#but they would just pile them all up in one spot at the beginning of the day and I guess flatten it out after we had gone home?

[bynott]

anything for you. theodore nott.

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

warnings: graphic death

pairing: theodore nott x ron weasley's twin sister!reader

“You can’t possibly love him, y/n. He’s a bloody Death Eater!” your brother had jeered at you. Hot tears ran down your face but you refused to wipe them. You wanted everyone in the room to see how deeply this was hurting you.

“I have never been more sure of something in my life. While you were gone – while everyone was gone – he was the only constant. He isn’t who you think he is.” The room broke out into a chorus of repulsed sounds. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t much these days, the predominant members being the Weasley family. Harry Potter’s death loomed over everyone. Numerous other deaths piled on: those who died at the beginning of the war, but those who have died recently like your older brothers, Percy and George, and your father, Arthur.

“He thinks we’re scum! He would kill Hermione on the spot. How can you stand there and say this shit?” another brother had chimed in. Voices were starting to overlap the more trapped you felt.

“You’ve never given him or myself the chance to prove that’s not true! If you remember, Theo was the one who told me about everything Draco was doing back in school. He has already given us so much information. He’s climbing the ranks, but he is doing it for us!” you fell to your knees, exhaustion and frustration getting the best of you. “Can’t you see that even if he’s not doing it for all of you, he’s putting his life on the line trying to help secure a world that I feel safe in? You know how my beliefs align!”

“Has he stopped killing innocent people? Does he still partake in Voldemort’s plans that don’t necessarily target us? If he’s climbing the ranks, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing to do so,” your mother inquired, shooting daggers at you. You couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“He’s doing what he can to survive, too. If he dies, we will lose so much.” Without missing a beat, you added, “If he dies, I am as good as dead.”

This conversation, over a year old, still rings in your head every time you meet Theo. Your current setup in an old warehouse allowed these thoughts to amplify. The only sounds keeping you from spiraling were the rhythmic tapping of Ron’s foot and Bill’s pacing. You never got to see Theo alone, but that wasn’t a horrible thing.

Though you wanted nothing more than to have one evening alone with him, as selfish as that sounds given the climate of the world right now, the positive came in the form of the people who joined you on these exchanges and started to see through the cracks in Theo’s character. This hardened soldier who bears the Dark Mark turns into someone else in your presence. He is more patient and gentle, as compared to the man that numerous members of the Order have seen slaughter people in cold-bold, just to laugh at their frozen-in-death facial expressions.

You had noticed changes in Theo throughout the last few times you’d seen him. He was much more focused on you than the information they were there to exchange. He’d almost become frantic – dark circles that got darker every time you saw him circled his eyes, and his face had become much more caved in. He was starting to look as though he were actively being tortured. He didn’t look better this time around.

You sprang up from your spot when you heard the metal door grind against the floor, opening quicker than anticipated. Ron and Bill quickly put their wands up and took aim at Theo, refusing to put them down even when you yelled, “It’s just him!” Theo didn’t respond much better, raising his wand and aiming at Bill, who you knew Theo saw as more of a threat than Ron.

“Are you being followed? What made you come in here like that?” Bill growled, eyes flickering between Theo and the entrance. Theo narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You think I would lead them straight here if I was? If it was just you two, sure. But, I would never do that with her here. Consider yourself lucky,” Theo spit.

“That’s enough. Are you alright?” you stated, briskly walking to your lover. Up close, you noticed faint bruising around his neck, as if he’d been choked. Theo didn’t say anything and instead, kept his eyes locked on the two men standing behind you. “Theo,” you trailed off, putting one hand on his cheek. You searched his eyes for any type of response, but you couldn’t find one.

“You don’t have much time,” he said, only loud enough that Ron and Bill were barely able to hear. You took a slight step back, still close enough that you could hold his hand – the hand that he couldn’t even bring himself to grasp in return.

“What?”

“The Dark Lord knows there’s a mole in his closest circle. He knows you are not dead, despite me telling him you were,” Theo said, finally making eye contact with you. Your mouth fell open and you held his hand tighter.

Theo lost his will to fight at that exact moment, letting his hand holding his wand fall to his side. He pulled you into him and rested his forehead against yours. “He knows you’re the mole?” you whispered.

“Not yet, but I can’t imagine it taking much longer. His eyes are set on Berkshire – thinks he’s gotten scared now that his mother died. I was able to ward him off me for the time being. I told him that I wasn’t the one to kill you, I just saw you get hit with a nasty spell.”

“Come with us before it’s too late, Theo. How many times do I have to beg you? Turn your back on it all. We can keep you protected.” you pleaded, looking back at your brothers for reassurance. Bill shook his head before Ron chose to speak.

“He is not coming back with us. Do you know what kind of target that would place on us? It would be a death sentence,” he spit. “With that Dark Mark, I’m sure Voldemort could summon you back to him at any given second,” he added. You spun around to confront him but Theo was quicker – he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Weasley,” Theo said with such spite behind his words that it made you want to cower away from him. He looked down at you, asking you a silent question. You bit your lip in thought, looking over at your brothers. 

“Could you guys give us a minute to ourselves? Just stand guard at the door.” With a few grumbles, you were able to convince them to leave. As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Theo as tight as you could, reassuring yourself that he was here with you and still alive. For how much longer he would be alive, no one was certain.

“You can leave them. Even if you don’t take refuge with us, you can escape,” you pleaded. Theo softly shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No, y/n, I can’t. I’m bound to him until one of us dies. I…” he trailed off. You frantically started shaking your head at him and he sighed. “We knew this was going to happen.”

“You might have known. I held out hope,” you cried. Theo grabbed your chin gently, using the other hand to wipe away the stray tears. “Promise me you won’t die.”

“Y/n…”

“Promise me, Theo.” 

His response never came. Theo pulled you into him and kissed you so tenderly, that it was beyond out of character for him. You knew this was the end. He softly ran his hands down your sides, over your back, anywhere they could grasp. It felt as though he was trying to remember the exact shape of your body. He eventually tried to pull away, but in return, you softly bit his lip and pulled him back in. 

Theo couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. You were intoxicating in a way that no drug or drink could replicate. Not breaking the kiss, Theo hoisted you onto a table that was just behind you. Laying you down on it, he kept kissing you. Along your jaw, down your neck – Theo kissed you anywhere with an exposed bit of skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, to which Theo then kissed away your tears. When he was finished, he pulled you up into a sitting position.

“Love, you are the only thing in this short existence of mine that I’ve ever been sure of. When I die, I can die happily because I knew you. I got to love you.” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as he professed to you. You leaned your forehead against him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Try to survive, Theo, please. For me,” you pleaded. Theo nodded briefly but was interrupted by a banging on the door. 

“Hurry up, it’s getting dark. We need to leave,” Bill’s voice called out. Bill and Ron both reappeared in the room, looking at the two of you expectantly.

“We need to leave, and you still haven’t given us what we came for,” Bill sighed. Theo tensed and pulled himself away from you, putting his facade back on as if it were a costume. Part of you wished he didn’t, just so they could see the real him.

“The Dark Lord plans to raid Hogsmeade, again. You need to make sure everyone is evacuated. He doesn’t plan on ever having to raid them again. In two days, if you don’t create a plan, everyone still living there will be dead.”

“And will you be one of the Death Eaters killing those people?” Ron inquired.

“If it means that it keeps me alive, and keeps a steady stream of information coming to you, yes. I have never been unclear with my intentions.” Theo said. He was significantly taller than Ron, forcing the redhead to look up at him as Theo walked closer to him, slowly.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bill said, getting visibly anxious. “We’re leaving,” Bill added, grabbing you and Ron both by the arm. 

Everything happened so fast after that – you reached out for Theo, but he backed away from you and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear run down his face. Just like that, you were whisked away, Bill choosing that moment to apparate. You didn’t get to say goodbye; you didn’t get to tell him you loved him for the last time.

Three days later, after their failed attempt at raiding Hogsmeade, you and your family watched in horror as Voldemort was broadcasting yet another round of executions. This wasn’t the first time this had happened – the first time being with his son, Mattheo, a boy you had known in school. You can’t recall the exact reason for his death, but it set a standard. If Voldemort would kill his child in such ways, what would he do to others?

You held your breath as the camera view panned down the small row of people awaiting their death. You felt the wind get knocked out of you when you caught sight of him.

The boy you loved was there, his eyes already dead. His appearance was, somehow, much worse than when you had last seen him. The bruising around his neck that had almost been healed was now back in full display, accompanied by bruises all over his face. He had blood dried around his mouth and nose, and his left eye was so swollen that it looked completely closed. Something told you that death was merciful compared to what he had been put through.

Voldemort rambled on about the first three men, killing them quickly. His smile never failed, especially when he turned to the last victim: Theo.

“Theodore Nott, what would your father say?” He teased. He pulled a wand out of the box that a servant of his carried at his side. Raising it, you recognized it to be Theo’s. Voldemort snapped it in half, causing a slight flinch to radiate off Theo.

“Stupidly fell in love with a dirty blood traitor, one of those Weasleys. He’s acted as an agent for them this entire time, but of course, I knew from early on. We’ve played a brilliant game of cat and mouse, haven’t we, Nott?” Voldemort, again, laughed. Every muscle in Theo’s body was tensed up and he never lifted his face to look at the crowd that had gathered or the cameras broadcasting the event.

Noticing Theo's aversion to looking at the crowd, Voldemort ran his fingers through Theo's hair before yanking it back, forcing him to look up. Theo grimaced but finally looked straight at the camera. His good eye bore through you, sending your heart straight to the bottom of your stomach.

You started sobbing, sliding off the couch and crawling towards the hologram showing the entire scene. “Please,” you gasped. Hermione sat behind you, pulling you into her, but you fought her off. 

“You were special to me,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand. You grabbed whatever was closest to you – in this case, a plate someone had been eating off of earlier – and threw it through the hologram. The sound of your sobs and the plate exploding against the wall ricocheted around the hideout.

Another one of your older brothers, Charlie, moved Hermione aside and restrained you. Without doing so, you would’ve hurt yourself or someone else. “Get off me,” you repeatedly screamed, thrashing around on the ground.

Charlie was able to hold you in place on the ground, holding you facedown on the carpet with your arms pinned behind your back. To your horror, you turned your head to the side just in time to see a green light encase Theo in its grip. 

The cry you let out was movie-worthy. Using all of your strength, you burst out of Charlie’s grip and jumped up, turning on your surviving family members. “He died for us. He died for us and our cause. You never gave him a chance and never wanted to offer help in return,” you sobbed. Hermione came back to your side and held you in her arms. 

You didn’t fight back this time. You sat in her arms and sobbed. You couldn’t stop sobbing as you looked back at the hologram and it was panned to Theo’s dead body. It zoomed in on his face as if to hurt you even more. You watched as Voldemort whispered a simple charm, and flames consumed Theo’s body.

“I hope the Weasleys watching this enjoyed the show. While you watched this we have surrounded your hideout. Even Nott’s Occlumency he worked so hard on for you couldn’t keep me out. Perhaps it’s good that you never trusted him with your exact location, or else this would’ve happened long ago.” Voldemort smiled, and the hologram shut off. There was no noise in the room other than your silent sobs. 

Then, the first window exploded.

[risingoftime]

one night only

⤷ coriolanus snow x fem!reader: coriolanus’s classmates gets him a personal birthday present.

contains: 18+ MDNI, virginity loss, escort!reader, virgin!coriolanus, porn with plot, dub-con, smut, oral, p in v, sex work, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation.

word count — 2k

From above, you observed a line of women entering Pluribus's nightclub from the changerooms. Each woman seemed to cater to every man's fantasies, meticulously groomed and prepared for what the night might bring. As your turn to go on stage approached, the music transformed into a slow and seductive rhythm, signalling your cue. Taking one final swig of the strong white liquor, you felt a burning sensation as it went down your throat, causing your eyes to water. The spotlight illuminated the top of the staircase. It was now or never.

Your sheer daisy blue robe hinted at the white lace lingerie hidden underneath; almost everyone’s eyes were on you. Almost. A single gentleman by the bar with his friends kept his eyes on the stirring glass of moonshine that he held in his hand. He masked his face as bored and indifferent, but his body language communicated a different story, tight and wound up as if he’d be ready to bolt at any moment. It was evident that his friends dragged him here. He stood out like a sore thumb with his buzzcut light blonde hair and tall, broad physique. The lighting was low, but you knew who he was instantly: Coriolanus Snow, the first student-mentor from the Academy. He’d helped that girl from District 12. You’ve always had a soft spot for pretty boys, especially ones with deep pockets that would pay a hefty price for just one night.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to introduce our one and only Capitol Gem.” It took everything within you not to roll your eyes at the nickname Pluribus had come up with as you descended the steps. Hoots and whistles erupted from the crowd as your hips swayed with each move, flowing through different positions to accentuate your flexibility. In a passive motion, you unwrapped your robe with a coy smile on your lips, entirely in character now. Gone was the girl from District 11. The song's base bounced off the wall, creating a numbing hum in your chest and ears. Combined with the liquor, it was easy to ignore the lust-filled stares. The robe cascaded at your feet, fully exposing your scantily covered body. Some men began throwing cash on stage, yelling, “Take it all off, baby.”

You swiftly climbed the pole, contorting your body to swirl around, allowing them to view you from all angles. This is what they came for, to watch you—whining your waist up and down while holding the rod, serving the fantasy of how you’d look when riding someone’s cock. Dropping into a split, the crowd went wild. Glancing at the public, you could see the other women beginning lap dances, writhing their bodies to the rhythm of the music. Coriolanus kept his eyes on the drink in hand, only glancing up to sip the moonshine. Your eyes met briefly, and he offered a shy smile before his friend caught his attention to whisper something in his ear. Coriolanus shook his head in protest, but his friend seemed too intoxicated to care about their friend's opinion. The man was slightly shorter with dark brown curls and had a big, goofy smile as he unfurled a fat wad of cash from his pocket. The friend pushed it against Coriolanus’s chest, forcing him to grip the money before it dropped on the dirty speakeasy floors. If you didn’t approach them now, then another girl would.

Elongating your body across the stage, you grabbed the miscellaneous bills of cash on the floor into a pile and stowed them away in the bag you hid by the steps. Pluribus knew your routine and smoothly transitioned to a new tune. With a charming smile, you quickly walked through the crowd, evading eager hands, keeping your eyes on the prize - Coriolanus Snow. But before you could approach him and introduce yourself, his unnamed friend positioned himself between you.

“Hello, Darlin, I’m Augustus,” he slurred your stage name as if it was meant to remain secret. His skin glistened, and the smell of alcohol reeked from his pores. Poor thing was drunk off of his ass. Augustus’s other friends watched, amused at him, while Coriolanus sorted and pocketed the money into his pants.

“What can I do for you, baby?”

“Oh no, not me! For my dear friend Coryo. It’s his birthday! Think he needs a private dance–”

“He needs more than that!” One of the boys quipped, earning quite a few laughs. There appeared to be only a few members from Capitol University, but you only saw walking dollar signs. “Well, it’s only your birthday for one night; I can make it worthwhile,” You replied. They nodded eagerly and practically shoved Coriolanus to stand in front of you. His eyes widened, and his face tinged pink with embarrassment.

“I– I’m sorry about them.” He fumbled over his words as he tried his hardest to keep eye contact and not wander further down to your breasts. You appreciated the effort. Quite the change of character in comparison to what you were used to.

“Don't worry, I don’t bite! But I do need to be paid before we go any further.” You looked up at him and his friends shyly, laying the innocent role on them thick, and they did not hesitate to hand you a sum of money that could cover all of your monthly costs. The sons of Capital families were always the easiest to deceive. They’d learn eventually.

You led Coriolanus upstairs to a simple and minimalist room, clean and warm. He let go of your hand before you could guide him to the bed.

“We don’t have to–”

“Don’t have to what… fuck? Are you a prude?” The question came off more blunt than you had intended; your surprise was evident. Many men of the Capitol fantasized about fucking a girl from the districts with the presumption of sex being more exotic with women who did not come from the same socioeconomic background. Yet he seemed bashful and unsure of how to converse with you and, nonetheless, have sex. “No, no, it’s not that…” His eyes wandered around the room, avoiding eye contact. In the dim lighting, you could still see his cheeks flush with embarrassment or perhaps from the alcohol - most likely both.

“Oh. You’re a virgin.” It became painfully apparent as his face deepened in shades from pink to beet red at your discovery. “It’s hard to believe the Coriolanus Snow hasn’t been with anyone. Has no one caught your eye? You are quite popular amongst the Capitol.” You walked to the bed and lay on the duvet facing him.

“There was this one girl, but it didn’t work out.”

“So you've never thought to act on impulse on your desires? or are you a romantic?” His answer to the question was inconsequential, but it would’ve been a lie to say you weren’t attracted or intrigued by the young man standing before you. The real question you wanted to ask was whether he’d act on his desires with you. Would he give in?

“I’m far from a romantic,” he confessed.

He walked to the bed and tentatively sat beside you. Coriolanus was watching you now, allowing his eyes to take you in. Your supple dark skin glowed in contrast to the crisp white lingerie set. If he looked closely, he would see your hardened nipples underneath the unlined lace. His heated gaze made you feel aroused without even being touched - a foreign sensation you hadn't felt in a while. Coriolanus's face drew closer to yours, lips mere inches apart.

You weren't sure who made the first move, but everything else faded away when his lips met yours. You took his bottom lip between your teeth, slightly tugging it to deepen the kiss. Coriolanus’s tongue slid over yours, and he tasted like mint and moonshine. You whispered between kisses, “Tell me what you want me to do to you, Snow.” Taking one of your hands, Coriolanus guided your hands to his clothed crotch. “Tell me,” you repeated with another kiss.

“Suck me off.”

Unbuckling Coriolanus’s pants revealed a deep v line to his long, girthy cock sprung free from his pants. He inhaled sharply as your tongue trailed his length from the base to the tip before taking the head of his dick in your mouth. You watched as Coriolanus bit back a moan while he watched began sucking the precum leaking from his slit.

“Oh fuck” he rasped. Your head began bobbing up and down his cock with lips wet from saliva, using your hands and mouth together to make sweet pressure build up in his core. The once untouchable Coriolanus Snow was like putty in your hands, whimpering and begging for you to provide him release. You looked up to meet his eyes as he watched and moaned pitifully, trying his best to hold back. Snow looked so pretty like this, vulnerable. “Shit, I- you’re so beautiful,” he groaned. Coriolanus inhaled sharply as you continued to suck his dick, taking it all in your mouth with precision.

“I’m going to cum” Coriolanus cried out.

As you removed his member from your mouth, strands of saliva trailed behind. You continued to stroke him slowly with your hands. "No, not yet. I'm not done with you," you said, shimmying out of your panties. Grinding your wetness against him, you teasingly rubbed your pussy against his cock. Positioning yourself to let your clit rub against him, you worked yourself up, feeling an indescribable need for more. Your tightness clenched around nothing, longing to be filled by Coriolanus. "Snow put it inside me." The chemistry between the two of you intensified.

Coriolanus fumbled with the condom before gliding it on his member. Sinking onto his cock, you were unsure if you can take it all. With each inch, your body shook, waves of pleasure overcame your body once he was entirely in, and arousal pooled between you. Digging his fingers into your ass, in a calm voice, “Your pussys’ so tight,” Coriolanus said. He pounded into you relentlessly as you straddled him. His hooded eyes trained on your cunt, taking him all in. Wet slapping sounds filled the room, betraying the explicit activities within.

“Fuck, slow down. I'm going to cum Corio-”

His lips overtook yours once more in a passionate kiss as he panted between each thrust. “Feel s’good,” Coriolanus slurred. His toned arms wrapped around you, locking you into position with no room to run from his dick, completely taking possession of your body. Your silky walls coiled around him, only for Coriolanus to take. Both of your waists moved frantically as the tension between the two was about to snap.

"Cum inside me, baby," you purred. Coriolanus was on the edge, lost in the sensation of your pussy as he thrust into you. His movements became languid and sloppy. "Ugh, don't stop," Coriolanus choked out between moans. His breath hitched, and his grip tightened as you rode him toward orgasm.

“You’re all mine,” he growled.

“Only for tonight, just one night.” You huffed, still slick with sweat and your juices. Your clit throbbed each time you rolled your hips. Coriolanus erection is still hard inside of you. He got his, and now it was your turn to get yours. He winced at the continued friction as you bounced on top of him. His once rough grasp around you turned gentle, unable to handle the pace that you set.

“I… I can’t.”

“Shhhh, let me take care of you.”

You placed tender kisses along his neck before gently nibbling on his earlobes. The heightened sensitivity awakened a different side of Coriolanus. "I'm gonna cum again," he sighed, blissed out. Your pussy tightened like a vice grip as your legs trembled in bliss, milking him of every last drop of cum, leaving you both feeling euphoric.

"That was fucking amazing... I never..." After struggling to form a coherent sentence, Coriolanus touched your chin, guiding your lips back to his. It was intimate as you melded into each other, foreheads pressed together. Coriolanus and you remained in that position for what felt like hours, inhaling each other's breath.

[astrologylunadream]

What About You Makes Them Blush? 💝🥰🎀 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hii it's Lunadream💞 Love is in the air so this will be a reading on everything about you that makes your person blush🥰✨️ hope you find your message💌

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~💖

Pile 1🎀

Pile 2🍓

Pile 3💌

Pile 4🫦

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 🩷

Pile 1🎀

Sign energy: Waves, Work place, Libra, Touch, Community, Venus, Cancer, Pluto, Water, 2nd house, 🎥🪞🛍🐭

💝Your person's energy: Aww you guys there's such soft energy in this pile, you and your person both omg🥺💞 Your person is SO good at maintaining relationships with other people, they are a true magic worker in their social circles.💬 I'm hearing "making waves" so yeah they're good at that, super kind and likeable. Getting water energy, Libra, Cancer, Scorpio, Taurus but also some indirect aquarius for some reason?? This person could have water signs in 3rd/7th/11th houses in their chart. Very charming soft allure to them, like a magnetic beauty of some kind.🌸✨️ Most of my pile 1's find this person very pretty🥰 Your person is so sweet and gentle with others, like they even touch people in such a soft way so comforting to be around😭 For some of you they have a very feminine/nurturing work environment, perhaps working around females or related to beauty. I'm picking up on some fashion/makeup related stuff take what resonates.🛍💋💖 Your person has a sweet voice, it's honestly so nice. Filming may be significant, beauty industry vibes~✨️ Their sense of style is amazing, they could enjoy shopping and trying on outfits.👚 Like seriously pile 1 your person is so aesthetic!! Mouse may be significant, maybe they find thay animal cute. They enjoy beauty routines and self care, it's no wonder they look so good🤯💕 Such lovely vibes from this person omg

🥰What about you makes them blush: Interpretation, Responsibility, Mindfulness, Venus, Self sabotage, Juno, 10th house, Leo, Uranus, 9th house,🙍‍♀️🤙🍷🩲 Interesting so maybe some of you know more about this person than you should..?😅😳 That makes your person blush a little since you have so much awareness about them and how they are, I'm getting maybe some of you have really figured this person out in some way.🔦🙊 Also your ability to analyze yourself makes them impressed, so they find it very attractive.🤭💗 Maybe you see yourself as something a little strange, they find it cute (omg). You have a lot of self worth and they love that lowkey, your poweful feminine energy no matter your gender is something they would find themselves blushing over.😳✨️Juno is here some of my pile 1's feel obligated to commit to this person, and that makes your person turn red in the cheeks! Your self awareness and determination makes them blush really. But also they have a soft spot for when you are Sad🥺 Your thighs and hair is something for them too. They feel there is really no one quite like you.❤️ This is a more specific message but for those of my pile 1's that are drinking age, maybe you have a high tolerance and that makes them blush??🍷🙈 They believe you would be very mature and responsible in your work/commitments, maybe you are very serious about your career/marriage/future plans. You radiate a bright lovely and self promoting energy that they just adore.😩💫 Your person may blush over how you're so special and the way you steal their attention.💗 Omg my pile 1's I am seeing your person blushing so much over you rn every little thing!!

💌Messages from your person: I would let you, I would do anything for you, It's not your fault, I promise, Oh my god, You might get hurt, Be careful, You will find happiness. (Maybe some of my pile 1's they're worried about you/don't want you to be hurt by anything rn🥺) Extra cards: Kabedon, Stay, Online, Tsundere, Block, North node, Moon, Leo, Venus, 2nd house (Someone really wants attention from you omg some of my pile 1's blocked this person on social media but only some. For others it's more emotionally guarding yourself from giving or recieving love from this person, but yeah they're really wanting to show you a soft love and admiration for you guys💗💗🥹)

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🍨✨️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the bow emoji~🎀 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💝

Pile 2🍓

Sign energy: Win, Unexpected, Quiet, Jewelry, Remedy, Pluto, Capricorn, Taurus, Vertex, Fire, 🥰🕺🤧🎰

💝Your person's energy: Ooh powerful energy for your person✨️ Their presence speaks for them, like they don't even have to say much for everyone to go like, wow.😳😍 Lol for some of my pile 2's this person likes jewelry or accessorizing omggg, snazzy. Oh right so Scorpio, Capricorn, Taurus and fire signs in their chart. That combination of heavy earth +pluto is just🤌😩 Like seriously you guys your person is so fine. They may be more quiet or have a low voice, they aren't overly talkative or anything. They may spend a lot of money on rings, neck jewelry or earrings, I feel like it's very healing to them. Your person has a powerful aura and they may be surprisingly more intimidating than you think😳 It doesn't have to be but there is a high class/luxurious vibe to this pile's person.💼 Could be tall or act as if they are. For some of you this person has a successful business of their own on the side, I'm getting introvert vibes for some too. Chill vibe to them especially their voice. I feel like your person is unexpectedly a good dancer lol like you think they're not into that sort of thing and then the next thing you know they take you dancing and sweep you off your feet✨️🙈 Ohhh specific message but your person may have thing for gambling, this may be surprising to you guys. They like to win and this happens to them often with many things, but that'd also something they keep to themselves.🤫 My pile 2's may really love this person like you may be the one blushing rn haha🥰💖

🥰What about you makes them blush: August, Cinderella, Silence, Clench, Suspicion, 8th house, Pluto, Saturn, Earth, 6th house,🍑🆓️☁️🕯 Ahh omg🤩 So you have a really magnetic beauty they find themselves blushing over oml🥵 Like less is more for my pile 2's the less you say the more they fall for your silence!!🥹❤️‍🔥 Some of you the month august may be significant, any of my pile 2's born in fall?💗 Your person is low key obsessed with your ordinary qualities you don't think much of at all, like it could be a small little habit you don't even realize and then there's them over there blushing like crazy🙉💓‼️ I can see them start to sweat when they look a you, and like if there's an awkward silence between you both they will be so red omg😭🟥 Sometimes they feel like you have your head in the clouds when you stay silent haha like "what is pile 2 thinking right now?" They like how you try to ground yourself, maybe you meditate or take walks outside trying to connect with the universe and and they find that cute. Also they like figuring you out, so like if you seem mysterious like you have a bit of a secret it gets them smirking like "I bet I can figure pile 2 out" OMFG😰❤️ They blush just thinking about grabbing you and pulling you to them. Your dark/hidden side makes them blush but also..... your 🍑 A little obsessed that's all I'll say okay🥲 They like your fascination on tarot and spiritual topics. Oh and the way you get when you're determined about something, like you make up your mind and don't back down that would make them blush idk why but it's so cute😭🩷 Your person sees you as sort of a cinderella energy, maybe they hope you're the special one who they give everything to.✨️ Oh and if they catch themselves overthinking about you, their cheeks will turn red.🙉❤️ My pile 2's I'm loving this energy between you both!

💌Messages from your person: Just dance with me, I can't wait to meet you, We can't let anyone know, It's nice meeting you, Are you loyal to me? I'm worth it, How could you? How are you so calm? (Haha maybe your person is freaking out and you're just like mhm yeah I know😌💓) Extra cards: Treat, Cut, Impulsive, Reminder, Meant to be, Water, 9th house, Leo, 12th house, Air (Lol they wanna remind you that they feel this is meant to be between you both🥰)

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🍨✨️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the strawberry emoji~🍓 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💝

Pile 3💌

Sign energy: Image, Valentine, Regret, Physical, Tangled, 10th house, North node, Venus, 9th house, 11th house, 🆓️☄️🔝😱

💝Your person's energy: Wow this person is a somebody for sure, they have a big image to keep up. Especially ties with their online persona and self promotion, maybe they are an influencer or have a successful social media.📱✨️ Signs for them are Capricorn, Libra, Taurus, Sagittarius and Aquarius in their chart. Valentines is a significant time (also the time I'm posting this haha cute💖) I feel like they were asked online to be their valentine, like recieving a lot of love from their socials. They are physically attractive and pretty😭💗💗 Ugh like they have such soft and lovely features, and the way they dress is so pleasing. They may travel a lot or get caught up in that often, maybe they have to study really hard? For some of you this person speaks many languages and gets confused a lot of times lol😂 So a message I'm getting is that they may have regrets already about their future may turn out, they want to top themselves but also they are afraid of crashing and burning🛬🔥 This stresses them out omg😥 Maybe they identify with the movie tangled from disney, you may view this person as your ideal valentine or someone you would want to spend valentines with.💓 They want to free themselves and may feel trapped (Omg and identifying with rapunzel on that one) so they just want their future to be bright and don't want to get caught up with everything that's holding them back from reaching the top.🥇✨️ They may be respected and admired at their work or online, my pile 3's are so attracted to this person!!😍💗 College may be significant, maybe your person is studying something hard right now. They want to be very successful I'm hearing.

🥰What about you makes them blush: Poker face, Style, Intimacy, Dominant, Tongue, Leo, Venus, 1st house, Libra, 12th house,💁‍♀️👇🟥🍒 So your person finds your clothing style and preference really beautiful💗 They like the way you dress, It makes them blush like "Wtf how is pile 3 so pretty??" Lol they love your soft aura and angelic presence.🪽✨️ So a lot of physical chemistry especially on intimate levels🥵 Your body has them more than just turning red🫣‼️ They are really into your face, body, tongue, also your chest they find very attractive. All that turns them super red omg like seriously the color is there😭❤️ The idea of dominating you has them blushing, like laying you down and yeah intimacy. Some of my pile 3's are Leo venus or Libra ascendant/Venus in 1st house.🌸 They like your facial expression and like especially ones with the tongue.😳 You grab their attention and it makes them blush omg, your feminine side also is something very attractive to them (No matter the gender).🌹 They want to touch you especially what they find attractive. Yeah they definitely find your whole appearance very appealing and physically attractive, they want to do things to you that is all I'm gonna say😭 You look good in the color red to them, literally you pull out their darkest side they weren't even aware of😳 They find you very cute like they may want to squish your cheeks, also they may dream of you and then wake up with rosy cheeks like aww pile 3🥰 Yeah they have romantic fantasies about you, especially dominating you, intense ones🥵. You give off a lovely shining energy and they also see you as their other half🩷 Yeah intimacy with you would make them blush, like a lot.

💌Messages from your person: I'm playing with fire, I get lost in your eyes, There's something between us, Say my name, I won't push you to do things you don't want to, I want to cheer you up, Don't look at anyone else, Please don't give up on me, I want to travel with you (Aww🥰😍) Extra cards: Romance, Cheeks, Anger, Final, Slide, Cancer, Taurus, Fire, Juno, Leo (Yeah lots of passion and romance in this pile omg💗)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🍨✨️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the love letter emoji~💌 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💝

Pile 4🫦

Sign energy: Certain, Break, Teeth, To the grave, Stress, 6th house, 9th house, Gemini, Capricorn, Pisces, 🎪👨‍🍳😎🏰

💝Your person's energy: I am getting workaholic vibes, maybe your person has a lot to do. They may have a stressful job or schedule, leading to success but also burdens on their mental health. Cooking may be significant to you or them, like traveling to try food is coming through for me.🛩🍳 Your person has a lot on their plate right now, it's funny because didn't I say for some of you food may be significant? LOL😂 They are intelligent and use their mind a lot, they are prone to overthinking aswell. They may travel to conventions often, it could be for their job or a hobby/interest of theirs.❤️ Signs for them are Virgo, Sagittarius, Gemini, Capricorn or Pisces in their chart. I don't know why but europe is coming to mind for some reason. Ah so your person wants to break their stressful routine and relax, they just want to forget all their worries and escape.🫥☁️ They may socialize with people often, they definitely think A LOT.💭 They may also sound like they're dead tired when they speak. This is more specific but maybe for some of you this person broke their tooth one time? Their teeth are noticable. They are very serious about their goals and tend to worry themselves often.💬💦 They tend to be realistic and forget to take breaks and indulge in the fantasy every once in a while. They are too strict with themselves I'm hearing "working themselves to death" omg like they need to take care of themselves😭 They do love travel and new experiences, they may want to visit a different country and have a fun vacation to clear their mind.✈️🗺💗

🥰What about you makes them blush: Breath, Intent, Despair, True feelings, Home, Moon, 2nd house, 1st house, Saturn, 9th house,😏🚀🦷👗 Ohh so they feel very emotionally connected to you guys, your comforting energy makes them blush omg🥺💗 You are their safe place that they can come to when they're stressed and not feeling well. You may be the voice of reason when they're down or anxious. Aww this is so sweet, you hugging them would make them blush so hard🫂💘 Like so soft and comforting to them, they love your nurturing side. When they are in despair you are their light.⭐️ Your physical appearance also makes them turn red, they would love seeing you in something nice like a dress.💎🥰 Your person is a little naughty for that actually, they wouldn't mind using their teeth to get what they want😳🥵 I see them making a little smirk when you two are alone together, that's all I will say for that one.🤐 If they ever feel your breath it calms them, they may want to feel your steady breathing as you are home to them. Your intentions for wanting them to feel better and care about them would make them blush a lot🥺💖💖 Also your neck and thighs have them smiling. Touching you probably skyrockets their heart rate, they may want to kiss your thighs and the thought of that makes their cheeks red🫢❤️‍🔥 Some of you may enjoy shopping and they find that cute. Oh my pile 4 this is a really sweet and romantic connection, I am seeing lots of lip biting on their mind lol (Which fits this pile perfectly with the lips haha). Your voice makes them blush, they just want your love and care because it's so good to them😩💘

💌Messages from your person: Do you still want this? You're my special someone, I saw it coming, Are you in love with them? You make me feel at home, I see your efforts, Tell me what's bothering you, You are my favorite song. (Aww pile 4 again you are home to them💖) Extra cards: Fantasy, Queen of hearts, Recover, One and only, Blossom, Scorpio, Uranus, Fire, 11th house, Pluto (You're like the omly fantasy they believe in omg. Yeah there is a lot of magnetic attraction to you guys seriously they're kinda hooked🤯❤️‍🔥)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🍨✨️

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the lips emoji~🫦 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💝

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[undercoverpena]

cold, lips blue

din djarin x f!reader | masterlist

summary: din takes you to see the snow, and then uses his body heat to warm you up.

warnings: softest smut soft!din. p in v. no use of y/n. loosely season one/two. same reader as isn't it - but no requirement to read. wordcount: 3.1k

With him, you’re discovering wonderlands.

Eyes finding places your dreams couldn’t even manifest, dream or conjure—shades coming to life, appearing in mixed colours and strong hues.

Each sight makes your heart do a double take as you steal extra seconds from plans to take it all in.

Today’s wonder is all white.

It’s littered with occasional grey stones and slightly blued pebbles. The piles of them doing their best to intersperse, to be a break in the rolling snow-covered hills. Provide some form of depth, give something for your eyes to latch onto—to prove there’s vastness.

The first solid thought you’d had when the hull door opened was, it’s bright. Almost uncomfortably, so,

Eyes squinting instantly, forcing yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled and flakes began their escape into the ship.

Eyes squinting instantly, yet you force yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled. Its mournful wail echoes through the air and flakes dance in a frantic ballet, their delicate forms swirl like spirits wishing to escape into the ship.

Stepping outside, more snow finds refuge on your cheeks, forehead and nose, resting there momentarily, before vanishing as though they’d never existed. They leave behind only the sensation, a fleeting tickle, like the echo of a memory. Just like a kiss, its presence lingers, an imprint on the skin, brief yet unforgettable.

Just like him, you suppose. Just like all the kisses the two of you have shared.

The last one, in particular.

The softness of it. The way he so cautiously slanted his mouth over yours, cupped your head in his hand and spent seconds, minutes mapping out your lips before he even slid his tongue past your teeth.

You’d made notes of things too—the low grunt he tried to bury in his throat, the way his body slowly relaxed itself on top of yours. All welcome, a weight you’d forever wear.

Forever. An odd word. Seven letters, and yet it expands through space and time. It’s ever-lasting, yet could be gone in a moment.

Turning on the spot, your senses tune in to the sounds of it crunching under your boots. Bits of it find shelter within the worn seams, seeping into the crevices as if seeking solace in the fabric that has weathered so much, all over-worn and loved.

You’re glad, in a sense.

Even if your toes grow colder and liquid begins to slide under the arch of your foot—it just means you can feel more of it. Soak as much of it in, and let it solder itself to you, so a piece of it lives within when the three of you turn your back on this place.

You hear him follow, and all you think is that he's welded a part of himself in you too.

A fragment at first—and now you’re sure he’s carved himself something larger. It's less about ordering you to stay behind, grasping for you in dark spaces that turn into heady nights spent panting. Now, it’s more about crawling in beside you because you know to wait, trusting him to always return. It's more about the way you can map his face with your palms—bask in the sensation of his breath on your collarbone...

Cold stretches there now.

You’re sure if you slide open your layers, the skin would pebble before it would begin to ache—to become desperate for cover. You wonder if your bones would want to shake and shiver; whether your blood would slow, if your mind would become a little less heavy?

“This okay?”

He speaks—making the two words slice through the howl and the heavy breaths you’re consuming.

Asking it as though a smile hadn’t been stitched into your face since the moment he’d told you he had a surprise. A treat. As though he hadn’t watched a twinkle in your eye because you know he doesn’t make half-promises and he does not give without thought.

“More than okay,” you reply, voice gentle, it flowing from your lips as you let your gaze rest on him.

Let it sit there.

Allow your mind to begin to walk away with itself as you recall the way he jolted, the soft murmur he exclaimed when he danced between being awake and asleep.

You wonder if he regrets this. Whether the way you curled into him to soothe had been a step too far; whether your palm flat to his cheek, knuckles tracing the stubble that leaves welcomed burns along your thighs, had been too much for him.

He hadn’t said as much.

Not even once.

Sighing, letting it trickle past your mouth, you stare up—the sight of frost falling seemingly coming from nowhere and yet somewhere. Lost in it. Attempting to trace, to find the origination, only to find yourself struggling to see, to focus—too bright, you think again, chin dropping, eyes closing as you take another deep breath.

It’s why it slips out, is spoken before you realise it’s left your lips. It travels in wispy condensation, hand outstretched, palm upturned, as the words fill the silence: I’ve never felt falling snow.

You hear the sound of his boots crunching snow, the gap between the two of you closing as you flick your eyes to him—not halting him, but rather ensuring he knows you see him.

The dangerous side and the gentler side; the one who hunts and the one who caretakers. And all the rest in the middle.

You drop your gaze to him—the one more beloved than ship, principles or bounties. Snow resting atop his green head, ears twitching when certain flakes make contact.

Then, you stare at the helmet. Silently asking, all done in an exchange, a purposeful distraction—with a reply given in a tilt, a descent of his beskar-covered shoulders before the child was placed on the ground.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

You snort. "You trust me, Mando?"

He says nothing, which says a lot.

And you allow a deep inhale to follow—one that flows ice through your nose, forcing it to crash into the sides of your lungs as you almost gasp.

It’s a different kind of cold here.

A lot of things are different now.

You don’t concede to the ache in your bones or the weariness in your jaw from the relentless clenching of your teeth. You hide it beneath a veneer of stoicism and resolve.

Because if you do, the three of you will leave.

Stubbornness, some would say; utreekov he would say.

All under his breath, later translated when your mouth wraps around his cock—when you hollow cheeks and trace the tip of your tongue along the slit as salt kisses the roof of your mouth.

He decides for you when you blow into your gloves. A firm declaration, bold: Grogu needs to sleep.

It is less a question, and more of a statement; not quite an order, but he leaves little room to argue. The child picked up, scooped practically from the ground, leaving you to face the back of them both.

If you were closer, you’d likely see your dismay reflected in the beskar. The ball in your hand melting, before you let it fall in a half-formed lump to the ground. Letting it reunite with others similar to it before your soles flatten it, crush it back into nothingness.

You shiver, with no attempt to hide it this time, his eyes no longer a threat—no necessity to fight it or bury it. Letting it rumble through you as your teeth move on their own accord. Knowing, without touching, that your lips are likely colder than the melting snow that had been in your hand.

It might not have been the case if you hadn’t taken six snowballs to the face in the last so many moments.

The balls had been cupped and formed in your palms before you'd thrown them, only to have them flung back at you. A test, an experiment. A training session for Grogu and another thing ticked off from the list of things you’d ever done.

Yet, still, there are many things left.

A never-ending listicle—but, there alongside the ones for him are even more questions you're not sure you'll get an answer on.

They won't be shared. You won't whisper them to him when you’re both bare and catching your breaths. They'll rot inside of you, leave them tucked behind sinew and held back by stronger muscles than you have anywhere else.

You know the protocol when you are back in the warmth.

Silently disrobing, entering the refresher—followed by dressing and the rest of your usual routine as the other two sit up top, one resting and the other doing his utmost to avoid.

A thing that rarely bothers you, except now, your skull throbs—pounds. A sudden desire to call out his name, to ask him to come, for no reason other than to be held. The back of your hand finds nothing but chill, cold and sweat when it brushes your forehead, an unsteadiness to your walk as you manoeuvre—so reminiscent of the first few days on the ship—his name being swallowed.

Bed, you think.

Moving slowly, each step is akin to a baby's crawl until you finally grasp the comfort of it before sliding up further into it, encasing yourself, wrapping until you’re closer to a ball than a person.

You’re not sure how long you lie, how much time passes, but when he calls your name it sounds distant—far off.

And, so he calls it again, and again. A chant, a melody, it carries around the walls and greets your ear each time. There's just no energy to reply, nothing else inside of you than being curled and willing warmth to stretch out across skin, muscle and ossein.

Maker.

He breathes it. Allows it to flow out. But, it isn’t until his hand knocks away the sheet, fingers brushing over your calf do you hear him hiss.

“Kriff, you’re freezing.”

You murmur something, mind willing for an I know but not entirely sure what hits the air. Barely able to do more than remain still, to stop yourself from shivering.

Worth it, you add. Repeating it, the bridge to the song of your name he'd begun earlier, until you open your eyes and find yourself in the dark.

It's all-encompassing in its cloak of midnight, the darkness enveloping you like a heavy shroud, pressing against your skin with an oppressive weight, suffocating any glimmer of light and casting you into a realm of shadows and ambiguity.

Then you hear him undress.

Able to tell now, able to spot when each item is placed down—like a strip tease you’ve never been privileged to actually see, but the routine is all but memorised.

You want to reply, tell him you'll be fine as a tremble rips through you—finding it’s easier to keep your teeth together. Easier to tremble and shiver and shake.

That is, until you feel him shift, the presence of him looming before his body begins to smother yours.

It's all broad, heavy—heartbeat hammering against your skin as it ripples a kind of tune through your bones. But it's the warmth you grasp for; bring closer. Your fingers digging into skin and muscle, needing him flush to you more than you need to breathe.

It’s not romantic, but in a way it also is.

Even if shrouded in a blanket of faux night, there’s something intimate about the way he feels around you. It's far softer, slower movements.

His fingers find your cheek. Thumb brushing over your lips, likely cold, lips blue, as you bite back the instinct to let it slide into your mouth. Fight hollowing cheeks around the appendage, remind him how good your mouth can feel.

Instead, you focus on him. How this time, neither of you said this wasn’t it. This wasn't the place—isn't it. No entertainment that snowy-topped hills and rolling mounds of ice could be a place he could ever leave you.

You’re thankful, more than grateful.

Wishing to say as much as you shift your body under his, his thigh slotting more gracefully between yours, so much so, that makes you whimper. A sound that makes his head move, shift quickly.

A shyness falling over you, a veil of it, weightless but still there.

You're sure he's reading you, scanning you, deciphering everything the noise could mean even in the dark.

But, it's obvious that you want him. A thing you almost shrug out, but he shifts again, purposefully rocking his thigh, intentionally pulling another whimper that proves that you're throbbing. That you need him. More than a requirement, more than survival—

Warm me. Keep me warm.

Fingers sliding to his waist, resting, thumb stroking as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A sign without words, a signal that flashes in its own way.

Your wants rolling, clumping. Not too dissimilar to the snowballs you had made earlier—them all compacting, hardening.

Please, Mando.

Even if he thinks you just want him, you want more than the solid length of him inside of you or his palms on the back of your thighs.

It's a thing which circulates, and you ponder over it. Turn it over when you wake before him and let sit on the back of your tongue when he's showing you what buttons and switches mean on the ship.

Because you want to know his smile, the shade of his eyes—see the faces he pulls when he tilts his head and know the unfiltered sound of his laugh. You want him to never let you go. To never let you slip under, to hold you, to always be—

“Mesh'la…”

You hadn’t known you’d been speaking out loud. Letting confessions fall, like the earlier snowflakes. Except they hadn't landed softly, or gently. But rather laboriously, thickly—making the small space feel much narrower.

Realisation slams your heart into your chest, halting thoughts, and silencing your apparent babbling.

Head turning, silence doubling—air tightening—before you think and speak, “Should be saying that t-to you.”

He hums, it vibrating through him, fluttering over where your chest meets his. “I’m not... not mesh'la.”

“Don’t need to see you to know that you are, Din.”

You’re cautious with it, his name.

Barely used, barely warranted. A thing given to you one night when your face was buried into his neck—a silent promise made when he’d handed it to you. An offering.

You feel his head rise, each of his muscles taut, and you close the gap, moaning your gratitude into his mouth, all messy.

Rustling sheets sounded, suddenly aware of him. Feeling him. Pressed against you, heavy and leaking, as the rest of him remains tense. Caged in his bicep, mouth unwilling to release yours, to be anywhere but reading the rest of your wants straight from your tongue.

"Got you," he moans, signing it against you as he moves, positions himself before you can feel him nudging at your entrance, "I've got you."

And he does.

Slick with need for him, in a slow thrust, he sinks into you. Deeper and deeper. Clutching onto him, hanging more imperatively to him as he pauses, lets you adjust—mouth sliding over yours as he waits for the sign to move, to go, permission to further set you aflame.

You think each time you’ll be used to how he stretches you, how delicious it feels. How you’re so full, so content, and how he feels all warm and soft against you. But this time it’s different. Not just in the way he moves, but in the way he kisses you, in the way he murmurs soft phrases to your neck and collarbone.

Some you make out and make heat rush to your cheeks. Some you begin to try to translate before a drag of his cock sends the words spiralling into a mess of letters that fade as quickly as they were spoken.

Toes curling, fingers digging further into his waist and shoulder—leaving something on him, even if he’ll bury it in armour.

It's a thing you’ll know. He’ll know. A thing which makes him bite down on your shoulder and ask for more.

A demand which makes your back arch, makes you drop a curse as your vision blurs and your toes curl as his pace picks up.

Because you’re trembling for an entirely different reason now. So close to fracturing, to coming apart—letting have it all, the good, the bad and the parts which have rotted before he lay beside you. Seeing stars in a galaxy of nothing all because of him—I’m close, so close.

"Let me feel you."

All gruff, grunted into your neck as you tighten, clench, tangling fingers into his curls for leverage.

It should feel like falling, but it doesn’t. Never does.

It feels like an explosion. A pause—like you’re floating, not rising or descending. Just there. Flames roaring through you, burning away any leftover chill, as you flutter and howl out his name.

You writhe, whine. Moan. Paint the small space with nothing but pleasure and thankfulness and Din, oh, Din, as he tells you how good you are, how well you take him.

And, he’s not far behind. Can tell from the babbling and then the choked back where he emits as you croak back inside. Internally pleading, wishing, crossing fingers and toes that he does so, when you feel him spill into you when your name sounds both sweet and sinful as he groans it.

As he buries a word that sounds similar to mine into your neck, hips stuttering and stammering as you wrap a leg around him in response.

Yours.

There’s a moment.

The air tightens when breaths are caught and heads are clearer. The space the two of you are in is on edge. Subconsciously tensing. While you, after the softness of the moment, are unsure whether you’ll be rewarded with more or something akin to the opposite.

He answers by pulling you closer, no space between the two of you. Just sweat and skin and nil else, as his mouth and hot breath rest against your cheek, your own fingers finding purpose in his curls.

That’s when you hear it, a whisper, barely discernible from his heaving breaths: They’re brown. My eyes are brown.

Smiling, you swallow.

Nodding, something you hope he can feel.

Because a shade is something, far more than you had this morning—and it’s plenty enough, for now.

[punkshort]

i’m the anon who asked about the request! if you decide to do it, i’d absolutely wait forever😂 it’s very angsty tho, so the idea was for outbreak joel who doesn’t get the happy ending. reader who was head over heels in love coping with his death, maybe flashbacks to show the moments of reader seeing him die? idkidk the idea is very vague, sorry if it’s too sad!! if so maybe reader seeing him die was just a terrible nightmare & he’s there waking them up & helping them through a meltdown?

i’ve been craving for some emotional torture for wtv reason😭😭 thank you for even considering requests!🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Thank you for this request! It's my first one, so I hope you enjoy it. Also, I had to take the out you gave me and make this a nightmare because I am a big ol' softie and I won't apologize for it, but I will apologize for taking so long to write it 😂

I hate when you're right

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

Warnings: major character (Joel) death - but it is just a nightmare - don't read if you think that will still upset you, angst, language, violence, descriptions of blood/gore/death scene

WC: 2.5K

dividers by the one and only @saradika-graphics

You knew it was childish. You knew it wasn't essential. But you also desperately wanted to feel more comfortable, and was that really such a crime? To want to feel like yourself again? To want to wear clothes that you liked? That fit you properly? Jackson was well stocked with essentials, clothes included, but the clothes the men picked up on patrol were... utilitarian, to say the least. They grabbed the biggest and the warmest clothes so that it afforded more people the opportunity to use them, but you were beginning to grow tired of tucking men's oversized shirts into your pants, the material bunching up at your waist and twisting around as you walked, constantly trying and failing to feel comfortable in your own skin.

You thought Joel would be more open to the idea of heading outside the walls on your day off. You even teased him with the promise of picking up some new underwear, but he didn't fall for it. He fought you tooth and nail the whole evening, his voice lifting over yours angrily to explain how there's been an influx of raiders the past few weeks, that everyone agreed to lay low until they passed through, not wanting to draw attention or pick any unwanted fights. But you persisted. You always did, and you eventually wore him down when you threatened to leave without him.

Why was it such a crime to want to feel comfortable? It was just two people, you could lay low and go unseen, no problem. You've done it countless times before.

You had hoped he would have gotten over it by morning, but you were wrong. He hardly made eye contact with you during breakfast, skirting expertly around you in your kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he sipped his coffee and only shooting you angry looks when your back was turned.

The air was crisp and the woods were peaceful. You thought that would surely turn his mood around. He always appreciated being out with nature, living off the land. As much as he loved living in Jackson, he couldn't deny that part of himself that felt useful, that felt a sense of accomplishment by surviving out in the wild.

"C'mon, are you really gonna act like this all day?" you teased as you held up another shirt against your body before determining it was the right size and then tossed it in a pile with the others.

He was standing at the storefront window with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched. "Don't know what you mean."

You rolled your eyes and looked around the store, spotting a table of underwear with a grin. You lightly skipped over and tossed to the side the pairs that looked far too dusty so you could look at the ones underneath. Clearing your throat, you held up a pair of bright red stain underwear. He turned around and you saw it: it was fast, he hid it well, but you still saw it. That all too familiar excited look in his eye.

"Don't you like them?" you asked with a playful pout. He furrowed his brow at you like he was annoyed, and maybe he was, but you still saw the heat beginning to crawl up his neck.

"They ain't practical."

You gave him a defeated sigh and strolled over to your pile of clothes, your fingertips daintily holding the undergarment out to him. "No? Then what are they?"

His eyes shifted from yours to the red material in your hand and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

"Useless," he croaked, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You got a little closer, letting the soft fabric glide against the back of his hand when you dropped your arm to your side.

"Oh, yeah?" you said breathily, and you watched his eyelids flutter at your tone. "Then I guess it wouldn't matter if I brought them home and let you rip them off me."

He stepped forward, a growl emitting from his chest, low and deep, when at the exact same time, you both heard shouting outside the store. Swiveling both your heads towards the glass storefront, your blood ran cold when you saw six heavily armed men advancing towards you.

"Shit," he muttered, his arm pulling your shoulder down just in time to avoid the cascade of bullets that rained down upon you. You laid face down on the rough carpet, covering the back of your head with your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the shooting to stop. Joel tugged on your arm and you opened your eyes in a panic.

"Follow me!" he shouted, army crawling towards the registers, and you dutifully followed behind, your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Once you made it, the counter offering some, but not much, safety, the both of you pulled out your guns and double checked your ammo.

"Alright, when they stop to reload-"

"I know," you said, cutting him off. You've both been in this situation before. You knew what to do.

Holding your rifle upright and against your chest, you breathed deep, trying to steady your hands until the bullets slowed and you heard more shouting. Joel nodded to you and you both sprung up from the floor, pulling your rifles against your bodies in sync and lining up your targets.

Patience is a virtue. The amount of ammunition they wasted on the two of you was laughable when you each caught one of them between the eyes, leaving four against two.

You thought you would be able to get another shot off but Joel tugged your arm and you slinked back to the floor as a shower of bullets rained over you once again.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded, gasping for air. Your hands began to stabilize when the shock wore off. You were in the zone.

Pressing both your backs against the small counter, you remained calm and waited out your attackers. Glass shards tinkled and scattered behind you. Bullets pinged against the metal shelving, ricocheting into the drywall.

"Assault rifles for two people? Really?" you muttered, more so to yourself, but Joel heard you.

"Told you this was a bad fuckin' idea," he said angrily.

When there was another brief pause, he looked to you again and nodded. At the same time, you rose up and took aim, firing on your attackers once again. Joel made his shot, you didn't. Three down, three to go.

"Fuck," you grumbled, reloading your rifle even though you still had rounds left.

"Focus," he scolded.

The men sounded like they were getting closer. Their voices were louder. Clearer. The shots were deafening. You prayed they weren't inside the store, because you hadn't planned an exit strategy. Without warning, Joel stood up and fired a shot. You heard a man scream and then a loud thud. It sounded like the man was just on the other side of the counter.

"That's not the plan," you seethed at him when he dropped back down next to you.

"Didn't have a choice, he was 'bout to jump us," he sneered.

Two against two.

When the shots slowed down, you held your breath, looking at Joel from the corner of your eye. He held his palm up to you silently, signaling for you to stay where you were. You heard boots crunching slowly against glass and your heart leapt into your throat. They were in the store.

You shot Joel a panicked look but he just shook his head, focusing on their footsteps, calculating how far away they were.

"Come out now and no one gets hurt," a man's deep voice called out. He was close.

Joel clenched his jaw and flared his nostrils. You knew that look. It was the look of a man who was about to do something stupid. But before you could stop him, before you could reach out to him and hold him back, he stood up and took aim.

One shot. That was all you heard when Joel slumped to the floor next to you, clutching his stomach as dark red blood poured from the wound. Your eyes went wide and you saw red. Without thinking, you stood up and shot, taking one of the two men down with a yelp. The remaining raider ducked behind a display, and you dropped your rifle in favor of your handgun. Crouching low to the ground, you inched forward, careful of any broken glass that would give your position away. When you were on the other side of the display, you heard the man's labored breaths. He was scared. He was out of his element. And you had him right where you wanted him.

Silently tucking the gun in the back of your pants, you slid your hunting knife out from your ankle holster. You took a deep breath and lunged forward, driving the knife deep into the man's chest.

He dropped his gun and clutched weakly at your hands, but it was no use. His blood poured from the wound when you yanked your knife out with a grunt, and you watched as his hands slowly slid back down to his sides, his eyes still wide open and staring up at the ceiling.

You smirked, feeling victorious for only a moment before you remembered Joel. Dropping your knife, you rushed back to his side, only to find his face pale and his hands stained dark red.

"Joel!" you cried out, pressing your palms against the wound, hoping to slow the bleeding. His eyes drifted towards you, softening when he saw you were alive and unharmed. That you were going to make it.

Panic consumed you. Your heart was slamming against your ribs as you fumbled with your backpack, trying to find your first aid kit through the tears.

"I love you," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Don't start with that, you're gonna be fine."

"Baby," he said weakly, and you choked back a sob.

"Hold on," you told him, still searching in your pack.

"Look at me," he said, and your hands stilled for a moment before you dragged your eyes back to him, your lower lip trembling as you took in his deteriorating state.

"I need to-" you began, but stopped to take in a shaky breath. "I need to patch you up and get you to the horses."

"No, you don't," he said softly, and more tears spilled from your eyes.

"Yes, I do. I gotta-"

"I ain't gonna make it, sweetheart," he slurred, and you could see by the amount of blood he was losing that he was right. But still, you pressed your palms against the gunshot wound, your fingers slipping through his thick and sticky blood.

"Don't say that. I can't do this without you," you whimpered, and closed your eyes for a brief moment. You felt his fingertips weakly grip your chin and you forced your eyes back open.

"Yes, you can," he said as firmly as he could. He was so pale and weak and it was making your stomach turn.

You shook your head, about to argue with him, but he stopped you.

"You keep goin', you hear me?" he said, and still, you shook your head from side to side, small sobs slipping past your lips. "Don't let this world win. You... go on and keep fightin'. Please. Be happy, baby. For me."

"No!" you cried out, spittle dripping from your lips now, mixing with your tears. "I won't! I-I can't!"

"You can," he repeated, and gave you a weak smile. "I'm ready, baby. It'll be okay."

You squeezed your eyes shut tight, the tears leaking out, hot and angry on your cheeks as you sobbed over him, clutching his hand in yours so tightly, like if you squeezed hard enough, you could give him your lifeforce. Give him your breath. But moments later, his grip weakened and when you opened your eyes, his head slumped to the side and his lifeless eyes stared off into the distance.

"Joel!" you screamed, sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat with tears still streaming down your face. You looked to your side, where he normally slept, but he wasn't there. Panic squeezed your throat, your chest fucking hurt, but you flung the blankets off you and ran towards the door. Still not hearing any sounds, you raced down the stairs, almost tripping in the process but you had a grip on the railing to keep you steady.

When your eyes finally landed on his familiar form stretched out on the couch, his back to you, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief.

Reality came back to you now. You had your fight about leaving Jackson, but he won and you slept apart. You never left. He never got shot. It was all just a horrible dream.

You stumbled over to the couch, your tears unstoppable, the nightmare too vivid, too real. Your trembling hands clutched his shoulder as you fell to your knees on the floor, shaking him awake.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still pissed off about your fight.

"I'm sorry!" you sobbed loudly, and when he realized something was wrong, he whipped around to face you.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I-I had-" you began, then you hiccupped, cutting yourself off. His face was etched with concern as he forced himself up and cupped your face.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, the fear in his eyes reflecting back to you as you looked at him, still not sure what was real and what wasn't.

"I had a nightmare," you finally managed to get out. "About our fight. That we... we went out like I wanted and-and-" you collapsed into another fit of sobs, your shoulders shaking violently.

"Hey, it's alright," he soothed, pulling you up and into his lap and rubbing your back. You pressed your tear stained face into his neck, inhaling deeply, grounding yourself. He was alive. He was here. Everything was fine.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your throat still tight but your tears were slowing down. "I'm sorry we fought. I don't wanna go out anymore. I don't need new clothes, it was stupid, I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay," he said, pulling you tightly against his chest, "I'm sorry we fought, too. I just wanna keep us safe."

"I know, you're right," you said, pulling back a bit and wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "Will you come back to bed?"

"Yeah," he replied with half a smirk. "'Course I'll come back to bed, baby. Don't cry, it's alright."

You let him lead you up the stairs and to your bedroom, your side of the bed still damp with sweat but it didn't bother you. Joel was safe and sound and in your arms and you didn't care if you had to wear a potato sack for the rest of your life, as long as you had Joel, nothing else mattered.

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[hybbart]

Day 1904: The spread of sculk is too much to just clean. After salvaging what they could, the ranch is taken down...

Bonus short story below.

Jimmy watched as the last of the house blazed in the twilight. Around the edges of the flames Pearl and Sausage marched, searching for anything flammable that might catch. It was the beginning of winter, and the constant rains had kept everything soaked, but they couldn’t risk it in the middle of the forest. Lizzie had stayed closer as well, securing the last of their belongings to take away in the morning. It was only a few metres down the driveway, but the ranchers couldn’t even get that far.

Tango let out a low growl. His grip on Jimmy’s sleeve tightened, pulling the thick fabric further over his eyes. Puffing up his feathers, Jimmy pulled his rancher closer into his side. Tango only stayed because of Jimmy, and because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the ranch behind. It was what he’d said yesterday, before the first burning. But he couldn’t watch. He could barely help them clear it out before the sledgehammers came in. Sparks flickered through his hair in lieu of tears in his eyes as he kept his face buried.

Jimmy, though… He was entranced. Every crack in the beams that cause a burst of sparks or shift in the wind that billowed the smoke in a new direction. The smoke made his eyes water, but none fell. Maybe he’d finally grown numb. Maybe it looked too different. There was a pile of flaming rubble where his home once was, his first home, but his chest only felt hollow. All that was left with a twitch in his wing, the desire to run and keep far away.

Pity in her eyes, Lizzie approached them from the trailer. Reins were pushed into Jimmy’s hand against his protest. “Take a horse and head back to my house before it gets dark.” She said.

“But-”

“No arguing.” Despite the firmness of her words her voice was low and sad. “You need to sleep in a real bed, Sausage is going to stay here tonight. The last of your things will be fine overnight with us.”

Even after years, Jimmy was never able to argue with Lizzie when she said something reasonable, and he’d given up trying. Jimmy glanced to Tango, who was still hiding from the world in Jimmy’s sleeve. A small tug on his hem was all he got in response. “We’ll be back in the morning with more water.” He assured. They rounded up Bullseye and began the long, quiet ride to Lizzie’s. 

By the time they arrived it was dark, the home illuminated from within the kitchen. Though half the house was cloaked in tarps to save unfinished work from the rain, they’d moved into the completed half already. A bit of smart planning on Scar and Joel’s part.

One of the kids must have spotted their lantern, as the door opened before the ranchers could get down from their horse. Tom came rushing up with Revy on his tail. He took Bullseye's reins from them and led him to the cow pen. It was more cramped than it should be, since the rain had flooded the rancher’s outer pastures. Revy whined and licked at Tango’s hand until he gave the dog a weak pat.

Joel shouted something after him before guiding the men inside. “We just started eating if you want to sit down.” He explained as he took Jimmy’s coat. One glance at Tango was enough to answer.

“I’ll grab some in a bit.” Jimmy tried to smile gratefully, but it came out as a grimace. Joel let them be with a nod, hand held out to the hall down which Sausage’s room awaited.

It was colourful, though the furniture was rudimentary, with a mattress stolen from Scar’s hospital. The bed so much smaller than they’d gotten used to, but Jimmy doubted it would matter for tonight. Norman and Flick waited on the windowsill, and Joel had already set up Jimmy’s breathing machine. It took some coaxing to get Tango to change out of his coveralls - which went into a plastic bag to be washed separate - and take off his arm. Even more coaxing was needed to get him to let go long enough for Jimmy to also change. When Jimmy turned back around the blazeborn had Revy wrapped up in his lap instead. The dog’s tail beat against the bed, happy to be held, but whining, nonetheless.

“Do you think you can eat?” Jimmy asked quietly. Tango didn’t respond. He grabbed only one bowl from the kitchen, unsure he could eat much either without it coming back up. Smoke still clung to their skin and hair, dragging them back to the ranch every time it filled their nostrils, but it was much too dark to run a hot bath. Still, Jimmy knew he had to eat something, even if it was in silence.

Tango migrated behind Jimmy at the end of the bed, tail wrapping around the avian’s waist. Its tuft flicking with agitation. Jimmy could feel the heat rolling off his rancher. “It’s not fair.” He rasped.

Jimmy’s wings flattened. “It was an old wood house. It would have had a mold problem eventually unless we rebuilt completely.”

“But why did it have to be sculk!” He snapped, tail sparkling in Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy tried to smooth it down, but it had little effect. “Why’d it have to make it here?”

There wasn’t an answer, not one Jimmy could provide. Maybe Doc or Zed could explain. It was probably in the well and washing into the surrounding water supply now. Would it be washed away? They should have listened to Grian’s worries back when Jimmy’s feathers had been infected somewhere. Or, maybe, back when they’d first found that infested corpse, they should have done something more. It didn’t matter now that their home was already gone. When nowhere felt safe.

His wings itched while his rancher bristled. Tango couldn’t cry, but he was made to fume. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“There’s no one to be angry at.” Jimmy shrugged. 

“The stupid sculk! The idiots who let it loose! The world!” The bed creaked as Tango kicked off it to pace the small room. Revy whimpered, shifting his nose into Jimmy’s lap. “It’s been half a decade. It was supposed to get better. We live out in the middle of nowhere. And the end of the world still found us! We build our own home and make our own food and do everything we can, and it still comes and finds us!” The blazeborn was consumed in his spiral. Flames burst like firecrackers along his tail, startling Flick when it whipped past the poor cat. 

“Tango…” Jimmy sighed, giving the man a miserable look. When he continued to pace, threatening to scorch their hosts’ possessions, Jimmy finally put a hand up in front to stop him.

A hiss escaped Tango, narrowed eyes glaring at the hand which proceeded to latch onto his shirt and drag him off course. Tango tried to shake it off, but Jimmy kept his hold. “It’s not fair that there’s nothing to fight back against.” He lamented, voice cracking. “I just have to sit here and hope tomorrow it doesn’t get in your wings, or start growing into Revy’s brain, or infest another basement! That it doesn’t get everywhere and take everything. At least the stupid zombie I can punch in the face!” By the end his voice was so shrill and watery Jimmy could barely understand it.

“Me and Revenge are okay. We’re right here.” Jimmy assured, pulling Tango back down beside him. 

It made something finally break. Tango curled into himself across Jimmy’s lap, heaving dryly. Talons raked gently through the blazeborn’s hair. Between sobs Tango mumbled incomprehensibly while Jimmy cooed to keep himself from crying as well. There were too many things roiling just beneath his impulse control. If he let one out, the rest would follow, he was sure. So, he focused on Tango. His rancher needed him.

“I don’t think we’d win if it was someone you had to fight, to be honest.” He whispered half-jokingly as the sobs died down.

Tango stilled, then slumped further into Jimmy’s chest. “I could at least try, instead of this.”

Jimmy hummed. Even if they could, Jimmy wasn’t so sure he would in the moment, and he knew Tango wasn’t all that dissimilar. Unlike Joel or the downtowners, their talent was for running and hiding. That wasn’t the point though, Jimmy knew, so he didn’t argue. “What do we do in the spring?” He asked instead.

“… I dunno.” Tango mulled, head tilted out to look at his thoughts. “It’s not safe to rebuild there.”

“Scar has most of the grain safe, and Lizzie has our animals. We could find another plot, there’s plenty around.” Though, most of them had been stripped of their valuable supplies and building materials over the years or rotted away from lack of care. But the land was still good, and they and Pearl didn’t need much room. 

Would Pearl stay with them? They’d lived with her much longer than without her – if the time before her arrival weren’t so chaotic, he might not recall so well what it was like without her – but she always seemed to keep her distance. A guest, even after she was given her own room. Having someone there to take care of things even when they couldn’t let them grow the ranch to almost thirty cattle, but without her...

That Lizzie’s family would have their own ranch soon was the only thing that calmed the nervous itch in his wings recently.

“We’d have to move closer.” Tango’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh?”

He was no longer curled up, though he hadn’t bothered to remove himself from Jimmy. There was that look in his eyes, where his brain was moving far too fast for Jimmy to keep up. At least it had occupied him with something other than the sculk and fire. “We can’t rebuild around the ranch, we won’t know how bad the infection around it is until next winter, and the water probably isn’t safe. If we rebuilt we’d have to move further west down the mountains towards the city, OR-” Tango raised his hand before Jimmy could protest. “We move closer to the hospital, somewhere around here, or maybe further into the interior on the other side.” 

Jimmy clamped up. They’d all had more than a few conversations about this, between them and the hospital, other settlements, and over the radio. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Keep spread out. Far enough that, if something happens, everyone else is safe, but close enough to reach neighbours relatively quick. Like a long chain snaking across the mountains. By now everyone had horses or bikes and access to the recap radio, and it helped them cover more resources. A farm needed land, anyways, especially to keep up with how many people there now were within the network. 

That thought seemed too much right now, though. He could feel the ash in his wings turning to lead. Losing the ranch didn’t just affect them. The cattle were saved but almost all their stores were gone, including two cows’ worth of beef that was to be sent out. It would take weeks, if not the whole season, to get things back in motion, in the months they were relied on most. Would people starve? Would the sculk spread from the ranch? It was a responsibility that seemed natural and seamless just weeks ago, but now felt suffocating.

“I’m not sure-” Jimmy finally replied. “I’m not sure I can rebuild the ranch right now.” Flashes of the burning rubble filled his mind, along with that numbness he’d felt. There was at least three months before they could begin, plenty of time to get over it. But right now… “I don’t even know if I want to.”

He expected perhaps a gasp or shouting from Tango. ‘We’re the ranchers!’ Maybe. But the blazeborn, to Jimmy’s surprise, nodded. Laughed, even. “We’ve been running one for years, why’s it feel impossible now?”

It was probably just nerves. Anxiety. In a few weeks it would wear away. But for now, Jimmy leaned his head against the top of Tango’s and entertained other things. “We could move back to the hospital.”

“That’d drive you insane, and Revy would kill Grian.” Tango chuckled. 

So would you, Jimmy thought. He was sure if Tango had to see more sculk every day he would lose it. “What about visiting Gem and Impulse then?” He suggested instead. “I heard they’ve been doing a lot of forestry. It might be good to learn from them. Or we could finally go to the coast.”

“We never did make it that far, did we?” Tango recalled. “… Why not both? Go back up the mountain and race back down until we hit the coast. Maybe find some more people outside the recap’s range and bring them in.”

“If they’ve survived this long then I doubt they’d want to move now.” 

“They might. Or maybe we can help extend the radio range for them.”

Jimmy smiled. “Maybe we should go east, instead. Find a ranch in the prairies. Be real cowboys.”

“Never been out there, even before all this.” Tango relaxed back against Jimmy, patting his leg for Revenge to come lay across. “You could stretch your wings.”

“That sounds nice.” He admitted with a sigh.

The pair continued to chatter, naming everything and everywhere. Making plans they’d likely never use. Anything to take their mind off the ranch. Just for one night.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Jingle of The Bells

jake "hangman" seresin x reader

Summary: Your little girl is worried her father won’t make it home for Christmas.

Notes/warnings: this is the same family from the Oh, Baby universe, but it stands alone as well :) Mostly Fluff, a dash of angst.

This is for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge (my word is Bells)

Words: 2386

Your daughter was so much like your husband. You’d say too much if not for the fact that you loved them deeply. But there came a lot with their similarities. Double doses of determination, wit, and control. So, not unlike your husband, your little girl wanted to be the one to call the shots. However, circumstances didn’t always allow for that, and in those cases, Eve struggled the most.

---

“Mama, he’s supposed to be home!” 

Eve’s arms were wrapped tight around your neck as her wails echoed in your ear. You held on to her snuggly, her little legs tucked into the open space between your criss-crossed seated position on the floor. 

Until you’d joined her, she’d sat in the same spot all night, the teddy bear from her father settled in her lap as she stared at the front door. Despite the colored lights strung around your home, the pile of presents for her and her baby brother from Jake’s mother, grandmother, and team, and the cookies waiting to be decorated, Eve hadn’t moved. 

Every five minutes she would ask you the time, and each answer you gave her broke your heart right along with hers. She was too young to remember that Jake’s return schedule wasn’t always a guarantee. You were used to not making plans on the day you were originally told your husband would be coming home to you because promises in his line of work didn’t exist. There were no promises he would be gone only as long as he initially believed, no promises he would return on time, no promises he would return at all. But for so long Eve was spared all of that. The one time she remembered her father leaving, he did manage to come back when expected. She had never faced that disappointment. Until now. 

“Sweetie, it’s not Daddy’s fault,” you whispered. “I promise you he wants to be with us and that he’ll be home as soon as he can.”

“But it’s Christmas!”

Christmas Eve, actually, but to your daughter it was all the same. She had expectations. Cookie decorating, and milk pouring—a skill she’d asked Jake to help her perfect, not wanting to spill a drop for the reindeer. There was a letter she wanted to write to Santa, thanking him for bringing her Daddy home, which he had not, only adding to Eve’s bitterness. And it didn’t do her any good that before Jake left, she had also begged for a Christmas Eve pajama party where you all dressed in matching flannels, her baby brother included, and read a story before bed. 

Jake had done his best to promise those things to Eve, and in the same moment, with a single look at you, had silently communicated the very real possibility that none of it might happen. You knew it, expected it, and didn’t blame him for it, but it didn’t change that your little girl was in pain and her father wasn’t by her side to make it go away.

“I know. I know, Sweetie,” you said, gently rocking her back and forth. But your soothing could only be so effective, and for the night, she wouldn’t be able to take much more. “I think it’s time for bed now.”

“Why?” came out nasally, her crying having stuffed up her nose.

“Because you’ve been up for too long. You woke up hours earlier than you usually do and you didn’t take your nap today.”

She pulled her head back from the crook of your neck to look at you, and you wiped away the salty liquid from under her lashes. “But what about Daddy?”

“Daddy will be home soon. He’s just a little late, but that’s ok.”

“It is not.”

“It is, Sweetie,” you said, your own tears forming and beginning to blur your daughter’s face. “He’s trying so hard to be here, and that’s what matters.” When one of them fell, Eve’s finger rose to meet the droplet as it slowed its descent down your cheek. You grabbed her hand and rubbed the tear off her fingertip. “Come on, let’s go lay down.”

This time, with exhaustion setting in, she didn’t fight you, but she did wiggle from your hold to stand up on her own. Then she used the last of her energy to rush over to the coffee table where the small set of jingle bells she’d been dangling in front of her brother’s face to elicit his giggles was lying. Jake had bought her those bells last Christmas and immediately regretted bringing such incessant jingling into his home. 

Swallowing back your remaining tears, you watched as Eve wrapped her fingers around the velvet cord that kept the bells in a bunch before making her way into the hall and draping the cord over the knob of the front door. 

You nodded and stood. Her tears were not quite dried, and you knew she was desperate to keep her eyes on that door, but she still took your hand when you reached out for her. 

“I’ll tell you if I hear them,” you said before lifting her in your arms to carry her up to her room. 

---

In her weakened fight against sleep, Eve failed. When you finally had her tucked in her bed, passed out and releasing soft snores, you returned to the living room where you wrapped yourself up in a blanket and stared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. 

You did your best not to fall apart in front of your daughter, but Jake being gone ripped you to pieces as much as it did her. It didn’t help that his return was no less anxiety-inducing than his departure. The occasional unpredictability allowed your mind to wander to undesirable scenarios that, at this point, you knew weren’t likely, but the thought of them still terrified you. 

Jake was fine, though. You believed it, knew it. He was safe. The next person to open that door would be him, it was just a matter of when, and hoping it would be before the holiday was over. 

---

The clock had reached midnight only a handful of minutes before your eyelids grew heavy and begged to close. You fought sleep but, much like your daughter, reached your limit and succumbed. The consistent crackling of the fire combined with the warmth of the blanket lulled you slowly but effectively. It was too quiet and peaceful to resist, until a jingle clanged against another jingle which together thumped against something thick and solid. 

Your body jolted as you heard a muttered “Why so damn loud?”

“Jake?” you called, tossing the blanket aside and running toward the door. He barely had his duffle on the floor and his key out of the lock when you slammed into him. 

His arms were around you in an instant, slightly lifting you off the ground as his nose tucked into the crook of your neck. “God, you feel good,” was muffled in his deep voice, vibrating against your skin. His arms tightened. “So good.”

Your feet met the floor again, and with your hands on his cheeks, you guided his head back so you could press your lips to his. Your moan greeted his. Then you sighed into the kiss and melted further into his hold. No matter how many times you said goodbye, you were always relieved to find him the same as when he left. The feel of him, the taste of him, the chills you got when his hands wove into your hair—he never returned as anyone other than your Jake. 

He gave you two more pecks, then one final long kiss before he broke it to breathe, allowing his forehead to rest against yours while his chest expanded and deflated and expanded again to take in the air you’d stolen. “I missed you, Honey.”

A tear forged a cold trail down the flush of your cheek and slipped into the seam of your lips. “I missed you, too.”

Jake pressed a kiss to your forehead before meeting your eyes. “How are the kids?”

“Needing you,” you said as he wiped away the wet river from your skin. “Eve thought you weren’t going to make it home in time.”

Knowing your husband, it took only the barest of shifts in his stance, his brow, his eyes, for you to see his heart was breaking right along with Eve’s. He turned his head toward the staircase that led to the bedrooms of your home, his daughter’s in particular.

Inching up on your toes, you softly kissed the line of his jaw and, somehow, for the first time, noticed he had a little bit of stubble. His last day or two must have been exhausting if he hadn’t gotten a chance to shave. Likely, everyone was in such a rush to get home to their families that some basic rules went out the window. Your kiss traveled up to his cheek. 

“It’s ok, baby,” you whispered. “You’re with us now.”

“Did she cry?”

“She’ll forget all about it when she sees your face.”

Jake lightly hummed, unsatisfied with the state he’d forced upon his daughter. Without letting another beat pass, he took your hand, led you to your daughter's room, and eased her door open. 

The glow emitting from Eve’s new plane nightlight—an early Christmas gift the Daggers had sent from overseas—highlighted her sleeping face, and her delicate features were so peaceful you’d never have known she was devastated a few hours prior.

When you had let her open the gift from the team, you of course told her who it was from right away with a huge smile splitting your face. She was so excited as she pulled at the bow and shredded the paper that she laughed louder than you had heard in quite some time. Her eyes went wide and she hopped up on her feet to fly the plane around the room. She giddily showed her infant brother—who received his own nightlight in the form of a train so the gifts would be unique to each child—before she plopped down on the carpet in your living room to examine every detail of the elaborately designed light. 

And then she began to sob. 

She sobbed for missing her daddy and aunts and uncles; for missing the many times Jake had taken his family to see the planes he flew, which closely matched the shape of Eve’s gift. She sobbed until you took her upstairs for bed, helped her plug in the light, and told her a story of her daddy seeing that plane and that train and immediately thinking of his baby girl and little boy. 

That was only three weeks ago, and Eve’s angst had grown with the passing days. But the little light helped her rest at night as long as she completed her ritual of crouching down in front of the radiating glow and whispering a soft “goodnight Daddy” before settling into bed. 

It did help for a while, but it didn’t cease the daily return of her tears. And this night, fairly so, was by far the worst. Her disappointment made the light its least effective since she’d received it. 

Jake stepped into the room and took a seat at the edge of her bed. “I shouldn’t wake her,” he said as he brushed a blonde curl out of her face. From that light touch, Eve stirred, but then she stilled again, releasing a soft breath.

Your husband sighed right along with her. You knew how badly he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her tight. He needed that. He could see her in front of him, and from those inhales and exhales, could hear her, and he could feel the soft curls of her hair, but nothing compared to feeling her little heartbeat beating against his, or hearing her sweet voice, or seeing her bright smile. That he’d have to wait for morning to truly greet his daughter after months away was an ache you would never know. Yes, you ached for him when he was gone, and you knew he did for you, but it just wasn’t the same. This was his child, a piece of him that he’d gone without for so long. It was a powerless feeling. She was right there, but being the father he was, Jake wouldn’t disturb her for his own sake. 

Carefully, Jake leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Would you like to go see our son?” Another one of his children that he’d undoubtedly refuse to disturb, no matter how much he wanted to see the little pair of eyes that matched yours staring up at him. 

Jake nodded, gently squeezing Eve’s tiny hand. He was about to stand when you both heard a soft, “Daddy?”

Your heads whipped in Eve’s direction to find her fists rubbing at her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as her vision adjusted to the darkness, but when she saw the darkened figure sitting by her side, Eve didn’t second guess herself. She kicked at her covers and leapt across the bed with the speed and agility of a bunny rabbit. 

“Daddy!” 

Jake chuckled as he caught her. “Hi, baby girl.”

Little hands reached up to his face to verify his realness. They ran up and down the scruff she’d rarely ever seen, making Jake’s cheeks contort in funny shapes, and then she grinned. “You came home.”

You couldn’t see all of Jake’s face, but you heard his sniffle as he tugged your daughter closer to his chest. “Of course, I did.”

“Mama said you would.”

“Well, Mama’s usually right, isn’t she?” he said, turning to look at you and confirming the redness that was brightening the green of his irises. He winked before returning his attention to his daughter.

Eve nodded vigorously then threw her arms around his neck, squeezing with all of her might. “I like Santa again.”

“When didn’t you like Santa?” Jake asked as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

Eve pulled back. Her smile was still in place as she patted the tops of his shoulders with both hands. “Today," she said. "But you are home so he’s ok.”

---

A/N: so i have another christmas challenge fic coming that is Rooster x reader, which is my very first Rooster fic so hopefully I do alright. Then my focus will be on The One I Want and some Thorn (Expendables 3) fics :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab91 @rosedurin @novagreen04 @memeorydotcom @purplevortexx @sgt-barnesveins @books-are-escapes

[teashellscape]

Harvey x reader: massages (minors dni)

Pairing: sdv Harvey x reader

Synopsis: after a rough, long day on the farm Harvey decides he wants to give you a nice massage with a happy ending.

Warnings: 18+ (MINORS DNI), smut, fluffy smut, reader described as having a vagina, massage with a happy ending, oral (reader receiving), toys being used (reader receiving).

Word count: 2.37k

You trudge your way back into the farmhouse, body burning and aching all over; it was always a long day when you had to move heavy stuff about the farm, despite how much you love your work, you always hated those days. Especially when those days occurred mid summer. You walk in and spot your husband over in the kitchen drinking a glass of wine and you slump down on one of the armchairs in the room. You close your eyes and lean your head back before hearing Harvey's footsteps come closer, he places his hands on your shoulders and gives them a nice firm squeeze. "You look like you could use a good massage tonight." He says lowly and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mmm that would be nice." You look up at him with a small smile and he leans down and plants a kiss on your lips.

"Okay, go upstairs and lay down, I'll be up in a minute." He says giving you one more kiss before you stand up and make your way over to the stairs. "Do you want a glass of wine honey?" He calls over.

"Oo yes please!" Once you get into your shared bedroom you sit on the bed and begin stripping off leaving on just your panties, you can't be bothered to put anything away neatly so just throw your clothes across the room into a pile, you then proceed to lay on your stomach with your head being cradled by your arms. Your body exposed to the elements, there's a slight chill in the air giving you small goosebumps. It's a great feeling after being in the sweltering heat all day. You hear Harvey's footsteps coming up the stairs and smile to yourself. He enters the room and you turn around and sit up grabbing your glass of wine from him and taking a nice long sip as he lights a couple of candles.

"Lucky for you, that new massage oil that I ordered arrived today. It's lavender scented." He smiles placing the small bottle on the bed next to you. He plants a kiss on your lips and takes your wineglass, placing it on one of the coasters on your bedside table. You take this as your queue to lay back down. You roll over onto your front and Harvey starts straddling you, you feel the cool oil drip onto your skin and flinch slightly. Harvey chuckles and begin to rub slow, heavy circles on your back making you immediately relax and begin to loosen up.

"Oh wow, god I love it when you give me massages, you have such incredible hands." You moan out feeling all your shoulder muscles contracting and relaxing.

Harvey chuckles and you can practically see that wide smile without even looking behind you. “Well I am a doctor, I should hope I’m good with my hands.” You chuckle to yourself and start to relax even more under the man’s god like hands. “Okay, you want to sit up darling? I can give you a nice shoulder massage them.” He stops what he’s doing and climbs off of you allowing you to sit up. You once again feel that nice, cold oil drip onto your shoulders and Harvey’s firm hands begin to rub. Harvey starts to get closer to you, so close you start to feel his warm breath against the back of your neck. You could feel the goosebumps popping up one by one on your skin and heat begin to pool in your panties. “Mm you have such smooth skin honey, you know that?”

“I do now.” You moan out, chuckling slightly. Harvey keeps getting closer and you can feel his brown curly hair tickling the side of your head. His head turns and you can feel his teeth graze your ear, he slowly moves down and leaves light pecks on your neck. “I love you Harvey.” You whisper to him, placing your hand on top of his on your shoulder. You turn around to face him and he leaves a soft kiss on your lips.

He stays nose to nose with you, “I love you too darling.” He kisses you again with those soft lips. You put your arms around his neck deepening the kiss, every now and then feeling his teeth graze lightly against your lips, slowly without breaking the kiss you both fall backwards onto the bed, Harvey caging your head between his arms. You slip your hands under his shirt, moving them up and down his back slowly, not wanting to miss one bit of his soft skin. You both pull away and take a deep breath, both of you panting slightly. Harvey moves to your neck while he waits for you to catch your breath, licking, sucking and kissing lightly up and down. One of your hands leaves from under his shirt moving upwards to start playing with his soft curls. He leans up and kisses you on the nose making you giggle and him smile before diving back into a deep kiss.

You begin to unbutton his shirt and rub your hands up and down his chest and stomach before wrapping your arms back around his neck. He pulls away quickly to discard of his shirt before giving you a peck on the lips, then your jaw, then neck, collarbone, both your breasts, and starts to leave multiple kisses on your stomach, all while massaging your thighs with his big hands. The deep massage makes you begin to moan again quietly making Harvey smile against your abdomen,. He continues to leave kisses on your soft stomach and nipping at the sensitive parts, while his hand moves up from your thigh to your little bundle of nerves, he starts rubbing slow circles through the fabric of your panties making you mewl and move your hand back to his head tangling in his curls.

Harvey stops kissing your stomach and is smiling against your skin, his eyes looking up focused completely on you. “Do you want me to keep moving down darling?” He says in a low slightly gruffer voice than usual which makes your legs begin to tingle. You can only nod in agreement, his hand already making quick work on you. His finger starts to slowly trace circles around your entrance making you clench, begging for some friction down there. He plants a light kiss on your vagina over your panties and hooks his fingers round them slipping down your legs; slowly he slips his middle finger in and starts to curl it upwards in slow gentle motions, making you whine out. And then his tongue begins to work, lapping up your juices making slow circles on your clit, he sometimes stops and moves in closer to suck on it and lets out moans to add vibrations sending you crazy under his touch.

“Oh fuck Harvey, feels so good-“ you moan out, your legs wrapping around his head and your hand making a tighter grip in his hair. The doctor slowly inserts a second finger, quickening the pace of the curling motion while adding thrusting to the mix, you close your eyes in absolute bliss feeling your heart pounding out of your chest. Harvey pulls away for a second causing you to tangle your hand more in his hair and try and push him back, he chuckles.

“Fucking insatiable-“ he mutters through a smile. “Be patient darling.” He pulled his fingers out and made his way over to your bedside drawer pulling out a dildo and some lube. He makes his way back over to you and dribbles some cold lube onto your already dripping cunt. He slowly begins inserting the toy into your entrance and starts to thrust it in and out in slow, agonising motions. Harvey dips his head back down and continues to use his god like tongue on your bundle of nerves while continuing to thrust the dildo in and out stretching you out, ready for him.

“Oh fuck, oh shit.” You moan out feeling that hot knot building in your stomach. You didn’t even have to wait for it to explode, you felt your legs start shaking, Harvey wrapping his arm around one of them in attempt to calm the shaking. The orgasm felt like it lasted forever before he pulled the dildo out and started pulling down his own trousers, letting his erection spring free from his boxers. You watch him with half lidded walk over to the draw slowly pumping his dick in his hand, he grabs a condom from the drawer that he got the dildo from, rips it open and slides it onto his length. He climbed back on top, you wrap your legs around his torso and tangle your fingers in his brown curly locks to pull him in for deep kiss.

Harvey buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing your shoulder, you feel his teeth grazing your skin as he begins to insert himself into you. You both let out a mix of a sighs and moans and he stays there for a moment to give you time to adjust. Once you’ve adjusted you start to shift your hips trying to thrust him in and out yourself, the doctor lets out a quiet chuckle against your shoulder and begins to slide himself in and out and a slow comfortable pace letting out soft moans while doing so. “Oh fuck.” Harvey whispers against your skin. You both let out quiet moans and Harvey starts to bite down lightly on yours shoulder as he makes his thrusts harder but not changing the pace. You gasp and start to run your fingernails down his back, stopping eventually to grab onto his shoulders, still digging your nails in slightly.

“Shit-” Harvey moans out, keeping his head buried deep in the crook of your neck, leaving light kisses and sucks in his wake. You both moan, whine and mewl in unison. Harvey balances himself on one arm and snakes one hand back down to your clit and starts slowly toying with the tiny sweet spot. The doctor moves his head from the crook of your neck to kiss you, a long steamy kiss with you biting down on his lip every now and again making him moan out. The way he fucks you, it’s like he’s worshiping every part of your body like you’re his own personal god. You start to feel a knot tightening in your stomach and you can tell Harvey’s close too when his circles around your clit begin to speed up, trying desperately to get you to cum before he does. And fuck does it work. You feel your entire body start to shake, especially your legs; it’s so intense you’re seeing stars.

“Fuck! Harvey, oh shit!” You close your eyes tight and ride out the high, as Harvey does the same. His head is again buried into your shoulder and he bites down hard onto it moaning out loud, the action only brings more pleasure to your already incredible orgasm.

Once the high dies down you just stay there for a minute, Harvey rises from your shoulder again and leaves a light peck on your lip before pulling out. Nothing is said yet, nothing needs to be said yet. He gets up and disposes of the condom before lying next to you on your bed, you both turn to look at each other and for a moment just stare into each others eyes, smiling. “Are you okay? Aching at all?” He asks moving his hand to lightly caress your cheek. You shake your head. “Good, why don’t we go and get a nice bath to get cleaned up?” He asks and knows the answer as soon as he sees the look on your face.

“Do you want me to run it?” You ask.

“No honey, I’ve got it, you keep relaxing.” He sits up. “I love you.” He leaves another soft kiss on your lips and gets up to go into the bathroom.

“I love you too.”

Harvey’s head pokes back round the door frame. “Oh darling, don’t forget your wine.” He smiles making you giggle.

“I won’t!”

————————————————————————

I’m taking requests for fics!

Masterlist -

[samkerrworshipper]

massage therapy | mapi leon x reader

mapi gets injured… reader tries to resolve some of the tension in her body

warnings: injury, hurt/comfort, smut, cunnilingus, fingering

“Maps, baby, I swear to dios just let me massage your knee, I have to, hermosa.”

María just glares at you from her position sitting on the couch.

She’s been next to unbearable ever since her meniscus injury, rightfully so, you would be two if you had no choice but to stop playing the sport that you loved for months.

But the whining, the wayward glares, the constant anger and tension is beginning to get to you, beyond it making you annoyed at your lover, you were worried about her more than anything.

Mapí had her fair share of mental health problems in the past, the two of you had gotten through them together, but whenever something like an injury arose it always seemed to signify the start of a rougher patch in her mental health.

So that had been your main focus, making sure that María’s mental health stayed intact, you thought you’d done a fairly good job, mentally she was doing well, but attitude wise she was acting like a little bitch.

Always snappy and critical, always annoyed about her lack of mobility, always refusing your help.

Alexia had attempted multiple times to reign her in on your behalf, the Catalan woman had practically moved in as soon as the news of the injury had come in, insistent on being a support system for her best friend, but it worked to no prevail, Mapí was angry with the world, with her knee, with everything that moved or breathed.

“Estoy bien.” I’m fine

Her words are forced out, gruff and croaky from her spot on the couch.

You’re pretty sure there is a half permanent Mapí shaped dent in the pillows that your girlfriend had been living in the last week or so, ever since her surgery.

“María, when are you going to stop being so stubborn and just accept my help?”

For a person who had some fairly serious surgery just over a week ago, Mapi was a menace, trying to do everything on her own, which was fairly hard when you were hopped up on pain meds and hardly mobile.

“Estoy bien, ni siquiera estoy adolorida.” I’m fine, I’m not even sore.

It’s a complete lie, Mapí’s been moaning and groaning for the last half hour as she tried to find a comfortable position amongst the pillows and blankets.

She’s practically crafted a nest on the couch, a big pile of blankets absorbing her completely.

“María, por favor.” Maria, please

Your use of Spanish seems to draw her attention, it’s not your first, or second language, you don’t speak it very often.

Both you and María understand each other's languages, just find it harder to speak them, so it just works that you normally speak in English and she normally speaks in Spanish, it saves either of you from having to awkwardly translate all of your words every time you want to talk with your girlfriend.

“Pequeña, estoy bien.” little one, I’m fine

Estoy bien seems to be at the forefront of Mapí’s vocabulary recently, it’s always I’m fine, even when she’s lying through gritted teeth and teary eyes.

You stand up from your spot sitting at the kitchen table, tiptoeing towards Mapí slowly, a deep frown set on your face.

Mapí’s watching some Spanish soap opera, something you're unfamiliar with, which makes it seem like it's more background noise for her than anything of interest.

You walk around the couch, until you’re standing in front of her, blocking her view of the tv so she’s forced to look at you.

“You can’t tell me your knee isn’t killing, the physio said it needed to be stimulated daily, let me help you, love.”

Mapí bites down on her lip, there is so much frustration playing across her face, so much anguish.

“Estoy bien.” i’m fine

It’s like being repetitively punched in the face, hearing the same two words fall from her lips, it’s incredibly aggravating, all consuming.

“María, you aren’t fine, hate me all you want, push me away, but give me the respect of not lying blatantly to my face over and over again.”

Mapi’s whole body tenses, her face scrunching up at your brutally honest words.

“Princesa, no es así.” princess, it’s not like that

You don’t give up, not when you know that this might just be your opportunity to get something back, anything at all.

“Maps, just a massage, we’ll go at your pace, your muscles need to be strengthened and that starts with loosening them up, por favor.”

María’s face is stubborn, unmoving.

She’s fairly good about recovery, doesn’t need any reminders to do her exercises or move her knee as often as it needs to, the massaging is the only thing she can’t do by herself, and because its Mapí that you’re talking about, she’d never ask you to help her with it, or accept a offer from you to help her.

You take her recovery seriously though, and you’ll be damned if she misses out on a crucial part of her recovery just because she is too bullheaded to ask for some goddamn help.

“No necesito ayuda.” I don’t need help

You scoff, it’s the biggest lie ever, Mapí can’t walk without crutches, can’t stand for much longer than a minute, she needs help with almost everything.

“Maps, I love you so much, no matter what, but this whole independence thing is just getting annoying. I’ll make you prawn paella for dinner if you let me give you a massage, how’s that for a deal?”

It’s Mapí’s weakness, you know it, it’s one of her mothers oldest recipes that she taught you when she was still alive, whenever Mapí’s having a particularly hard day it’s always your go to, it’s her comfort food.

“Promesa?” promise?

You nod your head, smiling to yourself as you realise that you’ve managed to somehow convince Mapí.

“I promise, I’m going to go and get the massage oil, can you try and take off your sweatpants for me, please, love?”

Mapí nods at you, a little smile teasing at the corners of her lips as she watches you walk off into the direction of the cupboard where the both of you keep all of your recovery related items.

You were quick to find the oil and creams that you required, returning back to Mapí to find her sitting on the couch, her sweatpants pushed to the side leaving her in just her boxer shorts.

Her knee was the only part of her legs that weren’t visible to you, hidden by a brace and plethora of bandages and gauze.

You perched yourself down on the pillows beside her knee, ditching the items in your hands and gently reaching for Mapí’s brace.

She flinched away from the contact, her knee jerking at the feeling.

“Maps, baby, just relax for me, yeah?”

She nodded, her teeth gritted, her eyes watching your every move around her knee, trying to gulp down her worries and discomfort that originated from places beyond her knee.

Once she’d relaxed a little bit more, you reached for her brace again, she still flinched, but it wasn’t as major, and you decided to continue, reaching for the velcro, exaggerating your movements so Mapí had a clear view of everything you were doing.

Once you’d managed to undo the velcro straps you gently un tightened it and then slid it down her leg, leaving gauze and bandages as the only thing covering it.

“Deep breaths Maps, if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable just tell me, sí?”

Mapi nodded at you, she looked like a woman who had just run a marathon, her face all scrunched up and red.

“Sí, gentil, por favor.” Yes, gentle, please

You smiled at her, nodding, like you’d ever be anything else.

“Sí, I’ll be gentle, how about I tell you what I’m going to do before I do it, just so you have some warning, would that make you feel a bit better, love?”

Mapi nods like your words are her saving grace.

“Okay, I’m just going to unwrap the bandages now, just let me know if anything hurts.”

Mapí nods her head, so you continue on, finding the tucked in part of the bandages and beginning to unwrap them, your touch and movements feather soft.

You flex her knee a little bit and notice how her face crunches up a little bit, you hate that she’s in pain, that something that should be so simple and basic for her has become a struggle.

She doesn’t tell you to stop though, so you continue, slowly unravelling the gauze and bandages until you are met with the sight of her bruised and swollen knee.

The stitches had been removed two days ago, so the scar is risen and red, but luckily, not infected.

You notice how Mapí’s eyes suddenly drift from her knee, you know she’s been struggling to come to terms with her injury, that she’s been denying it as much as one could.

“Maps, I’m going to apply some oil, I’m just going to start with your lower leg, nothing near your incision, just tell me if anything is uncomfortable, okay?”

Mapí nods, so you reach for the oil bottle and a towel, gently lifting her knee to slide the towel under her near and then dripping some of the oil onto your hands and then gently pressing them to Mapi’s shin, snaking your hands behind to her calf and working your fingers into her muscles.

The only thing you know is that she’s extremely tight, her calf and achilles practically pushing against you as you lightly apply pressure to the skin.

It takes a generous amount of time working up her calf, working out all the kinks and knots, María is lenient enough though, she looks like she’s in a different place, normally you’d probe her, check if she was okay, but you know that you’re winning right now by having her allow your to do this, so you count your wins and not your losses.

“Maps, baby, I’m working up to your knee and incision now, I know it's going to be uncomfy but the muscles need to be jostled, tell me if anything hurts, okay.”

María’s eyes are glossed over, but she nods absentmindedly.

So, you daintily and carefully begin the trek up to Maria’s knee, your fingers dancing around her non incision side, gently giving the tissue and muscle a rub before moving your fingers to the other side.

You start by just hovering your fingers over her scar, something that seems to capture her attention, and has her throat bobbing as she looks down at you with wide eyes.

“Maps, honey, talk to me.”

It’s clear there are words waiting on the tip of her tongue, and if you can get her to voice them that you will.

“Por favor.” please

It breaks your heart how vulnerable Mapí sounds, it truly does.

“Please, what, love? I’m going to need more than that.”

Mapí pushes her tongue out against her front lip, a fairly clear tell that something is turning the cogs in her head.

“Por favor, no me hagas daño.” Please, don’t hurt me

Your heart clenches at her words, your fingers removing themselves from the scar and gently resting down on her thigh, your palm flat and open against Mapí’s skin.

“María, I’m not going to hurt you, and definitely not on purpose, I’m trying to help you. I know it might not seem that way, but if you relax for me it’s definitely going to feel better.”

Mapí scoffs, sarcasm seemingly ready on the top of her tongue.

“Maps, you need to relax honey.”

Mapí’s face scrunches up, her nose and eyebrows furrowing together.

“No puedo.” I can’t

You don’t doubt Mapí, which makes it so much harder for you to reply to her, because she genuinely looks like she’s struggling, and somehow frustrated.

“Maps, honey, why so tense?”

There’s an inkling of an idea beginning to form in your head, but you don’t want to read this wrong, and a part of you wants to hear what Mapí has to say.

“Tus manos están en mi muslo.” Your hands on my thigh

You snort a little bit, but then reign yourself in when you see the unfamiliar hopelessness on María’s face.

“Yes it is, what’s your point?”

You're toying with her a little bit, for your own fun and genuine curiosity.

“No puedes poner tu mano ahí.” You can’t put your hand there.

If Mapi wasn’t whining at you, you would remove your hand, but there’s neediness hiding behind her tone, that leaves your hand exactly where it is.

“Why not?”

You cock your head at her, pushing down into her thigh a bit and choking on air when an almost breathy moan leaves her mouth.

“No cuando no puedes terminar lo que estás empezando.” Not when you can’t finish what you are starting.

You smirked up at her from your spot hovering between her sore knee resting on the couch and her good leg which is resting off the couch.

“Why can’t I finish it?”

This is uncharted waters with injured María, ever since her knee injury all bedroom activities had been abruptly stopped, you were terrified of hurting your lover and Mapí was always tired or grumpy so it hadn’t really been an issues.

It was clear though, that the both of you were apparently desperate, and as fearful you were of hurting Mapi, you also knew she had given a lot of herself to be this vulnerable with you, so she probably deserved some kind of reward.

“Princesa.”

Mapi’s whining again and all you can do is smile up at her.

“Usted no quieres?” You do not want?

Mapi shook her head, her deep brown eyes sparkling down at you.

“Por favor.” please

You knew that was permission enough, but you were enjoying seeing her slightly vulnerable.

“Please, what?”

María’s almost glaring, a little twinkle in the corner of her eye.

“Por favor, ayúdame.” Please, help me

You would have probed further, if her eyes hadn't fallen down to the centre of her boxers, her hand resting on her hip gently tugging at the waistband of her boyshorts.

“You want this?”

Mapí nodded frantically, making you giddy on the inside.

“Pull your boxers down for me baby, I think it’s time I massage more than your leg.”

Mapi moaned again, her hands falling directly to the waistband and tugging it off with as much force a crippled individual could.

“So eager baby girl, how long have you been needing me?”

Mapí doesn’t reply to you, just continues to tug her black boxer shorts down her ass and carefully over her knee and ankle before tossing them somewhere.

When you look up, you're rewarded with the view of María’s dripping sex, her clit poking out of it’s good and her hole clenching around nothing, her hips canting up to you desperately.

“Look at that, you're all wet for me and I haven’t even touched you where it matters.”

The noises that leave Mapí’s mouth are completely sinful, her head leaning back against the couch, little pleas leaving her mouth.

You trail your fingers up from her thigh, gently grazing against the inside of her thigh until they finally make it to her lips.

You do the same with her lips, trailing wet and sloppy kisses up the inside of her knee and thigh, until your lips come into contact with her dripping and throbbing clit.

You don’t waste any time, trailing a single finger down to Mapí’s hole and swiping up some of the wetness before gently beginning to push it into her eager hole.

Mapí’s pussy practically sucked your finger in, you fell into a fairly easy pace, your mouth suckling gently on her clit whilst your singular finger worked in and out of Maria.

When there was absolutely zero resistance or stretch you began to ease a second finger in, slowly increasing your pace and your pressure on her nub.

Normally, in situations like these, when you and Mapí hadn’t been with each other intimately for so long you’d take your time, show her just how much you loved and appreciated her, but this wasn’t the moment for that.

Mapí needed love, she needed to be worshipped, but in this moment you were acting as nothing more than a relaxant for her, a tension reliever, which you were completely fine with, if it made her feel better than you would do anything for her.

You found her sweet spot, the little pad inside of her and began to target it directly, simultaneously sucking on her clit and caressing her g-spot.

It was a combination that never failed to work during a quickie, sending her directly over the edge in a matter of minutes.

This time was no different, you could feel Mapí tightening around you, her hands finding home in your roots and tugging you up eagerly into her.

Her moans all of a sudden stopped and her hands relaxed, not a second after that she tightened around your fingers and her thighs spasmed on both sides of your head.

You gently worked her through her aftershocks, only removing your fingers when all of the post orgasm shakes had left her body you moved you reached your hand up to her mouth, allowing her to suck her own taste off of your dexterous fingers whilst you lapped up any of her leftover juices and cum that was dripping out of her.

Once Mapí had sucked every last drop off your fingers and you’d salvaged every last bit of her pussy juices you lifted your head out of the apex between her legs, to be rewarded with the sight of a far less tense looking María León.

“Feeling a little bit more relaxed now, bebé?”

Mapu just gave you a little post orgasm grin, her eyes glassy in a completely different way as how she had been a few minutes ago.

“Si, muy relajada.” Yes, very relaxed.

[skzstannie]

“We’ll get through this together”

SKZ -> Hyunjin x 9th member!reader (feat. Felix) [PLATONIC]

Genre: angst CW: robbery, gun shots, minor descriptions death WC: ~2000

Hi guys! An angsty fic for you this time; I hope you enjoy! Also, anybody have a preference -> angst or fluff??

Happy scrolling!

“Y/N! Come here and try this on! It would look so hot on you,” you hear Hyunjin yell from the other side of the store.

You roll your eyes at his loudness, but hurry over so he doesn’t do it again.

“Y/N! Where are-“

“Shhh! Why are you trying to disrupt the whole store!” You look at him incredulously before your eyes find the beautiful, forest green satin dress he has in his hands.

“Geesh, I just thought my amazing maknae would look great in-“

“Shhh!” You shush him again, your eyes still zoned in on the stunning piece of fabric.

“Quit shushing me!” He whispers, playfully nudging you. “I found this in your size. Go try it on.” He takes the other articles of clothing from your arms, slinging them over his broad shoulder before gracefully handing you the dress. You run your fingertips over the soft material, thinking how good this will feel once you have it on.

“Thank you, Hyunjin. This is really beautiful. In my favorite color, too. Where are the fitting-“

You cut yourself short upon hearing the deafening sound of glass being shot out. Your eyes widen and you quickly grab ahold of Hyunjin’s arm, bringing it closer to your chest. He quickly pulls the two of you into one of the more secluded isles, putting a singular finger up to his lips.

You press your lips together, inhaling deeply to stay calm. You listen carefully for any other signs of danger, and your startled by an aggressive shout that comes from the front of the store.

“Give me the money!” The unknown man yells. You hear some shuffling, then a women begins to cry out. You hope it’s in fear and not from pain.

“I can’t!” She chokes out. She’s crying harder now, and you whimper when you hear the gun go off again, followed by a loud thud.

Hyunjin drags you further into the store. He sees the door saying ‘Employees Only’, and you guys make a hurried dash for it.

He grabs the handle, opening it quietly but quickly, and he pulls you inside.

Tears flow freely down your face now as you guys look around for the best place to hide. You find a storage bin that looks large enough to fit the both of you, and Hyunjin is quick to climb inside, easing you down in between his legs. He wraps his arms around your waist for a moment, trying to calm you down.

“I need you to try to stay calm. I know this is scary, but we’re going to be ok.” He reassures you, squeezing you so tight that you find it hard to take a full breath.

Hyunjin looks to his left, finding a pile of neatly folded clothes sitting on a desk. He’s quick to brush them onto you guys, laying down a little lower so that the clothes cover you guys completely.

“Hyun,” you whimper, your lips shaking with fear, “What about Felix? Where is he?”

“Felix will be ok, too,” you feel his lips press to the back of your head, and you’re all of a sudden aware of how his hands are shaking against your stomach. “He’s smart. He’ll find a good hiding spot. He’ll be alright.” His voice trembles a bit, and you know he’s just as worried about Felix as you are.

“Hyunjin, we have to go find him!” You harshly whisper. Attempting to pull away from him to stand, you take his hands and roughly pull them apart and away from your waist.

He’s quick to react though, and he grabs onto you again, preventing you from leaving your spot.

“Y/N don’t be ridiculous!” He seethes, holding you even tighter than before. “If you go out there you could be shot! Do you understand that!?”

You start to cry harder, your sobbing becoming more vocalized the more scared you become.

“But Felix must be so scared by himself, we have to help-“ you’re cut off by the sound of the door squeaking open. Heavy footstep come into the room, and you let out an involuntary gasp. Hyunjin quickly covers your mouth with one of his hands, gently pulling your head back til it’s resting on his shoulder.

The salty tears flow from your eyes at an alarming rate, and your heart is beating out of your chest now. As you lay, trembling in fear, you listen as the footsteps come closer to your spot. The sound of papers shuffling fills the void before you jump when you hear something shatter against the concrete floor. You know well enough not to gasp, the severity of the situation growing by the second.

Hyunjin’s holding you so tightly now, your bodies practically one. Your heart breaks for your best friend, feeling his legs and hands quivering against your body. You’re both sweating bullets from the adrenaline, and the large pile of clothes surely isn’t helping.

The man begins to walk away, and you allow yourself to breathe again. Hyunjin’s palm is still pressed tightly to your mouth, surely not trusting your sobs will stay quiet without it there.

Your concern grows from the eerie silence that fills the room, not knowing where the man wandered off to.

A scream catches in your throat upon hearing another gunshot. Hyunjin’s, however, did not get caught in his throat, and he lets out a loud gasp from the noise. Your eyes widen in fear, knowing damn well that the man knows in you’re here.

The unknown man chuckles deeply, and he makes his location known again when he starts to walk. To your dismay, you hear him getting closer to you guys once again.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin shakily whispers under his breath, “I’m so sorry.” He begins to cry harder, no longer trying to hide the sound of his sobs. Your tears cascade down your face like a waterfall, most of them catching on Hyunjin’s hand.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” He asks antagonistically.

The air in the bin starts to get lighter as one by one the man removes the articles of clothing. As he takes his sweet time, you start to haphazardly dig through your purse that rests uncomfortably by your hip. You blindly search, feeling around for what you’re looking for.

Your heart leaps when your fingers graze the cool plastic of the pepper spray. Chan had gifted it to you for your birthday, and you’ve never been more grateful.

Thankful for the mockingly slow removal of the clothes, you’re able to adjust the pepper spray in your hands. You use your other hand to make sure the lock is turned, and you ready it, preparing to unleash the whole canister if you have to.

The clothes feel awfully light now, and you decide it’s now or never.

You abruptly break through the remaining clothes sitting atop your heads. Hyunjin tries to grab for you, but you use all your strength to fully stand. You have no hesitation in finding the man’s eyes and unleashing a continuous stream of pepper spray directly at them.

He yells in shock, falling to his knees. He drops his gun, his fingers digging into the skin around his eyes, pulling his face taut while trying to find some sort of relief from the torturous stinging.

You know that’s your cue, and you roughly pull Hyunjin up, and you both make a mad dash towards the door. You run like your life depended on it through the store, Hyunjin leading the way towards the front exit. You make it to the front of the store, and you let out a sob of relief upon seeing police officers begin to rush into the scene.

One particular officer spots the two of you looking distressed, covered in a mixture of both sweat and tears. He hurries over to you, directing you the rest of the way out of the store.

“Hey now,” he speaks in a soft voice, “You guys are safe. Are you hurt? Did the shooter hurt you guys?”

Now safely out of the store, you allow yourself to collapse to the ground, your knees completely giving out from physical and mental exhaustion.

Hyunjin, surprisingly being the more level-headed one at the moment, answers for you guys, “No, we’re ok, but-“

“Felix!” you yell, standing from the ground and stumbling into the officer, “My friend was in there with us, but he didn’t hide with-“

“Y/N, Hyunjin!” Your head whips to the entrance of the store, and you see, much to your relief, Felix being escorted out by a couple of officers.

You find yourself smiling, a happy choked sob leaving your lips. You go to run to him, feeling the resistance from the officers arms that you didn’t realize were holding you up.

Felix meets you halfway, and you collide, both of you crying tears of relief. Hyunjin hurriedly joins your hug, wrapping his long arms around the both of you, squeezing as hard as he can.

“Felix,” you cry into his shoulder, “I was so scared.”

“I know jagiya, I know. We’re all safe now.” He soothes, running his hand down your hair.

A loud band resounds from the store, and you yelp in shock, burying your head deeper into the material of Felix’s shirt. A few policeman exit the store, their eyes scanning the crowd alertly. Their eyes land on the three of you, and they begin to make their way over.

“Hey guys, we’re going to bring you to the station for some questioning. We have the security cameras, but we figured it’d be easiest to do this now.” You all nod your heads, and pull apart. However, you keep a firm grip on both of their hands, refusing to break contact completely. As you’re escorted towards the exit of the complex, your eyes catch the body sized bag that lays near the cash register, and you let out another quiet sob for the poor women. No one deserves to die like that.

It’s silent on the way to the police station, only the sound of Hyunjin’s fingers tapping away on his phone filling your mind, no doubt alerting Chan of the traumatic events of the evening. Your thoughts wander again to the poor lady who lost her life, all over some stupid job. Some stupid money. Your heart breaks as you think about her family- did she have kids, a husband? Friends, siblings, parents? Your lips quiver once again before you officially break down, long hard sobs wracking your body. You let out all the emotions you’ve been holding back for the last hour- the sadness, the anger, the fear. It all floods out of your body in salty tears. Your wailing rips through your throat, leaving it sore and raw, but you don’t care. The boys jump beside you, one sitting on each side. They bring their arms around, trying to comfort you as best they can.

“Please don’t cry anymore, jagiya. We’ll get through this together. We’ll be okay.” Hyunjin rubs your back, pressing your head to his chest as best he can in the awkward position you guys are in, all crammed into the backseat.

You get to the police station, and the questioning is over quickly. The three of you answer all their inquiries to the best of your ability, and they release you, wishing you the best. They let you guys know they may contact you again if need be, and you pray it never happens.

As the three of you leave the interrogation rooms, your shoulders sag in relief, and you give a tight lipped smile to the rest of your members who are waiting outside for you.

They rush you guys, swarming you in a group hug. Chan’s the first to speak, “I’m officially never letting you guys out of my sights again, and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise.”

Usually, you’d roll your eyes at Chan’s over protectiveness of you. As the maknae, you’re often at the receiving end of his overbearing concerns. This time, however, you gladly accept it, not having any desire to be apart from him, either.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

“You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

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[pierregazly]

soft for you ꨄ lance stroll

lance stroll x reader

warnings: disgusting fluff, mention of crash [1018 words]

request: could i request 3 & 4 from the 🫶🏼 prompt list with lance? [3. SMILING during a kissss >>>>> and 4. the gaze that softens as soon as it lands on you.]

note: lance taking after his dad >>> relationships come before f1 >>> this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

He was pissed. Even without hearing his words, or knowing the whole situation, you could see it in his face. His eyebrows were pinched, the sarcastic roll of his eyes after every sentence that left his mouth, both stark examples of how genuinely angry Lance was.

It had been a nightmare of a season from the first race, anything that could go wrong, having gone wrong. You knew nothing you could say or do would truly change Lance’s perspective. The car wasn’t great, the strategy was poor, and little mistakes had begun piling up, the damage to his car worse and worse almost every race.

And the first race of the season you were able to attend? Another crash, another early end to Lance’s race. You couldn’t help the grimace that overtook your face as you watched him argue with one of the engineers, his hands flying up in the air in exasperation as another eye roll was visible from your spot across the room.

Multiple people were trying to avoid looking at the conversation currently taking place, not wanting to overstep or get anywhere near the line of fire once Lance finally made his exit from the room. You couldn’t help but stare at the situation, waiting for him to finally look up, to finally make eye contact with you.

It didn’t take him long to do so once he realized he had multiple eyes on him, his brown orbs locating your own just seconds later. His face, his mere gaze, softened almost immediately, any comment from his engineer going unheard and ignored as he simply nodded his head in response to whatever he was saying. You couldn’t help the small smile that began to form on your face as he walked towards you, leaving his mechanics and engineers to stew in their own anger and frustration.

Just another little thing you could always count on. He could be livid. He could be whipping his steering wheel across the room, or shouting at whoever would listen; but he would never allow it to enter your relationship. It was one thing you admired, one of so many things you loved about him. His career, his job, it was separate from your relationship and always had been.

He didn’t talk about racing when he was with you, didn’t talk about how poor the season was going or how miserable he was beginning to become. He would talk about it when you urged him to, not wanting him to bottle it up, not wanting him to feel as if you didn’t support him when he was at his worst. But he never let it effect your relationship, never let the anger mask his love for you, or the way he treated you.

Pulling you into his arms once he was close enough, you felt his chin rest gently on the crown of your head as a loud exhale left his body. His back muscles were tense, his body practically shaking in frustration as he squeezed you tighter, trying to take advantage of all the time he could get with you.

Pulling back, you watched the corners of his lips curve as he gazed down at you. Your grip on his bicep not letting up as you observed the influx of emotions cross his features. The defeat, the frustration, the misery; they were so prevalent at first, so raw as he tried to contain them. But before long, the emotions of devastation began to melt away. The small grin on his face not wavering as he looked down on you, practically delighted to see you, regardless of the outcome of his day.

“Bonjour, mon coeur. You look beautiful, as always,” he murmured.

Smiling up at him, you stood on your tiptoes so you could press a small kiss to his lips in gratitude for his words.

“Bonjour, my love. How are you? Are you okay? Are you sore? You’re very tense,” the onslaught of questions spewed from your lips, unable to contain them as you began looking him over.

The soft grip on your cheek was all you needed to glance back up into his eyes. A faint smile still graced his face as he gently ran his thumb across your cheek. A smile still graced his face as he leaned down to press his lips against yours, prompting your own lips to curve upwards as he did so. 

“I’m fine, mon coeur. A little sore, nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I just have to deal with some media, and probably some more yelling, and then we can get out of here, yeah? I can book us reservations for somewhere, or we can just get room service back at the hotel? Whatever you want.”

“Lance… if you want to talk about the race, we can. You don’t have to be so nonchalant about it, I know you’re not happy,” you said.

Shrugging his shoulders at you, his only response was to lean down and brush his lips against yours again, the curve of them still so prominent. The softness, the gentleness, the simple adoration so evident in his every action with you.

His lips touched yours before moving on to the tip of your nose, your cheeks, the skin below your ear; a smile gracing his lips with every kiss.

“I’m not happy, but not much I can do about it. I’m not going to let it determine my time with you, though. Work stays at work, no need to bring it back to the hotel with us. So, reservations, or hotel dinner?”

Before you could answer, Lance continued.

“Dinner in the hotel sounds like a good idea, I think. Room service and some reality television sounds like a good time to me, maybe cuddle up a little and ignore the world. What do you think?”

Pressing your lips against his with a large grin, your only response was a squeeze of his bicep and a nod of your head. If he wanted to escape the world and hold you all night? Well, all you could do was say ‘yes’. 

just wanted to write something soft/loving so i hope y'all love this!!! thank you everyone for participating in my follower celebration and being lovely!!!

[augiewrites]

"bartender" - dallas winston

request: Hi! I love your work and was wondering if you could do one for Dally from the outsiders where he's helping bartend for Buck to earn a couple bucks and Curtis!Reader is just sitting at the bar teasing him about it.

pairing: dallas winston x curtis!reader

word count: 618

a/n: i can't tell if i'm writing dally too ooc, but i was aiming more for shithead vibes than meanie vibes

Dally was too aware of Y/N Curtis sitting all by her lonesome at the end of the bar. She was wearing a nice dress and more makeup than usual, but Dallas hadn’t seen her speak to anyone since arriving. She looked good—a fact that Dally would never admit out loud.

“Ain’t it past your bedtime?” He asked, sitting a fresh beer in front of her. The bottle she ordered at the beginning of the night had been long finished, the label picked clean and laying in a little pile on the bar.

“Aren’t you the one always telling me ‘sleep is for the weak’?” She smirked at him, taking a long drink from the bottle, “Just taking a page out of your book.”

He leaned against the bar, “Your brothers know you’re here?”

“What they don’t know won’t kill them,” she rolled her eyes, “I deserve to have a little fun too.”

“Being all depressing by yourself isn’t exactly what I’d call fun.”

Y/N glared at him as he moved to take another patron’s order. After a few short minutes, he returned to his spot across from her and gave her an expectant look.

They stared each other down for a few seconds before Y/N rolled her eyes at him, looking away.

Dallas opened his mouth to tell her to either stop being a sad sack or go home when she cut him off, still not meeting his gaze.

“I was supposed to meet up with Scott Davis, but he never showed.”

“Davis? That guy’s a fuckin bum!”

She finally looked up at him, anger flaring behind her eyes, “Well it’s not like I wanna marry him or anything! You’re not exactly fit to be lecturing me on who to hang out with.”

“Oh, I think I’m perfectly fit, dollface.”

She rolled away the anger in her eyes and sent him a teasing smile, “I guess it takes a bum to know one.”

He glared at her, but only half heartedly, flicking a small piece of ice at her forehead.

“Yup—that right there. Bum behavior.”

“I guess it takes a bum to know one,” he mocked her, “at least I have a job.”

“Not sure if you’re gonna make six figures by over-serving people and being mean to lonely girls at the bar.” Y/N finished her drink and slid the empty bottle across the bar.

Dallas continued glaring, “Y’know, you’re a mean drunk, lady.”

Y/N laughed, and Dallas couldn’t help the smirk pulling at his lips.

“Two beers is hardly enough to be drunk.”

“Alright, then. You’re just mean,” Dallas popped the cap off another beer and sat it in front of Y/N. “Gonna start correcting people when they go on about how ‘Y/N Curtis is just such a nice girl’”, he shook his head, “if only they knew.”

Y/N scoffed, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that.”

“Yeah, right, with your whole ‘Saint Curtis’ act—helpin’ old ladies cross the street and tutoring dumbass kids.”

“Devil in disguise I guess,” the pair smirked at each other, holding the gaze for much longer than they should have.

Y/N cleared her throat, looking around the bar, “Shouldn’t you be doing your job?”

He took the bottle from her grasp before finishing it off in one last swig, “Shouldn’t you be going home?”

She scoffed and started collecting her things, standing up from the bar stool. “That towel,” she pointed to the dish rag tossed over his shoulder, “makes you look stupid, by the way.”

Dally removed the towel to swat at her, “Go home, stupid.”

Y/N moved toward the door, sending Dally one last smile, “Go back to work, bum.”

[lustspren]

Post Stress Therapy EP. 0 ft ITZY.

length: 8.4k words ✦

ITZY & Male Reader. 

genres: not sixsome but almost, orgy (?, ass eating, pussy eating, legs/body/foot worship, oil massage, spa, handjob, blowjob✧ 

✦✧✦✧✦✧

A low percentage of the population could say that they really enjoyed their job, and you didn't just enjoy your job, you loved it. It was quite peculiar, in fact, and you had a rather vague recollection of how you had found it; the truth was that you weren't even looking for that job in the first place, your intention was to get a job as a community manager, but you ended up being a masseuse in a spa that was, to say the least... peculiar.

At first you considered it a mistake, and you appealed a couple of times to be given a job according to your resume, but both times you received the same answers: no, and no. The reason according to them was quite simple, they had already found a person who best met the profile they were looking for, and by mere chance, there was a vacancy as a masseuse within the spa. The best mistake and the best coincidence of your life.

You really had nothing more to ask for, the work environment was very good, it was a nice place with good hygiene, the pay was pretty good, and above all, you had the chance to give pleasure to a lot of hot girls, every-single-day.

That day was as ordinary as ever, you arrived at the facilities about 10 minutes early before your entry time, you greeted all your coworkers and went directly to prepare the room as you did every day before opening. For today you had received the specific order to prepare everything for five people, which of course seemed strange to you since only one or two people used to arrive per session, but the truth was that you didn't even care, work was job.

"Oh, we need the fifth bed over there, if we arrange them in a row it will be less practical," you said, indicating to your colleagues, Juyeon, Sunwoo, Sangyeon and Eric, the place, "and the other four, two on each side," You would have helped with it, but you were arranging the various stacks of rolled towels to one side of each individual sofa.

"A couple of candles are also missing on this side, I'll go get them," Juyeon warned before entering a small storage room inside the room where you kept all your supplies.

"I find it strange that the five of us are together, what do you think this is all about?" Sunwoo asked next to you as you placed a dish with warm water and rose petals on a towel on the floor; he, for his part, was preparing the beds one by one.

"A bachelorette party, maybe? Sometimes women do that kind of stupid thing before they get married," Sangyeon replied as he lit the candles inside the glass vases Juyeon brought over.

"Nah, I think it's just a bunch of single girlfriends coming to have fun, who knows," Eric said from across the room as he moved the fifth bed to the spot you'd indicated.

"Anyway, we need this place to look spotless, and so do we," you stood up, taking a second to examine each other's uniforms, which consisted of a two-button gray linen shirt and baggy black pants.

"Make sure you get the lint off your shirt if there is any, and if you have a stain, go change immediately," when you said that the four of them did a quick check of their own uniforms, giving a thumbs up when they were done.

“Let's get this over with quickly, we have about 20 minutes until they arrive,” Sunwoo said, going to change the lights in the room to a dim and intimate level.

During the next 20 minutes none of you spoke other than for specific matters, you were all focused on leaving the place tidy and that you did not miss anything; when you had finished, you were in charge of standing from the entrance to scrutinize every detail. Everything was just as you had planned from the beginning, two beds on each side, and one more at the back of the room, each one with an individual sofa, a dish with water and a small pile of three towels on the side where the feet should point; there was also a set of 3 glass vases with scented candles inside in each corner of the room, these were already lit, so the place smelled like a sweet apple tree scent.

"Very good, everything is perfect, now go to your places, they should be here any minute," you nodded, and went to stand next to the second bed on the left side.

Not even five minutes passed when you started to hear voices on the other side of the door, getting closer every second until the doorknob moved, and the spa receptionist walked in. You almost had a heart attack when you noticed who was behind her, but you had to hide it with a purse of your lips.

"And here we are, ladies, they will be your hosts today," she said, stepping aside so you could see your customers. Many female celebrities used to go there for special treatment, in fact, it was an open secret, but you never expected to see all ITZY together in that place.

“Hello, take good care of us today,” Yeji, Ryujin, Lia, Chaeryeong, and Yuna said in unison as they bowed to you. They were all dressed in sportswear, cargo pants, sneakers, and tight-fitting tops that left their shoulders exposed. The only one not wearing a top was Yuna, in fact, she was wearing some kind of incredibly sexy bodysuit that showed the flesh of her waist.

You gave a nervous look at Sunwoo, who was next to you, and then all of you bowed back at the same time.

"We'll work very hard, welcome," you all said, and then returned to your natural positions.

"Well, I'll leave you, okay? If you need anything, feel free to tell me," the receptionist said with a kind smile to the members, and then turned to you, "Good luck guys," she gave you a discreet wink, she turned, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

There was a little awkward silence in the room when the receptionist left, because you were so nervous you didn't even remember that you were supposed to lead the session, and it didn't help that they were all staring at all of you.

"Oh, come in," you waved toward a door to the left of the storage room, "please undress and come back in a towel so we can get started, alright?" you asked with a friendly smile.

"Are you fucking kidding?!" Sunwoo whispered to you, mimicking a shout, “This is the first time a whole group has come here, this is going to be crazy!”

"Just relax and keep a cool head. Both of them," you whispered back, earning a giggle from your colleagues.

About five minutes passed when the changing room door opened, and the girls left one by one to walk towards the center of the room. The towels that you provided to the clients were quite short, so your eyes were delighted with 5 beautiful pairs of legs, some more fleshy, others more toned, or some simply long and creamy; not counting the fact that they had the towel rolled up on their bodies at the height of their breasts, covering only from their nipples to their crotch.

You exchanged glances with only three of them: Ryujin, Chaery, and Yuna. Ryujin and Yuna looked at you like lionesses hungry for prey, Chaery, on the other hand, looked at you with a kind of passive desire, bright eyes, and slightly nervous hands. Meanwhile, Yeji and Lia just exchanged glances between each of you. .

"Okay, I don't think I need to explain what you came to do today, right?" you asked rhetorically, "This session will consist of 4 phases, each focused on a different special service. At the end of one phase, you will go to the next worker for the next one, so all of you will have received attention from each worker, except for one. In the final rotation, you will have to go with the worker you haven't worked with, and repeat a phase of your choice," you finished, with the girls' eyes on you, "understood?"

"Yeah!" all five said at the same time.

"We'll start with the order you're in right now, so Yuna, come here please," you asked kindly, and the others did the same to the rest of the girls. Ryujin went with Eric, Chaery with Juyeon, Yeji with Sangyeon, and Lia with Sunwoo.

She gave you a small smile and walked towards you, and you waved her hand for her to sit on the single sofa. She did so, crossing her legs with her back straight with her gaze fixed on you. You knelt in front of her, taking a look at her creamy thighs, one on top of the other. Her towel did absolutely nothing to cover her from the waist down in that position, so you could also perfectly see her buttocks pressed against the soft sofa leather.

"I know you've heard this a thousand times, but you have very nice legs," you said, looking down at the porcelain bowl with water in it to stir it a bit and check the temperature. Then you held her two ankles together with your hands and dipped her feet into the hot water.

"Not thousands, millions of times," Yuna replied with a giggle, "but thank you very much, you have very nice hands... and arms," she said with a slightly lower and seductive tone.

"So you think?" you smiled, "I knew moving those beds from one place to another was going to pay off," she laughed again, and you dipped both of your hands into the water and immediately pulled them out again, purposely splashing her thighs, where your hands landed to begin to moisten them from top to bottom; you made slow movements, which went down until you reached her calves; you repeated the process a couple of times, until her legs were covered in a light layer of water.

"And they also feel very soft, what soap do you use?" Yuna lightly bit her lip, discreetly spreading her legs just a little bit so that you could get a frontal view of her small, shaved pussy.

"Mmm, none specifically, it's just the experience," your voice came out without any kind of nervousness despite your attempts, you were already trained for that, but even so you couldn't control how much blood was pumping towards your little friend.

You lifted Yuna's feet out of the water and set them to the side of the bowl to let them drain a little on the towel, then moved the bowl to the side, removed the stacked towels from the small stool, and put it in the place of the bowl for Yuna to put her feet up. 

You took her left foot in both hands and slowly began to massage it, applying pressure in circles with your thumbs to the bottom of her foot. You started near her heel, and worked your way up to her toes, where you ran each finger between them back and forth a couple of times. You repeated the process with her other foot, as you felt her penetrating gaze on you and how she slightly moved her hips against the couch.

"Getting horny already, huh?" you asked quietly, looking at her for a few seconds before focusing back on her feet.

"Just… a little," she admitted, with a more flirty, snickering giggle.

With your two hands you continued massaging her feet a little more, this time giving more attention to her fingers and the upper part of these, a little more than a minute passed, until you lifted one of her feet and brought it directly to your mouth; Yuna did everything possible so that the small moan that came out of her mouth wasn’t heard by more than you and she, you saw her for a moment, finding you with a pair of flushed cheeks and big eyes full of lust. You sucked on her toes one by one, using your tongue to lick between them and also run it over the bottom of her feet, from her heel to her toes again.

You continued sucking and salivating her feet for a few long seconds, and when you considered that it was enough, you took her by the calves and raised them towards your mouth to start distributing kisses up and down, Yuna shuddered, but instantly relaxed, letting her your mouth slowly moved freely over her skin until it reached her thighs, where you also distributed kisses this time deeper and wetter, concentrating on her inner thighs and then stopping just before reaching her pussy.

"Sorry sweetheart, that's none of my business," you wailed for her after she let out a slightly disappointed groan.

You still had about 2 minutes left, time that you took advantage of to review with your mouth along her legs; you lowered her thighs giving them long licks and kisses, then you kissed her calves, and finally you arrived to put her left foot in your mouth again; as your tongue moved between her fingers, Yuna ended up removing her towel, revealing her modest pair of tits, and extended her free foot to press against your cock over your pants. You let her do what she wanted, after all, the only rule you had in this regard was no penetration.

She continued to massage your bulge with her foot, and you continued to suck on her foot with dedication, but a constant beeping from a clock in the corner of the room signaled the end of the phase. You took her foot out of your mouth, placed it on the little stool, and stepped away from her. Yuna whimpered a bit, looking at the bulge in your pants. You looked back at her, from her perky tits, her perfect flat abdomen, and her pussy that you noticed, was already a little wet.

"Time's up, honey, please stand up," you asked with an innocent smile, and she did, then you turned around to face everyone. The girls were almost all the same as Yuna, flushed cheeks and horny eyes, the only ones who still had their towel on were Chaery and Lia, while the rest were standing completely naked next to each guy, "Oh right, each phase lasts 15 minutes, sorry for not clarifying sooner. Go to the next worker now please."

As the rotations are clockwise, the next one to be with you was going to be the one on your left, Lia, which was incredibly convenient considering what was next, meaty thighs, and a juicy round ass, perfect for eating.

The corresponding changes were made, so Yuna said goodbye to you with a slight wave and gave way to Lia, who bit her lip when she noticed the bulge between your pants, she wouldn't stop looking at it, so you had to clear your throat and get her attention.

"Come, please," you offered her your hand, she took it, and you led her to stand with her stomach against the bottom edge of the bed, she looked over her shoulder at you a little nervous, "Hey, it's okay, I don't bite," you tried to reassure her with a small smile, then crouched behind her.

"W-what are you going to do?" she asked, clearly still nervous.

"You know exactly what I'm going to do, didn't your leader tell you?" you asked, cocking your head.

"I know two possible things you're going to do, I just don't know which one."

"Then just relax, close your eyes and let yourself go, cutie," you put your hands on her thick thighs and gave her a mini massage just to get her to release tension, but it didn't help when four girls, one after the other, let out a little startled groan. That was your cue to start.

In one quick movement you took the lower edge of the towel and brought it up to her hip, revealing a pair of juicy and perfect buttocks that you didn’t hesitate to squeeze with your hands, you noticed how Lia let out a slight gasp, and how she flexed her knees and threw her ass back, that allowed you to have her pussy a few centimeters away, and especially your main goal. You spread her buttocks to either side of her, and without warning, you buried your tongue right in her ass.

"Holy f-!" Lia almost screamed, she herself brought her hand to her mouth to muffle out her moan.

Lia managed to contain her moans quite well for a few seconds, unlike some other girls like Yeji on your right, who kept letting out slight whimpers and moans while Sunwoo had his face buried between her buttocks, of course this didn't last long, as your tongue moved faster, up and down, in circles, and in whatever way you noticed she enjoyed.

"My God! Your tongue feels so… so fucking good, fuck!" Lia whimpered, moving her hips slightly and pushing her ass further into your face.

You really weren't forced to do it since you weren't supposed to, but while your tongue worked tirelessly to clean her ass, your hands were under her buttocks in the middle of a somewhat rough massage, you knew perfectly well what you were doing, and You knew that it gave a plus to the pleasure she felt at that moment.

Your hands moved up and down her thighs as you applied pressure with your fingers, and in a small, sneaky act of generosity, you let one of your hands reach her pussy to rub it back and forth, Lia let out a longer moan, and you, after spitting on it, continued giving her ass deep and quick licks.

Lia didn't even bother to be discreet anymore, the moans from the other girls, combined with the brushing of the side of your hand against her pussy and your tongue eating her tight hole, made her stop caring about hiding her moans. She reached back and grabbed your hair tightly, pressing your face between her buttocks; you felt that your generosity was already being too much, so you stopped rubbing her pussy and left your hand on her thigh, Lia complained with a rather adorable whimper, and went on to rub her clit herself.

"I think… I think I'm close to cumming, fuck!" Lia announced, looking at you over her shoulder, but something interrupted her, the 15-minute alarm. Such was the collective disappointment that from all directions you heard the same whining sound, and couldn't help but laugh as you pulled your mouth away from Lia's ass, "Oh come on! What a killjoy," Lia growled, dropping her towel to the floor, "I hope you take care of what you just provoked, fuck."

"Okay, switch" you said aloud, looking at all of them with a 'fuck me for god's sake' face.

The rotation became incredibly fast, Lia moved away from you, and the one who now stood in front of you at lightning speed was none other than one of the most desired leaders in the industry. Yeji was completely naked and at your mercy, her body was simply perfection, and her tits were by far the biggest and most beautiful among all the others. You'd be lying if you said you weren't tempted to forget the rules, get her on the bed and fuck her, but your job was more important.

"You can't just skip the rest of the phases and fuck me, right?" she asked with a burst of boldness, stepping forward to reach out with her hand and grab your cock over your pants. She was looking into your eyes, while she was biting her lip.

"Rules are rules, if I break them, my bosses will know, and I'll be fired," you shrugged, letting her know that it wasn't up to you anymore, "now come here, I'm sure you'll appreciate this just the same."

You wrapped your arms around Yeji's waist and lifted her up into the air, instinctively she grabbed your torso with her legs, but you brought her back down when you turned around and left her on the edge of the bed. She spread her legs wide, so that the bulge of your pants pressed against her pussy, once again, you doubled your self-control not to do something crazy, and only got on your knees to do your job.

Hwang Yeji's pretty pink pussy was now just inches from your mouth, and you didn't hesitate for a second to close that distance to stick out your tongue, plant it against her slit and give it a slow, long, torturous lick from the bottom to her clitoris as a first contact, and if you thought that before she was moaning something loud, now without a doubt everyone outside that room could perfectly be listening to her.

After that first lick you focused on playing with her a bit just to warm up her engines; you began to give her wet kisses all over her pussy, not forgetting to add your tongue every few times, Yeji moved her hips between small whimpers, seeking the maximum possible contact with your mouth at all times.

"God, please stop teasing me and eat my pussy for once," she moaned, running her fingers through your hair and caressing slowly.

"Come on sweetie, why in such a hurry?" you asked mischievously, gave a small giggle and returned to her pussy.

As much as you wanted to keep playing with her, you had limited time if you wanted to give her the best of her experiences, so you stopped teasing her and went straight to what she wanted. Your mouth plunged fully into her soft, wet flesh, moving your tongue up and down faster and more consistently. Yeji's fingers now wrapped tightly in your hair, and after a few seconds you felt a tug in it when your tongue reached a certain sensitive spot near her clit, you used this to your advantage, and began to attack that exact spot with your tongue over and over again, with quick and precise licks that made Yeji close her legs with your head in the middle, which was now squashed into a soft meat sandwich.

Her moans were the key to knowing that you were doing an excellent job on her pussy, you continued paying special attention to her sensitive spot, not neglecting her clitoris for a second; her thighs were pressing hard against your head, maybe a little too much, it was evident that she didn't care if she was being too hard, or if she was cutting your breath in some way, she just wanted her pussy very well eaten.

"Oh fuck, fuck fuck!" she whimpered, her legs shaky and her body gradually shuddering more and more, "I'm gonna- FUCK!"

That was the last thing Yeji said before exploding in a maelstrom of spasms that made her fall back against the mattress of the bed, your mouth was the first to taste the fruits of her orgasm, collecting all her juices like a thirsty dog without even protest; you knew you still had time, and you didn't stop for a single second in your work, which led to intense overstimulation that made her squeal and nearly hurt her throat. A series of chained screams filled the room too, you didn't need to use your sight to know that the other girls were already reaching their peaks, the first was Lia, you already recognized her way of moaning, and it made you happy to know that Sangyeon gave her what she deserved.

You really wanted to cause Yeji a second orgasm, proof of this were your multiplied efforts while she continued to shake with pleasure on the bed; you enjoyed the feel of the soft flesh of her thighs pressing against your face from either side, but you wanted to be bold with her and show a bit of dominance; you lifted your knees off the floor and kept in a squat, grabbed her thighs and used a significant amount of force to separate them from your head and spread her legs wide, Yeji tried to close them again due to the sensitivity of her slit, but you you held her firmly, while you continued to eat her pussy with the same intensity.

Your objective did not take long to be fulfilled, you looked up at Yeji, her mouth was no longer even making any sound, and her body was no longer shaking, she was in a kind of trance, with her mouth in the shape of an O and her eyes lost in the nothing, which in a few seconds led to a new explosion of pleasure in her body; her orgasm was violent this time, to the point that you had to hold her to the bed so she wouldn't fall to the ground and hurt herself. Yeji's eyes closed as she bit her lower lip, so hard you thought you saw blood for a moment, and she finally let out a shriek that nearly deafened you.

After you had left her as satisfied as you wanted and left her pussy shiny and clean, you stood up to look around, the other girls still hadn’t cum a second time when there were still less than 4 minutes left on the clock, you deduced that it was a lack of courage on the part of your colleagues, and of course you were going to make fun of them when you were done with all that.

"Are you alright, cutie?" you asked Yeji, standing to one side of her.

"Fuck… better than ever," she sighed, lying on the bed with her face to the other side, "you're… pretty amazing," her eyes widened to turn her head to see you, "it's okay if I suck your cock while no one sees?" she now fixed her gaze on your crotch.

"Well, the rules don't say anything about that..." you looked back at the others, focused on their business, and grabbed the hem of your pants to only pull your semi-hard cock out, "so go ahead."

Yeji looked at your cock and licked her lips before leaning her body further towards the edge of the bed, taking it with one of her hands and bringing it straight to her mouth, you gasped, watching as she slowly sucked on it and you were getting hard in your entire length; her eyes were still open, a sharp feline gaze on yours at all times, half of your shaft disappeared into her mouth with each soft movement of her neck, from her position she couldn't reach more, but what she could have of your cock she treated as if it were a delicious candy worthy of admiration.

Yeji took your hand, and guided it directly towards one of her tits, the entire palm of your hand was on it, and knowing that you had her approval, you did not hesitate to squeeze it firmly between your fingers, while she took you out of her mouth for a moment just to lick your dick and spread a few kisses on your balls before going in again.

You and she were enjoying it, she was feasting on your cock, and you were massaging her pretty tits, but the clock gave the signal that the 15 minutes were up. You reluctantly took your cock out of her mouth and put it back in your pants, and she settled into the bed with a mischievous smile on her face.

"Too bad, sweetheart, we'll save it for another time," she wiped the saliva on her mouth with the back of her hand and winked at you, before getting up with some difficulty to sit on the edge of the bed.

"V-very good!" You stuttered, and took a moment just to swallow your arousal, "Uh…switch up, please," was all you managed to say. Yeji laughed, patted your arm, and staggered off the bed to go to the next worker.

All the girls had flushed faces and somewhat shaky legs, not counting their clearly agitated breathing and slightly disheveled hair. You didn't know who you were going to work with until you turned around, and found Shin Ryujin's naked statuesque body inches from you. She had a mocking expression on her face, a devilish little smile and eyes that looked you up and down.

"Do you think I wouldn't notice?" she asked quietly so that Sunwoo behind her wouldn't hear, a raised eyebrow.

"Uh… what are you talking about?" You scratched your temple, trying to hide the fact that you clearly had a boner that was screaming to come out again.

"Oh come on, Yeji was sucking your cock so good she even made me jealous," she giggled, then bit her lip. You sighed, and put your hand to your forehead. How clueless.

"Just don't say anything, please," you murmured, then stepped aside to motion for her to lie down on the bed.

"Don't worry, not a single word will come out of my pretty little mouth," as she walked past you, she gave the hard bulge in your pants a discreet grab, and then she lay on her back on the bed. You just clenched your fists and took a deep breath to relax.

"Anyway, how are you feeling?" you asked out loud, faking a smile with your hands clasped between your legs so no one would see anything.

"Fuck... tired," Yuna sighed, and then she couldn't help but smile.

"And pretty fucking horny, too," Yeji chimed in, to which the other girls just nodded.

"Well, then just relax, close your eyes and let us work, okay? Massages are our specialty," you said confidently, seeing that the timer had already started, so you got down to business.

"Wow, I thought I was eating ass, this will be good" Lia said, her eyes closed, her body straight as Eric, who almost choked on the gum he just put in his mouth, reached for a bottle of massage oil from under the bed. All the other girls gave small conspiratorial laughs, and all of you just didn't say anything.

"Tell me, handsome, are there cameras here?" Ryujin asked you as you opened the jar and poured the thick liquid from her solar plexus to her lower abdomen.

"Nope, why?" you left the bottle next to her, and with your two hands you began to spread the oil all over her torso, with delicate movements that went from the sides of her abdomen to her modest but sexy tits.

"Mmm for nothing..." she murmured with a smirk, and then let out a breath as you moved your hands around her tits, teasing her nipples with your thumbs, then moving back down to her abdomen.

You knew that she, or all of them, were up to something; before laying down on the beds again they had all exchanged glances for a moment, and then Yeji released the comment with which they all laughed, you plotted on it for a moment, but you decided to concentrate.

You stood facing the upper end of the bed, Ryujin's head now very close to your crotch; you poured oil in the same place again, but this time you focused on spreading it to her shoulders and arms, for this you had to lean slightly forward, massaging her arms, her shoulders, her clavicle and then going back to her abdomen and tits until that all her upper body was shiny and oily.

You didn't notice, but apparently Ryujin had opened her eyes for a second and noticed how close your bulge was to her face, because she gave it a little kiss before you stood up again; you stared at her, but as a good girl who knew how to get away with it, she had closed her eyes again and completely dissimulated. You didn't say anything, but apparently the pattern of behavior had been repeated in all the other girls, judging from the body language of your colleagues.

You stood facing one side of the bed again, but this time on the opposite side, you grabbed the bottle again, to pour a line of oil on each thigh that went from the beginning of it to centimeters above her knee. You put the jar aside, placed your hands on each thigh, and began to spread the liquid all over her legs until they were just as shiny as her upper body.

The focus point was now her thighs, you poured in a little more oil, massaging Ryujin's left thigh and moving up until you brushed her pussy on purpose with the back of your hand, she twitched a little by the initial shock, but when you repeated the process on the other thigh, she showed no signs of discomfort, which gave you the green light to now pour oil directly onto her pubis so it ran free to her crotch, your hands went there, massaging the contours of her pussy, and as a final touch, you rubbed the palm of your hand up and down a few times on her slit.

You heard Ryujin let out a slight moan, a signal that you took to continue rubbing her pussy for a few seconds, running your fingers between her folds before returning to her hips, to massage them as if nothing had happened; she took a deep breath, and blew it out in a silent sigh that made you smile.

Two more minutes passed, in which you dedicated yourself to massaging each part of her body, with special emphasis on her thighs, her abdomen, and then her shoulders. When the clock showed that 7 minutes had already passed, you signaled to your colleagues to tell the girls to turn upside down.

"Hey cutie, face down please," you asked Ryujin in a low, soothing voice, as you heard the same commands from the other boys.

Ryujin opened her eyes to look at you for a moment before turning to see Yeji, and as she turned to face down, she met the gaze of the closest girl, who was Chaery, to nod to her and then to Yeji; they hadn't been discreet at all, in fact, you all had noticed that all five of them had silently signaled to each other, it seemed quite suspicious to you, and in fact, you knew something was about to happen.

As Ryujin turned face down, lying on top of her arms folded, you set off to do the other half of the job. You poured a long line of oil from a few inches below her neck to her lower back, and then began to spread it all over her back and shoulders, putting pressure on her lats and on her shoulder blades, you did that for a very few seconds, since you needed a more suitable position for it, but first, you dedicated yourself to pouring oil on her round ass and again on her legs, this time on the opposite side of her thighs.

You made circles on her buttocks with your two hands, going down from time to time to her thighs to keep spreading oil until soon her whole body was shiny, oily and sexy. As you continued to focus on her ass, and every few seconds on her thighs, you once again ran the side of your hand between the slippery folds of her pussy, but now moving up to lubricate her hole with your thumb as well. Ryujin's moan was a little louder this time, and she took her own steps as well, pulling one of her arms out from under her face to extend it and bring her hand right up to your cock, to squeeze it and massage it slowly.

A part of you knew it wasn't right to let her do that when absolutely everyone else could see if they wanted to, but when you saw out of the corner of your eye that Yuna had pulled Juyeon's cock out of his pants, giving him a handjob as he was massaging her lower back, the embarrassment completely gone, and you just went the easy way, standing in front of her face, pulling out your cock, and rubbing it against her lips until she caught your tip between them.

You wanted to continue doing your job despite what was happening between your legs, but the position that Ryujin adopted, with her neck raised from the bed and leaning on her elbows to comfortably take more inches of your cock, made continuing with the massage in any way impossible for you, so you just surrendered to Shin Ryujin's pretty mouth moving slowly along your shaft.

"Dude, I think we fell for these girls' trap," you heard Sunwoo gasp a few feet away from you, you turned for just a few seconds to look, finding Chaery in almost the same position as Ryujin, sucking on the boy's cock.

"Oh, you think?" you asked rhetorically, then looked down again at Ryujin, who was now holding your cock from the base, taking almost the entire length of it into her warm mouth. Soon the entire room was filled with sucking sounds coming from every direction, adorned only by your collective gasps.

Ryujin moved her neck at a pace that was already driving you crazy because of how good it felt, obviously you didn't know them, but you could safely say that they had experience, and that they knew exactly what they did and how they did it; she took you out of her mouth for a moment, to spit all the saliva accumulated in her mouth back into your shaft and jerk you off with a wicked smile.

"Have you already planned all this?" you gasped, as you watched her.

"Not really, but you made us very fucking horny when you ate our pussies," she stopped talking to lick your cock from below, and then give your balls a few short sucks, "besides we know how to communicate well without even saying anything, you guys are pretty clueless."

Yes, you already noticed.

She guided you back into her mouth, and knowing she didn't have to worry about being discreet, she began to give you a rather sloppy blowjob, taking almost the entire length of your cock with each pump of her head. You placed your hand on her head, letting out small moans to indicate to her that she was doing an amazing job.

As if her mouth wasn't enough, she also added her hand to the game, moving it along with her lips with each fierce pump of her head.

"I can't," she said getting off the bed, "sucking a dick like that is too uncomfortable," she knelt down next to you, and you turned to grab her head and put your cock back in her mouth.

Ryujin didn't put up any resistance, in fact, you noticed a certain complacency in the dominance that you showed by grabbing her head like that, that led you to grab a handful of her short hair and make her resume the messy blowjob she was giving you. The other girls had also adapted to different positions, Yuna was still on the bed, but with her back arched and her butt lifted while Juyeon fucked her mouth, but the others, like Ryujin, had gotten off the bed only to get on their knees.

Saliva began to spill down the sides of Ryujin's lips, it fell straight to her legs, but they slipped straight to the ground due to how slippery her skin was.

"Wanna fuck my mouth and cum inside?" Ryujin asked as she took you out of her mouth to take a breath, her hand jerking you off at the full force of her wrist as she opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out.

"You didn't even have to ask."

You took her hand away from your cock and switched to her hand with which you grabbed her hair, then guided your shaft back into her mouth. You put your other hand back on her head, and with your grip points already established, you began to move your hips in a somewhat aggressive manner. The gagging sounds were present quickly, since with each pump you were almost hitting the girl's throat, and if before she was a disastrous mess of saliva, now she was an insignificant sex toy. The 15 minutes had passed, but none of you cared, you didn't even turn to look at the clock, you were so focused on the pleasure you were receiving that you felt like you were in a mini bubble.

You weren’t far from your orgasm, in fact, as the seconds passed you felt how your body gave you stronger and stronger indications that it was going to happen at any moment; you kept moving your hips, fucking Ryujin's beautiful face while she had her hands clasped behind her back, reinforcing the feeling you had that she specifically quite enjoyed being treated like a toy.

The seconds passed, and with a few more thrusts of your hips against her throat, you released all the arousal you had been accumulating since Yuna had teased you with her feet a few minutes ago, thick jets of cum completely filling Ryujin's mouth, who was doing her best to swallow it all as it kept coming out, but it was so much that inevitably some of it spilled along with your saliva onto the floor.

You moved your hips slower as you finished letting your load into her mouth, finally pulling out and for her to show you the massive pool of cum you had left on her tongue, some of it spilled out, but she quickly closed the mouth to swallow it all.

Your agitated breathing didn’t regulate until the passing of the seconds, you looked around you, to witness several types of Renaissance painting at the same time; Yuna had received the cum on her face, Lia on her ass, Yeji on her tits, and Chaery had swallowed it too, leaving not a single trace of cum anywhere.

There was silence in the room as you all processed what had just happened, only heavy gasps of exhaustion could be heard.

"What just happened here, stays here, okay?" you raised your voice, as you watched Ryujin wipe her mouth and smile mischievously, "we can be fined."

"Calm down daddy, we won't say anything," Ryujin said, still kneeling in front of you, before giving you a little kiss on the tip of your cock that made you shudder.

"Go get cleaned up and come back, please, we still have something to do," you pointed towards the bathroom, which luckily was big enough for all of them to enter.

They all stood up and walked straight to the bathroom giggling, while you guys had to go the old-fashioned way and use clean towels to clean yourselves.

“These girls really are… wow,” you heard Juyeon say.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't see y'all's dick, I hope you do the same,” Sangyeon said, looking as good as new and cleaning up his work area.

"Count on it," Eric replied, doing the same.

Minutes passed, and again one by one they came out of the bathroom, completely clean and ready for the last activity. You had already organized your entire area, and had even cleaned the floor where you had been with Ryujin before.

"Okay, I think you know what to do now, so come here, Chaery," you called to her, and she obediently walked towards you with her hands behind her back.

"Uh… hi," she greeted you with a little curtsy and a sheepish smile, not at all looking like there should be cum on her stomach right now.

"Hello, Chaery, it's my pleasure," you smiled, noticing a clear difference in personality between her and the others, "have you decided what you want to repeat yet?"

"Oh, yes, and the truth is that I have a special request for you," she began to play with her fingers, a little nervous.

"Really? And what is it?"

"I want the same massage, face down, a moment ago I couldn't enjoy it because well... you know."

"Oh, that's not a problem-"

"But I want you to finger my ass at the same time."

You almost choked on your own saliva. Who was going to say that such a shy and reserved girl would ask for something like that.

"Well… yes, we can do that," you agreed, "lie down then, please."

"Your sister recommended this place to you, didn't she?" you asked Chaery as you began to pour some more oil over her body to renew the layer she already had. Chaeyeon had been a client of yours for a long time, in fact, she was one of the first idols to go to that place.

"Oh yeah," she replied, completely relaxed, "she recommended it to us when we got back from our tour."

"A lot of stress?" you started massaging her back, and then her hips.

"You have no idea," she sighed, "it's always great to see our fans, but it's very exhausting."

"I get it… well, I think you came to the right place," you couldn't help but giggle as you now focused on her legs.

"Yes, you guys are wonderful, thank you very much," you looked at her face, seeing that she had a small smile that made you die of tenderness.

"Hey, that's very sweet of you, thanks."

"Anyway, I don't have a preference yet," she shrugged.

"Oh yeah? But who could it be?" you asked flirtatiously, now massaging her firm ass which by the way, you had to say was the best of all of them.

"I don't know, we'll find out…"

You didn't respond anymore, instead, while you traced circles with your hands on her buttocks, you let one of your thumbs escape completely on purpose towards her ass, where you only had to apply a little pressure for it to enter completely and without resistance inside her; Chaery let out an adorable moan, but you stuck your thumb out again, and continued to massage her ass and her thighs for a few seconds.

When she least expected it, you slipped your middle finger inside her again, this time moving it in and out of her for a moment before adding your ring finger; she let out a more pronounced moan, and you began to move your wrist at a medium pace.

You noticed that her hole was perfectly used to having things inside, that combined with the fact that the oil lubrication was perfect, made your fingers go in and out without any problem. Chaery started moaning more often, and you realized right away that this was her main kink.

You squeezed one of her buttocks with your free hand, and then you started moving your wrist as fast as you could, making the room fill with the sounds of your palm crashing against her flesh. She couldn't help but get out of position, she had raised her left knee a little, and she was holding on to the sides of the bed with her fingers.

She was already moaning too loud, so you just took your free hand to her mouth and offered your two fingers to suck on, and that's how it was, she accepted them delighted, sucking and moaning on them while you fucked her ass with your other hand.

It didn't take long until between each intense pump of your fingers inside her, she had an very strong orgasm that made her shudder and spasm, your fingers came out of her mouth, but to drown out her moans she only bit her own forearm with such strength that left her teeth marked on her skin. When she passed her orgasm, you just smiled and took your fingers out of her ass, to resume the massage as if nothing had happened.

"T-thanks..." she muttered, looking over her shoulder at you with weak eyes, then dropping her face back into her arms.

"Do you already have a preference?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, massaging the sides of her thighs.

"Yes... you," she managed to say before beginning to take a small nap.

The remaining minutes passed peacefully, apparently the rest of the girls had opted for the same activity to repeat without any other particularity, the only exception was Yuna, who wanted her pussy eaten once more, but everything was quieter than expected. you expected

When the 15 minutes were up, you lightly shook Chaery's shoulder to wake her up, she slowly got up, then rubbed her eyes as she sat up in bed.

"Ladies, we've come to the end of this session, I'd like to thank you all for choosing us," you bowed to them with a small smile, "you're free to go wash up and get dressed again."

"Thank you guys so much," the leader Yeji thanked, returning the bow, "it won't be the last time you see us here, don't worry if you miss us," she winked at you, then led her girls to the bathroom.

You stayed to clean and organize everything one more time, and when you finished, you left the room to go to the receptionist and fill out the corresponding report to bring everything in order. While you were waiting outside, since it was break time, the girls came out dressed again, saying goodbye to y’all with little bows and friendly smiles.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" Yeji told you before walking out the door, "outside," you exchanged glances with Sunwoo, who raised her eyebrows and gestured for you to go with her.

"Of course," you agreed, walking outside with them, "what's wrong?"

"Well... we were talking while we got dressed," she looked at the others for a moment, and then at you, "and we came to a conclusion."

"Conclusion?" you asked confused.

"Yes, you were our favorite, in all phases, and we want you to give us… additional services… in our dorm."

——————————————————————————

Spren Notes:

Remember when I said that Erinyes was my most ambitious work to date? Well, I think this shits on that piece completely. I must give special thanks, with all my heart, to the guy who trusted me to carry out his idea! If you're reading this, I hope you loved it buddy!

If you, dear reader, are also interested in buying me a commission, do not hesitate to go through my inbox, I’ll be delighted!

[revasserium]

butterfly lovers opla zoro screaming crying throwing up

butterfly lovers

opla!zoro; 7,106 words; fluff, kind of childhood friends to lovers, slowburn af, nsfw, pron with TOO MUCH plot, opla!canon divergence, ships doctor!reader, fem!reader, riding, "good girl", emotional sex

summary: yours and zoro's story, from two different perspectives.

a/n: @halfvalid this is ur fault. take responsibility pls. also the smut is literally just one part of a larger story, but it does actually get explicit so. do with that info what u will u__u.

false start.

most good stories, scholars and storytellers would both agree, have a beginning, a middle, and an end. though, famously, not necessarily in that order. and this particular story — well, it has several places one might call the beginning. and one of them is here — in shimotsuki village, in a patch of rich green forest that always smelled of cedar and moss and earth.

it would be a lie to say that the story begins here, at a doujou where eight year old boys and nine year old girls swing wooden swords hundreds of thousands of times each day. where you’d seen zoro for the very first time.

the story could have started here, but alas, it did not.

because you see, you’d never been great, or even particularly good at swordsmanship. and zoro — zoro was one of the best. even from the beginning, his raw, unfettered talent was a force to be reckoned with. but the reckoning came in the form of the doujou sensei’s blue-haired daughter, and you were no more part of zoro’s story then than a drop of ink in a midnight ocean — lost to the tumultuous waves of childhood tedium, of sword practice and sparring, of warm up laps and cool down stretches.

but you’d known him then, watched him as he grew, as he got better and better and better. bigger, stronger, quicker, sharper. and beside him was kuina, steady as the shifting tides, relentless in her efficacy, tireless in her craft. he was good, but she was better.

until one day, when very suddenly, she wasn’t.

the story, as it is, does not start here, because you’d made the solemn walk to kuina’s funeral altar with the rest of the students at the doujou in complete silence, had knelt there in equal silence and watched as sensei had bestowed the wadou ichimonji upon zoro, watched as he had gripped the sword with both hands, his knuckles going white as the sword’s moon-washed sheath, and bowed his head in acceptance.

it does not start here because later, instead of following the same, silent procession of kids back to the doujou’s main compound, you’d slipped away, silent as a shadow, and sprinted through the wide, cedar forest to a secret, open patch of grass where the sun bled from a stretch of endless sky blue enough to sting, and tiny little white-petaled flowers had sprung from the still-damp earth, turning their faces towards the coming spring.

you’d run, screaming through the field till you’d run out of breath to scream with, and collapsed among the tiny white flowers, panting and staring up at the endless blue sky, feeling the helplessness pulse through your veins. because even though kuina hadn’t been your friend — you’d exchanged perhaps a handful of words in all the years you’d spent here — she’d been a constant presence in your life. and now, she was gone. and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you laid there for longer than you can remember, and then, as the sun finally dipped beyond the far horizon and the darkness grew longer than the sea was wide, you got up and trudged towards the clearing’s edge. only to find a small creature huddled against the trunk of a thin sapling tree — it looked like nothing more than a bundle of white-spotted fur, and it took you a long moment to realize that it was a fawn, curled into a pile of gnarled roots, shivering, eye wet and wide and terrified.

you blinked, staring at it for a few seconds before you’d noticed the gash on it’s hind leg, jutting out at an uncomfortable angle. your heart had stuttered inside your chest, and you’d dropped down to your hands and knees, cooing softly as you slowly approached the creature, trying to look as unmenacing as possible.

“hey there… are you hurt?” you’d said, crawling towards it, trying very hard to make your movements as slow and smooth as possible.

the fawn shivered as it stares at you, apparently caught between sheer terror and curiosity. you tried to smile, before digging into your pockets and pulling out a handful of peanuts, offering them to the fawn on an open palm.

“c’mon, i’m not gonna hurt you… i just wanna take a look… at that leg of yours, can i do that?” you’d asked, inching in closer and closer until the fawn’s warm, wet nose dug into your palm, it’s smooth-edged teeth grazing your skin as it crunched through the peanuts. you took the chance to glance down at it’s injured leg — it wasn’t a deep wound, but judging by the angle, it was a bit dislocated and would need to be set back right if the fawn was ever going to walk again.

slowly, you reached out a free hand to gently stroke at the fawns haunches, feeling it’s muscles tense up beneath you, even as it continues to snuffle against your palm, eager for any remnants of the peanut shells. you ran your hand along it’s leg and quick as a flash, you pressed against the odd jutting of bone, even as it snapped back into place with a satisfying crack.

the fawn made a shrill, screeching noise, jerking to its feet, but a moment later, it seemed to realize that it’s leg was no longer hurting. you held up both your hands in what you hoped was a calming gesture before tugging out a few more peanuts holding it out as an offering.

the fawn blinks it’s dark, watery eyes at you a few times before limping forward to dig its nose once more into your palm. you allowed yourself a smile then, and a soft relieved laugh as the fawn limped forward a few more steps, testing the weight of it’s body on its newly repaired leg. it looked more confident now, seemingly realizing that the wound was somewhat fixed, and it gave you one last, lingering look before it bounded off back into the sunset forest, leaving you with nothing more than a handful of peanut shells and a tightness in your chest you can’t quite seem to put your finger on.

you’d snuck back into the doujou that evening, smelling of mud and moss and cedar, and you’d lain in your futon, staring up at the high slatted ceilings, streaked with moonlight, wondering where on earth you truly belonged.

the next morning, everyone woke to neatly a folded futon and a wooden training katana, the hilt carved with your name, laid across your pillow.

so you see, the story could have started here. but it didn’t. and perhaps we should be thankful for that.

the cost of ambition.

the story, as we know it, starts then at the baratie, on the morning after a meal was eaten and not properly paid for, after an ill-fated duel between a boy with a mouthful of ambitions and a man who’d forgotten what it felt like to be truly surprised. well, he was surprised that morning, watching the boy fall back with a gash the size of the world spurting blood across the docks.

“grow strong,” he’d said, “and come find me.”

and it starts, when a pirate in a straw hat comes crashing into the baratie’s kitchen, shouting about a dying friend.

“help! help! zoro… zoro needs a doctor!”

“whoa, whoa, slow down, chore boy — i can’t understand a word you’re saying,” zeff holds up a hand to stem luffy’s panicked rambling.

“my friend is dying…”

“the nearest doctor’s on the conomi islands —”

“wait, no —” sanji frowns, cutting zeff off, “lemme look at the reservations from last night —” he hurries off to the front desk and returns with a thick leather bound volume, flipping it open to scan through the seating chart for the night before.

“i knew it!” he says, pointing at a name written in deep, ocean blue ink, “there — her! i’ve heard of her — she’s the best ship’s doctor in the east blue, and if i’m not much mistaken, her ride’s not due to leave till this afternoon.”

“great! c’mon — we haven’t got time to lose!” luffy says as he rushes out of the kitchens, leaving sanji and zeff to exchange an exasperated look before following after.

they find you on the loading docks, your nose buried in a notebook, your hand flying across the page, ink smudging your unrolling sleeve.

“please! we need a doctor! my friend — zoro — he’s dying!”

you jerk up from your notes, the name ringing in your ears like an alarm bell, rocking through your body like the base boom of a signal flare. zoro? here?

you look around even as luffy makes his way to you, pressing in too close, a hand on top of his head to keep his hat from flying away, the other curling around your upper arm.

“w-wait — what’s going on? did you say someone was dying?”

“yes! my friend! he got into a fight with this warlord guy and now he’s bleeding from everywhere —”

“show me,” you say, lurching to your feet and shouldering your leather knapsack, pursing your lips as your vision threatens to tunnel ahead of you. zoro. it’s been such a long time since you’d heard that name. sure, you’d heard of his exploits in the east blue. how could you not have?

demon, bounty, pirate hunter. hunter, hunter, hunter —

you take a deep breath as luffy leads you onto the deck of the going merry and ducks below, motioning for you to follow.

when you step into the room, you don’t notice the orange-haired girl or the long-nosed boy, instead, your eyes are drawn to the body on the kitchen table as a magnet would a compass rose. his shirt torn into barely more than ribbons, a large red gash oozing blood, bisecting his torso like some unbridgeable canyon in miniature, his skin paler than you’d ever remembered it being, sweat beading his flickering brow —

oh, zoro…

you resist the urge to press your hand to your mouth. so instead, you swallow back your heart and try to assess the damage. massive blood loss, possible head trauma, and who knows what else?

“you said a warlord with a giant sword did this?” you ask, hurrying to the table and frowning down at the gaping wound.

“y-yeah — he — he had a big hat with a white feather on it —” luffy starts.

“mihawk. his name was dracule mihawk,” the orange-haired girl cuts in, her voice sharp and a bit too forced to be steady, “he told zoro to get stronger, and that… it wasn’t his time to die yet.”

you grimace, chewing on your bottom lip as you dump your supplies unceremoniously onto the countertop next to him, digging out the necessities.

“well, he wasn’t lying — the cut’s clean and judging by the size… he could’ve cut much deeper. but he didn’t,” you sigh, absently rolling up your sleeves as you pull out a hooked suture needle and a length of thread.

they watch you work in silence, first cleaning the wound, and then slowly, painstakingly pinching and stitching him back together. by the end of it, you’re nearly dizzy with exhaustion, and the sky outside has already turned a deep, bruising purple.

you sigh, wiping down your hands.

“can someone go and ask the waiter for a fish? any fish’ll do, but the fresher, the better. oh, and a bottle of scotch.”

“got it!” the boy with the long nose bolts up and is gone in a flash.

you slump down into a nearby chair and let your head loll back. a moment later, you feel someone pressing a glass into your hand and open your eyes to find the orange-haired girl holding a glass of water.

“here… you looked like you could use it.”

“thanks,” you say, taking a grateful gulp.

“i’m nami, by the way… thanks for —” she waves at the shape of zoro still on the kitchen table, “and that one over there is luffy. the guy that just left is usopp and —” her breath catches as her eyes fall back onto zoro’s form.

“i know who he is,” you say, your voice quiet as you look down at the glass clutched in your hands.

“you know zoro?” luffy’s voice is loud, but not unpleasantly so.

you glance up and feel the truth pulsing against the back of your throat like a heartbeat. then, you shake your head with a soft smile.

“i mean, he’s got quite the reputation.”

luffy lets out a laugh, “yeah! he sure does — he’s a great fighter! probably one of the best i’ve ever seen!”

you nod, staring at the sloshing liquid in the bottom of your glass.

a few moments later, usopp returns with sanji in tow, holding a bottle of scotch in one hand and a dead fish in the other.

“you’d better have a good reason for this,” he says, his expression grim, “zeff’s not gonna be happy when he finds these gone.”

you force a smile, “well, i can promise that at least one of those things’ll be put to good use — can you just skin the fish for me, please?”

sanji frowns, “and the scotch?”

you glance around before shrugging, “i don’t know about you guys but… i think we could all use a drink.”

the cliche of the morning after.

when zoro wakes up the first time, it’s to a world-muffling quiet. he coughs, uncertain of where he is, his head throbbing, his chest feeling too light and too heavy all at once.

“oh! you’re awake — here… have some water. you’ll need it.”

he hears the voice, both familiar and foreign, and then, he feels the cool press of a glass against his lips.

he gulps down the water greedily before pain rockets through him and he lets out a loud groan.

“i… i had a dream…” he says, his head spinning, the words slurring from him, and for a second, he wonders if he’d just been fed alcohol instead of water, but the pain seizes him again and he can’t stop talking.

“yeah? what did you dream about?” the familiar, foreign voice asks, soothing, as a cold palm presses against his forehead.

“shimotsuki village… i — i made a promise. i told her — i’d be the greatest… swordsman…”

his voice is fading, and the world is fading with it.

“yeah… you did, huh? and i’m sure you’ll fulfill it, one day…”

zoro sighs, sinking gratefully into the warm, welcoming arms of darkness once more.

“but not today,” you say, reaching out to wipe the sweat from zoro’s brow, your voice so soft that you’re sure no one else can hear, “today… you just need to keep on living. and that’s the greatest promise you could ever make to me.”

smooth sailing.

when he wakes up proper, you aren’t there to greet him. but he doesn’t miss the shape of you as they all pile onto the merry to go looking for nami. he doesn’t miss sanji’s too-wide grin or the unpleasant, burning itch that shoots through his healing wound as he watches the cook ask you about your favorite foods.

he keeps quiet for the most part, but you find him still, and you ask him how he’s doing with a ship’s doctor’s professionalism and efficiency.

“how’re you healing?”

“fine.”

“any tenderness?” you ask, your brows knitting as he tugs open his shirt and lets you peel the bandages away.

“not really,” he lies, because the the tenderness is not skin deep. he feels it in the labyrinthine galleys of his soul and he can’t quite figure out why you, of all people, might make him feel this way.

you run a surgical hand along the stretch of puckered skin and he sucks in a long breath, feeling his cheeks flood with inexplicable heat.

you smell of cedar and moss and freshly turned earth and for the life of him, he can’t remember why it makes his entire body go soft with memory. it reminds him of… something.

something, something, something.

“i hear you, y’know,” you say, and he jerks back to the present, with you absently rolling up your shirtsleeves before tugging at a fresh piece of gauze to wrap him back up.

“don’t know what you mean.” he looks away, willing himself to stay still as you daub a pungent cream against his chest before applying the layers of bandage. he lifts his arm to give you more room even as you shoot him a disbelieving look.

“sword practice, in the middle of the night. i told you that you need to rest — you’ll only prolong your own healing if you keep on pushing yourself like this. rest is it’s own brand of practice.”

zoro narrows his eyes. because he’d heard that from someone, somewhere before.

“your bodies need time to repair,” his sensei used to say as they all gathered after dinner at the doujou for evening meditation, “and a disciplined mind leads to a disciplined body. don’t forget that rest is it’s own brand of practice.”

zoro had never been good at it, but over the years, he’d managed to endure.

“there. all done.”

you lean back to admire your handiwork, unaware of zoro’s eyes as they scan over the shape of you, taking in the length of your hair, the bright of your eyes, the limber, spider-quick thinness of your hands and fingers.

“thanks,” he says, slipping off the kitchen table, pausing as he notices how still you’ve gone, your eyes wide as you blink at the planes of his chest, inches from your nose. a second later, you stumble back, clearing your throat, a sweet dawning pink dusts the high of your cheeks as he cocks his head to watch you, fascinated by your reaction.

he almost grins, letting his stomach flex as he takes his time in doing up the buttons of his shirt, before grabbing his swords and slipping from the room, leaving you to clean up your medical supplies, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

zoro wonders, just briefly, how it might feel to catch your lips between his own teeth instead.

ink, skin, and bullets.

it’s you who bandages nami’s self-inflicted wounds, you who spends four meticulous hours tattooing over the sawfish curl with a pinwheel spiral that curves into a tangerine’s plumpness. you, who soothes eucalyptus balm over nami’s arm before wrapping it up in a fresh roll of gauze, waving away her hiccupped thanks.

and it’s you, who gets a shotgun pressed into your palms by a stony-faced nojiko as you all prepare to march on arlong park.

“if i can’t go with you… then at least, i can give you the tools,” nojiko says as she wraps your fingers around the butt of the gun.

zoro narrows his eyes as he watches the way your fingers shake as you weigh the shotgun in your palms.

“i don’t like it,” he says.

“yeah, you shouldn’t come with us — we’ll need you to patch us up after,” sanji agrees with a wink, much to zoro’s displeasure.

but you shake your head, a steely light in your eyes as you clutch the shotgun to your chest, “no, i — i want to come. i mean — like luffy said… it’s our fight, after all.”

arlong park.

the flurry of battle is as it always has been. you use the shotgun more as a blunt instrument than as a projectile carrier, but it seems to work just as well. you’re small, and quick, and your knowledge of anatomy (yes, even fishman anatomy) allows you to maneuver the head of the shotgun into the softest, most venerable places on a fishman’s body as you all fight your way through arlong park.

but zoro is never far off, keeping close to you as he fends off the worst of the snarling fishmen, his sword flashing like fish scales in the midday sun.

there comes a moment when he slices an oncoming fishman right through the jugular that you let out a long breath, wincing as the fishman’s body hits the ground with a dull thud, and zoro sighs, turning towards you. but a second later, he freezes as you grab the hilt of his sword and shove it backwards.

he feels it resting against thick, bullet-proof flesh and he hears the loud panting of something next to his ear as he sees in the reflection of your eyes — a fishman standing behind him, frozen against the tip of his blade, the hilt clutched in your shaking, shivering hands.

“d-don’t — i’ll kill you —” you say, your voice a forceful, fractured thing.

zoro searches your eyes before clasping his hands over yours and slowly tugging the sword from your gasp.

“hey…” he says, deliberately drawing your gaze away from the fishman before he jerks his sword back and feels, with a satisfying shink, the weight of the blade sinking into unforgiving flesh. he feels your fingers trembling beneath his as he pulls the sword away, and the fishman behind him sinks to his knees before falling sideways with the dull thunk of a no longer animate body.

you try to tug away, but zoro holds you steady, running his thumb in soothing circles along the backs of your hands.

“s-sorry — i — i couldn’t —”

zoro shakes his head, pulling you up by your elbow.

“it’s okay — don’t apologize.” he whips his swords around and catches another fishman in the stomach, dropping him with a flicker of silver and a splash of red.

“you never have to apologize…” he says, as he reaches for your hands and curls them in the warmth of his own, callused palms.

finding neverland.

you kiss for the first time after a brutal battle. after the deck has been washed of blood and the railings have been hung with the remnants of the tattered sails.

repairs are much needed, but zoro had saved you yet again. you pull him to you in the darkness of the midnight deck, the crow’s nest empty because, well, he’s supposed to be up there, keeping watch. but you’d caught him instead, curling your fingers into the soft linen of his shirt, your mouth seeking out his in the relative dark.

“mnph —”

he grunts as his hands find purchase against your shoulders, pressing you back and back and back, till you’re pushed flush against the thick totem of the main mast, and your panting breaths are all he can taste against his desperate lips.

“s-sorry…” you let out a helpless laugh as he pushes forward, his teeth clacking against yours.

“quit that,” he says, his voice nothing more than a panting breath on the open sea air.

“hm?” you blink, lashes fluttering in the moonless night, your lips kiss-swollen and delectable even as zoro forces himself to pull back, studying you with an accusatory eye.

“you’re always saying sorry,” he says as he brushes a strand of hair from your cheek. above you, the main sail whoomps, catching an evening wind.

“i’m not… i don’t…” you look away, embarrassed to be caught. zoro reaches down to grab your chin, forcing your head back towards him.

“yeah, you do,” he says, his voice gentle, even as he cups your cheek.

“you don’t ever, ever, have to apologize for just... being you. got it?” and there’s a burning ember in the spark of his voice as he twists your face up towards him, his lips hot and hungry as he brands you with this promise, and you’re powerless to do else but accept it.

you find your fingers in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, his breath cascading over your lips even as you press in close, close, closer. a helpless whine twists its way up the back of your throat as zoro hoists you up, his fingers digging into the plush of your thighs.

“z-zoro… please,” there’s something broken in the tenor of your voice that breaks him more completely than he has the words to describe, so he settles for holding you tighter over his hips and carrying you to his room. it takes a bit of finagling to get you comfortably situated in his hanging bed, but once he does, he can’t help the soft sigh that escapes him as he looks over the length of your body.

from your pink-flushed cheeks to the loose, crumpled material of your button up shirt, all the way down to the hem of your skirt as it brushes up along the skin of your thighs. he leans own to press an indulgent kiss into the dip of your collarbone.

“'please' though… i like a little bit more,” he says, reaching down to pop the top button of your shirt, to revel in the way you hiccup as he teases a line down your chest, his lips following his fingers as he undoes your buttons one by one.

“i — ah —” your fingers curl into the soft moss of his hair and he groans, long and lush into the creamy expanse of skin above the waist of your miniskirt.

“again…” zoro says, whispering the word against you, tugging on the elastic of your skirt, pulling them down the length of your legs.

“z-zoro, please!”

your head tips back as you feel his tongue flick over the hot button of your clit, his fingers digging into your hips, the pads of his forefingers tracing gentle circles around your hip bones as he holds you to his mouth and moans.

there’s a fumbling of fingers and a clashing of teeth as he wrenches himself up from between your legs to mouth at your lips. you taste yourself on his tongue and shiver at the indecency. still, the coals of desire burn in the pit of your stomach as his fingers press into your spit-slicked folds and you feel your whole body arch up in response.

he has always been quiet, but none more so than when he’s working three digits into your fluttering core, his eyes dark and fixed as they watch his own fingers pull out of you and push back in, slick and shiny with the evidence of your arousal.

“fuck…” he whispers the word like a prayer, slipping passed his lips like some holy thing. you can hear the near reverence in his voice as he slowly removes his hand and presses them to his lips for a taste. the lewdness of it makes the hot coil in the pit of your stomach twist all the tighter. and this time, when he drags himself up the length of your body to kiss you, you whine against his mouth, tasting your own tang on the heat of his tongue.

“ngh — fuck —!” you echo, as he flips onto his back and tugs you over his hips in one, fluid moment, his palms helping you grind your sodden folds over the length of his cock, the friction all-consuming and dizzying. a thin string of arousal connecting the tip of his cock to the seam of your cunt and zoro is helpless to do much else but moan thickly at the sight.

“shit.”

you whimper softly as he teases at your entrance, your palms splayed against his chest for support, your thighs shaking on either side of his hips as he eases you down inch by slow, excruciating inch, ontohis thick, throbbing cock. you toss your head back as he pushes into you, the fit of him fiery-tight and stretching you in ways you’d never thought was possible.

you feel him pulsing against your walls, and you wish briefly that you could’ve tasted him as he’d tasted you, before he sheathed himself inside you. how would he taste, you wondered, and you feel your mouth water at the thought of his heavy, salty weight on your tongue.

“n-ngh!” your voice cracks as he rocks his hips experimentally against yours, the drag of him inside you driving you to near incoherence.

“good girl,” he whispers, the words falling from him like second nature. you keen beneath his praise, bracing yourself as he plants his feet on the bed and jack hammers up into you, his stomach tensing in deep breaths of tight, sinewy muscle, his arms flexing as he helps you rock down above him.

“pretty… fucking… girl…” he intersperses his heavy groans of pleasure with soft exclamations, fucking you now to the light, rhythmic rocking of the ship, even though there’s nothing light about the way his cock bullies it’s way into your cunt again and again, forcing you to clamp down around him on each and every thrust.

there’s nothing gentle about the way he digs his nails into the flushed skin of your hips, how he leans up to latch his greedy mouth onto one of your pert nipples, moaning as he savors in the way you arch against him, pushing your chest more fully into his mouth.

“r-right — right there —”

“yeah?” he asks, half-smirking as he looks up at you, his warm gaze betraying the hard, teasing edge behind his voice, “where do you want me?”

you keen, whining as you drag your hands down your own body to press against your stomach, grabbing his hand to push it against you as well, his palm hot and flat as it lays along your tummy.

“r-right here —”

“fuck — that’s right —” he jerks up into you, burying his face in your chest with a clipped moan as he quickens his pace, his one hand pressing against your stomach as you feel him pushing up farther into you than you’d ever imagined possible.

the pleasure is intense, an other-worldly feeling as he finally pushes you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he feels you clench around him, your arms winding around his torso, to act as both tether and tide as he holds you to him, grounding you to this feeling while simultaneously casting you against the rough edges of this most selfless and selfish pleasure.

“h-holy… fuck me…” you breathe out, clutching at zoro’s back, digging ruddy red grooves into his shoulder blades as he rolls over to fucks down into you, relentless in his chase of his own climax, groaning deep and throaty as he finally spills into you.

you hiss as you feel the heat of him pooling inside. and it’s not till a few minutes later that he picks his head up from where his face had been buried in your neck to shoot you a wide, lopsided grin.

“yeah, pretty sure that’s what i just did,” he says, rolling onto his side and letting out a deep, soul-steadying breath.

you roll your eyes before turning to look at him, only to find him watching you with a gentle, anchoring softness. and like this, it’s hard to see him as the battle-hardened warrior. like this, it’s hard to imagine that he’d ever made such a promise as to become the greatest swordsman in the whole, entire world.

like this, he just looks like a lovestruck boy, forced to grow up much too soon, searching for any remnants of pleasure he might have left to hold on to.

an irony of hands.

it’s never easy, the night after enemy raids, the deck pooling with bodies and blood, the sea the color of a scabbing wound, flotsam and jetsam like bloated body parts floating on the dark, inky waves.

you’re helping usopp push some of the dead bodies overboard, but then you find one man with three deep gashes on his torso and blood bubbling on his lips.

“… gonna… gonna report — never… escape…”

you nearly yell as you see the tiny den den mushi in his hands, his fingers quivering as he tries to dial the emergency line. you smack it from his hand and press your tiny, surgeon’s scalpel to his throat. it’s sweet, polished silver gleams wicked beneath the moonless night.

“don’t you fucking dare,” you say, even though your voice shakes, and there are perhaps a million other ways of taking care of him more easily. but you know that if you throw him overboard now, he’d bob, half-drowning and helpless, for a few hours, or maybe even days before he’d finally succumb to the terrible, patient drag of the ocean (and most likely, dehydration).

“no,” a voice says, steady and firm, as a long, rough-fingered hands enter your vision and carefully tug your hands way from the man’s throat.

you look up to find zoro, his hand still clutched around yours, an unspoken sweetness flickering behind his eyes.

“i — if we toss him over — he'll just —” you swallow thickly, tearing your gaze away from zoro’s face as his expression shifts into something of the unreadable and soft. you hate to let him see you like this, so hesitant, so incompetent.

“let me do it,” zoro says, giving your hands a light shove before, with one swift arc of his blade, he severs the man’s carotid, leaving him slumped and bleeding on the blood-stained deck.

“oh… oh god…” you press your shaking fingers to your lips, the silver scalpel falling with a loud clatter.

“c’mere,” zoro says, tugging you up and leading you down to the hallway below decks. he slows as the pair of you enter the darkest part of the hallway, and he turns to hold you at arms length, his fingers tight on your arms as you feel his eyes scanning you over, and over, and over.

“you’re not hurt?” he asks, voice quiet and clipped.

“no,” you shake your head.

“not even a little?”

you shake your head again, pursing your lips this time to keep the sob from pouring through.

still, he sees it, and he pulls you to him, cradling your head in his large, warm palm, the other arm wrapping around your middle.

“stupid girl,” he murmurs, light, into your cheek even as you let out a bitten off sob against his chest.

you hiccup, curling your fingers into the material of his shirt, "i — i couldn’t do it,” you say, squeezing your eyes as he holds you to him and lets you cry.

“i — i couldn’t kill him.”

zoro sighs, pulling back to smooth a hand over your hair, bringing it down to cup your now tear-stained cheek.

“yeah, i know. but that’s not what your hands are made for,” he says, letting his own hands trail down and down and down, till he’s got both of your palms cupped in his like a wishbone.

“don’t you get it?” he asks, staring down at your palms, upturned against his, “these hands were never made for taking lives…” he looks up, his eyes too bright in this borrowed darkness. and then, he smiles.

“they were made for saving lives instead.”

confessions, part i.

you stare at him for a full ten seconds before letting your body fall laxed into a soft, bubbling fit of champagne-colored laughter.

“i love you,” you say, the words tumbling from you, more truth than any story or poem or legend or myth either of you have ever heard.

“i love you, zoro,” you say again, tasting the words on your tongue like fireworks, like pop-rock candies, like the first, stinging breath of autumn after the hazy veil of summer has finally lifted. and slowly, in the clarity and truth of your declaration, you think you can see his lips as they lift up in an open-heart smile, as he too tastes the words you’ve just so recently mustered the courage to say.

confessions, part ii.

zoro stares back, and or a long moment, he doesn’t say anything. then, for too long. and you think you’d made a mistake, telling him how you feel. but then, he smiles — a true smile, a smile that lights up his face and erases all the grooves and lines that should’ve been worn there by the weathers and weights of hardship.

and still, listening to your words, he smiles — a smile that makes him nothing short of incandescent.

he nods, squeezing your hands in his.

“i love you too.”

false start (redux).

every story as a beginning, a middle, and an end. though not necessarily in that order. and, looking back, roronoa zoro knows that if he had to pick, his story probably begins here — at the ripe age of eight, in a doujou nestled next to a forest that always smelled of cedar and moss and freshly turned earth.

it probably starts with an endless parade of sword practice and sparring, of warm up laps and cool down stretches.

its true — it could be said that his story starts with kuina, the doujou sensei’s blue-haired daughter, who was better at swordcraft than zoro thought he ever might be. and to some, this is a good enough kind of beginning to latch on to.

but no, zoro knows, because he knows himself now, and he knows that stories, just like swordsmanship, is an art that requires a certain amount of tempering. a certain degree of trimming and tailoring. a certain kind of articulation.

so he’s certain that it starts here, when he’d seen you for the very first time. and it’s true, you’d seemed like nothing special then, just another quiet little girl who’d been forced into the doujou by some faceless set of rigid, expectant parents, and you’d worked just as hard as you could have, given your natural inclination for anything but sword play.

he’d known that you’d never be great shakes at swordsmanship, but still, he’d found himself drawn by and to you, as a magnet would a compass rose, as one might find their destiny, or their soulmate. he had found his eyes tracking you whenever you weren’t looking, found himself watching as you’d patter around after sparring practice to ask everyone how they were feeling, to dig your tiny fingers (strong and dexterous as they already were) into a knot here, an aching muscle there, a pinched nerve that might’ve been really bad if not found here, and left to fester in that vast, horrible elsewhere.

but he’d been a shy, quiet, kind of boy, absorbed by his sport. and kuina’s skill was more than enough for one growing, teenage boy to contend with without worrying about the strange attraction he had towards perhaps the least “swordsy” person in the entire class. and so, he’d never plucked up the courage to talk to you, never questioned when you’d kept away from his side of the classroom after sparring practice, when all the other girls would flutter around him like a flock of unwelcome pigeons, asking if he wanted to be their stretching partner.

then, the morning came when shimotsuki-sensei had informed him in not so many words that kuina was gone. and the funeral had slipped by in a hazy blur of bodies and incense, and the next thing he knew, he was holding the wadou ichimonji, and sensei was saying something about keeping kuina’s dream alive.

he’d seen you flit from the funeral march of black-clad children, shadow-dark and raven-quick, right off into the thicket of trees. and he’d followed you, because he couldn’t think of a place he’d like to be less than back in that suffocating practice room with all his fellow classmates, half of them casting him curious looks, the other half avoiding his gaze like the literal plague.

he’d followed you to the clearing, and watched as you’d sprinted, screaming around the field of tiny, white-petaled flowers until you slumped down, panting with your face upturned to a sea-breeze sky. he caught himself before he could burst out laughing (or crying, he wasn’t quite sure which he wanted to do more at that moment), and he’d forced himself to sit still behind the trunk of a large tree and watch as you pushed yourself up. the light of the dying sun washed your figure in a great, dream-like ream of orange and gold.

then, just as it seemed like you were going to head back, he spotted you spot the injured fawn, curled into the gnarled roots of a sapling cypress tree. and he’d watched still as you slowly approached the creature with a handful of peanuts before distracting it and crack — he’d heard it clear across the clearing — the sound of a bone being set back into place.

the fawn had screeched and bolted to it’s feet.

but you were just as fearless as you always were, holding out your palm with more peanuts, and zoro had watched, with a mounting fascination coiling in the base of his stomach, as the fawn dug its nose into the palm of your hand.

he’d seen the brilliance behind your eyes, heard the bell-toll sound of your soft, everlasting laughter.

and he vowed, then and there, to become the greatest swordsman he could be, the greatest swordsman in the world, if only to protect you from those who might hurt you. from those who might threaten to take away the light — the life — that thrummed, ever present, in the palms of your very own hands.

a/n: i know, i know, there was an authors note before. but i feel like i can explain this better now that you've read the fic -- to me, the story of "butterfly lovers" is and always has been as story of someone pretending to be someone they're not, right? so in that sense, you/reader was just trying to fit into a mold that wasn't quite made for her before discovering her true calling as a doctor. and the fluff and romance was that, unbeknownst to her, zoro's known that this entire fucking time. u__u anyways. i hope you enjoyed. bless up and simp zoro, fam.

opla!zoro requests are open!