it driving straight into your chest.

Before you could get a reply out he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You melted into him, all the tension of your separation vanishing with his presence. He was kneeling in front of you on the bed, and his hand came up to the back of your head to gently press you against his lips, his weight now resting on his hook to your right.

You pressed forward, your hands finding support on his chest - warm and solid, he was finally there with you - and hand one traveled up to cup his face. He hummed against you, then finally pulled back. The kiss could not have been that long but you were still at a loss for breath, but smiled at him.

A soft smile appeared across his face as well, his massive hands still cupping your face.

“Gods I missed you,” You finally responded and he chuckled. As you two just looked at each other you noticed a strand of hair fall in front of his face, his normally slicked-back style beginning to fall apart.

You moved your hand from his jaw and began to sweep the hair back into place, but then paused your hand atop his head. Your fingers briefly carded through his hair, and then you grabbed a portion between your fingers.

“Croc, darling, when was the last time you washed your hair?” Now that you looked at him, Crocodile did not look. Well. His deep-set eyes now seemed darker due to the bags underneath, his face paler than you were familiar with, and his hair….

At first glance, you thought it was a healthy shine that covered it, but now realize it was oil. His hair had clearly not been washed in days, maybe even weeks from the look of it, and stayed slicked back on his head from the build-up. The last time you had seen him in a similar state was shortly after he escaped from Impel Down.

Crocodile heaved a sigh, his eyes closing and shoulders slumped. He mumbled something towards the bed, but with his deep voice and his face not facing yours, you didn’t quite catch it.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” You tried to use a gentle tone with him - you were now concerned for him, confused as to how he got in this state.

“I haven’t been comfortable enough to bathe, not since the Warlords were dissolved,” Crocodile spoke up, but still not making eye contact.

You felt yourself slightly lean back in surprise. It made sense you suppose - not only were devil fruit users slightly weakened by any body of water, sea water or not, but Crocodile’s powers were rendered completely useless when he got wet. If he had been chased by Marines for the past few weeks and then untrusting of his new business partners, he was going to avoid putting himself at risk of being vulnerable.

You briefly considered having Daz acting as guard at the door when Croc was bathing, but not only would that indicate he was at his weakest, but it was sure to somehow make him embarrassed. For a man with such a large ego, he really could not handle any bruises to his pride.

Instead of prying into his discomfort, you brought your hand under his chin and lifted his face to look at him.

“I need to bathe as well after all the bullshit that’s happened. Would you care to accompany me?” Your offer of an act of intimacy like this was sure to distract from whatever negative feelings he may have.

Sure enough, a smirk spread across his face, his eyes already seeming to undress you before you two had even made a move towards the bathroom.

You move your hand from his chin to his face, covering his eyes. “Cut that out, I’m too tired for anything like that.” It was true; whatever adrenaline had kept you going during your time apart was now gone, swept away and replaced by exhaustion. You wanted nothing more than to get clean and crawl into bed with this man and sleep for the next 16 hours.

Crocodile merely laughed at your indignation and brought his arms underneath your hips. He easily lifted you into his grasp and carried you off the bed and into the bathroom.

You had noticed the door to the left when you walked in but hadn’t made it that far. While it may have been fair to assume it was large, you were still taken aback by the size.

It was practically a small spa. The shower could easily have both of you in there and even more, people if the occasion required it. But what stole the show was the bath.

It was less like a bath and more like a large hot tub. Or a private hot spring. It was already filled with water and steam rolled off the top.

“I had someone prepare the bath for us.” You looked up at Crocodile, finally dragging your eyes away from the bathroom. “I figured you wouldn’t be pleased by the state I was in and I thought you would enjoy relaxing in a bath.” He was looking down at you, his signature shit-eating smirk sitting on his face.

You just sighed in response and leaned into his embrace, resting your head below his chin.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” You closed your eyes as you felt him press a soft kiss on your head.

He eventually let you go and you both undressed, piling all your clothes together. You stepped into the water first, standing on a wide step as you looked at Croc. Several steps went down into the bath, which was really just a small hot pool you decided. It allowed you and Crocodile to be submerged at your preferred depth in the water, a convenience you were grateful for.

Crocodile was a vision. Still as well built as the first time you meant, now slightly softened by age and covered with more scars. You tried your best to keep your eyesight above the waist but couldn’t help some appreciative glances at what was below.

Crocodile also stared back at you, his eyes devouring the sight of you naked in the bath before him. Any apprehension he may have had vanished when you reached out to him, beckoning him to the water. He walked down the steps and went past you, deeper into the water, till he was only a foot taller than you rather than his usual height difference.

You now felt too drained for words, the warm water relaxing you into a state of drowsiness. You gestured towards Crocodile to sit down on one of the higher steps. He gave you a questioning look but listened to your commands. He was used to the occasions you decided to go nonverbal.

After he sat down in the water you noticed it - there was a detachable shower head that was attached to the edge so you could wash your hair in the pool. That would make this process much easier.

Grabbing the shower head you found the knob at the base and turned on the water. The sound of running water made Crocodile turn his head and look at what you were up to. You just smiled back at him and gestured for him to lean his head back so you could rinse. He dutifully closed his eyes and leaned back as you rinsed the water through his hair.

After you had prepared his head you then went back to the edge of the pool and looked at some soaps that had been provided. They were thankfully labeled in little dishes - a bar of shampoo, a bar of conditioner, and body wash. You grabbed the bar of shampoo and thoroughly lathered it in your hands.

You then walked back to the large man who sat there and began to work the shampoo into his hair. As your nails gently dragged against his scalp, Crocodile leaned back towards your touch, a deep sigh escaping him as he fully relaxed into you.

Your heart ached at his softness. When was the last time he let himself relax? The last time you were together? If so, you couldn’t imagine how amazing it may feel for him to finally be at ease after months of staying on guard.

Before you let yourself get emotional by this, you focus back on the task at hand. You were now determined to get this man as relaxed as possible. You had loved Crocodile for a long time and took pleasure in doing mundane daily things such as this with him. The fact that he seemed to not only enjoy it but often only did these mundane tasks with you, made them into something special.

Lather, rinse. Lather, rinse. Condition and while you let it sit in his hair you began to wash your own.

Eventually, you both emerged from the now almost cool pool, completely clean and perfectly exhausted.

Robes had been prepared along with everything else, and after you dried off you slipped yours on. It was normal person-sized, definitely not something you could mistake for Croc’s robe that was so long it would have engulfed you.

Before you could begin to walk, Crocodile leaned down and picked you up again in a bridal carry.

You made a small noise in surprise but then leaned into his chest, the robe soft and warm against your cheek.

Crocodile carried you back into the bedroom and carefully placed you into the bed. You pulled back the blankets and arranged the pillows as your partner went around and sat on the edge of the bed and lit his final cigar of the day. As he puffed the cigar he went about dismantling his hook.

Crocodile was quite adept with his chosen prosthetic, you never feared he would accidentally hurt you with it, but at night was a different story. It had taken a while to convince him you would both be better off if he didn’t wear it at night and he had relented. Now it was a nightly ritual for him to take it off before going to sleep.

You leaned back into the bed and turned to face Crocodile. Your partner was occupied reading some documents he must have grabbed from his desk at some point - being able to turn into sand had its perks - but turned to meet your gaze.

The cigar was quickly put out and discarded to the nightstand on his side of the bed. He then leaned and turned off the last lamp and the entire room went dark. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the moonlight coming from the windows of the room and you could just barely make out Crocodile.

He finally leaned back into the bed and then you felt more than saw as he reached out and pulled you to him, the large bed not large enough to keep you away from your love.

Crocodile was always so warm. For someone with his namesake, you had assumed that he would be cold-blooded, but for you, he burned. His hand, wide and warm and no longer covered in rings, made its way to your face.

Leaning across the pillows, Crocodile kissed you again. Your hands reached out to pull him closer, and soon both of you had your arms and legs wrapped tight around each other. Part of you wished neither of you would ever have to let go, that maybe you could just drown in him, be buried alive in the sand and smoke.

You separated the kiss to breathe again and tucked your head into the curve of his neck.

“I can’t do that again. Being away from you for so long was horrible.” You finally spoke up, your voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

Crocodile’s grip around you only tightened, his face leaning down to bury it in your hair. He took a deep breath and exhaled before responding.

“I have forgotten what it was like to live before knowing you.” His voice shook through you, the vibrations of it coming from his chest. “I’ve found out I am no longer capable of finding joy without you.”

You felt like you might cry - from happiness or sadness, you were unsure. Instead, you blinked back the tears and backed from his chest to look at him again.

Crocodile had never looked so tired before. He looked at you with such longing, maybe even grief in his gaze, that you knew without a doubt that he spoke the truth. He didn’t look like he would cry, and you have never seen him shed a single tear. But this was probably the closest you have gotten to him doing so.

“So I guess we'll just have to stay together from now on, hm?” You murmured to him, your hands coming up to brush some stray hairs from his face.

Crocodile just smiled at you and agreed. “I do hope you realize I wouldn’t let you leave me even if you wanted to.” He spoke so softly that it sounded sweet rather than obsessive. But you were so obsessed with him in return you didn’t even care.

“Sounds perfect to me.” You whispered as you leaned in to kiss him again.

Eventually, the two of you began to drift off, finally safe and sound in each other. As you fell asleep that night, surrounded by Crocodile’s warm embrace, you had never felt so loved.

[ihearthes]

Title: Hole in One

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3100

The sky is the bluest it’s been in months, and I hear birds singing from the trees surrounding the private course. My clubs have been unused for far too long, and I cannot wait to feel the grass beneath my feet. Spying my grandparents talking to a young man who I assume is the club’s pro, I make my way in their direction, eager to get onto the green. The giddy skip in my step is undeniably partly due to the excitement of playing the game again, but mostly because I’ve not seen my jetsetter grandparents since Christmas. 

“Grammy! Gramps!” I call, my hand waving as they turn towards me. Wrapping my grandmother in a hug, I put out my hand for a high five with my grandfather. Gleefully, he obliges. 

“So glad you could join us!” Grammy whoops. “Let me look at you.” Taking my hands, she steps back to survey me in that way that must be a full chapter in the Grandparent Training Manual. “Looking sexy as hell,” she laughs, her greeting likely not in that same manual. “Twirl for us.” She makes that motion with her finger, and I oblige.

As I spin around, my skort not moving in any way that would make a twirl necessary, my grandfather applauds as if I were a five year old at her first ballet recital. 

“Two of the biggest dorks I know,” I giggle. “I’m so happy to see you!” Excitedly, I pull them in for a group hug, wondering why the golf pro hasn’t excused himself yet. So when I step back, I pointedly look in his direction. 

And promptly freeze. 

Fuck. Nope. Not the golf pro. Nor the course manager. Not anyone who works at the place. 

“Hi. I’m Harry.” He leans forward to shake my hand, his left leg raising behind him as a counterbalance to his inclining body. “You must be Birdy.” 

Horrified, I grasp his warm hand, my eyes roaming over his face with that stupid hair clip firmly holding back his bangs and his green eyes examining me, a smile on his face as his dimple deepens. Flustered, I don’t give him my birth name. “A nickname, of course,” I remark inanely. 

“I’m just hoping it doesn’t bode ill for my game today.” His gray pants are matched with a dark blue pullover sweater, a white turtleneck underneath. 

How my mouth continues to work is beyond me, but I throw my head back and laugh loudly. Probably too loudly as I’m feeling a mixture of terror and arousal, and the laughter is decidedly nervous. “I’ve never been a threat to anyone on the golf course,” I comment.

“With grandparents as young as yours, I expected someone younger.” Harry thinks he’s being coy, but my grandmother responds honestly. 

“We’re ancient, Harry, and our Birdie is 31 now. And not getting any younger.” Pointedly, she looks at me as though I had offended her in some way. 

“We’re up,” Gramps points, and we haul our clubs to the first tee. 

“What’s your handicap?” Harry asks as Gramps swings a few times for practice. 

“23,” I announce proudly, on the low end of average. “You?”

“14,” he brags, adding a wink for good measure, an indication that he is aware of his boast. Not that I can complain since I’ve also gloated about my below-average number. He’s too handsome and charming for my comfort, and I engage my attention on my clubs, polishing my driver before withdrawing it from my bag. 

Amiable enough, Harry diverts his focus onto my grandmother, and I’m grateful for the respite to catch my breath. 

“You must go first, Vivienne.”

I want to interrupt and tell him we always go with the oldest first, which is my gramps, but my grandmother has already fallen for Harry’s charm, and she giggles like a schoolgirl as she makes her way to the tee. 

After my grandfather and I have each teed off, Harry prepares for his turn. In those tight golf trousers, his arse is as well defined as the ostentatious naked statue in the fountain at the entrance to the golf club. I find myself unable to stop staring as he bends down to place his tee, and his form when he swings is a thing of beauty. No wonder he has a low handicap. Why couldn’t he be a failure at just one thing in his life? And why couldn’t it be golf? 

Noting where his ball lands, Harry removes his sunnies from the vee of his sweater and slides them over his eyes, shielding his expression. With a nod at the three of us, he twists his body, ready to move on. 

“Shall we?” Gramps gestures, and I hoist my clubs onto my shoulder again, setting off behind the elderly couple who head for a single golf cart. “Sorry, Birdy.” He casually throws over his shoulder as we approach the small vehicle. “We got the last cart. You and Harry will have to walk. But don’t worry. Your grandmother and I will do our best not to burn rubber.” 

If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if my grandparents were trying to play matchmakers. But they wouldn’t have any idea who Harry is. Although maybe it doesn’t matter to them. Perhaps my grandparents just want to pair me up with any Tom, Dick, or ….Harry.

“Mhm. See that you don’t get a speeding ticket, Gramps!” I yell as they take off, leaving Harry and I trailing behind. 

“You seem like a chip off the old block,” Harry jokes as we hike towards the hole. “Get it? Cause a chip is a golf shot.” 

“Oh, I understood the joke, but it was bad,” I groan. “No ifs, ands, or putts about it.” 

His eyes widen. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”

We both giggle, and when he shoves my shoulder at my next golf pun, I wonder if he’s flirting with me. As if Harry Styles needed to flirt with anyone. 

It’s on the fourth fairway that my Gramps gets involved with a joke of his own. “Hey, Harry?”

“Yes, sir?” The polite reply comes as I’m replacing my divot. 

“Why do the golf pros tell you to keep your head down during golf lessons?” 

“I don’t know, Rufus.” Harry withdraws his 3-wood and addresses the ball, shaking his hips in such a way that if my grandparents weren’t around, I’d probably faint. “Why?”

“So you can’t see them laughing.” Gramps guffaws, and Harry shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tilted up as he takes a deep breath and launches his ball closer to the green. 

My grandparents always make me laugh, but today they seem in finer form than usual, as they joke with Harry, my grandmother clearly vamping. Before today, I’ve never wondered if my grandfather was anything other than straight, but the way he touches Harry at every opportunity makes the wheels in my head churn. 

On the 8th hole, Grammy takes a mulligan after her ball sails into the water hazard, just short of making it across. She sighs, pulling another ball from her bag and muttering goodnaturedly to Harry. “Golf balls are just like eggs. They’re white, round, and you need another dozen every week.” 

Harry slaps his knee as he giggles at her pathetic joke. I can almost convince myself that he’s having the time of his life playing golf with these 78-year-olds. He gives every appearance of enjoying the late afternoon game. No wonder no one has anything unkind to say about him. Well, no one he’s met anyway. 

As we walk to the 9th hole, I decide to dive in and bravely ask the question that’s been on my mind for the last two and a half hours. “Why did you join us today?” 

Startled, he twists his head to look at me. “You had three. I was a late single player. The pro added me to your party. Simple.” 

“Okay.” I draw the word out, wondering if I should ask the follow-up question, and when he continues glancing at me curiously, I go for it. “But why do you have a free day today? And why didn’t you bring someone with you?” 

He turns his head away from me, but I still see that left dimple deepen as he shrugs. “I decided on a whim that I wanted to golf in this perfect weather, and my manager was busy preparing for tomorrow night’s show.” Turning around, he walks backwards so he can face me. “But I never thought I’d meet such a fun –” his eyes never leave mine, “and sexy companion.” 

I can feel the red creeping up from my toes through my body to flush my face. How does he do it? Flirting so openly without being gross? If anyone else had delivered that line, I would have gagged. Instead, I pretend that his comment has had no effect on me – like I’m not going to need dry panties before dinner with my grandparents.

“Harry!” My grandfather yells from where he and my grammy have stopped at my ball. “You better watch where you’re going! Sometimes people don’t replace their divots.” 

The musician nods to me courteously as though he hadn’t just made my heart flutter. Turning to face forward, he continues on the pathway where we finish the 9th hole. 

“Birdie,” Grammy stoutly announces to me as she climbs back into the cart. “Your grandfather and I are tired. We’re going to head to the clubhouse and have a drink, but you and Harry should play the back nine.” With that, my grandparents wave to us as their cart drives off towards the start. 

Oh. 

Well. 

That was unexpected. 

This is unexpected. 

Harry has put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Well?” He watches me carefully, and I know the decision to continue is mine. 

“I doubt I’ll get to play with someone like you again, so we might as well continue.” 

“Someone like me? A celebrity?” Seeming genuinely confused, he removes his sunnies and scratches his head near that damn hair clip. 

“A duffer,” I tease.

“If that’s the case, it’s because your beauty has distracted me from my game today.” His eyes twinkle when he makes the comment, and that’s the moment I know the flirting is on in earnest. 

When we reach the 12th green, I can’t stand being so close to him without letting him know I am up for more. As he squares up for his putt, but before he pulls the club back to take the shot, I whisper loud enough for his ears only, “If you miss this putt, I’ll let you kiss me.” He doesn’t hesitate, taking the shot that rolls right at my feet where I’m holding the flag. And yet somehow the ball doesn’t go in. 

“Does that deal count if I accidentally missed?” 

Biting my lip, I tilt my head and observe him. “Hmmm…I’m not sure. It’s kind of offensive that you wouldn’t want to miss it on purpose. I mean, here I am, perfectly kissable. I’m going to say no. It doesn’t count.” 

Stalking towards me, he picks up his golf ball and tosses it to the edge of the green. “How about now?” His voice is a growl, and he’s standing close enough for me to feel the heat emanating from his body. 

Fuck. He’s so hot. Beyond sexy. 

I glance around the course quickly to see if anyone is nearby. Spotting no one, I tilt my head up to him. Harry grabs my chin with two fingers, staring into my eyes before he brushes his lips over mine. The moan that emits from my throat is heartfelt and demands more from him, but he steps back, his hand dropping to his side. 

Hooded eyes rake over me, and he smirks. “You’ve never met a golfer with a more delicate stroke than me.” 

“Promises, promises,” I tut, holding out the flag for him to take so I can putt. 

A few holes later, and all pretense has dropped as Harry rests his hands on my hips while I’m lining up my shot. “Are you sure you know how to hold a shaft correctly?” His voice in my ear is so gravelly that I want to drop onto my knees right there on the fairway and show him exactly how skilled I am at handling a shaft.

“Be careful there, Harry,” I murmur, “You’re like a water hazard. You’ve got me soaking wet.” 

“Fuck.” Stepping back from me, he shakes his head. “How many holes?” 

“Three,” I comment, and my eyes bat of their own accord, I swear! 

“Jesus!” He runs his hand over his face. “You’re like a fairway: short, well-groomed, and a pleasure to hit on.” 

“Are you saying you’d like to improve our stroke game together?” 

“I’m saying that I’m not going to make it back to the clubhouse at this rate.”

“Well…” I approach him, again searching the nearby greens for golfers, “...my golf coach says I have a firm grip. Do you want to see if it’s true?” 

“Birdy…” His voice is strangled as I ease my hand over the front of his trousers, feeling his length where it’s tucked safely high and to the left. The air exits his lungs at a faster velocity than a golf swing. “Get your clubs,” he commands, roughly replacing the putter he’d withdrawn and grabbing my hand. 

Yanking me behind him, Harry leads the way towards the parking lot where he uses an electronic key to open the vehicle and throw in his clubs before grabbing my golf bag and more gently placing it on top of his so that the two golf bags look to be spooning. 

“Get in,” he insists, and I don’t hesitate to scurry to the passenger side. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, my hands in my lap after I’ve buckled the seatbelt. The quivering in the lower part of my body will only be appeased in one way.

“Shit. I’ve no idea,” he sighs, not putting the car in drive. “My hotel is too far.” 

“Switch places with me,” I suggest, knowing exactly where we can go. 

With a single nod, the two of us climb from the vehicle and pass each other silently and aggressively on our way to opposite sides. Buckled in, I back the car from the lot and drive the two miles to my grandparents’ house. 

“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” I state. “Open the garage before the neighbors spot us.” I share the code, and Harry follows my directions. Without drawing too much attention, we’ve sequestered ourselves in the garage, with Harry waiting impatiently for me to get out of the car. 

The moment I step from the driver’s side onto the pavement of my grandparents’ garage, Harry approaches me, his hands cupping my face as he devours my lips. I do not hesitate, opening to him as my fingers fumble for the bottom of that fucking blue sweater I’ve been jealous of all afternoon because it gets to hug his curves. As I draw the sweater up, he releases my face to raise his arms over his head, and I don’t hesitate, repeating the gesture with his white turtleneck. 

As soon as his skin is free from the clothing, his mouth crashes back onto mine as his long lush fingers make short work of my white polo. He’s backed me almost to the stairs that lead to the house, and he wraps an arm around my nearly naked back just as I’m about to topple over onto them. 

“Where?” His breath is scented with the mint from his gum, and I feel the waft of it across my cheek. 

My brain scrambles. My grandparents’ house. Quickly I discard the master bedroom and the sofa in the living room. Grasping his hand, I haul us both to the only room that makes sense. Stopping to frantically kiss this amazing man, I reach behind me to unhook my bra, his fingers brushing over my boobs as soon as they are bare. 

When I open the door to our destination, Harry pauses, his eyes widening as he takes in the golf trophies, photos of my grandparents with famous golfers on the paneled walls, and the putting green. Shaking his head, he laughs, and the crinkles at his eyes make my panties even wetter. 

“I like my men like a sand trap: dirty, challenging, and unpredictable.” Although I’ve attempted to make the joke with a straight face, I fail miserably as I dissolve into giggles. 

With a face palm, Harry laughs too, glancing at the putting green. “No way am I fucking on that fake turf. One of us would end up with scraped knees, and I don’t know if I would prefer it be you or me.” 

“No question there,” I purr as I drop to my knees in front of him and reach for the button and zipper on his trousers. “I’ve been drooling for this shaft all afternoon.” 

“Well, I am known for my lengthy club.” The smirk on his face drops away as I free his cock and give it a few strokes before sliding my lips over the end and applying light pressure. Pushing his pants and underpants down his thighs, I reach for his balls. “Oh, fuck,” he sucks in air. “I had planned to wash my balls after the game today, but you’re welcome to….ahhhhhh.” The way the sound escapes his mouth when I do as he suggests and lave his balls with my tongue has me hotter than a July game at a Miami course. 

Returning to his cock, I slide his length as far as my throat will allow, practically unhinging my jaw as I take him in. Closing my lips, I use suction until he grabs my head, pulling my hair to remove me from my current activity. 

When I look up at him, I can see the scar under his chin as he’s staring at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath, and I cannot resist scraping my teeth lightly to see his reaction. It’s instant, as his jaw drops and his eyes connect with mine. Just as I get to the end of his cock again, I make a humming sound, knowing he can feel the vibration on this sensitive body part. 

“Birdy…” he gasps. “I need…” 

Releasing him with a popping sound, I sit back on my knees and grin, rather proud of my ability to reduce this cheeky flirt to two-word sentences. 

“What?” I demand. 

“I need to feel your fringe. Taste it even.” 

Closing my eyes, I shake my head as though I’m disappointed with his golf pun, but it honestly gives a zing to my private parts. 

“Fair enough,” I comment, using my current location to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothing so that he stands before me, naked but for his socks. 

“Shouldn’t that be ‘fairway’ enough?” He giggles, his shaft pointing straight at me. 

I groan. “Oh, man. If I weren’t so hot for you, your bad jokes might just turn me off.” 

“Good,” he smiles, and the dimple deepens until I’m confident I could fit a thousand golf balls, each with their own 381 dimples, inside it. That many dimples all in the same space would be overwhelming. “Now let’s put my wood in your golf bag, shall we?” He holds his hand down to me, and I grasp it so that he can pull me upwards, our tongues tangling like a dust devil. 

Fingers fumbling with the buttons on my skort, Harry moves his lips to my neck. “Why ‘Birdy’?” 

“Seriously?” I scoff. “You want to talk about my nickname now?” 

His luxurious fingers shove my panties and my skort down to my ankles, ignoring my shoes completely as he encourages me to kick off the offending clothing. “Yes please.” 

Nude, I plant my hands on my hips, glaring at him from where he’s squatting on the floor after removing my outfit. “My grandfather scored a birdie every time he took me out with him on the golf course when I was a baby.” 

“Oh,” he pouts. 

“Not as sexy as you thought it might be?” 

“As a story, you really should work on it.” 

“I promise I’ll spice up the story with the next single that joins our foursome,” I simper. A look crosses his face that could be construed as jealousy if one were so inclined. Which I’m not. Because he’s just an afternoon fuck. 

As I start to step past him to the leather sofa, he grabs my thighs and buries his face in my crotch, sniffing deeply. Flabbergasted, I pause, my balance off. 

“Widen your stance,” Harry demands, and when I follow his direction, he uses both hands to part the petals at my entrance. Just before his tongue dives in, he blows a puff of air, and I shiver at the sexiness of the move. 

“Fuck, Harry,” I grab for his shoulder so I don’t sink to the floor. Between his tongue and his teeth, I nearly tip over the abyss, but when he uses both hands, inserting one finger in each of my body’s lower entrances, I come, screaming his name as I yank his hair, accidentally dislodging that damn hair clip which skitters across the wood floor. My orgasm continues as Harry rises, one finger still teasing my clit. 

“You were right,” he whispers to me as I gaze at his glistening face, “three holes left. Now taken care of.” Capturing my lips, he delves inside my mouth, his tongue and finger below taking turns, setting a rhythm that would do well in one of his songs. 

Fuck. I’m weak. 

When my body stops shivering, I use both hands to shove him onto the sofa where he lands with both feet out and his driver in the air. 

“Birth control?” he asks. 

“Taken care of,” I grin. “IUD. But if you want double protection or you don’t trust me…” I gesture towards the rest of the house, trying to figure out where a condom might be hidden in my grandparents’ house. 

“I trust you. No one with that nickname and those grandparents could lie about something like that.” 

With a grin, I concede his point. Besides, my grandparents would flip their lids if I got pregnant without a commitment. 

Slowly, as if I’m lining up a putt, I slide onto him. 

“Mmmmm…that’s a hole to be respected,” Harry murmurs as I descend, and I would laugh if not for the fact that I’m gearing up for my second orgasm. 

“Are you up for some stroke play?” I query as I settle completely on him, my insides stretched but happy. 

“Stroke that stroke, babe.” 

With the steady beat of that Billie Squier oldie in my head, I follow his instructions, lifting myself off his shaft before plunging back down as hard as I can. Just when I’m getting closer, panting as I look to the skies, Harry taps my butt cheek. “Turn around here, love.” 

Settling on the sofa with my rear in the air, I am startled when Harry’s finger circles my asshole, and I wonder if I’m in for a different experience than I had originally expected. He’s too big for my back door without a lot of preparation, and it’s clear he knows it as he settles on wedging a finger there while his cock invades my vagina. Between his cock and his inserted finger, I’m so close to exploding that I slam my body backwards into his until he finally removes the finger, grabs my hips, and pounds into me. 

“Drive into me, Harry!” I scream, recognizing the golf pun after it’s already left my mouth. Biting my lip, I reach in front and play with my clit just as Harry shoots his load into me, and I writhe with my second orgasm, his name on my lips as he falls onto my back. 

Seconds, minutes, decades later, Harry disengages from me. 

“That was pleasant,” he smiles, and I wonder if this is it. He’ll leave me here, his cum dripping from me onto the furniture in my granddad’s golf room. “We should probably get dressed and get back to the course. Otherwise, they’ll send out a search party. If we get back quickly, they’ll think we just took our time on the 18th.” 

Agreeably, I laugh. “I can see it now.” Imitating my grandma, “‘But our baby girl is out there with a handsome stranger! They must be exhausted after 18 holes!’” 

Together, we dissolve into giggles at the innuendo as we sort through the discarded clothing and dress ourselves, making our way back to the garage as we locate our shirts. 

“You better drive us back. I’m likely to get lost in your tall bush.” 

“Oh, please,” I roll my eyes. “My grass is perfectly trimmed for the game.” 

“Mhm,” he smirks, “Who’s your caddy?” 

We pull into the parking lot, laughing at our ridiculous puns. Removing our golf bags from the trunk, we make our way into the clubhouse where we quickly locate and join my grandparents. 

“How were the last few holes?” Gramps asks. 

“Pretty good,” Harry grins, glancing over at me. “I got both a Birdy and a hole in one.” 

I want to laugh at his comment, but any suggestion that we did anything other than play golf would get me in trouble, so I simply smile, nod, and announce, “It was quite the round. The best I’ve had in a long time, by par.” 

When everyone at the table howls with mirth, I feel Harry’s hand on my knee as my grandfather speaks up with, “Harry? I think you might be missing a number on your scorecard.” When he winks and gestures towards me, I groan, but my latest lover takes advantage of the moment, holding out his scorecard to me. 

“If you wouldn’t mind…I might need another hole in one the next time I come to town.” 

Reblogs are love. Thank you.

[bloodstainedsaint]

rumors and gossip (ronald speirs x nurse! reader smut)

summary: (takes place around episodes 2 and 3) ronald speirs has trouble expressing his feelings towards you. when he catches wind that you're spreading rumors about him, he gets upset and doesn't exactly know why. but there's only one way he knows how to solve this issue: through action.

word count: 3100+

warnings: SELF-INDULGENT SMUT, reader has female genitalia, abuse of authority (read: speirs likes getting called by his title), degradation, praise, spitting, unprotected sex ("remember boys...flies spread disease, so keep yours closed!"), spanking, rough p in v sex, facefucking, fingering, orgasm denial, mentions speirs being taller than reader for like one second, SOFT SPEIRS AT THE END BC HE HAS A LIL CRUSH

notes: i see your soft speirs and i love him too, but i raise you mean dom speirs (both can exist at once). also i'm sorry in advance

Ronald Speirs didn't know what to make of you.

You, the pretty nurse he kept staring at whenever he’d catch a glimpse of you around base. You, who he often observed diligently treating the many men that came under your care. You, who sometimes met his gaze from across the post with a bashful smile before turning away.

One could say that within Ron, something was brewing towards you. Something that made his heart skip a beat in a manner he hadn't expected war to allow at all. As of recently, however, you began to elicit different feelings in him.

Ron was well-aware of all the rumors and gossip being spread about him. He wasn't oblivious to the fearful way the men looked at him, or, rather, preferred to not look at him. The more people who viewed him as a mean son of a bitch the better, he thought. So he let them circulate without much care, with only a dead glare that reinforced them.

When he heard that you were helping pass on those rumors, telling anyone in need of a good story about how Ronald Speirs, or as he had heard, “Lieutenant Sparky”, had heartlessly killed German POWs after offering them smokes or how he put down one of his own men for being drunk on duty— he was upset. This mystified him: why was he annoyed (or was troubled a better word for his feelings?) when you gossiped and not when any of his men did? It couldn't be that he secretly yearned for your approval; that seemed foolish, too unlike himself…but then again, you made him feel unlike himself on several occasions before.

Ron was a man of action, and he was going to ensure you induced no more bothersome feelings within him by simply giving you something to gossip about.

-

It was late at night when you found yourself alone in the medical station. Every wounded soldier had been relocated to another facility either on base or out of it entirely for some reason or another, leaving you with a number of empty hospital beds and an entire station to yourself. You had told the other nurses to pack in for the night and that you would tidy up by yourself; you didn't mind having something to do while it was finally tranquil in the hospital.

While you replaced bedsheets, you remembered Ronald Speirs glowering at you earlier that day, rather than his usual intense, unreadable stare. You hoped it wasn't because he found out that you were spreading rumors about him, but you suspected it was; really, you had overheard a Private Malarkey talking about Speirs’ supposed actions to a fellow soldier he was visiting, and several more soldiers had told you similar stories about Speirs as you tended to them. When your other patients asked you if you had heard anything juicy, what else were you supposed to tell them?

Behind you was a click of the door opening and closing and a gush of wind, nearly imperceptible enough to keep you in your musing. Expecting to see another nurse or perhaps a soldier who had somehow gotten himself injured in the middle of the night, you turned around and felt your eyebrows raise when you saw the man in question, half-shrouded in darkness by how the moonlight fell upon him.

Still dressed in his fatigues, he stalked over to you with slow, steady steps. He towered over your form, his eyes almost completely covered in the shadow beneath his helmet. The slightest glint you could see of them was cold, and you could almost feel his leer pierce through you. You had never realized his height from all those times you saw him from afar; you’d noticed his good looks instead, though you never wanted to admit that to yourself. Not about the soldier you were spreading such heinous rumors about.

“Lieutenant Speirs?” Your words came out more unsure than you would've liked. You didn’t even know why you were nervous; it's not like you'd done anything particularly wrong— nothing that dozens of men weren’t also doing as well. “Do you need me for something?”

A suffocating silence pervaded the room. For the moment that he didn't respond, instead fixing you with a stony glare, your heart stopped beating in anticipation. You half-expected him to materialize a gun and shoot you on the spot until he finally broke the silence and said blandly, “I've heard you've been spreading rumors about me.”

When you didn’t answer immediately, he stepped closer to you. Willing yourself not to flinch away, you could now fully see the cruel look in his eyes; it didn't help your uneven breathing or your clenched heart.

“Have you?”

You blanched, mouth going dry. “...Yes, sir.”

He tilted his head, carrying on in that unemotional yet somehow soft tone. “Our good little nurse is the one gossiping, huh? That right?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Good little nurse? “I, uh—”

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice hardening. His calloused fingers reached for you, clenching your cheeks so tight together that your jaw could not move to form words. You slurred your words like a drunk trying to give an intelligible answer.

“Pathetic,” he scoffed. Your eyes widened, and, shamefully, you felt heat rush to your core. Speirs noticed your surprise, and you were sure you weren't hallucinating a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You wanna tell me what you've been saying about me, nurse?”

You could only mumble in response. “What, too scared to say it in front of Sparky himself? I heard you were running your mouth earlier, though.”

You shook your head and uselessly struggled in his unyielding grasp. Bastard.

Gazing down at you for another tense heartbeat, Speirs let go of your face and took off his helmet, placing it on a nearby metal table and revealing his slightly tousled hair. “Get on your knees. Let’s put that mouth to good use.”

Your blood went cold, yet your body felt hot. You must've looked shocked because he sighed and looked at you expectantly.

“Well? Don't keep an officer waiting.”

You blinked dumbly. He gave a command. Who were you to disobey? You thought as you sunk down to your knees, your skirt acting as a barrier between your skin and the rough floor.

“That's what I like to see.” He began unbuckling and unzipping his pants before pulling out his erect member, standing tall, girthy, and swollen at the tip. Your mouth watered at the sight.

Again, you hesitated, looking up at him in disbelief at what was happening. You never expected to be kneeling in front of Ronald Speirs; maybe in the darkest recesses of your mind you fantasized about the Lieutenant doing whatever he pleased to you, but you never expected it to actually happen.

“Nurse, open your mouth now before I take your face and start fucking it.”

You clenched your thighs at the thought, opening your mouth to take his cock in it. You kissed the tip and licked a stripe from the base to the end before slowly enveloping it with your mouth. Ron shuddered at the feeling and put his hand in your hair, petting it with a whispered curse —perhaps he had thought about this exact scenario as much as you had?

You continued to swallow his cock whole as his hand tightened in your hair. You whimpered at the sensation, sending vibrations to his member. He stuttered your name out in response.

As you sped up your steady pace, you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes, watching as he lost his composure, his chest heaving. “Shit…that's my girl. You're even prettier with your mouth full of my dick. Can't yak as much, can you, nurse?”

A moan slipped out at the unexpected praise, and you let your legs part as you slipped your hands between them and rubbed yourself through your soaked panties, adrenaline coursing through your veins. When Ron’s eyes focused themselves again, he caught the movement and his eyes darkened, no longer glazed over.

“Who said you could touch yourself, nurse?” he gritted out, as if his cock didn't twitch in your mouth at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. The hand in your hair clenched into a fist, but that didn't discourage you; instead, your hand went faster as he started pulling your mouth off his cock and slamming it back in at a punishing rate. You felt drool trickling down your chin, your throat burning. You greedily breathed in air during the brief respites he granted you before brutally shoving his dick down your throat.

When your eyes stopped rolling to the back of your head, you took in his disheveled state and rubbed yourself faster. His hair messy from running his hand through it, his face and a sliver of his chest gleaming with sweat, his barely suppressed deep groans. He looked heavenly compared to his actions.

Abruptly, you were pulled off his cock and placed on your back on the metal table next to his helmet. He hurriedly unbuttoned your nurse uniform, damn near ripping your clothes off of you and throwing them carelessly next to you, until you were bare before him. The cold table chilled your spine, and you arched your back into his wandering hands. In your lust-filled daze, you managed an indignant thought of how unfair it was that you were the only one naked, that his body was being left up to the imagination.

“You ready for me, girl?” He rubbed your clit in tight circles, better than you could've done yourself and better than you could've ever imagined at night, before gauging your wetness with two long fingers plunged deep into your heat.

“That wet from a little roughness?” he smirked. “Our little nurse isn't so innocent after all. Maybe that's why you spread all those rumors about me. You wanted this.”

“N-no, sir—” You gasped, cut short as his fingers quickly found that spongy place within you. You cried out for air as he relentlessly pressed against it with every movement. “That’s, mmh, not true…”

“Can’t understand you, nurse. Can you repeat that?” He said, voice tinged with smug amusement.

Closing your eyes tight, you could only whimper in pitiful reply as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. So close to the precipice of sweet release, you could almost feel yourself stepping off—

But before you could, Speirs pulled his fingers away. You eyes shot open to gape at him in irritation until you saw him slowly bring his slick-coated fingers to his lips and suck them off.

“Did you really think I'd let a little gossiping whore like you come so easily?” He fixed you with a remorseless, sadistic look. You panted, desperation festering within you as he forced your mouth open and spat in it. “Now swallow, and I'll fuck you like you deserve it, nurse.”

You swallowed obediently, yearning for his cock inside you. In an uncharacteristic display of softness, he pressed his lips to yours and whispered against them, “Good girl,” before switching back to the Speirs you knew and roughly flipping your body over so you were bent over the metal table, your tits flush with the frigid surface and your ass on full display to the Lieutenant.

Speirs took a moment to run his hands over your body, grabbing and squeezing at the flesh of your breasts, ass, and thighs, spreading your juices around your sensitive pussy as you tried to wiggle away, overstimulated. Holding your hips so you wouldn't move, he grinded his dick against your heat and teased your hole, his precum mixing with yours. Just as you were about to whine for him to stop teasing and fuck you already, he seemed to grown impatient himself because he slid into you in one fluid motion, punching the air out of your lungs and forcing your walls to stretch around him and accommodate his size.

“Fuck, so tight for me,” he grunted out, his voice hoarse as if it had taken away his breath as well. After a moment of heavy breathing and a squeeze of your hips, he began brutally pummeling into you. You unabashedly let out a high-pitched moan at the pace, and you felt his cock throb inside of you as his name left your lips.

“Quiet, nurse. You want the whole base to know?” he said, out of breath, “Guess that'll give you another story to tell about me, yeah?”

You wanted to rebut this, saying that the lewd slapping noises of skin on skin that filled the room were probably spilling out through the thin walls of the station anyway. Instead, you heaved a breathy, “Yes, Lieutenant,” that had him growling and picking up the pace, your body moving with every thrust. He took your hands, which until then were gripping the table for dear life, and held them together at the wrist with one of his.

The hand still gripping your hip was so firm you felt it was going to leave bruises in the morning. The more pressing issue, though, was how you were going to walk the next day.

“All you needed was some good dick in you to shut you up, huh? What a dirty girl,” he groaned as you clenched around him, “And here I thought you were all innocent, nurse. You wanted this, didn't you? Say it.”

Your cheeks burned red out of embarrassment, and you floundered for words. “N-no, Ron, that’s not—”

You were interrupted by the resounding smack of his hand colliding with your ass and the stinging pain that brought tears to your eyes. Your hands twitched in his grasp.

“When you talk to an officer, you say ‘sir’. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you breathed out, and he tenderly rubbed the aching skin of your ass, calling you a good girl as he resumed pounding into you. Your heart ached at the praise.

In your fucked-out state where all you could focus on were Speirs’ deep grunts and his cock inside of you, you felt yourself getting pulled by your hair until you were mostly standing with your back pressed against his well-built, sturdy stomach. One arm closed in on your neck so that your throat was in the crook of his elbow while the other hand roamed around your body, pinching and kneading as it went, until it settled at groping your breasts.

The new angle allowed him to thrust deeper into you, so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat. Tears that had welled up in your eyes freely fell thanks to the restriction of air. When his hand moved downward from your breasts to your lower stomach, pressing down upon it, the pressure and fullness of his dick inside you intensified. You could tell you were ready to freefall from that peak again as your breath hitched with every thrust, walls clamping down around him. From the increasingly erratic rhythm of his thrusts, you could tell he was there with you.

Then, for the umpteenth time that night, Ronald Speirs surprised you. His mouth became a stream of praise and words of adoration, like you were some kind of angel and this was his altar, while his lips possessively decorated your neck and shoulders with dark marks you were sure you wouldn't be able to hide.

“Fuck, you were made for me, weren't you, sweetheart? You're, hah, so beautiful when you're under me. So perfect. My pretty little nurse.”

His soft words in his husky tone, though they threw you for a loop and definitely required your attention when you were back to thinking straight, sent you into the sweet release of your climax. He swallowed your pleasured scream with his lips on yours, gently bruising your lips with the passion of his kiss. You had no idea Ronald Speirs could be so tender and so dominant at once.

The sporadic clenching of your walls around him led him to his orgasm, and he bit into your neck with a low, long groan as he filled you with his warm release. Your body went limp against his, held up only by his arms around your torso. After the two of you regained your breath, he pulled out, and you quietly whimpered at the sudden emptiness. He carefully laid you down with your back to the metal table, tucked himself into his pants, zipped and buckled them, and looked around, searching for a towel to wipe yourselves off.

“The towels, uh, are over there.” You pointed in the direction of the cloth. “You can run some water over them in that sink, if you want.”

He nodded wordlessly and followed your directions while you laid there, thinking about tonight's events and wondering if maybe you had dreamed it all after a late night of cleaning up.

You were broken out of your reverie by a glass of water being placed next to you and a warm, damp cloth gingerly wiping the insides of your thighs and your privates. Speirs didn't dare to look at your face as he did so. Once he was finished, he looked around again for a place to discard the used towel. You laughed, saying, “I'll take care of it, sir.”

He set the towel down on the table. “Do you,” he started, but then paused, glancing at your still bare form and your flushed face, realizing how intimate this had become, “need help getting dressed?”

“I'll be fine, sir,” you said with a tired smile, “I know my way around some clothes.”

He nodded again, more to himself than in response to you, and picked up his helmet. The moonlight now illuminated all of his face, revealing the red that had risen to his cheeks, whether out of exertion or, if you were interpreting this right, shyness. He now made eye contact, his gaze decidedly gentler than when he walked in. “Goodnight, Nurse (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Lieutenant.”

His eyes lingered for a second, his expression the same as the ones he would hit you with from across the base, before he turned, lit a cigarette, and left into the night.

Watching his retreating form and the smoke cloud dissipate behind him, you shook your head and pondered his strange deviation from the Speirs you knew, or who you thought you knew. As you got dressed and prepared to clean up the mess the two of you made, you came to the conclusion that maybe Ronald Speirs is more than the ruthless man the myths had made him out to be.

Maybe Lieutenant Sparky had a heart after all.

-

taglist: @ronsparky, @krispybearbouquet, @mads-weasley

[justkending]

On my nerves. (Steve Rogers One-shot)

Summary: Y/N and Steve have a complex relationship. On a busted mission, some conversation pieces come up that need to be solved.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Avenger)

Word Count: 3100+

A/N: I did a small poll on who I should write for next, and I got an even amount of votes, so I decided on Steve! I haven't written for him for a long time and thought it was deserved this long in. So enjoy these fluffy enemies to semi-lovers one-shot :)

______________

Steve watched, as if in slow-mo, as a knife passed his face and embedded itself into the chest cavity of a man close to getting the jump on him.

"So much for having this mission in the bag, huh?" Y/N's sly comment followed as she jumped from a banister down to the level Steve was on in the attic of an old church.

"The rule was no killing," Steve grunted in frustration as the man he had grasped by the neck fainted, and he tossed him to the side.

"Yeah, well, someone was going to die, and it was either him or the person who's supposed to be running this mission. You should be grateful I didn't choose the second option," she smirked, straightening her tactical vest as she scanned their surroundings. "What's the update?"

Steve could have reprimanded her more, as he was used to doing, but they were on a time crunch, and the men they were sent to take in under SHIELD's order hadn't gotten the memo of no killing.

"Masgood isn't here," he sighed, swiftly anchoring his shield to his back. "He must have gotten word we were coming and staged the place to look like he'd be here."

"Yeah, it seems to be his MO," Y/N sighed, bending as she dug through the pockets of the unconscious assailant.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking the body for clues, duh," she replied with a tone of disinterest. She paused, looking up at Steve. "I know this isn't your first rodeo, so why are you acting like it?" One of her forearms rested on her knee as she squatted over the body and dug through his pockets unbothered.

Steve rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet as look at the space. "Something feels off about all this."

"When does it not? We chase bad guys with evil and sadistic intentions as our career. I'd be worried if it felt right," she grunted softly as she stood up and moved to another body.

Steve moved to a window off to the side and looked at the street and environment below for any more clues.

Their target was a man in charge of a large human trafficking ring. Ivan Masgood. An infamous drug lord who started poking around in a new field of illegal activities. Like most felons, he had personal goons and connections that kept him close to untouchable, but SHIELD had plans to shut that down now that he was tapping into the stealing of innocent adolescents from the streets.

"I say we tie these idiots up for the agents that'll come clean up this mess and make our way to the restaurant down a few blocks. Looks like a good Mediterranean place," she sighed, walking over and leaning against a pillar behind the window where Steve was monitoring pedestrians.

Steve turned to her with an annoyed face, one that was a staple for their duo and eyed her.

"We're on a job. A job that involves a man who is taking advantage of innocent children."

"Yes, and we can't solve it on an empty stomach," she shrugged, pushing on the wood. "And this place is empty. We've handled the few goons here, and now we move on."

"Is it really that simple to you?" Steve huffed, crossing his arms as he turned to her.

"If by simple you mean the practiced next step, then yes. It is," she nodded with no hesitance, even with his stern glare fixed on her.

"You're impossible to-"

"Shhh," she hushed, raising her hand and slightly turning her head.

Steve knew better to question her when she did that. Her hearing was better than his most of the time. Her enhancements weren't far from his own, but sometimes they proved to be even more sensitive than his.

He mouthed a "What?" and she shook her head as a hint to hold on. A few moments passed before she shook her head and returned to reality.

"False alarm," she turned, looking at the only door in and out of the attic. "Help me tie these assholes up, and then we're getting dinner."

"Y/N," Steve started, but she ignored him and searched for rope or anything of length to keep them secure.

Three men tied up with both electric chords and Christmas lights were still unconscious as Steve called in the clean-up crew that was there minutes after Y/N and Steve were in the front of the church, giving a quick rundown of their mission.

"It was a 50/50 shot, Cap. Can't get too hung up on it," Rodney, one of the agents who had been working on the case with them, assured.

"Doesn't make it any less frustrating," Steve sighed before grunting at the pressure hitting his chest. He looked down to see Y/N holding a pile of clothes on his sternum.

"Change. We have a date," She grinned, already in street clothes herself.

He gave her a once over and noticed the small grin on Rodney's lips before he quickly walked away.

"Y/L/N!" Steve yelled after her as she turned and was already moving on to her next task. He groaned and slumped as he looked at the jeans and baseball Henley picked out for him. A hat and sunglasses paired on top.

__________

"Why are we here?" Steve grumbled under his breath as they sat in a booth at the Mediterranian restaurant that looked family-owned but had the ambiance of a well-off family—the two fit in a way that raised a few questions.

He wasn't sure how she had managed to drag him there, but either way, he was there, and something about Y/N orchestrating this entire meal left him confused.

"I haven't had a full meal since last night," she answered, staring at the menu before grabbing the waitress's attention as she balanced two plates in hand. "Can we get the drink menu, please?"

"I'll grab it on my way back," she smiled kindly, her voice accented with a Grecian tongue.

"Thank you," Y/N smiled back kindly and went back to the menu. "I heard their Sangria is amazing. And it's homemade."

"Y/N," Steve ground through his teeth. He was fed up with this side quest that served no purpose. "What are we doing here?" he articulated each word.

"Jeez, Cap. Get the popsicle stick out of your ass and relax some. We're just having dinner and waiting for the show," she responded, putting the plastic-covered menu down and throwing her arm over her side of the booth.

"What show-"

"Drinks?" a teenage boy who looked to be one of the owners' kids begrudgingly asked for their orders.

"I'll take water for now, and this one will have a double scotch neat to help ease his never-leaving glower," she smiled up at the kid, who just blinked at her, and Steve burned holes in her head from the side. "Water. We'll both do water."

"Right…" the kid grumbled, not bothering to write the order as he stalked off.

"You said this had to do with the case. That's the only reason I'm here," Steve intertwined his hands on the table and took a breath as he watched her. In truth, she had vaguely mentioned something about the case, and he ran with that one bullet point, which put him in this position.

"Tell me. How does one sign up to gain your trust? Do I have to jump in the line of fire a second time to get it, or is it like whoever gets your coffee order right without asking? Maybe something in between there?" she leaned forward on the table.

Six months ago, Y/N had jumped in front of a blast from a mutant's powers for Steve, and it had benched her for over a week with the aftereffects.

He hadn't expected her to make that kind of sacrifice, and he had been more than grateful and did his best to show it during her healing time and afterward. But at the end of the day, her snarky comments, struggle to stay professional, and blatant disregard for orders made it hard for him not to be aggravated when she did things.

"It's not trust as much as it's being out of the know for what the real reason for us being here is," he softly said when she looked at him with eyes that seemed to genuinely want to know why he treated her with little patience where he normally gave it freely. "I like to be informed."

She watched his eyes closely as if waiting for the but, but then she tensed ever so slightly, and her eyes flicked behind his shoulder casually.

"That's also known as trust. Not knowing the reasons but counting on the person putting you in the position that they wouldn't do it with ill intent. But if you want your answer, it's behind you. Careful how you turn," she said with a straight face as she looked out the window next to them.

Steve furrowed his eyebrow but discreetly twisted enough to see what she was alluding to.

There he was. Ivan Masgood. With four bodyguards around him and a few associates coming through the back entrance, one of the employees ushered him to a secluded corner for him and his posse.

When Steve turned back around, Y/N was on her phone as if just another customer waiting for their meal.

"How'd you-?"

"I'm good at my job despite what some think." Her comment wasn't missed by Steve, and he could hear the slightest bit of pain in her words. "I overheard some of his goons talking not so confidentially at the church. He stupidly gave away their Randevu point and mentioned a meeting with a potential contact while they waited for us to fall for the trap."

"Was it the two at the front door?" Steve questioned, thinking back to their infiltration of the church/ hideout.

"Yeah, dumb and dumber. I think they just got promoted cause the one who leaked this info bragged about being moved to guard his private residence." She put her phone away and fiddled with the paper wrapper from the straw as she explained. "I can promise if they figure out how we got the intel to come here, he will not be guarding any residence in the near future."

Steve was a little surprised. Y/N had always been good at her job. Hell, there was a reason she ran with The Avengers themselves. Super enhancements helped, but she'd always been more than resourceful in her spying, too.

But sometimes, he didn't see her as taking her job seriously, so when she got the jump on things before him, he felt bad for undermining her.

He monitored the place now that it was a possible environment for a fight. Taking note of the details like exits, number of people, tables, resources, and make-shift weapons if needed.

"Have you contacted Rodney?" he asked as he casually surveyed the place.

"Just messaged. They'll have a team a block away to go if needed," she nodded. "For now, we eat," she smiled overly brightly as the waiter came back over with their drinks.

They ordered, but Steve got the smallest appetizer only to make it less conspicuous as customers.

"Eagle's leaving the nest," Y/N hummed as she ate the last bite of her meal, and the group they had been monitoring walked toward the back alley.

Steve shifted in his seat just enough to see the exit, and they both nodded in confirmation of their next move. Y/N slapped down a wad of cash and shuffled out of the booth where Steve offered his hand, and they left out the front.

For the second time that day, Steve watched as a blade whirled past him, but this time, it implanted itself into the tire of an SUV in the back alley, followed by a loud pop.

The assailants hoping to make a getaway were out of a car now, and Steve had taken the advantage to knee the driver's side door where the man halfway in it, ricocheted his head off the frame and collapsed on the ground.

"On your left!" Y/N shouted as she rangled her own opponent, and Steve noticed another one of Masgood's men escaping.

Not wanting to lose his position since Masgood himself was still in the car he had cornered, he angled and calculated the right throw for his shield to take him down. And with the right aim…

"Fuck!" the man shouted before falling down to the concrete seconds after getting smacked in the temple with the vibranuim disc.

Steve turned after hearing Y/N grunt and saw that two of her attackers had cornered her and were getting a jump on her.

"Y/L/N!" he shouted, stepping her way, but she used another man's body as if a wall and walked her feet up his torso until she was backflipping and rendering them both helpless instantly.

"Rogers, Masgood!" she panted once back on her feet and pointed behind him.

Masgood had pulled out the other side of the car and was positioning a gun right at Steve. Everything happened so fast that Steve didn't know where the gunshot had landed after he ducked from the barrel.

A scream followed, and thinking his aim hit someone else, Steve looked around for the injured only to see Masgood holding his shoulder where the butt of a blade was jutting out.

"You fucking bitch!" Masgood turned his attention to Y/N, who had been smiling at her shot. He dropped quickly to grab the gun that fell out of his grip, but before he could get to it, Steve slid over the hood and tackled him.

"That's no way to speak to a lady," Steve gritted out as he pinned him to the ground and brought his hands around his back.

Any of Masgood's men that may have escaped the narrow alley had been caught by the backup team Y/N had set up a block away. By the time the fight was over, eight men were already in custody, and Masgood was locked in a contained SHIELD van.

After going through a briefing with Rodney, who had been instructing the team outside the alley, Steve and Y/N finally took a minute to breathe.

"Thanks for packing my shield," Steve said kindly as they moved to their SUV.

"Didn't want to have you fighting without your comfort item," she smiled but winced as she rolled her shoulder.

"You ok?" he stopped in his tracks, moving in front of her to keep her from going any further.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, moving her shirt sleeve and looking at her arm for the wound. "Just a scratch."

Steve didn't hesitate to shift the long sleeve to see the cut in the fabric and the blood that had soaked through it.

"You were supposed to get checked by the medics," he studied the injury, and she hissed at the pressure of his gentle touch, which was enough to sting.

"It's nothing a bandaid can't fix. Besides, it'll be a scar come morning," she tried to brush his hand off, but he gave her a stern look at the action. "Why are you so worried? I figured you could care less if I walked out with a katana protruding from my gut."

Her eyes refused to meet his, and he hated the feeling that overcame him at the idea that she thought he wouldn't be phased by something like that.

"That's not true," he said gently, his hand loosened its grip but didn't leave her arm.

"You sure as hell don't act any other way," she mumbled, looking at his hand and placing her own on his to try and remove it. "Seriously. You don't have to act like you care just cause you feel bad-"

"Y/N, I'm not acting," he turned her face to his, gripping her chin between his thumb and index finger. "I would never wish to see you hurt."

She didn't fight the hold he had her in, but she gave him weary eyes at his comment.

"Your words tell me otherwise, Steve." Her words were said with a form of hurt that he never pictured her holding.

"I'm sorry," he lowered his head every so slightly to catch her eye line better. "I'm sorry that I'm a hardass around you and make you feel like I'd rather see you hurt or injured than alive and well."

"I don't understand what I've done to-" she started and pulled her head back before he, without thought, pulled her arm he had a grip on into him, making her body crash into his.

She froze initially, but when his arms wrapped around her back, he rested his head on her. She sighed and fell into it. She needed that hug more than he realized.

"You get on my nerves, Y/L/N, but it's not in a way that I'd wish never to experience it again. I act like I can't stand it, but truthfully, I need someone to keep me in check the way you do," he muttered as he rested his chin on her head. "I'm sorry I don't give you the benefit of the doubt where you deserve it most."

"Why?" she mumbled into his chest.

"Honestly?" he hummed, pulling her back and looking at her still in his embrace. "I think it scares me how much I actually care when you drive me as crazy as you do."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she turned her head at him.

"What do you mean, Rogers?" she said in almost a whisper.

"I mean, I can't wrap my head around how you constantly get on my nerves, but I like it."

There was a pause as they stared at each other, and her lips slowly curved.

"Steve. Are you confessing that you may actually like me?" she grinned.

He chuckled under his breath, making his chest vibrate.

"I'm confessing that we may have some things to figure out, I guess," he nodded, not feeling hesitant at surprisingly admitting that.

"Well, isn't that a 180 from how we started the day," she laughed, pulling back. "How about we stop for a sweet treat for this discussion that I'm definitely pulling you into when we get to the compound?"

"Am I going to regret confessing this?" he scrunched his nose but couldn't help the smile that followed.

"It's me. What do you think?" she shrugged, moving toward the SUV passenger side.

"Good to know our ways aren't changing much," he sighed, following behind her to open her door.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch​​​​​​​​ @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky​​​​​​​​ @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski​​​​​​​​ @basicallylool​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose  @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @torayuri777 @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​

[roosterforme]

Smarter Than the Average Beer Boy | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After months of attending your lectures, Bradley has honed his math skills beyond his wildest expectations. A night out with the boys reveals just how smart and endearing your husband really is, even when he has a hangover.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, drinking, oral sex, shirtless Beer Boy, 18+

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

Happy birthday to @cherrycola27!

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Banner by @thedroneranger Check out my masterlist

You were on your way to teach your last class of the day, and it was your least favorite one. When the class schedules were being organized for next semester, you planned on begging Dr. Rosenthal to let you trade this awful linear algebra class away for one of his calculus lectures. Because at least calculus was something to which you could add a little spice to keep your students interested, unlike this one.

Even though you already ate the snack your husband packed in your tie dye lunchbox, you were still hungry. You'd have to remind him to pack you something extra next Thursday. But as you were on your way to the lounge to quickly get something from the vending machine, you heard his voice. 

"Sugar."

You spun around in your loafers and tweed skirt and saw your husband in full khaki uniform heading your way. "Beer Boy. What are you doing here?" you asked, giving up on the idea of a snack and heading in his direction instead. "I'm about to give a lecture."

"I know," he said with a smirk, voice all deep and raspy. "I got dismissed early, and I stopped at home to get you a snack. Thought maybe I could join your lecture tonight since I won't get to spend tomorrow evening with you."

You almost dropped your notebook as you wrapped your arms around his waist and propped your chin on his chest. "Are you my snack?" you asked as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Nor exactly," he laughed, holding up two small containers. "I brought you some homemade hummus and pita chips. But if you want to skip your lecture and head up to your office, I'd be more than happy to fuck you while I feed you."

"Tempting," you told him with a moan. He was always so sure of himself when he was with you, and it was a massive turn on. But when he grinned and started pulling you toward the elevators, you had to dig your loafers in. "I can't let my students down," you said with a little pout. "Come on. You can sit in the back and take notes."

"Nah. I'll just watch my hot wife in action. Take some mental notes that I can think about at the bachelor party tomorrow night."

You rolled your eyes as you took the containers from him. "You'll have so much fun with Jake and the boys, you won't even be thinking about me at all."

"Newsflash, Dr. Sugar," he whispered as you entered the lecture hall with his hand on your butt. "I'm always thinking about you."

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

Yes, it was fun watching you work. Your lectures were informative, and you were very passionate about the subject. You were also gorgeous, and Bradley wouldn't mind watching you do this all day long. And sure, he loved that you wrote a few problems on the board for your students to work through so you could eat the hummus and pita chips he brought. And yeah, he squirmed a bit in his seat when you winked at him from the podium as you licked your fingertip. 

But the really interesting thing was the fact that Bradley was getting pretty fucking good at math now. If he could go back to undergrad studies, he might even choose it as his major instead of political science. Nobody ever really encouraged him to show off his smarts after his mom died. Well, besides you. There was something about the way you always recognized that he was intelligent that made him fall even harder for you. And since he knew what it felt like to live without you for ten years, he didn't mind watching you teach the same classes over and over. He just wanted to be around you.

When you asked if there were any volunteers to work through the problem, Bradley was able to follow every detail and come up with the correct answer from his seat. And when you finally ended the class, he went up to the front of the room and kissed your cheek right in front of the straggling students. "Any chance you can bring one of the homework sheets home for me to work on later this weekend?" he asked, stealing your last pita chip.

You looked up at him with adoring eyes, and it wasn't fair, because you knew what those little tweed skirts did to him. "You're really going to work on a problem set?" 

"Yeah," he told you with a shrug. "Why not? This class was fun, and maybe you can check my answers and reward me?" he asked hopefully. 

"If you want to be my top student, you better get them all correct." You ran your fingers along the front of his khakis as you picked up your notebook and started walking away.

"I'll be so good, Baby," he promised as he followed you out. He was planning on working on the problems on Sunday after he spent all day Saturday recovering from Jake's bachelor party. Tomorrow night was for the boys, but tonight he would be spending with you. 

When he got you home, he boiled a pot of water for some of the homemade pasta he made and dried last weekend, and he started heating up some of his homemade sauce and meatballs. "This is so fucking sexy," you whispered, rubbing up on him in your tweed while you sipped a beer. "You are really good at feeding me."

He stole the bottle and drank some. "You're really good at everything else." When he tried to hand it back, you just shook your head and dropped slowly to your knees. He was already a little hard from all the tweed rubbing, but then you kissed his zipper, and his dick responded immediately. "Look at that. I didn't even have to do the math problems."

You grinned up at him while he sipped the beer. "Maybe this is just a little reminder for you to be good tomorrow night when you're out with the boys. No drinking and driving. No letting them get into fights. No playing beer pong without me. If you're good, then there's more where this came from."

Bradley was really enjoying the cold beer as you undid his belt and button before you eased his zipper down. "I'll be so good. I'm a hundred percent domesticated."

You moaned as his cock sprang free, and you rubbed your face against him. "I know." He was about to tell you he'd been that way since the two of you were college seniors, but suddenly all coherent thoughts left his brain. You were gently kissing his balls as you ran your fingers up underneath his shirt and teased his abs. "You're a very good boy."

His cock was throbbing and tapping you on the cheek as your tongue flicked out to taste him. "Sugar," he grunted before sipping the beer again. 

"Hmm." You were looking up at him as your lips barely met his skin. "What should I do with you?" Somehow you were making Bradley feel submissive even though you were on your knees for him, and he tipped his head back and groaned.

"Fuck me up, Sugar."

"Gladly," you replied, and he felt your tongue draw a slow and steady line from his tight balls all the way to the head of his cock. Bradley watched as you took the very tip of his bouncing length between your pretty lips. All you did was hold eye contact as you sucked on him like he was a piece of candy, your fingers tickling the trail of hair below his belly button, and he was mesmerized. 

"Those pouty lips will be the death of me," he whispered before sipping the beer again. "So fucking pretty." You sucked on him a little harder, and he clenched. Damn, you hadn't even taken him deep yet, and he was already eager. But he didn't care, because you already knew what you did to him.

Then you popped him free, rubbed your nose against his trimmed pubes before kissing his tip and said, "I love you." Then you grabbed him by the hips and let him slide all the way so he was tapping the back of your throat. 

"Oh, fuck," he grunted, already thinking about you gagging on his cum. You shook your head slightly when he was deep, and tears filled your eyes as you sucked. Bradley gripped the bottle, his voice only a harsh whisper as he said, "That's it. That's it. Fuck."

A few more deep thrusts had you struggling, which was honestly so fucking hot to him. You were making desperate little sounds, but you bobbed on him until you gagged. And that's really all it took.

You moaned as he filled your mouth, and he ran his thumb along your cheek as you gently sucked every drop from him. "Show it to me," he whispered softly and you smiled as you released him. Slowly, you parted your lips and tilted your face up for him, showing off your cupped tongue full of his cum. "Beautiful."

Then you swallowed him down and kissed his drained balls once more before you stood and took the beer bottle from his hand. Casually, you took a sip like you didn't just leave him twitching before you. "Is dinner almost ready?"

He was still thinking about it the next night when he was out with all the guys. Jake was marrying Jessica in a month, and all he asked for was a night of bar hopping. Normally Bradley would have been very good at this, but he was thinking about the way he'd fed you bites of pasta while standing in the kitchen as you moaned over how delicious it was. 

"Come on, Rooster, have a shot," Payback said, passing him some tequila. Just a few drinks would help him focus on the night with the guys. "Bottoms up." 

But at first, the drinks just made him think about calling you to see what you were up to. Jessica was supposed to stop by the house to hang out for a while, and he wondered if she was still there. Maybe she left and you were already changed into his Grateful Dead shirt for bed. Maybe he could just get an Uber right now and go home and find out for himself. He'd slip right into bed next to you. 

"Time for the karaoke bar!" Javy announced, and then Bradley had more shots in front of him before he ended up onstage, and he couldn't be sure where his shirt went, but oh well, it didn't really matter since his favorite shirt was at home with you, and it was suddenly time to sing. 

But he did remember to text you and let you know he'd be home very late.

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

Having the empty house to yourself felt a bit like it did when Bradley was deployed. So in that respect, it made you a little antsy. But on the other hand, it was peaceful when you had Jessica over for some snacks and a glass of wine. It was close to midnight when a bunch of photos came through to your phone and hers. 

"Oh no," she groaned as you scrolled through the images from Mickey. It appeared as though Bradley lost his shirt. Typical. 

"They are a mess," you muttered, finally getting to one where the guys were physically holding Jake up. "You're going to have your work cut out for you tomorrow."

She shook her head but laughed. "I think I'll head home and wait for him. I don't know if he'll even be able to make it from the front door to the bedroom without help."

"Bradley doesn't look much better," you added as you got to the last photo where he was chugging a beer, the amber liquid dribbling down his neck and bare chest. "Oh Lord."

"Call me tomorrow and let me know how bad it is?"

"Yeah," you agreed, walking her to the door and giving her a hug. 

And then you were met with silence again. You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and his robe that he'd had since college, but you weren't even slightly tired now. You glanced across the hallway to your office door covered in your own handwriting. 

SUGAR LOVES BEER BOY

Working through an advanced calculus problem before bed would definitely help you unwind. You walked to your white board while you looked up a problem on your phone and then scribbled it down and got to work. Oh, this one was a bit tricky with lots of side math to complete first. The squeak of your marker was soothing, and by the time you got to your tenth line in the proof solution, you were yawning.

"Works like a charm," you muttered, capping the marker and heading back across the hall where you climbed into bed. 

At one point during the night, you thought you heard Bradley stumble in the front door. "Beer Boy?" you called out, rolling over in bed.

You heard him slur, "It's just me, Sugar," followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening up. He'd come to bed eventually after he got a snack. You scooted back all the way to your side, preemptively trying to avoid him being a sticky, sweaty mess. You smiled and curled up, and you were back to sleep in seconds. 

But he never did come to bed, as evidenced by the still crisp bedding on his side when you woke up again at nine. You stretched and climbed out from the pocket of warmth and reached for his robe before you went to search the house. 

You started in the kitchen, thinking that being near the refrigerator might have been more appealing than the bed, but he wasn't there. You glanced out back and on the living room couch, but you didn't see him anywhere. 

"Bradley?" you called out as you looked in the bathroom, but he hadn't even fallen asleep in the tub. You pressed your lips together as you poked your head inside your office and gasped. "Seriously?"

He was sound asleep on the floor, his shirt nowhere to be seen, and he was snoring loudly. An empty ice cream carton and spoon were next to his head, and it looked like he'd eaten a value sized bag of pretzels. There were a few more wrappers and a lot of crumbs on the floor, and you just gaped at him as he started to roll onto his side and look around.

"What the fuck? Why is it such a mess in here? I just cleaned on Wednesday," he groaned, hair sticking up at every angle. He tilted his head and looked up at you through squinted eyes. "What happened?"

You gave him an incredulous look. "Why don't you tell me?"

He continued to look around the room as he sat up. "I don't know," he replied, pushing the pretzel bag to the side as he cradled his forehead in his palm. "Last thing I remember is the guys making me sing Caress Me Down for karaoke. Where's my shirt?"

Your deep sigh should have been warning enough for him, but he looked down at his abs, shocked that he was only wearing half of his outfit. "Once again, Bradley, why don't you tell me?"

"Baby, how am I supposed to know?" he whined. "God, now I have a fucking hangover, and I can't think."

If Jake was also this bad at the moment, then Jessica might need a reassuring phone call later. Hopefully he hadn't destroyed the carpet in their condo. You needed to get Bradley into the shower and then put him in bed so you could clean up the floor, but your eyes caught on your white board, and you gasped. "Bradley."

"What now?" he moaned as he got to his hands and knees in the crumbs. "My head is throbbing."

Your eyes skimmed from the top of the board to the very bottom, and you started laughing. He was looking up at you, confusion swirling along his handsome features as you had to brace your hands on your knees while you gasped for air and cackled. "Beer Boy!"

"Okay, yes," he grunted. "I'm beginning to think I was actually the one who made the mess in here, but I'll clean it up. It's not that funny."

"Bradley!" you screeched, pointing to the board. "You solved my advanced calculus problem!"

Slowly and seemingly painfully, he turned his head to look and crawled closer to the wall. "I don't think so," he muttered. "I don't even know what all of that means." He was standing on his knees, and trying so hard to figure it out. "Holy shit, that's my handwriting."

"It definitely is," you said through your laughter as you gently combed your fingers through his messy hair. He practically melted against your leg with his big hand on your thigh below his robe. "I am... somehow really impressed by this? You got drunk, got a ride home at four in the morning, and then you solved an advanced math problem before you passed out on my office floor."

"Yeah, I'm impressive as hell," he whispered, kissing you through the robe fabric. 

"You know... if you weren't so terribly hungover, I'd offer to blow you again like yesterday. Because this is something only my very best student would be able to do. And I love rewarding my best student." 

You stroked his cheek softly with your knuckles as he stared up at you with parted lips. "Professor Sugar," he rasped. "I'm totally fine. Barely hungover at all."

"Are you sure?" you laughed. "You look a little rough. And you made a huge mess."

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "I'm great. Wanna join me in the shower?"

You bent to kiss his forehead and whispered, "If you think you can handle it."

"Hell yes," he groaned, trying three times before he was able to get to his feet. Then he took you by the hand, and you helped him down the hallway to the bathroom. 

You pointed out the small closet on the way. "And when we're done, the vacuum cleaner is just hanging out right in there, waiting for you to clean up my office."

"Yeah, okay."

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

Happy birthday, Nik! When you mentioned this idea, it had me cracking up. I hope you enjoy it as a birthday gift one day early! Thanks @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @thedroneranger

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Just a Quick(ie) Change

Papa Copia x gn!Reader smut

WC: 3100

A/N: I think I blacked out when I wrote this at 2am. This one is for @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus - thank you for spamming me with pics of Copia’s amazing thighs.

Content warnings: oral sex m!receiving. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

Hired as a quick-change assistant, you didn’t expect much from the job backstage for Papa Emeritus IV.

You never expected, one, that you’d actually enjoy your job, and two, that the two other assistants would quit right before a tour. 

It was much too close to the start of the ritual tour to hire someone on the spot. Sister Imperator always had the last word, and since the clergy was thousands of miles away from her at the moment, it was an inopportune time to be short-staffed. Papa required many, many intricate costume changes during rituals. Usually, these changes required at least six additional hands, but at least for the next several shows you’d have to make do with just your two.

It was down to you and him when he’d come backstage. Sometimes another member of the crew would bring him refreshments while the nameless ghouls stalled on stage, riffing and whatnot, but mostly it was just the two of you. This led to witty banter, goofy little mishaps, and the like. Some accidents even led to flirtatious jokes between you two as you quickly warmed to each other.

Papa rushed offstage, clutching the front of his trousers. Holding back a laugh, you couldn’t resist asking, “Are your pants falling off or are you just eager to see me?”

He put his hand to his heart, exclaiming a word in Italian before inhaling in a dramatic gasp. “My button popped off.”

You knew his button came off while he was performing - you had a small live monitor in your closet - coloring you thoroughly impressed by the movements of his hips. You had the cheesy line and a needle, thread, and replacement for the offending button prepared as soon as you saw it happen. 

The laugh you shared together wasn’t the first, and certainly would not be the last of the evening. You couldn’t place why it brought you so much joy to just make him smile in between sets. It was a moment of complete and utter glee in the midst of the madness that went into each ritual.

Zippers got caught, shoes were left untied, robes were wrinkled, the whole nine. It was like Murphy’s Law backstage sometimes… anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. 

On the second night of your solo adventure, in the middle of a particularly intricate change involving his Dracopia bat wings, Papa said something to you that would keep your mind stirring the entire night. He was on a high from the opening of the show, beaming at you from the moment he saw you, but this… this was different.

“I enjoy our time together, you know.”

“What?” Your focus was on the second, most stubborn, buckle as you stood in front of him. The harness couldn’t lace itself up so you kept working, your fingers nimbly adjusting as he kept speaking.

“Well, it’s just that I’m used to so many people poking and prodding me, shoving me this way and that, just going through the motions.” He paused, tilting his head to listen for his cue coming up before he continued, “But with you this is different, I feel like I’m actually getting a break instead of just being rushed around like a…how do they say... chicken with its head cut off.”

You finished the last buckle, securing it in place and patting his arm as you were utterly lost for words. His sentiment cut through you like a blade, but was as soft as a feather pillow. 

He turned on his heel as he walked away, but paused and looked over his shoulder, winking at you before walking back on stage. The crowd of devotees screamed and you stood alone in the dark, accompanied only by the mass of butterflies in your stomach. 

The rest of the night went by as usual, but somehow smoother than expected. The stolen glances between you and Papa were more heated, and held more weight than before. Neither one of you crossed that threshold that night though; You refused to be the first one to take this - whatever this is - to the next level.

The next show you were alone, yet once more. Sister Imperator unsurprisingly didn’t like any of the candidates that had applied for the position, not deeming them ‘good enough’ to work with Copia. She never called him Papa, you noticed. 

Sister was doing her best to assuage you while simultaneously making your head hurt. She was always kind to you for some unknown reason, but tonight she was truly laying it on thick, “… but you, my dear, are a diamond in the rough. You’ll have to shine on your own just a little longer.”

The video call glitched, her word’s temporarily interrupted by a bad connection as she said something else.

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that? It sounded like you said it’s just going to be me for the rest of the week.”

“Oh no, I didn’t say that.” The video finally stabilized. You sighed in relief before she continued. “I said you’ll be on your own for the rest of the tour.”

Your face fell. It felt like a two-ton weight was placed on your chest, or that you were shoved in a truck, locked in, and the key was thrown away. 

No help? Seriously?

She noted your facial expression before you could reel yourself in. “Don’t worry my dear, we will compensate you more for the lack of help you have, but at least I know that my - cough - er, the Cardinal, will be happy in your capable hands.”

You tried to hide your dismay, “O-Kay.”

“I’ve got to run off now little one, try to make the best out of it, alright?”

“I promise, Sister, thank you.”

You sighed again, to no one this time and not out of relief. To be on your own the rest of the tour seemed, in practice, too much. You had only done two shows solo and the limited sanity you had was already wearing thin. Suddenly, you had a strange thought that warmed your body: if you’re the only one then that means more time for you and Papa to get to know each other. 

Your traitorous heart gave a squeeze. More time alone with him couldn’t possibly be a bad thing… could it?

Perhaps? Perhaps not. But you could certainly think of many, many bad things to do.

One week later 

Your heart was pounding as you did your final checks. Everything tonight was going to run perfectly. 

The first change went to plan, then the next. Every second that passed with the two of you in each other's vicinity felt like an eternity. Your own personal hell of stolen glances and small comments. Of shallow breaths and lingering touches. 

“Is this new?” He nodded to your night-black long-sleeved dress. All-black was the dress code for backstage crew so tonight you’d opted for a racy mini dress and long black stockings to cover your legs up to the thigh. Only a salacious inch of skin showed between the garments, and Papa couldn’t resist peeking. 

Flattered that he noticed, you blushed, “Yes, it is.” You straightened his robes, ensuring the easily-wrinkled fabric lay perfectly in its place. 

“I’d like to see it off you later.” He reached with one gloved hand and ran two fingers along the visible skin of your thigh, making you tremble with want. It felt like the little room turned into a furnace, just from that.

Quick as a flash he grabbed his prop from your open palm before you could react and darted back out to the stage, leaving you in shock with the realization that he wants you just as badly as you want him. 

You pace back and forth, setting everything out for the next change. At one point the stage manager pops in, asks you if you need anything and you assure them that you’re good. 

There’s only one person who can give you what you need.

As soon as the cue hits for him to exit your palms tingle in anticipation. Your eyes lit up as you saw him, stripping him out of the floor-length robe immediately to get started on the next change. But Papa had other ideas.

His gloved hands grabbed you firmly, one on your jaw and the other at your waist to pull you into a deep and sensuous kiss. You felt the electricity between you buzz from your lips down to your toes. Your body responded before you truly realized what was happening, and you kissed him back with equivalent enthusiasm. 

He growled as you parted your lips to dart your tongue out, grazing his teeth once before going back on the next kiss to taste his tongue. You moaned, greedily, taking in a deep breath through your nose to inhale his bouquet of fragrant cologne and hair products. It felt like the two of you were kissing with the need of long-lost lovers, reunited after a decade of time. He grabbed and groped at your body, pulling you closer as though he never wanted to let you go.

You did your best not to be too handsy with him in return, as you didn’t want to fuck up his costume.

Fuck! His costume!

The head-spinning thrill of the kiss made him miss his cue to go back on stage, both of you too caught up in the passion of the moment to feel the world around you. You broke the kiss and violently threw items at him to put on. Luckily this change was one of the easier ones, but it never looked good for Papa to delay his return to the stage.

The stage manager came in again, “Everything alright in there?”

“Yes! Just a stubborn zipper again!” You laughed breathily to cover up your anxious flitting about while Papa stayed silent. 

“Alright, well, hurry it along, the ghouls are going to start eating each other out there if not.” They sounded less than pleased before cutting back out of the tiny room.

“Heard.” You replied curtly, not in the mood to have your moment ruined any further. 

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a dickhead,” your breath caught in your chest. Did he regret the kiss? “You have a little, er, smudge.” He motioned towards his lip.

You looked in the mirror beside you, hells below, he was right! You had black makeup from him smudged all over. 

He giggled his way back out, leaving you furiously rubbing at your lips and chin, your face fully flushed with embarrassment.

By the next quick change, you two had a pattern working perfectly. 

First, change out of the previous costume.

Second, put the next one on.

Third, and most importantly, spend any and all remaining seconds kissing each other like giddy teenagers.

You both became a desperate mess of hands, lips, and teeth. You even picked up a few new tricks: one of which being that you could tie his tie exceedingly well while he had his tongue in your mouth. You got a little too handsy now, stroking him through his pants as his hands gripped your rear. Feeling him growing with every motion was spurring you on, making you almost delirious with need.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He exhaled heavily, palming the front of his pants to adjust the placement of his dick. It was adorable how he was going to go out there like this, pantomiming that nothing had transpired, but you were fine with it, it was a little game.

“I’ll be waiting.” You called after him.

The longest break in the show was up next, and you already knew what to do. You were on your knees before he finished the song, his cue to move backstage for his change came and when he saw you he stopped in his tracks. 

“Don’t just stand there now, come over here and let me taste you.” Your bold words seemed to almost miss him, as he looked to be in a trance. He soon snapped out of it, taking a few steps to you and closing the distance. 

He stroked your hair, “You don’t have to do this right now, we can wait until later.”

His suggestion was tempting but unnecessary, you were committed to this. “I gave you a problem, and I want to take care of it for you. May I?” You pleaded up at him and his mouth dropped open.

“Yes. Fuck, please.”

With his explicit permission you went to work. It was well-known that Papa went commando on stage. However, this didn’t make it any less difficult for you to peel the “rat-eaten” black pants off of him. His sweat combined with the stiff, unforgiving tightness of the trousers and made it quite difficult for you to wrench him from the tight fabric. 

You wrestled the fabric down, exposing the very tops of his delicious thighs and in the middle, his magnificent thick cock sprung forth. Your mouth watered at the sight, so long and hard, how you wanted - no - needed to taste him. 

You wet your lips, looking up at him and not wanting to waste any more time as you pressed your tongue lightly to the underside of the hot tip. You flicked your tongue to the very end, where a bead of pre-cum was leaking out. 

Tasting him stirred something within you that made your insides clench. You wanted so much more than just to give him a sloppy blow job in the stage right closet at a ritual. But this would have to do for now. 

The salt of his sweat on your tongue was like a drug to you, and you needed more of everything. You impaled yourself on his length, gagging obscenely as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. 

He groaned as you sucked at him, your tongue working to massage the underside of his shaft. You bobbed your head back and forth, one of your hands coming up to follow the motion of your mouth. It slid back and forth easily, the copious amount of spit already coating his length made for ideal lubrication.

Your other hand steadied yourself by gripping his exposed thigh, squeezing the flesh lightly, your fingertips satisfied just by touching his bare skin. You felt your arousal again, a pulse at the apex of your legs thrumming to almost fierce levels. Fuck, you wanted to put one of your hands between your own legs, but right now, your focus was solely on Papas pleasure.

He exhaled with a ‘ha’ sound, another groan making its way out through his clenched teeth. You felt one of his hands curl itself through your hair, pulling slightly to get your attention.

You looked up at him, and you were so turned on by the sight. Papa’s face was contorted in lustful indulgence. Some of his hair plastered itself to his forehead while other pieces stuck out at the sides as though he had been running his fingers through the salt-and-pepper strands. You made a quick mental note to fix it before he went back on stage. 

He pulled again at your hair and you removed your mouth from him, although your hand continued to work, stroking up and down his entire shaft. 

“Fuck my mouth Papa.” The words in your desire-filled heart spoke themselves aloud.

He growled, “Open up.”

You did exactly as you were told, moving both hands now to his thighs as he readjusted his grip on your hair. The music was changing, the instrumental interlude was almost to an end. Your mouth opened wide and you got your wish.

Papa fucked your mouth as though the success of the ritual depended on it. He wasted no time pressing his impressive length into your mouth and throat as far as it could go. Your gag reflex was being obliterated with each thrust of his hips forwards. After several quick, punishing blows to your throat it finally relaxed. You were at his mercy, and mercy, he was not pulling any punches.

Tears stained your cheeks, an ache started in your jaw, and your facial muscles tensed. The pressure, the pain was all made worth it as you looked up through bleary eyes to see Papa. His chest shuddered with every breath. His heterochromatic eyes watched you and his eyebrows were knit together. Papa's mouth hung open and dirty remarks, expletives, and guttural sounds of pleasure sputtered out. 

“Look at you, so wanton, so needy for my cock that you’ll kneel before me.”

You hummed in response, pressing your thighs together to try to gain even a slight bit of friction between them. 

It could have been the vibrations from your hum that put him over the edge, or maybe it was that he knew he had to get back out there, but his grasp in your hair tightened. Your scalp flashed in white hot pain as he cried out in one final thrust and painted the back of your throat with hot, heavy spurts of his release.

You swallowed greedily, not wanting a single drop to be missed as he pulled out of your mouth and moved to quickly pull his pants back up. He knelt down unexpectedly, and you met his gaze. His gloved hands wiped the tears from your cheeks as he leaned forward and kissed you on your swollen lips.

“Grazie, mi amore, I shall return the favor after the show.”

With one final caress to your cheek with his hand, he stood, pulling his bright, glittering jacket on one arm at a time. You watched, rosy-cheeked and soft-eyed as he straightened his clothes, checking himself out in the mirror. Of course he looked over everything except his hair.

You snapped out of your lightheaded stupor with a second of time to remain, shooting to your feet, “Wait!”

He turned towards you and you wiped your damp hands on your thigh-highs before reaching up to smooth his soft hair back into place. You covered his eyes and with your dominant hand snagged the miniature can of hairspray out of your stash of supplies to fix everything back in place. 

You’d be damned if you didn’t do your job. 

Papa grabbed you by your collar once you dropped your hands, kissing you once more before heading back on stage. The scent of hairspray, his cologne, and sweat created a haze for you to dream in, thinking of the implications of his words from earlier.

You couldn’t wait for him to return the favor.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BETTER

A/N: Chapter six is here! And it took me quite some time. This one is shorter. Hope you like this one.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: Things are slowly turning around. Or are they?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3100+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Five

LOGAN HOWLETT - BETTER

Logan woke her up at six in the morning. They came to an agreement to start the training early before classes. He laughed at her when she opened the door and had dark circles under her eyes and messy hair. Fortunately, she was dressed in sports clothes and ready to train. 

Y/N was surprised to see him in black gym shorts and that damn white tank top. At least he didn’t wear jeans. Fuck, his ass looked fantastic in them. Still, his big, veiny arms were on full display. At least something to look at, she thought. She needed to practise self-control. Otherwise, she’d drool all over him.

It took her a few minutes to wake up and get into training mode. First, Logan made her run through the footpaths around the compound. He stayed close, setting the pace for them. That was just the warm-up. Afterwards, he took them to the Danger room. 

Y/N was drinking water while her eyes travelled around Logan, who walked around like a lion in a cage. He was thinking about the next part of the training. She used the opportunity to eye him. Damn, that man was hot. Even with that hairstyle, it made him charming.

“We should focus on your mutation,” he announced. “You need to be able to control it as you wish. The more control you have, the more you can do as you please.” 

She put down the water bottle. “I’ve noticed a thing,” she approached the man. Her hands rested on her hiplines. “I’ve been thinking about it the whole night.” 

Logan crossed his big, muscular arms across his chest. Then he raised a brow. “Shoot.”

“I think it behaves differently every time I use it. It all depends on the situation,” Y/N explained. “When we were in Salem, and they shot at me, the bullets were absorbed into the shield. Then, I ran towards them, and it threw them away once they made contact with the forcefield. It would absorb or hurt them more if it behaved the same. Instead, it served as a barrier.” 

He tilted his head and scratched his beard. “Interesting,” he said. “Someone else would be able to explain why this keeps happening. As the Professor said, your mutation is primarily defensive, and-” 

“I can use it as an offence if needed,” she added. “I know, I heard.”

“Exactly like it happened a few days ago. Your emotions got the best of you, and the forcefield flew right out of ya,” Logan continued. “I think you need to experiment with it. You know, try a bunch of shit to figure it all out.” 

Y/N laughed at that. “Aw, you are a great teacher,” she teased. “I have never received such specific instructions. Try a bunch of shit and figure it all out.” 

While she kept chuckling at that, Logan’s claws emerged from his skin, and he threw a punch. He would have gotten her face, but Y/N dodged it by a few centimetres. Her heart skipped a beat, and her soul escaped her body. “What the fuck?” she yelled. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“What? You dodged it,” he smirked. He threw another punch, and she quickly blocked it. “Better,” he commented. 

“You could’ve killed me, you ass,” she spat. 

“Stop crying, princess,” said Logan with a smirk plastered over his face. “You need to expect the unexpected. Plus, I’d never hurt ya.” 

Princess? That was new, she thought. “What if I hurt you? Have you thought about that?”

“I wouldn’t stress over it. I can heal, remember?” 

Y/N didn’t wait and kicked him in the gut hard. He stumbled back and gasped from pain. He managed to stay on his feet. “Expect the unexpected,” she said to him with a big smile. 

“Will I correctly ask if I ask that you’ve learnt to fight when you were with that Mars guy?” he rubbed his belly.

She stretched while he kept his distance. “Yes. I’m not saying he made me the best fighter or anything. We had to know how to fight and escape. I know what I’m doing, but compared to you, I am a novice,” she said. 

“You are far from that,” Logan said. “Now, come on. Less talking, more fighting. You wanted me to train you and not chit-chat.” 

“Aw, come on, you like chatting with me,” she teased again. 

“Shut up and fight.” 

Left hook, right hook and then Y/N was down on the floor. She cursed and frowned at the man above her. She was panting, mad that he managed to get her down that quickly. Y/N rolled over her shoulder and went for his legs. She tried to trip him but wasn’t successful. She attempted to kick him in the knee and failed. Damn, Logan was agile. He predicted her moves. 

“Come on, Y/N, hit me finally!” 

As he hauled off at her, Y/N’s hand shot forward, and she made a forcefield. Logan collided with it and flew through the air until he hit the ground farther away. Y/N’s eyes almost fell out of her sockets. She covered her mouth and nose with both hands, gasping. “Oh my god!” 

She didn’t expect him to fly through the seven seas and more. Hell, she didn’t want to use the forcefield in the first place. He attacked, and she protected herself. It was instinct. Y/N ran to him and fell to her knees. Her eyes filled with horror. 

Logan was grunting on the floor. His white tank top was burnt in many places. The smell of burning flesh caught her nose. She found a few burns on his skin that healed before her eyes. “I’m so sorry! Logan, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” She was panicking.

Slowly, he sat up and looked down at his destroyed piece of clothing. “Shit,” he mumbled. “That hurt.” 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” her mouth ran miles. “I wanted to use the shield to make you fly, yes. However, not to burn you alive. What the fuck was that? I am so sorry, Logan.” 

His hand pressed against her mouth to shut her up. “Breathe, princess. I’m fine.” He wrinkled his eyebrows when he smelled the burnt clothing. He grabbed the fabric with his other hand and ripped it off him. 

Holy shit, she thought. She would have said it out loud if it wasn’t for Logan’s hand over her mouth. For the first time ever, she got the perfect and close view of his toned, muscular chest. It was covered in hair that travelled down to his stomach and even further. It was hot. She couldn’t believe how much she liked it. He was a definition of a man. The way his chest rose and fell from breathing, she had to clench her thighs. 

The door to the Danger room opened. Storm ran inside. “Have you seen-” she stopped talking when she found Logan and Y/N on the floor. He kept holding her mouth while being shirtless. They turned their heads to the woman. “Y/N,” she added. “I was looking for you this whole morning. As I can see, you are preoccupied.” 

Logan let go of her mouth. “We’ve been training since six,” she said.

“I need to talk to you,” said Storm when she approached them. “Since when do you train without a shirt?” she teased the man. 

“Since someone burnt it with her mutation,” he glared at Y/N, who gave him a big, embarrassing smile. “Y/N, at least buy me a drink before you want to see me shirtless.” 

Her mouth opened wide as if she was offended by that. She couldn’t give a reply. Logan put two fingers under her chin and helped her close it. “You’re a douche,” said Y/N. “It was an accident,” she turned to Storm. 

“If you are done, can I talk to you?” Storm asked. Her voice was soft and friendly. 

Logan stood up. He helped Y/N on her feet. “We’re done. I have a class in half an hour, and I need to shower.” He noticed how the woman by his side kept ogling him. He smirked. “I’ll see ya later, Y/N.” 

Both women watched him leave the Danger room. Storm raised a brow and smirked. “You have a thing for him, don’t you?” 

Y/N’s eyes goggled. “It’s nice to look at him,” she commented. “Anyway, what do you need?” 

“I need to talk to you about everything that happened a few days ago.” 

Y/N inhaled through her nose. “Can I quickly shower? We can meet in fifteen minutes at the basketball court. Then, we can talk.” 

“That sounds okay,” Storm nodded. “I’ll see you there in fifteen.” 

. . .

Storm and Y/N walked over the school grounds, enjoying the autumn breeze. The weather was warm, even though it was October and Halloween was knocking on the door. Storm wanted to know Y/N’s story. She needed to understand what had happened before she would jump to any conclusions. That’s why they spent the last hour walking around, talking about Y/N’s life. 

“I don’t get why Scott needed to paint you as the bad guy when all of us struggled when we were teens,” Storm shook her head in disbelief. “All stories are different. You happened to have a tragic one. It wasn’t your fault.” 

“But I still did it,” Y/N sighed. “I managed to kill my sister with the ability to protect. How ironic is that?” she shook her head. “I can’t change the past. My little sister is dead. My parents hate me. If they knew I was alive, they would want me dead.” 

“So, what happened after?” 

“I ended up in an insane asylum where I stayed for a few years before I escaped,” said Y/N. “Those years are a blur. With the heavy medication and shit, I don’t remember much.” They slowly moved back to the school. “You know, I wanted to leave yesterday,” she admitted. 

“Why?” 

Y/N shrugged. “I thought you’d hate me for what I did. I hurt you all. I thought you wouldn’t want that kind of a person here, with the kids,” she explained. 

“What made you stay then?” Storm was curious. She had an idea in her mind. That idea was inside the school, teaching history. 

“A chance of being a better person,” Y/N said. “I have the opportunity to do something good. I can learn more about mutation and be there for those who require help. I want to prove to you and myself that I am not a monster.”

“Is that all?” Storm had to ask with a teasing smile. 

“Let’s not go there,” Y/N chuckled. 

“Logan is a nice guy. Grumpy but with a good heart,” said Storm. “You two clicked, you know? When I think about it, it would be a great love story. He’s literally your knight in shining armour.” 

“Y/N!” they heard a voice shouting. Both women turned to see JJ running towards them. Saved by the kid, she thought. Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement. She spread her arms, and the boy ran into them. They hugged tightly. “I haven’t seen you in days,” said the boy. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“They told me you were hurt,” he said. “Are you okay?” 

She gave him a smile and patted his head. “Of course I am. I needed some time to rest. How do you like it here?” 

“This place is awesome,” he said excitedly. “I share a room with two other boys. They seem nice. Oh, hey Storm,” the boy acknowledged the other woman standing by them. “They teach us how to work with our mutation. It’s so much fun!” 

“Oh, it makes me so happy that you like this place,” Y/N looked into the boy’s face. 

“I have to go, but I’ll see you later. Bye Y/N, bye Storm!” the boy waved to them and ran inside the building. He probably had another class to attend. 

“He’s a unique young man and a good student,” Storm said when the boy was gone. “Was your past also a reason you wanted to save the boy?” 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Together, they went back inside the mansion. When they stepped into the main hallway, Y/N turned around on her heel. “Hey, didn’t I make Scott fly out of that window?” she pointed at the undamaged window. “How is it fixed already?”

“With all the mutations around, things can get fixed fast here,” said Storm with a gentle laugh. “Listen, I have a wild idea,” her eyes brightened. “Half an hour from here, there’s a bar. It’s owned by a mutant. We should all grab a drink tonight.” 

“There is a bar?” Y/N was surprised to hear that. “I’d love a beer. It’s been years since I had one.” 

The school bell rang. Silent halls turned into noisy ones. Another class was over. The students left the classrooms.

“Great. All we need is to find a babysitter and-”

Office, now. 

Y/N frowned and looked around. She heard the Professor in her head. “Did you hear that?”

Storm nodded. “Come, something’s going on.” 

They moved fast into Charles’s office. Rogue, Bobby and Kitty were quickly behind them. After entering the office, Jean, Scott, and Kurt were already there, with another man Y/N never met before. He had mid-long silver hair and a smug smile on his face. The last ones to enter were Logan and Colossus. 

“You must be the new girl,” the man pointed at Y/N, his eyes travelling over her body. After a blink, he stood in front of her. “I’m Peter,” he shook her hand. 

“Y/N,” she said, startled. “Wow, you are fast.” 

Logan approached Y/N, standing right behind her. She smelled like a coconut shampoo. It was nice. What he didn’t like were Peter’s eyes on her. Logan glared at him. “Hey, Speedy,” he greeted his friend. “Long time no see.” 

Peter moved back to the chair he was sitting on. It was faster than a snap of the fingers. “Had some business to do. Same old, same old.” 

Scott turned his head to look at Y/N. Because no one could see his eyes, they didn’t know what emotion was behind them. He wrapped an arm around Jean’s waist and faced the Professor again. 

“Why are we here, Professor?” Kitty asked softly. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t have good news,” Charles started to talk. “Hank and Remy went to Washington to attend a conference. It was about Human and Mutant affairs. I’m afraid some new threads want to stop the cooperation between humans and mutants.” 

“Here we go again,” Bobby mumbled, shaking his head.

“And with Trask Industries trying to come up with a way to suppress us, I’m afraid we are on thin ice,” Charles continued. “I’ll send Scott and Jean to join Hank and Remy. We need more reasonable voices to help with the cause.” 

“Professor, this will never stop,” Rogue commented. “They tried before. Here we are again, facing the same issue over again.”

“We can only hope for the best, for now,” said the Professor. “We need to act now before Magneto and his Brotherhood will step in. And we all know what happens when they get into it.” 

“We need to be prepared for anything,” Jean said. “If the politics decide to break the treaty pact, we will be endangered again, and there will be war. No one wants that.” 

Y/N shook her head. Even though there was a treaty, humans would experiment on mutants. They would capture them and abuse them like they did her. They needed lab rats to figure out how the X gene worked. 

How am I still alive?

When the meeting had ended, everyone, except for Jean and Scott, gathered outside the office. “How about Stan’s tonight?” Storm suggested. “I need a drink more than ever after hearing that,” she pointed at the office door behind her. 

“I’m out,” Colossus said. “I don’t think I am welcomed there for a while. Last time, I accidentally destroyed two tables.”

“Because you wanted to arm-wrestle after drinking the whole bottle of vodka,” Logan glared at his friend. “I warned you. You didn’t listen, Piotr.”

Y/N bit her lower lip to keep her from laughing. Obviously, they were notoriously well-known at the bar. Her eyes met Logan’s for a brief moment. 

“So, you’ll be the babysitter then?” Storm gave him pleading eyes. 

“Sure,” he agreed. “You all have a good time. If anything happens, I’ll give someone a call.” 

“Great,” Strom clapped excitedly. “How about we meet at the entrance gate at seven in the evening?” she suggested. 

As they all started to disperse, Y/N turned around and looked at the Professor’s door. She had an idea inside her head. It was stupid, but she wanted to ask about it. 

“Are you coming?” she heard Logan’s voice. 

“Uh,” she turned her head to look at him. “I need to talk to the Professor. I’ll see you later.” 

With a single nod, Logan left her alone. Y/N knew Jean and Scott were still inside, but she wanted to speak to Charles alone. Y/N approached the door and knocked on it. Once she was allowed to enter, she did. 

Scott and Jean were already on their way out. Jean gave her a polite smile while Scott ignored her. Y/N had to roll her eyes. His behaviour was childish. 

“How can I help you, Y/N?” Charles asked. He moved behind his table. “Your mind is closed, so I wonder what you want.”

“I was thinking,” she approached the table and then seated in an armchair. “Do you need an extra teacher?” 

“What do you have in mind exactly?” 

“Uh,” she fiddled with her fingers. “English and literature, perhaps? You took me in, and I would like to repay you somehow. I was the best in class. Before my life turned upside down, I used to apply to writing competitions. I know a lot about literature. I love it.”

Charles smiled. “Anything else?” 

“Uh,” she thought back, thinking about the hobbies she had as a child. “I attended guitar lessons, so I guess music? I might remember something.” 

The man chuckled. “You can teach English and literature. It would help me with some of the classes, to be honest. I teach physics, mutant ethics and even literature. Another teacher for this would be great.” 

“And it’s okay that I don’t have a proper school?” 

“No one does. Hank, Jean and I are the only educated here,” he said gently. “Any help would be appreciated. I will look at the schedules with Storm, and I believe you can start from Monday.” 

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes sparkled. She was getting excited. 

“I have no reason to lie to you.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” she smiled at him. “This means a lot. I’m glad I’ll be able to help you. I’ll let you be. You must have a ton of work to do.” 

When she left his office, she felt more relief in her chest. At least she would be able to repay them somehow. A smile appeared on her face. Things slowly started to turn for the better.

[originalcollectionartistry]

To be Claimed - NSFW version

Hello friends! I found these marriage prompts by @brainbright for our favorite batchers! I immediately felt they struck gold and pushed this fic out in 12 hours.

I have two versions of this fic: a sfw and a nsfw. The sfw one ends before the smut begins so if you want to avoid smut, I'll link the SFW one here.

CW: brief violence, mention of misogyny, revealing of feelings, idiots in love. Unprotected sex, PiV, light gagging, oral (M! receiving), fingering, clit play, aftersex cuddles.

Hunter x reader

Word count: 3100

Enjoy!!

You didn’t expect the mission to go as it did, but all of you were alive. That’s what mattered to you. Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Tech were all alive and Omega was safe at Cid’s. That’s all you could ask for.

Cid came to you with a new mission. In exchange for some pure spice, you and your Batch were to offer protection for a week to a leader from this backwater planet. The culture was rather archaic. Women were subservient and silent, to be seen and not heard and the men handled everything. Being on that planet made you grateful to have grown up on Naboo. You were in the same classes as Padme Amidala, or Naberrie as you knew her. You were quite a bit younger than her though. She excelled in her politics and academics, while you were more a physical girl. You would rather settle a fight with your fists than words.

You made the decision to keep your helmet on the whole time you were on this planet. Tech modified your armour to give you more protection on your chest and midsection, so your gender wasn’t obvious to others as it was to your squad. You were grateful for the voice modulator. It deepened your voice a bit, so it just sounded like you were effeminate man.

You were protecting the leader of this community for a week from some assassin. You didn’t know which assassin was after the leader, but you knew there were more bounty hunters around trying to lure you away from the leader. They’d threaten locals to make you distracted. So, you and Tech were stationed with the leader, while Echo, Hunter and Wrecker took care of the other troublemakers. As you waited for the all clear to move the chief from Hunter, you and Tech conversed quietly.

“You are certainly mistaken. There is nothing going on between Phee and I.”

Rolling your eyes, you pointed out that Phee flirted with him constantly with every encounter you had with the pirate.

“Tech, she calls you Brown Eyes at every opportunity! She pays more attention to you than any of us! She’s clearly into you.”

Glancing up at you from his datapad, Tech shook his head. “Regardless, I have no interest in pursuing Phee romantically. Not when I have the squad to look out for.”

That was the one thing you loved and admired about Tech. He’d sacrifice everything for his family without question or hesitance. You only hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed protecting everyone.

“Alright boys let’s move the bird out!” you heard Hunter through the comms.

You lightly pulled the chief to his feet as Tech told him it was time to move. Tech pulled up the rear as you held the lead, blaster in hand. You shot at every bounty hunter you saw, hoping to deter others from trying anything.

As you rounded a corner, you nearly met your fate at the end of a blaster barrel. You paused, looking at the blue skinned woman in front of you. You recognized her deadlocked ponytail and single antenna and clocked that Aurra Sing was in front of you.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she sneered. “My target handed to me on a silver platter by two clones.”

You pushed the blaster away from your face. “Sing. I should’ve smelled your disgusting perfume from atmosphere,” you hissed.

Chuckling, Aurra took aim at you again. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’m the last thing you see before you die.”

“Like kark!” You pushed her aside, pinning her to the garden wall, shouting at Tech to move. If someone was gonna die, it was gonna be Aurra Sing. The bounty hunter took far too much from you during the clone war and so you had a little vendetta.

She kneed you in the torso, causing you to be winded for a moment. You immediately swung back, clocking her in her nose. As she backed away holding her nose, you kicked her head, bending her antenna.

Aurra became furious, lunging at you and pinning you to the ground on your back. You gritted your teeth, pushing her off as best you could but she had the advantage. Aurra took your viroblade from its sheath and moved it to your neck. As it dug closer to your jugular, you thought of your squad and how you’d miss them if you didn’t push her off.

Blaster shots rang out from your right, causing Aurra to pause in her assault on you. You turned your head, seeing Hunter and Wrecker firing at the assassin. Aurra quickly got off you and bolted, firing back at your boys.

Eventually, another bounty hunter picked Aurra up from your pursuit of her. You fired your blaster again at the small ship, hoping to bring it down but she escaped again. You prayed someone would take her out one day.

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

You and the boys were celebrated as heroes and offered a feast in compensation. Never one to turn down a way to keep Wrecker full, you all gladly accepted. There was music and dancing and singing, in a way you’d never seen before. Sure, you had had parades on Naboo but nothing this extravagant. There were colours of red, blue, turquoise, orange and many more. You were carried on these little mini beds by some locals. You and Echo sat side by side, admiring all the colours and festivities.

“So, you gonna say something to Hunter? Once we’re back on the ship?” he murmured into your comm channel.

You looked at him through your helmet. You almost regretted telling Echo about your feelings toward your sergeant. Sure, there was nothing to stop you now from fraternising with squad mates, but the gods know there was something stopping you from revealing your feelings.

“Depends on how the rest of this goes. There’s always chaos to follow us so I’m just waiting for it to reveal itself.”

Reveal itself it did. As soon as you were all seated the leader gave a speech in their native tongue before gesturing to you to eat. You removed your helmet for the first time in days, grateful to breathe fresh air and eat fresh food. A collective gasp rung out from everyone except you and the boys, confusing you as you took small bites.

The leader and the elders look furious, yelling at you in their language. You were scared and confused, looking to Tech for an explanation.

Tech put his helmet back on and translated quickly, fearing the worst for your safety.

“Apparently, they are accusing us. We deceived them into thinking we were all men. According to tradition, all women of marrying age who step foot in the chief’s house, as we did early this week, are automatically married to him unless they are already claimed. Since you are of marrying age and do not seem to be claimed, he claims you as his wife.”

As Tech finished his translation, you were yanked from your seat and dragged through the seating to be thrown at the chief’s feet. You yelled and screamed, begging the boys to help you. They did, but not in the way you had expected. You almost wanted to face palm.

“She is claimed though!” Wrecker yelled out, looking to Echo for support.

Echo nodded, playing along. “Yes, she’s claimed by our Sergeant! They were wed last year!”

The leader looked from you to Hunter and back. Spitting out another question, Tech translated, going along with this idea. “He asked why we didn’t reveal that upon arrival. Why such deception?”

Echo looked to Hunter, who was both furious and concerned for your wellbeing, and tilted his head almost to say, ‘do something!’. Hunter was shocked at the turn of events but over his dead body you stay here as some archaic cultures wife. He came up to you and pulled you up to your feet. Pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, he pulled you closer. You nuzzled into his chest, fearing for your life. You had no idea this culture was that antiquated. Hunter brought his hand to your head and started to gently stroke your hair, making it look like a husband consoling his wife.

“We didn’t want to put the other in danger. Should anyone find out we were wed, they would use it against us. We never meant to deceive you.” Hunter had Tech translate.

Hunter led you to the seat next to him. “You okay with this?” he whispered.

You smiled weakly, hating that this was the improvised plan the boys chose. “I kind of have to be, don’t I? You sure you’re okay with playing husband?”

Hunter took your hand, kissing your knuckles gently. He could feel the leader’s anger at him and at you, so he laid the lovesickness on thick. Pulling you closer, kissing your temple, holding your hand and much more. You were blushing like crazy, wanting nothing more than this to be real. Gods you wanted this to be real. Hunter was so good at being loving. You wished more than anything that this was real, and you really were married.

As the festivities settled back into joyous ruckus, the boys encouraged you and Hunter to move into a private area so you could discuss things a bit more. You needed to make things convincing if you were to get out of there as one squad. You didn’t really want to leave the other three, but Hunter agreed it would make it look like you finally had some alone time as husband and wife. Shifting from one foot to the other, you reluctantly agreed to follow Hunter away from the celebration.

Hunter led you to secluded clearing, a short walk from the tents of the settlement. You sat on the ground, not facing him. He sat next to you, listening quietly to your heartbeat. You did not want to make the first move. You had no idea what to say!

Smiling, Hunter pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You froze a second but relaxed into his hold. Taking a breath, you finally spoke.

“I’m gonna kill Echo. I should never have told him about my feelings for you.”

Chuckling, Hunter squeezed your shoulders. “You really thought you could hide those from me? I can feel your heartbeat, I can smell your scents, and I certainly read your body language well enough.”

You froze again. You were a complete nong! Of course, Hunter could tell! He could feel the electromagnetic pulses from a base halfway across the planet! He would obviously be able to tell you had feelings.

Pursing your lips, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Figured you’d say something when you felt the time was right. Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Laughing, you elbowed his ribs gently. “Well, you failed at that! I’m so embarrassed.”

Smiling and laughing with you, Hunter let his head fall to meet yours gently. “You wouldn’t have had to worry about rejection. The others have known about my feelings since you joined us back in the Clone War. Didn’t want to endanger you by risking fraternisation.”

Your heart was ready to burst out of your chest. The man you had held feelings for, all this time wanted you just as much! Leaning in, you brushed your lips lightly over his, letting him control the rest. You could feel your heart beating harshly in your chest, and you knew Hunter could feel it too.

Hunter, softly took your chin and pulled you back to his lips, giving you a fiercer kiss than what you gave him. It felt amazing, to finally have his lips caress yours in a way you’d only had imagined prior to today. His were slightly chapped yet soft, pressing to yours softly as you keened for more.

Hunter pulled you onto his lap, having you straddle his hips to have a better angle to kiss you. His hands met your hips, lightly pulling you down to meet his pelvis. Your kisses eventually became heated, as your hands pulled at his chest plate, wanting it off.

Moving to your neck, leaving little kisses and bruises, Hunter whispered into your skin, “Should we head back to the ship?”

Smiling, you pulled his hair lightly to bring his lips back to yours. “Oh, kriff yes!”

Hunter smirked, lifting you up from the ground. You wrapped your legs around his torso so you wouldn’t fall.

You let your legs drop, so you could run to the ship. You pulled Hunter along, you both laughing the whole 5 minutes to the ship. Hunter captured your lips once again as you walked up the gangplank. Your brain was turning to mush, and you quickly locked the ship down, lest one of the boys return before getting your message.

Hunter kissed down your neck, deftly pulling your breastplate off, letting it fall to the floor. One by one, armour came off and blacks were slipped off. Your breastband was left on as Hunter laid you onto his bunk. His large hands moved up and down your body, almost as if he was trying to memorize what your skin felt like. He leaned down, capturing your lips once again, caressing your skin before hooking your leg over his hip. He rolled his hips into your pelvis, creating friction for you against your clit.

You let out a moan, so sinful Hunter could’ve cum right there. His hands moved up to your breasts, pulling the band up and off. Kneading your left breast, his mouth descended onto your right. Tongue circling your nipple, causing gasps and moans to escape your mouth. He was so talented with his mouth. How was he so talented with his mouth? In all your time with the Batch they never brought a single woman back. How was he so good?

One hand left your breast and travelled down to your clit. Hunter gently pressed one finger against it before circling it. Your back arched off the bed, begging for more. Chuckling, Hunter removed his fingers, licking them clean of your juices.

“You don’t think I’d let you come that easy?”

Whining, you pulled him closer to you again, wanting to feel him close to you again. You kissed him hard, flipping the two of you over so you straddled him. Your hand slid up from his neck into his hair, pulling his bandana from his head. You tied it back around your neck, just loose enough you could put it in your mouth if needed.

Hunter smirked, loving the image of his bandana in your mouth. Groaning, he felt your hand caress his cock. Deftly, up, and down but never actually wrapping your hand around. You were teasing him, just as he teased you. You took it a step further, slowly sliding off him until you knelt on the cold metal floor of the Marauder. Hunter sat up, confused until he felt your hand caress him again. Only this time, he felt something warm and wet. Your tongue had felt up from the base and circled around his tip. He was in heaven, feeling your skilled mouth on his. You always had a smart mouth, but dear gods had he known your other skill sets sooner, he would’ve told the GAR to kriff themselves and take you for himself.

Sucking softly, you bobbed your head, wanting to give Hunter all the pleasure he deserved. His hand slid into your hair, gripping by your scalp causing a little moan to come out of you. His hips started to thrust gently into the back of your throat, groans turned into soft grunts, and he quickly pulled you off him.

You looked up, wondering if you had hurt him at all but he quickly pulled you up into a kiss.

“If you had done that anymore, I would’ve come down your throat,” he growled.

“Maybe that was my plan,” you smirked.

He threw you back onto the bunk, finally having enough teasing. He crawled back on top of you, kissing fiercely. He pulled up and grasped his throbbing cock. He rubbed some of your arousal on before slowly pushing into you. You cried out in ecstasy, so loud Hunter pulled the bandana from your neck into your mouth. It was a good look for you he decided.

He slowly started to thrust in and out, relishing in how you felt around him. Warm and soft, yet you clenched around him so sweetly. You had no idea how much pleasure you’d be in but all you knew was you were on another place of pleasurable existence. You met each one of his thrusts, feeling a delicious friction against your clit.  You felt that knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter, the heat between your legs growing hotter and hotter.

You could tell Hunter was getting close as well. His hips were starting to stutter but he didn’t stop. His hand travelled down to your clit and rubbed furiously. The overstimulation causing that band inside to snap and break. You saw white behind your eyes, pulling Hunter in for a kiss.

His hips stuttered once more, and you felt warmth coat your insides. Hunter collapsed on top of you, careful not to squish you with his body weight. You both stayed like that for a moment before he rolled off you. He pulled you into his side, relishing in your closeness. Humming in contentment, you snuggled closer, wrapping your leg over one of his.

Hunter absentmindedly caressed you shoulder with his fingers, loving the feeling of you next to him.

“You think the others got our message yet?”

You chuckled. “I’d be surprised if Tech did not get our message. He never takes his eyes off his datapad.”

“Very true… Wanna go again?”

You smiled against his chest. “In a minute. I just want to lay here a moment.”

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

Echo was watching Wrecker show off his strength to some locals when all their comms beeped with a message from Hunter.

You might wanna avoid the Marauder for a few hours. We have some more things to discuss ;)

Groaning, Echo settled in for the night in his seat, waiting for Wrecker to switch weights until they got a comm, saying your “talk” was finished.

“It was only a matter of time,” Tech reasoned. “They’ve been pining for years now.”

Echo grimaced, knowing Tech was correct. This was gonna be a long night.

I hope you enjoyed it! Hopefully my writing is a bit better than last time!

As always, criticism is welcome as long as it's kind and constructive.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 13

“I 

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

**MINORS DNI** ADULT CONTENT

TW: Kissing, dry humping, clothed sex, smokable plant usage.

WC: 3100 LOL

Taglist: @zoros-fourth-sword @cottoncandyloverrrr @nothing-but-brass

Burning Hearts Chapter 13: Accidental Dosage

— — 

“You keep dropping your shoulder, leaving yourself open for attack.”

“I’m not dropping shit, you’re nit-picking- UGH!” You were knocked backwards into a tree trunk. 

“You were saying?” Law cheekily grins from across the clearing. 

You roll your eyes while you catch your breath from the impact. 

“One of these days, Law, your mouth is going to write a check your ass can’t cash.” You sputter as you lunge towards your opponent, blade in each hand. 

Your attack is predictably blocked by Law’s giant katana and he forces you back again. 

“I have no problem putting my money where my mouth is.” 

*GRWWOOAAAR*

Both of your heads snap in the direction of the sound emanating from the dark woods. 

“The fuck was that?” You turn to Law and ask. 

“Probably some sort of-“

*RRRRAAA* 

A giant brown bear no less than 800 pounds bursts through a gap in the tree line and lumbers into the clearing, teeth bared. 

“Bear.” Law finished with an unamused expression. 

“What do we do?” You asked, heartbeat in your throat. 

“It’s fine.” Law states casually. “Room. Shambles.” 

At once, in a flash of blue, Law is right in front of the bear and rapping it harshly on the nose with his blade. The bear yelps. Before you could even comment, Law was back at your side at the edge of the clearing. 

“No need to show off.” You huff. 

Suddenly, the bear does something you don’t expect. It brings its front paws up to its nose in pain. The bear flops backwards holding its muzzle and starts to wail and cry like a toddler. 

“What’s it doing…” You cock your head, confused. 

“It’s… throwing a tantrum?” Law speculates. 

*GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA* 

A much louder, deep sound resonates through the forest around you. 

*crash* *snap* *thump*

*ROOOAARR*

You notice the tops of trees being felled in the distance, but not comfortably far away. You realize what it was. 

“You fucking moron… that was the baby bear… and we just pissed off mom…” You look to your right and make eye contact with Law. 

“Oops…” Law’s eyes widen. 

With a thunderous growl, an unimaginable beast emerges into the clearing. This brown bear was no less the size of a two story building and looked ready to swallow the both of you whole. 

With shocked expressions the both of you take several steps backwards. 

“Well? Any brilliant plan here, Mr Warlord?” You snap without taking your eyes off the face of the snarling creature. 

“Unless you have any bowls of porridge on you… I think we have to fight this thing.” Law draws his blade. 

“Great.” You sigh and unsheathe your swords as well. 

“You’ll take it from the top?” Law asks. 

“Got it.” 

*Grrrrrr*

The massive bear growls lowly and stalks towards the two of you, readying itself to attack. 

“On my word…” Law was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and you held yourself to his go. 

*sniff sniff* 

The bear was so close you could smell the salmon on its breath. You shuddered. 

“Now!”

You spring up into the air and unfurl your wings and launch an attack on the beast from above the nape of its neck. Law was working at disabling the creature from its legs and arms. The two of you fought for what seemed like ages against the hulking monster. 

During your assault on the back of the animal you hear Law groan from somewhere underneath you. You land back on the ground and see Law pinned to the dirt by one large paw, fighting off the bear’s jaws from piercing his neck. 

“Law!” You see red and your vision blurs. You find yourself no longer in control of your body and are hurtling towards the beast at an alarming rate, driving your head straight into the side of the animal. 

The giant beast groans as your slam it off of Law, leaving two gored holes in its side where you had made contact. 

“Hhaaaa!” You scream as you turn to slam your black spiked tail into the creature’s head. You don’t remember changing forms, all you knew is you had to make sure Law was safe. You sigh as you realize the mother bear was now finally unconscious. You notice the smaller one out of the corner of you eye and you let our a bellow that was far more beast than human… 

Upon hearing your cry, the baby bear retreated back into the woods. 

Your chest heaves and you finally come to your senses, looking around to find Law. He was already up on his feet and making his way towards you. He looked… shorter?

“Holy shit… look at you…” Law looks up at you. 

You look down at your feet. They weren’t yours anymore. Huge black, scaled and clawed haunches were where your normally slender tanned legs would have been. This must have been how you launched yourself at the bear so forcefully…

Your head was swimming… what ugly features… 

“Daisy? You okay?” Law’s voice sounded like he was underwater to you. 

You look over at the giant bear’s body and notice the two puncture wounds you had made in its side. You gingerly pat at the top of your head. You feel something that isn’t just your hair… two curved horns protruded from your skull.

“No…” You gasp. 

Everything goes black. 

— — 

You wake up alone in your own bed at the base. You try to process what had happened in the clearing but you felt sick thinking about it. You couldn’t help but think that this training was more than you could take. Maybe you were just naturally weak, unable to handle this powerful of a Devil Fruit ability… maybe you should renounce the pirate life and tell your crew to go on without you after the 2 years is up… 

*knock knock knock knock*

“Hiiiii bitch good morning! Just kidding good afternoon. Heard you kicked a bear’s ass into next week?” Ikkaku comes into your room without waiting for a response. She carried a pile of clothing in her arms. 

“It was way bigger than just a bear…” You sigh as you sit up in bed. 

“Well either way, the weather’s going to change soon so we need to get our tan on before we’re stuck offensively pale for the rest of the season.” 

“You want to go tanning? In the yard? I don’t have a bathing suit. I don’t exactly go swimming often…” 

“You don’t think I thought of that? That’s why I brought you some of mine to choose from. Hurry up, we’re burning daylight!” 

— — 

What incredible power she held. If only she wasn’t so afraid of it. She saved his life today. 

Law sits at his desk pouring over more books about ancient devil fruits. She could take on the world with this ability if only she would push herself to harness it. Law felt partially responsible for her stubbornness to use her abilities, he had become softer on her since… acknowledging the feelings he held for her. He battled with the idea of pushing her to harness her full strength and the thought of cultivating a romantic relationship with her. 

Law pushes back in his chair and rubs his eyes. The smell of warm baked goods hits his nose. Law sits up straighter. Man… that smelled nice…

“Captain! Daisy made brownies, come have some!” Penguin calls from outside his office door. 

Brownies. 

How could anyone resist that luxurious aroma?

Law is brought out of his office by the smell of sweet treats like a cartoon character being drawn by a pie cooling on a windowsill. He makes his way to the main living area and finds his whole crew minus Daisy and Ikkaku shoveling chocolate brownies into their mouths. 

“Here cap, have one! I’ve already had 3! They’re so good!” Penguin hands him one as he enters the room. Law inspects the confection before taking a bite. The flavors were immaculate, even he couldn’t deny that. Daisy truly had a knack for baking. They tasted a little different from the brownies he had eaten before in his life, but they were beyond delicious. Law quickly gobbles up the rest of the square. 

“Hey you two.” Shachi approaches Law and Penguin. “Seen the garden recently?” He says with a smirk on his face, pointy teeth poking through. 

“Why?” Penguin asks. 

“I dunno. I think you should check it out, though. Sooner rather than later.” Shachi’s grin grows and he heads back to sit on the couch. 

Law’s curiosity is piqued. He turns tail quietly and heads to the back door of the base that headed straight out to the yard. 

“Wait I’m coming too!” Penguin hollers and picks up his pace to follow his captain at his heels. 

The two men exit the base through the back door and round the corner towards the garden. 

Law gasps and throws his arm out to the side to block Penguin from proceeding any further. 

“Holy shit…” Penguin breathes out heavily. 

Several yards away, seated on lounge chairs were Ikkaku and Daisy taking in the sun. 

They both held magazines and beers in their hands as they laughed about something they were reading in their gossip rags. Ikkaku wore a low cut pink one piece swimsuit while Daisy wore a black string bikini. 

This was clearly Ikkaku’s bikini, seeing as how Daisy’s breasts struggled to maintain their position in the tiny top. Law couldn’t help but notice the way they jiggled when she laughed. The small triangles holding in her supple flesh strained against her ample chest. 

Law felt the crotch of his pants tighten. He remembered he wasn’t alone. 

“we… we should go back inside.” Law mutters.

Penguin said nothing. Mouth still wide open. Law grabbed the sleeve of his jumpsuit and dragged him back inside the base. 

“pervert…” 

— — 

“The sun’s almost down. We should head back in.” You said to your friend. 

“Ugh, back to that sausage fest? I could stay out here all day.” Ikkaku lays back in her chair. 

“I almost got eaten by a bear this morning. I’m ready to eat and go to bed early. What’s with you and Peng anyway?”

“Nothing really. We hook up sometimes but it’s not serious.” Ikkaku says casually. 

“you’re hooking up???” You sit up on your elbows.

“I mean sort of! He goes down on me, that’s it.” 

“THAT’S IT? You’re getting licked and I’m just hearing about it now?” You gasp. 

“When was I supposed to tell you! You’re always playing nurse ratchet to the captain.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Well is it good at least?” You lift your sunglasses and ask. 

“Not really… but he’s learning.” Ikkaku chuckles. 

“Men are very trainable.”

“That they are.” 

As the two of you clink your beers in agreement, Bepo stumbles out into the garden. He looked disoriented.

“Woah, what’s wrong big guy?” You rise to your feet. 

“Miss Daisy! We need your help! Quick!”

— — 

“YOU FUCKING ATE ALL OF THE BROWNIES?” You scream at the crew of white jumpsuit clad pirates in front of you. “I put a god damn note on these saying these were MY brownies and for NO ONE ELSE to eat them!”

“Yes but we just thought since you make us other stuff to eat we could have these too!” Bepo was panting and looked very nervous. 

“No way…” Ikkaku holds in a laugh.

“Are you guys that fucking stupid?! Do you have ANY idea how much herb you’ve all just ingested?!?” You continue ranting at the men. 

“I don’t really think they need yelling right now, D…” Ikkau puts her hand on your shoulder. 

You look around the room. Jean Bart was asleep in the middle of the floor, Uni and Shachi were huddled together on the couch looking terrified, other crew members were pacing the floor, Penguin was rambling to himself in the doorway. Even Bepo was having a hard time holding it together… he must have eaten a lot…

Your eyes were drawn to Law, who was seated on a singular cushion in the corner of the room with his knees pulled up to his chest and eyes bugged wide. 

“Fucking idiots…” 

“Miss Daisy what do we do… please help…” Bepo digs his claws into your shoulders. 

You rub your eyes and sigh. You clear your throat.

“EVERYBODY! Go to bed! Lay down! Turn on the TV or some music and just sit the fuck down! The sooner you go to sleep the sooner this will be over! And once this is over I can beat the shit out of you all for eating all my weed!” 

The room is silent for a moment before the group of terrified men heed your orders and head to the door. 

“Can you make sure everyone makes it to their rooms okay? I’m gonna check on your greened-out captain.” You ask Ikkaku as you nod towards Law huddled in the corner. 

“Got it.”

“I’ll come check on everyone in a bit.”

Ikkaku nods and follows everyone out of the living room. 

You approach Law and kneel down next to him slowly. 

“Hey… how’s it going?” You speak in a soft, gentle voice. You get no response. 

“Whatchya doing, pal?” You ask. 

“Breathing.” Law states, not making eye contact, still staring wide eyed at some unknown point across the room. 

“Right, right okay good! Breathing is good!” You were trying so hard to hold in your laughter. “Can you maybe come with me and we can get you into bed?” Law nods and you help him rise to his feet. He follows you wordlessly to his room and you get him seated on his bed. 

“I’m going to check on everyone else, how about you change and get into bed, okay?” You ask carefully. 

Law nods. You leave him to go do rounds in the rest of the state rooms. Most of the rooms were full of very happy or very sleepy men, but you found quite the interesting situation upon reaching Penguin and Shachi’s room. 

You open the door and find Penguin curled up like a toy poodle in Ikkaku’s lap as she strokes his hair. Shachi was peering out the windows and breathing heavily. 

“This one’s fine…” Ikkaku nods down at the man in her lap. “But the other one thinks the government is here to murder us.” She rolls her eyes at you. 

“Shachi if you don’t get your ass in bed right now I’m going to beat your ass worse than a Marine Admiral would and I MEAN that.” You growl at him. 

“They’re watching us right now! You don’t hear that?” Shachi exclaims. 

You huff and grab the mans face in your hands. 

“You’re fucking high, you idiot. If you don’t chill out I’ll make sure you’ve got bigger issues.”

Shachi, terrified, tucks himself into bed. 

You give Ikkaku a thumbs up and return to check on Law. 

After making your way back to the captain’s quarters, you find Law laying on his back in bed, shirt unbuttoned but not off, pants off, briefs on, socks and hat still on, staring at the ceiling. 

“Feeling any better?” You chirp as you quietly enter the captain’s bedroom. 

“Daisy!” Law sits up and pulls the comforter over his exposed legs and thighs. 

“It’s fine, Law, just relax. You okay?” You move to sit on the side of the bed at his hip. You look down and look into his eyes. 

To your shock, he bursts out laughing. 

“Yeah? What’s funny, huh?” You smile, seeing the normally stoic, anti-drug pirate captain high out of his fucking mind. 

“Remember when I almost got eaten by a fucking bear this morning?” Law chokes out between fits of laughter. 

“You’ve got a sick sense of humor, man, because I did NOT think that was very chill.” You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. Instinctively, you place a comforting hand on his chest. 

Law grasps at your wrist with his right hand. He strokes it gently up towards your shoulder. 

“You kicked its ass, though. Saved me.” 

“You would have been fine.” You blushed. 

Law’s hand makes its way up to your neck, pulling you closer. 

“Your skin is so soft…” Law says lazily through hooded eyes. 

You laugh. 

“You’re high.” You smile down at him. 

“And you’re hot.” Law smirks up at you. 

“Oh stop it.” You try to brush him off. 

“No seriously…” Law runs his fingers through your hair and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “When you grew those horns and those claws, you were like some sort of angel…” 

You scoff. 

“Not sure what kind of angels you read about… but I’m certainly not one of them.” You sigh and avert your gaze. 

“Let me kiss you for a little, please?” Law, while still dazed, pleads with you. 

“Ask me again after you’ve come down, you aren’t thinking right.” You move to stand up. 

“Need you now, though. Don’t wanna be alone. Please?” Law grabs your wrist as you try to stand. 

Holy shit he was hot when he begged. Every logical thought in your brain told you to leave but he was pleading for you so sweetly… you had to give in against your better judgment. 

“Fine. A few kisses and then you’re off to bed.” You hop up onto the bed and straddle his underwear clad waist. Law smirks and grips your waist with both hands. You lean down and capture his lips in a soft kiss. You feel Law groan into your lips and it sends shivers straight down your spine. 

As the kiss became more heated, you feel Law push your hips down onto his. Wait… was all of that him? Gods there was no way… 

You were just in a tank dress over your swim suit so you could feel the hardened length against your core so distinctly. You were so shocked at his sheer size that you yelp in surprise as Law pushes his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t help but notice his kissing skill was improving.  Law grabs the back of your nape with one hand and pulls your backwards so he could plant wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“Oh!” You gasp in pleasure, feeling his lips on your skin and his throbbing cock underneath your wet, bikini-clad sex. Law used his other hand to guide your hips back and forth across his clothed manhood. 

Law digs his teeth into your neck and purses his lips to suck on it. 

“Gods, Law!” You cry out. 

“Nggghh!” Law groans loudly and grips your hip impossibly tight and presses your core into his pelvis. 

Suddenly his hand on your waist loosens and he releases your flesh from his mouth. His head flops back onto the bed, hat askew. He was panting heavily. 

“Wait.. did you?” You cock your head from your position above him. 

Law covers his eyes with his arm that was just around your body. 

“Shit.. yeah… I’m sorry…” He whispers out softly. 

“Hey…” You move his arm and kiss his lips, his face stained beet red. “It’s okay. You’ll sleep better now right?” You chuckle. 

“Ugh…” 

You pull his hat off his head and set it on his bedside table. You cup his face for a moment before you rise from the bed. 

“Get some shut eye. I’ve gotta check on the rest of your crew. I’ll be back to-“ You move to the archway and look back. 

Law was already snoring. 

You smile and head out. 

— — 

*Author’s Note* SORRY THIS WAS A BILLION YEARS LONG. I HAD A VISION. Omg he’s gonna be so embarrassed I can’t wait. At least he’s finally getting some sleep? Idk y’all give me some feedback here because we’re getting to the MEAT! 

[imaginepirates]

Everything I Need

Jack and the reader both have feelings for each other, but have yet to act on them. When the reader sees him kissing someone else, they think he's already in a relationship, and they begin pushing him away to save their own emotions.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @viper-official @hellspawn-brownies @groovy-lady @ghoulishbehaviour @kittenlittle24

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

The distinct slide of warm sand through your toes pulled a smile to your face. After six long months of roving, the Pearl had made port back at Tortuga, and your feet hit solid ground for the first time in half a year. As much as you loved sailing, a ship was only so large, and you could only walk the same fifty yards of deck so many times before it began to drive you batty. 

The scenery never changed on the open ocean, not truly. Oh, every day the water was a new shade, and the sky a new color, and the patterns of the waves and clouds never took the same shapes, but even when the sea changed from serene to angry, wind was still wind, and water still water. 

The little cove you’d tucked yourself into was a welcome change to all that. You relished the vibrant greens and yellows and reds of the plants, as well as the chirping of birds, and even the singing cicadas. Later, you would enjoy new company, too, and new stories alongside, but for the moment, you were content to sit only with the company of the land. 

Your seclusion, however, didn’t last long. A figure dropped down next to you, barefoot with their trousers rolled up to the knee. It hadn’t taken Jack long to find you; he knew you too well. It should have annoyed you more, that he always knew where you would be, but his company was never unwelcome. 

“Glad to be back ashore?” 

You accepted the bottle he held out to you, taking a swig before answering. “In all honesty, I am. But you’re already itching to be back out there, aren’t you?” You nudged him with a knee, and he smiled back at you, used to your teasing. 

“Can’t help myself, love. The ocean calls to me, and who am I to deny her? I have everything I need out there.”

“Except rum. You come back for that.”

“Except rum,” he agreed. 

It was easy, conversation between you. Jack had a way about him like a gentle morning tide, an ebb and flow to his words and thoughts, simple to wade through and enjoyably warm. A part of you wondered whether he shared this side of himself with everyone, and another, selfish part of you secretly hoped he didn’t. 

The truth you had come to accept was simple: after many long years of knowing him, somewhere along the line you’d fallen a little in love with your captain. That truth, of course, was a maddeningly frustrating one. There were many unspoken rules aboard a ship, the first and foremost being that no part of the crew was to have romantic, or god forbid sexual, relations with the captain. It was a grand violation of the fragile ecosystem that was ship life. Compounded with that fact was the deeper, more meaningful reason you couldn’t bring yourself to confess— Jack was a creature of freedom, and in desiring his affection, you would be denying him the full range of liberty he needed. It was a thing you simply couldn’t do. 

“What are the chances Anamaria has already gotten into a fight?” Jack was still staring out over the horizon, that characteristic gleam in his eye. 

“What are the chances she’s already won?” You knew Anamaria, and there was a high likelihood that by the time you got to whatever tavern she was in, someone would already owe her money. And have a broken jaw. 

Jack stood, helping you to your feet and corking his bottle. “I won’t let you be reclusive all night. I’ll need someone sympathetic there when Anamaria decides it’s my turn.”

“I’d pay good money to see that.”

Jack feigned offense. “How could you?”

“Because if there’s someone knocking you around, you likely deserve it.”

You walked into town like that, joking and placing meaningless bets on who had gotten up to what while you were both away. Tortuga was exactly like you remembered it, a city much like the sea, where things never really changed. Every building was still itself, if a little more tattered and worn. Not that you minded. That exact attribute was what made it perfectly suited for a group of pirates. The place had its charm, even amongst the heaps of mud and rusty door-joints. Old and battered, just like you all were.

Jack slipped past you into a crowded bar, and you promptly followed. You were overwhelmed all at once by the rowdy music, the sea of voices, the mix of smells, the different fabrics, and the heat created by so many bodies in so little space. You tried peeking around for a familiar face but had no such luck. Instead, you accepted the random fluke of drink Jack had plucked off a bar and set in your hands. 

It took careful navigation through multiple rooms before you saw anyone you knew. Sure enough, Anamaria had a stack of coins on the table in front of her, and half the room away a man was nursing a black eye and bloody nose. 

You settled down next to her, eyeing the considerable amount of money she’d won, grinning. You could swear she had some sort of gambling god sitting on her shoulder, whispering in her ear and telling her the right cards to play. Jack had wandered off somewhere else, presumably in search of something new to drink. You watched him go, letting your eyes linger on his form in the dim light, comfortable in the knowledge he couldn’t catch you, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Anamaria who sat just beside you. 

“You have got to stop staring at him like that.”

“Hey now, don’t be unfair.” You held up your hands, reluctantly tearing your eyes from Jack. “It’s not that bad. I really doubt many people have noticed.”

“Only half the crew. If excitement onboard doesn’t pick up, we’ll be betting on you two next.”

“That’s unfair. Pintel and Ragetti provide ample entertainment.”

Speaking of those two, you noticed them across the room, clearly bickering over some newfound subject. They always found ways to inspire philosophical discussion, even if the philosophy at hand was objectively ridiculous. 

Unfortunately, though, Anamaria was right. Your feelings for Jack were probably a bit obvious, despite trying to keep them to yourself. You were afraid Jack would find out, or worse — that he already knew. But you couldn’t keep yourself from noticing his smile, his laugh, any simple expressions of true joy that weren’t part of his facade. He put on an act, you knew, for most people. The perfectly suave pirate come to rob you of all earthly riches, leaving you dazed and a little enthralled. An alluring storybook character come to life. It was those real smiles, though, that you couldn’t shake from your brain, that kept you staring after him even as the moment faded and passed. 

Then there were the endearments, said out of habit if anything else, but they still had their charm. Every time he called you ‘love’, you got this warm sensation in your chest like the feeling of a good drink, spreading to your stomach and dancing across your limbs. Flirtation was in his nature, but that didn’t make it any less effective.

You sighed, taking a sip of the mystery drink Jack had handed you. It was some sort of cocktail, pleasantly fruity with a hint of grenadine*. Jack had disappeared, so your focus shifted toward watching other bar-goers. A tall blonde sawed a whipping fiddle, the tune drawing dancers to the center of the floor. The dancers, of course, were too drunk to keep their coordination, and the resulting chaos of limbs had you snickering. 

Tortuga really was the last bastion of revelry in the ever-shrinking world. You let yourself enjoy it; there was enough time for overthinking things later. For the time being, you relaxed back into your seat, cheering on Anamaria when another poor sod challenged her to cards, wheezing with laughter as Gibbs attempted a jig, blushing and breathless as the fiddler pulled you into the crowd for a dance of your own. 

By the time early morning rolled around, the bar was full of passed-out patrons, people napping wherever they could find room. You rose groggily to your feet, unaware of how long you’d been asleep, and staggered to the door. The outside air made a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat inside the bar, and the smell of brine helped clear your head. You rubbed your eyes and straightened up. 

You walked around the back of the bar in hopes of finding clean water with which to wash your face, only to see a handsome, redheaded young-man with their fingers buried in the front of Jack’s shirt. And their mouth firmly on his. 

You whipped around before either of them could notice you, stalking back the way you came. You didn’t hear the soft thud of the redhead’s body hitting the wall as Jack pushed them away, nor Jack’s voice, calm but firm, denying any further advances. Instead, you followed your feet until they hit sand, curling up in the cove you’d found the previous day. 

You should have known. You should have known Jack would already have someone, someone he was closer to than you. You couldn’t be the only person in love with him—if you’d noticed all the wonderful things about him, other people undoubtedly had, too. Jack had been a pirate for a long time, and had a whole past you knew nothing about. Of course there would be someone else. 

You curled and uncurled your fingers in the sand. The breeze off the ocean did nothing to cool the hot wave of jealousy that rolled over you. You let it sit there, broiling and festering and simmering within you, allowing yourself to stew over it. Warm tears fell over your cheeks, and you wiped them away angrily with the back of your hand.

Then it was gone. Like the recession of the morning tide, your jealousy left you in one fell swoop, and only exhaustion and emptiness remained as you hugged your knees. You had no right to feel jealous of Jack’s lover. You and Jack had never shared a romantic relationship, and you had no claim to him. All you had were the feelings you kept to yourself, and it was your own fault for never acting on them. If anything, you should be happy Jack had someone he cherished; it was so rare as a pirate to find time for partners. 

Still, a little nagging voice in the back of your head whispered its miseries in your ear. 

Back aboard the Pearl, the crew filed onto the ship, still dreary and in need of more sleep. But Jack seemed anxious to leave, and everyone was used to hangovers and quick departures. Gibbs grumbled something along the lines of ‘what trouble has Jack gotten into this time?’, but nobody argued about getting underway. 

For you, it was both a blessing and a curse. While you doubted anyone had noticed your absence that morning, you were less than thrilled with the prospect of seeing Jack every day and being reminded of the feelings you desperately needed to leave behind. Then again, leaving Tortuga meant you wouldn’t have to hide from the bars in fear of more…potent reminders. 

You spent your time avoiding Jack as much as possible. Somehow, there was always a task for you to do down below when he was on deck, or rigging to climb until he was a speck far beneath you. The crow’s nest was quickly becoming your favorite spot. You could climb there and brood for a while under the pretense of watching out for the Navy—any of them—and you didn’t have to deal with concern from the crew over uncharacteristic frowning. 

But he noticed. And you noticed he noticed because his gaze wavered whenever it landed on you, and that never used to happen before. He’d stopped speaking with you, though you felt how much he wanted to. You told yourself it was for the best, but it felt wrong at the same time.

In truth, it hurt. You missed your old conversations, the easy familiarity you used to share. Your life on the Pearl just wasn’t the same without it. It was your fault, too, which stung even more, and you hated thinking that you were putting Jack through any sort of torment of his own. Your intention was never to hurt him, but you feared that was part of the result you were getting. 

As it turned out, Jack wasn’t the only one who noticed. “Why are you avoiding him so much lately?” Anamaria sidled up to you, helping you secure belaying pins. Jack wasn’t on deck, so you were more free to talk without fear of anything getting back to him.

Leave it to her to sniff things out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried playing the comment off, but knew you failed miserably. 

“Did something happen between the two of you in Tortuga?” 

“No.”

She put a hand over yours, halting your work and forcing you to meet her gaze. “Something’s wrong, of that I’m sure. Care to enlighten me?” Seeing your hesitation, she reassured you. “I’m your friend. I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’m not going to judge you. Too much.” 

You knew from her smirk that she was joking, and it was the first time you’d had any humor around in weeks. It felt good to have that dynamic back, and you warmed to the idea of opening up, though you were a bit mortified to do so. 

“It’s just…” you began, “you know I have feelings for Jack. And I was finally coming to terms with them, but the morning we left, I realized there’s no place for them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I saw Jack kissing someone else.” You stopped mid-action, the rope in your hands suffering an unfinished knot.

You didn’t need to look at her to know Anamaria was shocked. You pushed on, the silence too much for you to bear at the moment. “It makes sense: I mean, he’s been a pirate for a long time, and he’s had all these adventures and travels, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he met someone on one of them. I have no right to feel jealous; we were never together.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Anamaria’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, her thumb rubbing gently over your shirt. 

You sighed. She was right, as usual. “No, it really doesn’t.”

“I’d say let’s spit in his drink, but you’ve already acknowledged it’s not that sort of situation.”

You smiled a little in spite of yourself. You continued working in silence, taking as much comfort from her company as you could. Maybe with her around, and being friends with the rest of the crew, you could dull some of your pain with their companionship. No matter how much it stung that Jack couldn’t love you, you could never be truly lonely with the rest of them by your side. 

Evening fell with a cloudless sunset, nothing to obscure the reds and yellows and pinks of the darkening sky. You stayed on deck instead of retreating somewhere else, unwilling to let your negative thoughts get the better of you. You were still alone, standing at the rail by yourself, but you weren’t lonely with the rest of the crew milling about, wisps of conversation drifting over to you. 

A presence at your side made you turn. It was Jack, staring out over the horizon, looking a little anxious. You couldn’t blame him. You knew you were the source of his discomfort, and you wanted to make up for it as best as you could, though the prospect of confessing the reasons behind your behavior scared you. He would think less of you for this, you were sure. He was too easygoing to understand why you would be so caught up on jealousy.

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but you started. “I know I’ve been distant, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for what had to come next. “I saw you in Tortuga the morning we left, you know, with that boy. He’s a handsome sort, and I’m glad for you, but I had no idea you were in any sort of relationship, and I had kind of been hoping…” you trailed off. This was hard, but you had to grit through it, because not talking to Jack again would be harder. “I had feelings for you. Have feelings. And watching you with him has kind of been eating me up alive.”

You risked a look over to Jack after a moment, waiting on a response. To your surprise, he looked shocked, and beneath that, you saw a tinge of sadness. 

“I’m sorry to overwhelm you,” you began, but Jack cut you off with a shake of his head. 

“I’m the sorry one, love. You shouldn’t have had to see that, and it gave you the completely wrong idea.”

Now it was your turn for shock, and not a little panic. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t want him to kiss me.” The sentence hung in the air before Jack continued. “It’s not that he isn’t good looking, or that I don’t know him—I do, but I don’t feel that way about him. I don’t…” Jack frowned, looking for the right word. “I don’t love him.”

“Oh.” It came out so small you weren’t sure you’d even said anything, but Jack finally managed to look you in the eye. 

“I don’t know if I deserve your affection. My flirting gets me in trouble; you got to see it first hand. And that got me in trouble with you. I’m not sure I’m worthy of commitment.”

“Oh Jack.” You raised a hand to cup the side of his face. “I don’t think you have a choice. I’ve already loved you for so long, I’m not sure I can stop.”

“Even though I deserve one of Anamaria’s beatings?”

“Even though that.”

Jack’s fingers laced themselves through yours, keeping your hand in place on his cheek. “I don’t need land to find my lover. You said it yourself: I could stay at sea forever. Because I have everything I need right here.”

*I’m aware grenadine wasn’t invented until 1872, but I needed to put something there, and idk my alcohol. 

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cheese of the Stringable Variety

damian wayne x reader

(A/N): I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while now and it is by far the most niche thing I have ever written. I intended this to be around 1k, looked at the word count before I’d even gotten to the section I wanted to write this for, and then checked again at the end and viola 3k. I am of Arab-American heritage myself and slowly learning Arabic and connecting to my culture, but this type of string cheese has always been a part of my life and my role in my extended family. I also hope that those who don’t share these experiences can still enjoy this fic, if only for the amount of storybuilding that wormed it's way in. (Also worth mentioning that the having separate bedrooms has no cultural relevance whatsoever; I just like the concept.)

Note: reader is implied heavily to be of Middle Eastern heritage, though there are no features described. The region is also unspecified but the Arabic dialect is Levantine because that’s where my family is from. 

warnings: a lot of food mentions; a mild curse word in Arabic; use of a knife for food related things; discussions of extended family 

wc: ~ 3100

~~

On your way out the door in the morning, you took the braided cheese out of the fridge and left it on the counter, a post-it note on top of it. Leave out of the fridge! was scribbled hastily in your handwriting as you rushed to work. In the apartment behind you, you could hear the sink running. After a long night of patrol, Damian was fortunate his meeting started at eleven am and not eight am. 

Every time your phone screen lit up as you headed home in the evening, it taunted you with the time. You didn’t mean to be back so late; it would take hours to string the four braids of cheese you’d picked up from your جد, your grandfather, the day before. At this point in the evening, you’d probably have to get up earlier in the morning and finish it then. At least an early tomorrow would mean “no sleeping in” rather than “running on five hours of sleep” before a family function. You’d done it before. It sucked. 

You pulled your laptop and a couple other items from your bag before heading to take a shower and change into comfortable clothes. A sweatshirt of Damian’s caught your eye after you’d gotten changed, tossed haphazardly over the edge of your bed. You hung your damp towel in the bathroom before heading back into the kitchen. Halfway there, you turned and grabbed the sweatshirt, pulling it over your clothes. 

“مرحبا حبيبي,” you greeted Damian as he shut the front door behind him. Hello, my love. “How'd the meeting go?" 

“مرحبا أملي,” he replied, dropping a quick kiss on your cheek as he passed through the kitchen on his way to the bedroom.

Damian’s Arabic was better than yours. Every time he said something to you that you understood, a satisfied trill shot through your chest. Ameli, he called you this time. My hope. Damian had a handful of various pet names for you that he cycled through, many of them in Arabic. 

“The shelter proposal’s been fully approved,” he informed you, “so I’m expecting the distribution of funds to begin in the next few weeks.”

“Oh that’s great!” Setting up properly funded, city-wide animal care facilities was one of the first things Damian ever brought up to the WE board. “You've been working at that for years.” The microwave beeped and you silenced it quickly, pulling out the container of leftovers you’d been heating up. You opened the second container and covered it with the same paper towel before placing it in the microwave.  The timer was set once more for 90 seconds. Before the food was done heating up, Damian returned to the kitchen, work clothes traded for a compression shirt and shorts. He owned half a dozen of the exact same black compression shirts. They functioned most often as his first underlayer on patrol. 

“Here, Dames.” You held the first container out to him, a vegan pasta dish he made earlier in the week. It was still steaming.  

“Thank you, beloved.” Damian took the container and sat down at the table, eyes scanning something on his laptop. If you had to guess, it was probably the drugs case the entire family had been working on recently. The two of you had hosted Dick the other day, up from Blüdhaven following the same case. He’d stayed in Damian’s room while the two of you crashed in yours. Dick was at the manor now, but he’d promised to stop by before he went back home. Some part of you figured it was at least partially motivated by the fact that you were inevitably going to be taking home leftovers tomorrow. Dick had tried some before and loved it. He probably wanted some. You didn’t blame him; you already planned to be hoarding your favorites for yourself. (And Damian. But mostly for you. Your family wasn’t vegetarian.)

The microwave beeped again. You pulled the second container out before grabbing forks and making your way over to the table. Your dinner was mostly the same as Damian’s, but with chicken added into the dish. The two of you didn’t always store leftovers that way, but sometimes it was easier to create two separate servings if you expected to be eating at different times. Damian scribbled a note down on the pad of paper next to him and closed the laptop. 

“We’re finally raiding the first warehouse tonight,” he offered, accepting the fork you held out to him. The paper and pen were pushed to the side before Damian started eating. 

“Oh yeah?” You asked around a bite of food. “So that stakeout paid off then?” 

“It did. But Dick and Timothy are following other leads tonight so this won’t be the end. But it should be a good start.” 

“Good,” you agreed. “I’ll be glad when the operation’s dismantled. You wake me up if you need me when you get home, okay?” 

Damian nodded. 

You weren’t sure you actually believed he would wake you, but you knew Babs would even if he tried to convince her not to. Sometimes you thought being friends with Oracle was the only way you stayed somewhat sane while dating a bat. She sent you injury reports. Alfred’s injury reports, not the lame ones Damian, his father, and his siblings wrote in an effort to not get yelled at by their friends or S/Os. 

Dinner didn’t take long. You loaded the dishes into the dishwasher as Damian collected his duffel bag for patrol. 

“Love you.” Damian pressed a quick kiss to your lips and another to your temple before ducking out the window. 

“I love you too. See you tomorrow.” 

There wasn’t secret bunker in your apartment. There was a significant amount of both weaponry and uniform equipment and outside direct access to transportation to one. You watched Damian’s bike disappear behind a false wall before turning back inside. It may not be Gotham-saving, but you, too, had stuff to do. 

The microwave clock declared it just after ten pm by the time you’d completed the handful of household chores you wanted done—the ones you expected to have time for until you got home late. You deliberated for a moment before grabbing two braids of cheese and a bowl that your dad had given you for that express purpose. You’d leave the other two out and string them in the morning. Leaving the cheese out all day had done its job. When cold, it would snap too easily when you tried to string it, and take much longer to do. 

The speaker that lived in the kitchen turned on with a swooshing noise and an acknowledgement that it was connected to your phone via bluetooth. It was a little late for anything too upbeat, but you found a good playlist after only a minute or so of looking through them. You tied back any loose hair, washed your hands, and grabbed a small paring knife from a drawer before sitting down at the table. The knife, sharp as it was, cut through the plastic packaging with ease. 

You moved the empty plastic off to the side and unraveled a twist, cutting each end so that you had two thick pieces a little under a foot long. The second braid was left whole for now. Once you got started, it would be harder to find pieces yet to be strung under the stringy parts already finished. So you’d break apart the larger pieces as you finished the ones before. 

Your music kept you company over the next hour and a half. The huge pieces were pulled apart into larger pieces then into medium pieces then into smaller pieces before finally being teased apart into the stringy texture that gave the cheese its colloquial name. It was just before midnight when you graded your efforts adequate. You poked one final time through the two braids worth of cheese and pulled apart any of the pieces you thought were just a little too big before calling it a day. 

The bowl was full, and you covered it in plastic wrap before putting it in the fridge. In the morning, when you did the remaining two, you’d have to start a new bowl. There was no sense in leaving already strung cheese out on the counter. You washed the knife and tossed the plastic wrappers in the trash before sending a goodnight text off to Damian. 

Goodnight, حبيبي, it read. Then, Be safe. There was no response. You didn’t expect there to be; he’d see it when he could, and you’d see him in the morning. 

Your bed was occupied by just you when you woke up which meant one of three things. Either Damian had gotten back too late that he would have woken you up by joining you, he’d gotten injured and knew he’d fail to hide it, or he needed a little bit of solitude. There was no injury report from Barbara when you checked your phone, but the little marker under your text to Damian from last night said that he hadn’t seen it until after three am, which meant it was probably four at the earliest by the time Damian had gotten to bed. You missed the warmth of waking up to him with you even as you appreciated his decision. It was only eight am now. You would have no doubt woken him up with your alarm. He desperately needed sleep, even if only a couple hours more. 

The remaining braids of cheese were in the same spot you left them on the counter last night. You moved them and a second bowl to the table, then grabbed yourself a bagel for breakfast. Your friends from New York disagreed, but you’d tried both and New Jersey bagels were far superior. 

It was half past nine by the time you finished scraping the hummus from your blender into various containers. One larger container would go with you and Damian to your grandfather’s house. The other one was staying in your fridge. Between the two of you, it wouldn’t last very long. You didn’t make hummus very often despite the fact that you both enjoyed it. What you could boast, though, is that you’d converted Damian to your family’s way of making it. Critiquing supermarket-available hummus became a shared habit. 

The completed bowl of string cheese fit perfectly in the fridge on top of the larger container of hummus. Most of the blender parts went in the dishwasher, and you set the cycle to rinse so that the hummus wouldn’t dry and congeal onto the plastic. The blender blade stayed on the side of the sink, already rinsed off. You’d wash it later. First, you had to finish the cheese. You opened your playlist from last night and hit play, bluetooth off this time. If it was loud, it would wake Damian. 

Damian’s bedroom door opened near silently when you were nearly done with the third braid. You took a momentary break to nudge the tea kettle on by pressing the button with your elbow before returning to your seat at the kitchen table. The bathroom door shut then opened again a few minutes later. His footsteps, quiet even in his home, meant that you didn’t notice him heading into the kitchen until he was already there. After months of living together and months before that where you might as well have been, your partner appearing silently beside you didn’t startle you anymore. 

You never got tired of seeing Damian without his guard up. It was an image only you and his family got to see: a Damian squinting in the morning light, hair a mess of waves that dried pressed against a pillow. The sight of him dressed in nightwing pajama pants and an old college t-shirt was yours, now. 

“Morning, my dear,” you greeted him. Small strands of stiff cheese stuck to your fingers. You picked them off and dropped them in the bowl before getting up to give your partner a hug, wrists bent awkwardly so that you wouldn’t touch his shirt with your hands. 

“صباح النور” Damian murmured, his arms heavy around your shoulders. Good morning. “What are you doing?” He asked as you let go. 

“Remember how I had to pick up cheese from my grandfather’s house the other day?” Damian nodded. “I’m stringing that. I wanted to get it done last night but I got home a little late. So I’m finishing it now.” 

You retreated back to your spot at the table, finishing the last of the third braid. Black caraway seeds were scattered around the table and you brushed them into your hand before returning them to the bowl. “The kettle should be done pretty soon. And your mug is on the counter.” 

Damian didn’t say anything until he sat down beside you, cup of tea in hand. 

“You’re stringing the cheese?”

“Yeah, it’s the thing I’ve been assigned to bring to the family events. I’ve been doing the stringing part since I was a kid but since I started living on my own I’d string it at home and bring it with me. And this year I’ve been upgraded to making hummus, too. I made a double batch so there’s a separate container for just us in the fridge.” 

“You went to a family birthday party months ago and didn’t bring it then,” Damian pointed out. 

“Yeah, if my aunts and uncles host the event,” you explained, “their family is technically supposed to string it. I mean, a lot of the time I’ll get there and they’ll ask me to do it anyway, but it’s not officially my job. And I don’t have to pick it up if it’s not my job. This is the first full family event that we’ve lived together for, I think.” You thought for a moment. “Wait, no, there was thanksgiving. But you were at the manor then.” 

Damian watched as you opened the fourth braid. The plastic wrapping joined the one from earlier. 

“I’ve just got this one left.” You cut both ends and pulled one of them apart. “Do you want to help? You’ve just got to wash your hands first.” 

Damian detoured to the sink before sitting in the chair beside yours.

“How does it work?” 

“You just kinda pull it apart and then keep stringing until it gets to be really thin.” You demonstrated quickly, stringing a small section of the larger piece you were holding until it resembled a pile of embroidery floss. 

“Like this, just for the whole thing. But it will snap if you try to brute force pull it instead of string it.” You handed him one of the larger pieces. “Here, you try this one.” 

Damian’s face of concentration sent a burst of warmth through your chest. He was following your instructions to perfection, entirely focused. It took effort not to burst into a full grin. You watched him for a moment before continuing on. Two songs went by on your playlist before Damian said anything. 

“This takes ages.”

You laughed. 

“Yeah, it does. Which is why I spent nearly two hours at it last night and we’re still doing it now. I’ve gotten so much faster at it, though. I can do two braids in less than an hour and a half. It used to take me an hour each. But it’s faster only if it’s warm. If I have to string it right out of the fridge, it’s harder to do.” You smirked. “And it tastes worse.”

Damian quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. Ask my family members when you meet them later.” 

“I will not.”

A laugh burst out involuntarily. 

“Yeah, maybe having a debate with my family about food isn’t a great idea. They’d scare you off.”

“No they wouldn’t,” Damian argued, eyes lowered. “I have fought the League and the worst of Gotham—“

“And it’s still okay to be nervous meeting my family. But you know I don’t actually care what they think right?”

“Tt.” Damian stopped stringing to look at you. “They’re your family.” 

“Yeah, and so are you.” Your shoulder nudged his, hands still hovering over the half-finished bowl of cheese. “And I know for a fact that you know me better than most of them.” Damian scoffed a laugh. 

“I know more about you than your estranged cousins? What a great achievement,” he deadpanned. You rolled your eyes at him, returning to the piece you’d neglected. 

“You’re the first significant other in a long time,” you revealed after a moment. “My family is big, in a different way than yours, and they scare people off. So if a cousin brings someone to a holiday celebration, it means we’re serious about the person we’re bringing. All of my cousins-in-law are the people my cousins brought to gatherings like this.” In your peripheral vision, Damian stiffened. You kept stringing, anxiety twisting in your chest. 

“I should have told you that earlier, I’m sorry, I don’t even know if you’re fine with that implica-” 

Damian’s hand reached out to still yours. 

“حياتي,” he said, head dipping down to meet your eyes. “That’s okay with me.” 

“High-ah-tee,” you sounded out, repeating it back to him. “What’s that one?” 

Damian pressed a kiss to your lips. On instinct, your hands moved to cup his chin. Drying strands of the string cheese in between your fingers had you pulling back. 

“العمى,” now I have to wash my hands again. And you should wash your face, Dames.” 

“Be right back,” he said, moving quickly to the bathroom. You watched him go before turning to wash your hands. Damian hadn’t returned by the time you’d finished, so you moved back to the table, resuming working on the strand you’d left behind.

“You didn’t tell me what it means,” you reminded him as he sat back down next to you. “Hayati, that is.” 

“حياتي,” he said slowly, “means ‘my life.’” 

A smile split your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hey,” you began. Damian turned to you, mid stringing his own piece of cheese. “I love you.” 

Your partner’s lips quirked up into a grin. He pressed his forehead to yours for just a moment before turning back to the cheese. “I love you too.” 

“Now,” you mock-admonished, “if we don’t get this done in the next 45 minutes, we will be leaving late.  And my grandfather hates it when the cheese is late.” 

Damian huffed a laugh, following your lead as you returned the majority of your attention to the bowl in front of you. 

“Maybe we’ll beat your father there.” 

You barked out a laugh. 

“Oh, my grandfather would find that hilarious.” 

Damian’s smirk was visible even as you reached for another piece of string cheese. 

“A first impression that will be remembered, then.” 

“If we’re on time with the cheese and hummus? And your stringing skills are already pretty good? I think my grandfather will just never let you go.” 

“Lucky for him,” Damian said, grabbing the other half of the piece you’d just begun, “I don’t plan on that being a problem.”