#er. as close to being perfect as it can get i suppose

[99probalos]

30 pages, 9.6k words... ohohoh. Ehehe

[avis-writeshq]

hi! could i request track one with spencer reid where reader gets drunk and needy for spencer 😭 but he denies (cuz yk shes drunk) and just takes care of him please? thank you!

off my face — spencer reid

summary: “i’m off my face in love with you.” in which reader gets drunk and spencer has to nurse her back to health. pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: established relationship, fluff warnings: rated 16+ for allusions to smut, reader gets drunk, reader wears lipstick and a dress, mentions of throwing up [not in detail], spencer being sickeningly perfect, lots of pet names, inspired by that one video of matthew. you know which one i’m talking about. a/n: i er… got carried away because i love this trope 😔 i am in fact obsessed wc: 1.23k

It’s too loud. Granted, it’s a club; it’s supposed to be loud. Spencer cringes a little as the music somehow manages to get even louder and he sips at his coke. He has your purse in his lap and he’s also manning your drink like a guard dog; moving himself to the furthest seat in the booth that is away from the crowd. Your inevitable return is a lot sooner than he expected, and he watches with amusement as you slide into the booth and curl into his side, reaching for your drink. 

“Have fun?” Spencer asks with a soft laugh, one arm wrapping around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of you head. 

“Mm,” you hum in affirmation, eagerly sipping at the sugary concoction in front of you. “Would’ve been funner with you, baby.”

He laughs louder at that, rolling his eyes teasingly and squeezing at the flesh of your waist. “You know it wouldn’t have been.”

“Bet you’d be real sexy with all that sweat dripping off you,” you coo, your voice sickeningly sweet as your fingers move to toy with the buttons of his shirt. 

Your fingers are wet with the condensation from the chilled glass of your cocktail and they brush against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. A shudder runs down his spine at the contact, and his cheeks grow hot. His hand finds your wrist and he holds it firmly, but not enough to hurt. 

“Don’t,” he says, half jokingly half seriously as he moves his head to track your gaze. “How much have you had to drink, angel?”

You ignore the question, moving your fingers upward to brush against a blooming purple mark near his collar. A pout rests on your lips as you gesture to it, a frown forming on your face. “Who gave this to you?”

He bristles, moving the flap of his collar to cover the bruise. “You did. This morning.”

“Oh yeah!” The smile returns to your face awfully fast and a giggle bubbles up from your throat. “You love me.”

“I do,” he agrees, kissing your head again. 

Your expression is all too gleeful as you move your head just at the right time so that he lips would meet yours. He pulls away after a brief moment, about to say something else, when you effectively cut him off by pressing a wet kiss to his cheek. 

“Angel– sweetheart, you’re very drunk,” he says gently, prying your needy fingers away and holding them firmly in his hand. 

“Nuh uh,” you deny, leaning forward again and kissing his neck right where you left a mark earlier that morning. 

He jolts at the contact, pulling away as pink rises to his cheeks. “We’re not doing this while you’re drunk, honey.”

You blatantly ignore him, maneuvering yourself so that you’s practically half on his lap with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. He doesn’t mind the attention, per se. He just feels incredibly guilty about enjoying it when you’re loopy from all the cocktails you have had. You’re pressing kisses against his cheeks while your hands play with the collar of his shirt, tugging at the purple tie you chose earlier that day and there are lipstick stains all over his skin. He’s well aware of it; bright red with a sticky residue and he will forever not understand how you can wear it all the time. 

His tie has come undone entirely and you pull at his shirt to kiss dangerously close to his collarbone. 

“Okay–” he’s flushing scarlet and he doesn’t dare meet the eyes of anyone in the team. “Okay, baby, that’s enough. Let’s get you home.”

“Ooh,” you giggle, wiggling your eyebrows with insinuation.

“You need sleep.” He says it sternly, although you don’t seem to grasp the concept. 

“What kind of sleep?” You ask, winking. 

He shakes his head, amused and exasperated, as he rebuttons his shirt and reties his tie. “The REM kind. Come on, angel. Say good night to your friends.”

You giggle tiredly, waving goodbye to your friends. Penelope looks absolutely hammered, wiggling her eyebrows at you with an expression full of insinuation. Emily is smirking in your direction, swirling her martini around before taking a sip. JJ looks equally elated, snickering softly as she holds onto Will’s arm. 

Spencer ushers you gently into his car, leaning over the console to open the glove box on your side and brandishing a packet of micellar water wipes. He takes out two for himself before passing the rest of them to you.

“For your makeup,” he explains, wiping the lipstick marks off his cheeks. “I’ll help you with your skincare when we get home, alright?”

You’re in love. It isn’t long before he’s helping you up the stairs of his apartment and sitting you gently on the couch. Your eyes are droopy and it seems like the sugar high from your cocktails is wearing off. Spencer runs his fingers through your hair gently while he holds a glass of cold water to your lips, urging you to drink. You only do it to appease him and once he’s satisfied with your water intake, he’s reaching for the zip of your dress.

“Someone’s needy,” you coo, giggling as he pulls it down to just below your ribcage. “Gonna rough me up?”

“No.” He answers it swiftly, and had you been sober your heart would have split in two. He continues, “I’m going to put you in something more comfortable and then you’re going to sleep.”

“Boring.”

“No, it’s not– it’s not boring,” he flounders, his cheeks growing hotter at your words. He can’t believe he’s arguing with a drunk person. “It’s not boring, baby, it’s safe. Alcohol is a neuro inhibitor. There’s a reason why you can’t drink and drive and it’s because the brain’s neural activity patterns are suppressed or blocked. That’s also the reason why you can’t ask a drunk person for consent; they don’t know or understand what’s going on around them.”

You’ve half fallen asleep at his explanation, the sleeves of your dress falling down your arms and a shiver runs down your spine. “So we’re not going to be partaking in passionate steamy love making?”

“No, we’re not,” he confirms, pulling your favourite pair of cotton pyjamas over your head. It’s a pale pink set with little bows prints all over it and a lacy collar. “Lift your hips for me, angel, I need to get the shorts on you.”

You comply, kicking the dress off into some forbidden corner of the room and Spencer takes this chance to slip the matching shorts onto your legs and up your thighs. The rest of the night is smooth sailing from there– he has successfully applied your skincare in such a way that you would be singing his praises. He has also managed to get you to drink another cup of water, and even though you’re going to wake up complaining about the fact you need to pee. He’d rather you complain about that instead of some raging headache. 

Spencer climbs under the covers next to you, pulling you into his chest and kissing your shoulder. A soft snore leaves your lips and he can’t help but chuckle. Passed out, as expected. 

“Good night, angel,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you tight. “See you in the morning.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

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[parrythisucasual]

OMG OKAY SO,

can u do a Jax x reader, but Jax is like extremely rude to everyone but when reader comes along, he for some reason melts like puddy around them. ALSO, reader is like a femme fatale , she views men as below her, but she sees Jax as her lover. She’s like I hate all men! Except for u jax my love 💗(MWAHAHAH)

I'm sorry this fic is so short, I made it to the best of my ability! Course, I don't have any idea what femme fatale is so I just used context clues, ahhh! If it's bad I'll rework it! I actually made a lil doodle to make up for the shortness!

Adoring! Jax x Femme Fatale! Reader

You had that boy wrapped around your finger. He was so smitten, you could tell him “Bark” and he’d respond “How loud?” It was extraordinarily satisfying. Not that you didn’t care about him, no, that would be cruel. In fact, he was the only man you’d ever harbored such a soft spot for. Isn’t it just perfect he’d be so… well… adoring?

Speak of the devil, you suppose. You glance around the corner, getting a sight of what he pretended to be when you weren’t around. Jax, standing tall and imposing, was staring down at Ragatha. You weren’t close enough to hear what was being said, but from the fury in her eyes and the smile on Jax’s face, you could gather a small idea.

You stepped into the room, “Oh, Jaxy, dear…” His head shot up at your words, the fake grandeur melting away like butter in a microwave, “I do hope you’re behaving yourself?” His expression changed from "high school bully" into “lovesick puppy” in an instant, nodding as he responded, “Yeah, course I am!”

You make your way over, motioning him to come to you with one finger. Jax hurried to your side, and you offered your hand to hold. He gladly took it, his thumb running over the back of your hand in small circles. You smile to Ragatha, “Sorry about him,” you apologize, and she just rolls her eyes, returning the grin, “It’s okay. I think he just missed you.”

“Did you?” you turn to Jax, chuckling a bit, “I was only away for a few hours to nap?” His grin turned awkward, “Well, I mean… I really just… er…” You use your free hand to pat his hand you were holding, “Don’t worry, love, I missed you too,” you reassure him.

“Anyways,” you glance back to Ragatha, “he’s going to apologize too. Aren’t you?” Jax, without hesitation, pipes up, “Sorry, Rags, it won’t happen again. Promise.” She shakes her head as she walks away, “Sure it won’t. See you around!” she adds as she makes her way over to Zooble and Gangle.

Jax glances at you, eyes hopeful, “Alright, big guy, come here.” You pull him down, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, “Now quit being so mean, honey, the others don’t deserve it. Besides, I’m getting tired of having to apologize for you.” 

“No more being mean, got it,” he nodded, leaning in for more kisses. You comply, a chuckle rising in your throat, “Cute.”

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 3000

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: Hi everyone!! I decided to post this here too...I'm slowly going through everything I've written so far, and I want to post each chapter here as I edit them. I'm hoping that this can be a way to a) get back in to writing more, and b) get better at my art as I make full illustrations for each chapter. Let me know what you think!! :)

There is nothing quite as horrible as being a muggle, Eloise thought savagely as she ripped out yet another stitch in the landscape she was embroidering. At least, it was supposed to be a landscape. Maybe with her head tilted to the left and with her eyes almost closed so everything blurred together, it might resemble one. She did just that, trying her hardest to make out some recognizable shape and blast the stupid practice of manually pushing colored thread through a fabric in some sort of -

“And what is this, Miss Babbit?”

Eloise jumped at the sound and looked up at the scowling face of her teacher, and then quickly back down at the tangled thread in her lap. Behind her, she could hear the hushed giggles of the other girls in her class.

“Oh! Er…it’s -”

“How long have you been here?” the woman interrupted.

“One hour…I just -”

“Don’t be smart with me. I mean, at this institute.”

“Five years.” Eloise glared down at her embroidery as if it had personally offended her. It wasn’t like she was actively trying to be bad at everything, but she had the distinct disadvantage - how had it ever come to be that she would be at a disadvantage to muggles? - of not having spent a lifetime being prepared for muggle society and all that it entailed. The last five years had been a monotonous, endless cycle of lessons designed to turn her into the perfect lady: French (a waste of time as Eloise was already fluent), embroidery (a waste of time as the things she embroidered weren’t actually useful), dancing (a waste of time as she was already engaged to be married - why would she bother trying to woo another silly man?), and her most dreaded class of all: etiquette. No matter how many years had been spent trying to assimilate into muggle culture, her thoughts still got muddled when she tried to remember the steps to a dance, or how to properly address the son of a duke.

Did it really matter, anyways, what the other girls thought? She had pretended her whole life to be the daughter she thought her parents had wanted - now she was simply pretending that she hadn’t been thrown into the muggle world without a second thought. What was a bit more pretending - that she didn’t care? That she hadn’t been tossed aside without a second thought?

“Exactly. Five years. And yet, you have shown no progress whatsoever. This -” a finger jabbed accusingly at the embroidery - “is absolutely horrendous. If your parents hadn’t continued to make such a sizeable donation every year, I would have deemed you a lost cause and sent you packing when you first arrived. How your family ever managed your betrothal to the son of an earl is beyond me.”

Eloise grimaced at the mention of her fiance as her teacher clapped her hands together to get the attention of the class - a wholly unnecessary action due to the fact that it was already being given. “Class is dismissed. Please collect your belongings and put them in the correct place. Remember, as future wives and mothers, you must be organized in all aspects of your life. Many of you will be managing important households and the slightest misstep -“ a slight glance to Eloise out of the corner of her eye - “can cause the biggest of scandals.”

Eloise raced to gather her things and leave the classroom before everyone else. No matter how many years had been spent at the school, she couldn’t help but hate sitting through the classes amongst the judgmental stares and snide remarks. Although things had started out shaky at the finishing school - to be expected, really, when you’ve grown up in wizarding society and then are then forced to live as a muggle - it still stung that after all these years, she still hadn’t found a friendly face. She was treated as if she were a pariah: it was as if the other girls just knew that something was different about her. But…wasn’t that the great irony of it all? She wasn’t different than them. She was a filthy squib.

When she first arrived at the school, she was an anomaly. A twelve-year-old girl who didn’t know how to play the piano or who the queen was. It was clear to everyone that Eloise wasn’t the charity case of the school - her parents were obviously quite wealthy - and yet they seemingly wanted nothing to do with her. Whereas the others got regular letters and visits from their family, it was as if Eloise were an orphan. Nothing new to her of course, but to her peers this otherness aided them in her ostracization.

Upon entering her room, she was abruptly pulled out of her thoughts. Something wasn’t right. Everything seemed the same: a twin bed perfectly made opposite a small wardrobe, a plain wooden desk placed between them. The weak afternoon sunlight shone through the window, illuminating her desk. But…there.

That…

Placed on her bed, resting on the pillow, was a letter.

She never received letters.

Eloise shoved her embroidery under her bed and hungrily grabbed at it, pausing when she saw the address. Miss E. Babbit. The Third Bedroom on the Left… It seemed vaguely familiar to her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

As she read the letter, though, it became apparent to her exactly why this was. Although not exactly the same as the one her brother had received six years earlier, it quickly became apparent that this was a Hogwarts letter. For her. For Miss E. Babbit.

Hands shaking, she set the letter down on her desk and sat on the edge of her bed. She smoothed her hands over her skirt over and over, taking comfort in the familiar softness as she tried to even her breathing.

How was this possible? She had all but accepted the fact that she was a squib. The shame of her family, a dirty secret to be hidden away and never talked about or mentioned again. Her parents had suspected as much by the time she had turned seven without any signs of magic whatsoever manifesting around her - not even a basic transformation of brussel sprouts to sweets during dinner. It was ultimately confirmed, however, when her own Hogwarts acceptance letter never arrived. She had spent the whole year before her banishment daydreaming about her life at Hogwarts, still optimistic that there could be something magical inside of her. Her brother, Leo, came home every holiday with wonderful stories of his new friends and teachers, and the subjects he was learning at school. Even back then, at twelve years old, Eloise hadn’t been sure if he was actually hopeful she wasn’t a squib, or if he had been trying to prolong the fantasy for her before it all came crashing down.

Although she had had five years to come to terms with her new life, there was still a small part of her that hoped. A small “what if…”. She had tried time and time again to squash that tiny ray of optimism that would escape every so often, tried so very hard to cultivate a hard exterior that wouldn’t let any sort of vulnerability shine through. And that optimism was a vulnerability, after all. It was that vulnerability that had made it absolutely impossible for her to fit in the muggle world, and made it so that she didn’t really want to try.

Five years to come to terms with the fact that she needed a new purpose for her life and…

…not anymore?

Eloise grabbed the letter and greedily read through it again, drinking in all of the words. She paused at the end, thinking. Was this a forgery? Some sort of awful joke orchestrated by her brother? Leo had never been cruel to her in the past; in fact, he was the one who always encouraged her and was the most probable source of the small optimism that remained within her. However, she had no way of knowing how he had changed since she had last seen him. It had been, after all, five very long years. And not once had she heard from him, even though he had promised her through huge sobbing gulps that he would never abandon her. Maybe their parents had slowly poisoned him against her. It would be right on the nose for them, after all.

Looking at the envelope again, however…Third Bedroom on the Left…no. It was too specific. Nobody in her previous life had any reason to even want to contact her again, and nobody in her current life even knew what Hogwarts was, let alone have the ability to convincingly forge a letter just to have some fun at her expense.

A light, bubbly feeling began to spread throughout her body as it sunk in that this was real. She was going to Hogwarts. Soon, a - squinting at the letter again - a Professor Fig would be contacting her and giving her things to study. A huge grin slowly spread across her face and she hugged the letter to her chest as she fell back on her bed. She read through it again. Was it the fifth time already? It felt as though no amount of times rereading the letter would ever be enough.

Eloise got up and walked over to look at the calendar on her desk. She was surprised to see that September 1st was in only two days. The days at the finishing school moved in such a strange, sluggish way. They all felt the same. Monotonous. French and Latin and embroidery and household management and Merlin even knows what else all blending into each other in an endless parade of dusty classrooms and gossip and boredom.

The light feeling left her in an instant as, after years of practice, the optimism was squashed back down. But how will you even get to London? And, her brain added sneakily, you haven’t even shown any signs of magic. Maybe you’ll just be returned back here after they realize their mistake.

No, she thought fiercely, gripping the letter. Until -

A tapping came from the window. A tentative smile returned at the sight of a tawny brown owl with another envelope in its beak. She ripped it open as soon as it was in her hands (again addressed to Miss E. Babbit) and along with the letter a small, purple pouch fell out of the envelope and onto her bed.

Miss Eloise Babbit,

I am pleased to be the wizard charged with such an important task as escorting you to Hogwarts in two days’ time. It is something extraordinary to be accepted in your fifth-year, and as such, I expect extraordinary things from you. I have enclosed a small pouch along with this envelope, and in it are some items that will be vital to you in the upcoming days. I have included books for you to study at your leisure, and a small gobstone that will bring you to our rendezvous point in London. All you have to do is touch it at noon on the 1st and you will be transported instantly.

Your family has not been informed of your acceptance. I am sure you understand why - at this, Eloise scoffed quietly to herself - which is why I will personally be your escort.

I am looking forward to meeting you and bringing you to the sorting ceremony in two days’ time.

Yours,

Eleazar Fig

The handwriting was tiny and spidery and cramped, but it didn’t stop Eloise from reading it with the same vigor as the previous letter and as many times. Finally, she turned to the small pouch that had fallen onto her bed when she opened the second envelope. It must have had an invisible extension charm, because it was filled to the brim with books on basic spellwork and general wizarding history. Professor Fig had no way of knowing, but Eloise had already read many of these books and many more during the year her brother had started Hogwarts, as she had needed to know absolutely everything about what would be awaiting her. A few years may have passed since she had stepped foot in her family’s library, but she couldn’t get the books or their contents out of her brain even if she had wanted to. She had really wanted to forget everything she knew about the magical world when it was confirmed she was a squib but it was a futile effort. As she zoned out during her piano lessons, she would find herself mentally going through the movements to cast different charms.

It was painful to be thinking about things from the life that had been ripped away from her, to know that what she was thinking about would never come to pass, that she would never be able to wield magic - and yet she couldn’t find herself able to stop.

As Eloise picked out one of the books and settled into her armchair, a steely resolve overcame her.

She would prove that she deserved to be there, and was just as capable as any of they were. She would make her parents regret ever discarding her like she was nothing.

She was worthy. She was capable. And she would prove it.

The morning of September 1st dawned cold and rainy. Absolutely perfect.

Eloise had pretended to be sick the night before, and no one had suspected a thing when she stayed in bed long after all of the other girls had gotten ready and headed to breakfast. As the last of the chattering faded away down the hallway, Eloise finally got out of bed and prepared herself for the day. It was difficult to sit still long enough to braid her hair. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling and she had to restart countless times. Finally, she tied the black ribbon at the end into a neat bow and turned to the drawer of her desk to retrieve the small purple pouch she had hidden away.

Everything she deemed important enough to come along with her had already been placed inside: the books from Professor Fig, the hair ribbons gifted to her by her brother many years ago, and some clothing. Nothing else was coming with. She needed the fresh start. Besides, anything else she might need would be supplied, as her acceptance letter had specifically stated that any school supplies would be provided to her.

Waiting the hours before noon came along proved to be more difficult than Eloise had imagined. Time seemed to be moving slower than the molasses that had come with the breakfast sent up to her, the steady patter of the rain becoming a sort of metronome keeping time as she paced back and forth. Wasn’t there anything that could distract her, even for a bit? She glanced at the clock. Only five minutes had passed since the last time. 10.35.

The second hand ticking away in tandem with the sound of rain splashing against her window.

What if this was all a trick? What if she arrived at Hogwarts, and they turned her away because they realized they had made a mistake? After all, why would they admit a sixteen-year-old? Surely she was too old; every other student had started Hogwarts at the age of twelve and had shown signs of magic much earlier than that. She still hadn’t shown any signs of magical capability whatsoever, and didn’t feel any different than she had before receiving the letter. It had to be a fluke.

As her thoughts started veering into the melancholy she was prone to, she shook her head. No. Today was a happy, exciting day. She wasn’t going to squash the optimism down today, not when she needed it most. All of these thoughts she was having were simply that: thoughts. Not reality. Hogwarts never made a mistake, and in all of the history books she had read, she couldn’t recall an instance of someone being turned away at the door. Granted, she had also never heard of someone being admitted so late. But, better to focus on what she did know, which was that she had gotten the letter. It must be right in its assumption that she had magic.

Trying to pass the time was easier said than done. She ended up quizzing herself on all of the charms she had memorized in the books sent by Professor Fig, moving an imaginary wand in the precise movements needed to successfully cast and focusing on her pronunciation. She had studied all of these forms late into both nights she had had the books, and when she would eventually close her eyes to sleep, the wand movements were all she saw.

Eloise was determined that she would receive pity from nobody. Nobody was going to look at her like she was lacking. She had gotten enough of that to last a lifetime, and now that she was given this opportunity she wasn’t about to waste it.

When noon finally struck, Eloise was ready and waiting. She eagerly grabbed the gobstone that was sitting on her desk and felt the familiar tugging sensation in her navel as she was whisked away to London and the beginning of her new life.

next chapter

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

A/N: Shout out to beelmons and G for their endless support and help with my fics <3 :') where would I be without y'all?

Summary: You run into your long-time nemesis in the last place you ever expected, but things take a turn for the worst when you find yourself stuck with him during a snowstorm.

WC: 7.2k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, mentions and depictions of violence, fighting, accidental assassination of a third party, some serious bickering, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), choking, very light knifeplay, dirty talk, slight degradation mixed with some praise, rampant sexual tension, ooey gooey lovesick fools who are just SO SO STUBBORN, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

----

Triple Oak, Montana.

It’d been a while since you’d last found yourself in such a quaint little town, especially in the middle of winter, but you supposed you’d been in way worse places. It was barely even on the map, which made it a convenient place to lay low. 

You didn’t have to worry about interacting with many people, and you sure as hell didn’t think you’d encounter anyone you knew. At least for the time being, you felt like you could relax just a little bit while you made plans.

In a few more days, you’d continue driving north and cross the Canadian border into Saskatchewan, where you were meant to carry out your next assignment. Your target was a skeevy arms dealer that had to move his whole operation out of Serbia and was now shacked up somewhere in the vast prairies. 

You’d been tracking his activity for some time, slowly narrowing down the list of possible locations. You’d also scored some insider information about a big upcoming transaction with a terrorist cell, and your goal was to get to him before the sale was finalized.

Successfully eliminating him would pay handsomely, and you were already planning on a months-long vacation in which you’d go fully off the radar. Preferably somewhere by the beach, where you didn’t feel the constant threat of frostbite.

You pulled into a small gas station — the only one to be found in a long stretch of the highway between the town and more secluded cabins  — and occupied one of the three measly pumps. There was only one other old pickup truck next to you, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. 

You blew hot air into your hands as you walked into the convenience store, eager for some coffee despite how shitty it was. 

“Hey Lou,” you said to the now familiar attendant, the little bell above the door ringing as you pushed in. “How’s it goin’?”

“Eh, slow, the usual,” he shrugged. “At least it’s decently warm in ‘ere. They say there’s gonna be a snowstorm over the weekend, starting tonight.”

“Shit, really?” You groaned, not only because you loathed the freezing temperatures, but because it would set you back by a few more days. 

“Yup, perfect time to cozy up with the missus back at home.”

You poured yourself a large cup of black coffee and snapped the lid on top. On the way back to the register, you grabbed a couple of magazines and a pack of Ding-Dongs to eat on the road.

“Well, lucky you,” you said, putting everything on the counter. “I gotta find ways to keep myself busy and warm in case I lose power.”

As you spoke, the door to the restroom opened behind you and a tall, rugged-looking man stepped out. His eyes instinctively flickered between the two of you, even if he couldn’t see your face. He lingered close to the back, trying not to bring attention to himself.

“You sure you’ll be good all by yourself out there?” Lou asked. “Enough supplies and all?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” you said, fishing cash out of your wallet. “Give me thirty on number two, also.”

“You got it, tough gal.”

You chuckled as he rang you up, glancing outside. The man behind you tensed, gripped with the dread that came with sudden recognition. Your voice was one he knew well, the very same one he’d heard all seventeen times he’d almost died. Well, eighteen if he counted that one brief altercation in Belfast.

And that laugh… How many times had it been directed at him? Taunting him, teasing him, driving him utterly mad. 

It was perhaps the only thing that stopped him from actually getting rid of you that one night you slept so soundly at some shoddy little hotel in Madrid.  He’d watched your chest's steady rise and fall from his spot in the darkness, and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And now he’d most likely have to pay for the consequences of his mercy. 

Lou looked over your shoulder at him, but you didn’t immediately notice since you were absently flipping through one of the magazines. 

“Need anything else, Duncan?” He offered. “Pack of Winstons?”

Your skin prickled at these two very familiar details, but you didn’t move, still staring down at the magazine without actually reading. It was probably a mere coincidence. Really, there had to be dozens of Duncans in the world that just so happened to smoke Winstons.

But then, a very particular smell reached your nose — cheap cologne you didn’t know the name of, with strikingly bitter notes that had flooded your nostrils when his hands were tightly wrapped around your neck.

You glanced up at the fisheye mirror above the register… and there he fucking was, in all his deadly glory. The Black Kaiser himself.

You couldn’t help an amused huff, especially after hearing the faintest rustle of a knife being unsheathed under his coat.

“Are you sure you want to stab me with that, old man?” You said slowly over your shoulder. 

“Less impersonal than a gun. I owe you that much, don’t I?” he said with that deep, gravelly voice of his that always made a stubborn tingle form at the base of your spine.

Your hand just barely inched towards the hidden holster of your gun. “Oh, but you know I get a little crazy when the knives come out.”

Lou looked between the two of you, confusion and a tinge of fear in his eyes. 

“Uh, you two know each oth—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you whirled around and shot Duncan’s head. He ducked, but not before hurling a large knife at you in return. You dove out of the way, hearing it whizz right past your ear, and it sank into Lou’s forehead with a wet thud. His body slumped behind the counter, blood spraying over the stuff you’d intended to buy.

“Hey!” You yelled from your hiding spot. “I didn’t even get my change back!”

“You’re not gonna need it anymore,” he said gruffly, his voice not too far from you. “But before that… want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said, glancing up at the fisheye mirror once more. 

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t get a very good look at where he was, but you couldn’t stay put. You slowly began to inch to the end of the aisle, staying low. “Let me guess, you missed me so much these last three years that you decided to hunt me down.”

He scoffed. “Three years was not nearly long enough time away from you.”

You dove around the corner to the next aisle, but he wasn’t there. You started pulling yourself forward, but suddenly you were flipped onto your back. You were about to whip your gun around, but it was harshly knocked out of your grasp, sliding against the linoleum. You thrashed against the weight that pressed down on you, but he pinned your hands down beside your head. 

“Who sent you?” He asked. 

“No one sent me, you paranoid geezer!” You sneered, driving your knee up full force right into his crotch. “Not everything’s about you.”

He growled at the pain, swaying to the side, his grip on your hands relaxing. You pushed him off of you, scrambling to get to your gun. Right as you managed to get a hold of it, he was on you again, pulling you back by the legs. You tried twisting around all the way, firing another shot semi-blindly. It narrowly missed his shoulder, shattering one of the windows.

“Can’t kill me without paralyzing me, eh, little Nightmare?” He taunted.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed a scream as he stepped on the hand you held your weapon with, his heavy boot cracking your wrist. Your fingers splayed involuntarily due to the pain, and he bent down to take the gun. He kept it pointed at you as he removed his boot from your wrist and grabbed your arm.

“You’re coming with me,” he stated, starting to pull you up. 

“Like hell I am!” You spat, but you froze as you felt the barrel pressed against the back of your head.

“You were saying?”

He dragged you to your feet, leading you through the broken window, glass crunching under your boots. The wind seemed icier than it had been when you first arrived, which made you remember Lou’s warning about a snowstorm.

There was no way in hell you’d be stuck with him during it, so you’d have to find a way to weasel out of his grasp… and kill him in the process. 

He led you towards his truck, but you pretended to trip at the last second, bending down and retrieving a knife you had hidden in your boot. You stabbed backward, aiming for his femoral artery, but he moved and the knife stabbed into his thigh muscle instead.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed through clenched teeth, but he didn’t let go of you, tightening his grip on your arm. He fired off a warning shot into the air, which made you flinch a little. “Try me again and I won’t hesitate to put the next bullet through your thick fucking skull. I only have so much patience.”

He shoved you into the passenger seat of the truck, managing to tie you up with the seatbelt. Your bound hands were still slick with his blood, and you smiled triumphantly at him as he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately peeling out of the gas station.

“This is what gets you hard, isn’t it?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re kind of a sick fuck, old man… but I didn’t expect any better from you.”

He said nothing, instead momentarily glaring at you. He grunted as he pulled the knife out of his leg, tossing it out of the window. You grumbled about him owing you a knife, but he continued to ignore you. He drove mostly in silence, winding through the icy roads as he gripped his wounded leg with one hand.

So far, it had been one of your tamest encounters. Really, it had all sort of felt like a game, but neither of you had won quite yet. After all, a game such as this could not be left unfinished.

Usually, the circumstances were vastly different. Your respective agencies had assigned you the same target a couple of times, and it always turned into a competition on who would finish the job first. As it turned out, the two of you were very competitive.

You’d left plenty of souvenirs on each other every single time you crossed paths – broken bones, an assortment of scars, and bruises as dark as the midnight sky. You wondered vaguely how much more damage you might make by the end of the day.

Why neither of you had succeeded in killing each other was… a bit of a mystery. Maybe he saw something in you that reminded him of himself, or perhaps he was growing soft with age. He would never admit it, but he’d had plenty of fun in this deadly dance with you so far, and it seemed a shame to let it come to its conclusion so soon. 

He’d have to do it though, after some thorough interrogation.

Soon enough, he pulled up a long gravel road hidden among the tall pine trees. In the clearing ahead, you saw what you supposed was his cabin. It was modestly sized and a little dilapidated, but at least it seemed to be sturdy enough to withstand harsh conditions.

“Nice place,” you said sarcastically. “I don’t suppose you have many visitors?”

“Rarely,” he said without looking at you. “I like the quiet. No one’s going to bother us here.”

“You mean no one’s gonna come running when you scream?”

He grunted, readjusting his position in his seat. You were mostly tied up at the arms so your legs had some room to move. Rookie mistake on his part, which you would definitely take advantage of. 

Before he could pull up in front of the actual cabin, you leaned back and kicked at the steering wheel. The truck swerved to the right, throwing you against the window. He tried to correct it on time, slamming on the brakes, but the snow made it careen right into a tree. 

It wasn’t a tremendous crash, but the windshield still broke, glass raining down on both of you. You were both disoriented for a moment from the whiplash, but then you began to untangle yourself from the seatbelt. You kicked at him when he tried to reach for you, but he managed to pin your legs down.

“Can’t you stay put for one fucking second!?” He growled, fully bracketing you between his sturdy legs as he freed you from the seatbelt. 

You panted heavily, trying to thrash beneath him, but he only pressed his legs tighter against your sides. A small, high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt the air being squeezed out of you, and you stopped moving. 

“Satis…fied?” You managed between gasps.

“Not nearly,” he said, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he pulled back. “Come here.”

He kept a firm grip on it as he dragged you out of the truck and towards the cabin. He wobbled a little with each step, his leg still bleeding some. 

“I warned you about the knives,” you said. “Even if you didn’t let me finish having fun.”

He chuckled sardonically. “No, you’re mistaken. The fun is only just beginning.”

He led you inside and locked the door behind him, making you sit down on a rickety chair. He bound your hands and feet with duct tape, wrapping some of it around your torso and the back of the chair for good measure. You decided not to struggle for the time being and instead ponder on your next move, covertly glancing at your surroundings for anything useful.

When Duncan was sure you wouldn’t be able to bolt, he went to grab something from an adjacent room, returning with his version of a first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. He looked at you from the corner of his eye as he undid his pants and lowered them to his knees.

“I didn’t realize it was that kind of fun,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Still, your gaze was drawn to his crotch first before trailing further down to the injury you’d caused. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down on the bed, which creaked a little under his weight. 

He took a long swig of vodka and then poured some on the bleeding gash, hissing through his teeth. Your expression of slight amusement didn’t change as he glanced at you once more, taking out a needle and thread.

“I have to be careful about infections, who knows where that knife of yours has been?” he said.

You merely watched as he began stitching himself up without so much as a grimace. His breathing was slow and steady as he concentrated, and you found yourself entranced by the precise movements of his hands.

An obscene thought about those hands wriggled into your mind, but you immediately pushed it away. It was all the more reason for you to get the hell out of there, especially now that his pants were down.

As he was finishing his stitches, you leaned forward onto your tiptoes and then threw yourself back as hard as you could. The chair broke apart under you, the force of the blow and the angle in which you fell spraining one of your wrists. The adrenaline made you barely register the pain, and you quickly wriggled out of the tape wrapped around you.

You pulled a Swiss army knife out of your boot and hastily sawed off the tape binding your ankles. He swore as you stood, lifting your arms and slamming them down to free your hands. You stumbled towards the front door and yanked it open.

Outside, the wind howled ferociously and a thick flurry of snow limited your vision of your surroundings. You felt the unforgiving cold slicing through you as you hesitated, knowing deep down that your chances of survival were very slim. 

Still, you were reckless enough to try and brave it. You started towards the steps when you were yanked back once more, your back pinned against the wall and Duncan’s hand around your throat.

“You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” He growled. 

“You only caught me because I hesitated, old man.”

His grip tightened a little in warning. “Didn’t anybody teach you never to hesitate?”

“There is a very fine line between foolishness and courage, you know…” The corners of your mouth twitched, an amused gleam in your eye. “I wonder how often you cross from one side to the other.”

He clenched his teeth and an absolutely devious, cheshire cat grin spread across your face. The mere sight of it made his blood boil with both rage and arousal, and he felt it flowing southward. Your back instinctually arched towards him, as if you could somehow sense the sudden influx of violent desire, and became infected by it.

You stared at each other for a charged moment before he suddenly fell upon you, intent on devouring you. His lips clashed with yours in a fierce kiss and you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging at it as you retaliated.

You bit his lower lip hard, making him groan into your mouth. You used this opportunity to slide your tongue against his, and he moved the hand that had been around your neck toward your jaw. Without thinking, you pressed harder against him, your fingers about to slide under the hem of his sweater.

He clasped your wrist to stop you, assuming you were reaching for some hidden weapon. You whimpered slightly, painfully reminded that it was in fact sprained. He pulled back to look at you, both of you panting heavily and still clutching each other tightly. 

“I fear that line was blurred a long time ago, and I suspect it’s the same case with you,” He murmured. 

His words broke through your daze and you immediately pushed him away from you, cradling your injured hand against your chest. A maelstrom of emotions roiled inside of you, predominantly confusion and a worrisome throb between your legs. 

“And what now?” You asked, glancing out of the window. “It’s clear neither of us are going anywhere any time soon.”

“Now we weather the storm,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious.”

You huffed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I… can’t believe I’m asking this right now but, maybe we can… put the killing each other thing on hold for a few days?”

“So you were coming for me.”

“No! I wasn’t!” You threw your hands up exasperatedly. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I have work further up north. This was just a pit stop.”

He assessed you for a moment, trying to find any clues that you were lying. You stood your ground, keeping your eyes on his face. He sniffed, leaning against the wall to get his weight off his injured leg. 

“I’m fine with a temporary truce, but only if we both keep our weapons in plain sight at all times.”

“I am a weapon myself, big boy.”

“So am I. I suppose we’ll have to keep an eye on each other as well, then.”

“Fine,” you huffed, stomping to the couch and pulling it over to the kitchen. “I’ll stay on this side of the cabin, you can stay on the other side.”

“What!? This is my house!” He scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’m being generous by letting you keep your bed. Not to mention, your life.”

He rolled his eyes, limping back over to his bed. “Whatever you say. Now, can I please fix my stitches in peace for one fucking second?”

———————

There was no sleep for the entirety of the first night. 

The cabin creaked and groaned, straining against the disastrously strong wind. Your breaths fogged up in the air as you shivered under the thin blanket Duncan had given you. The cold seemed to seep into your very bones as if punishing you for your decisions. To distract yourself from the chill, you kept an eye on his prone form across the room, knowing well he wasn’t sleeping either. 

When dawn broke, a thin grayish light filtered into the room. The storm raged on and all you wanted to do was doze off, but you were still on edge. You clenched your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering, irritated by a headache. Your mood didn’t get any better when Duncan rose from his bed, crossing towards the kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You inquired, not moving an inch.

He stopped in his tracks. “I’m hungry. Don’t you want to eat?” 

Your stomach growled in answer and he lifted an eyebrow in slight amusement. You unwillingly threw the blanket off of you, getting up with an annoyed grunt. 

“I’ll give you the food. Let’s see what you’ve got,” you said, rummaging through the cabinets.

“I could just show you…”

“No, stay on your side. Even better, why don’t you go sit back down on your bed?”

He followed orders, not really wanting to start quarreling with you so early in the morning. You finally found some oatmeal packets in one of the cupboards, and you took out a few and poured them into a pot along with some water. You left it to boil over the stove top, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face him.

“How’s your leg doing, anyway?” You asked. 

“Fine. Why do you care?”

“I really don’t.”

He chuckled. “Good thing you’re a better assassin than you are a liar.”

You sighed deeply. “Well, it is your house, I should at least have some manners.”

He scoffed, still amused. “We are way past manners. Our only courtesy to each other would be a painless death.”

“Oh, really? Painless?” You arched an eyebrow. “Did you forget Lisbon? And that grenade launcher you stole?”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t technically aiming at you. You just happened to be in the way,” He argued. “And it’s not like you haven’t given me the same sort of treatment…”

You shrugged one shoulder. “It’s only fair.”

The two of you lapsed into silence as you turned your attention back to the pot. Once the oatmeal was ready, you spooned it into two bowls and walked to the invisible line that divided the cabin in two.

He got up and met you there, reaching slowly for his bowl so as not to seem threatening. Not that you were viewing him that way, anyway. At least not in the clearly exhausted state he was in. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” you said. “Need me to blow on it first?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, resisting the lure of your impish grin. He figured it was perhaps the more masochistic part of him that made him so drawn to you. Always pushing him, testing him, keeping him on the edge. He would never admit it to himself — much less to you — but it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t for a really long time.

He muttered a quick thank you before heading back to his side of the room, plopping down on the bed and immediately digging in. If he burned his mouth, he showed no indication of it, but you still huffed in amusement. 

When he was done, he said nothing as he lied down, his back to you once again. A little confused and wary, you watched him as you slowly ate. Soon enough, his breath evened out into a steady rhythm, and you assumed he’d fallen asleep.

You glanced over at the dining table, where the two of you had laid out all your weapons, and considered them for a long moment. 

It seemed too easy to have such a window of opportunity. Normally, you’d have jumped at any such chance, but once more, you hesitated. Not out of any sort of newfound benevolence, but something deeper than that. Something that had been gnawing at you since the previous night.

In the end, you opted not to do anything. Surely, it was bound to be a mistake to not have killed him at that moment. But that would be a problem for another day, perhaps when the storm was over. 

You sat down on the floor by the foot of the couch, back resting against the frame. Sleep deprivation was starting to hit you as well, and you knew that if you were to lay down you would certainly fall asleep. Instead, your eyes focused on the suspiciously peaceful sight of Duncan sleeping. 

The longer you stared, the blurrier the lines seemed to get. Literally. His broad form was smudged into a single sphere, and without much thought about it, everything suddenly went black. 

Until… Shit. 

How long were you asleep?

It had been long since you’d last awakened to a man in front of you, let alone holding a knife to your face. The blade shone in your half-open eyes, reflecting the setting sun outside the window. You must have been unconscious for over two hours.  Stupid, so very stupid.

You blinked the haze of sleep out of your eyes and followed the glint to his fingers, his forearm, up his broad chest and shoulders, until it finally landed on his face. 

 “So, the game ends at last, huh?” you muttered, your gaze not wavering from his.

“Could’ve ended long ago, but it didn’t,” he said, once again looking every bit the coldhearted killer he was. You could still see, however, the presence of doubt in his dark eyes. “Why didn’t you kill me?” 

“I knew you weren’t actually sleeping…”

“Even so,” he pressed, straightening to his full, imposing height. “You didn’t even try. Why?”

You blinked, not really having an answer, not one that would satisfy him at least. What's more, you had a set of questions of your own, ones that would likely also have no answer. 

The words slipped before you could even think about them. “Why did you kiss me?” 

Silence hung between you like a heavy drape. You were cornered in more than one sense. Windows for precaution and escape had long since closed, maybe even since the moment you ran into him in that little gas station. And through hardships, you learned that if there’s no way back, the only way is forward. 

The wound in his thigh didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore, so there was no way you could outrun him. You looked down to avoid his scrutiny and he used the back of his knife to force your chin back up. 

He didn’t speak, but his eyes bore into yours, almost as if seeing through them into parts of you that were foreign even to yourself. The flat part of the blade trailed up to your cheek in what could be interpreted as a caress. 

Your hand unconsciously intended to return the favor, running up his knee to his thigh, extra cautious around his wound. You noticed a change of pattern in his breathing, and so you looked down only to find one of the answers you sought — the print of his hardened cock cruelly imprisoned within his pants. 

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised. Then again, when the reality of what you were looking at fully sank in. “Oh.”

Your hand moved on its own accord again, slowly slipping further up his thigh. Again, he tightly grabbed your wrist before your fingers reached their target, and you hissed in pain. He immediately let go, withdrawing the knife as well.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. 

“A sprained wrist isn’t gonna kill me,” you said, keeping your hand on his leg to drive your point across. “Now that, on the other hand, has to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of, huh?” He rasped, his voice hoarse with want and self-directed anger because of it. 

He raked a hand through your hair, gathering it in his first and pulling your head towards his crotch. He pressed your cheek against his bulge, his hips bucking ever so slightly. 

“And how do you suppose that’s gonna happen?” He added.

“I have a few ideas if you’re open to them,” you panted, ignited in a way that almost fully consumed you. 

His eyes searched your face for a moment, drinking you in as he searched for any indications of doubt, and then he whispered, “Are you sure?” 

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He saw the feverish gleam of hunger in your eyes as he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants. The outline of his cock was even more prominent through his briefs and you couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath at the sheer size of him. He was still holding onto your hair, stepping closer and effectively cornering you against the couch. 

You boldly started to reach for the hem of his briefs, but he said, “No. I want you to use your teeth.”

“Getting a little bold there, old man,” you said with a smirk, keeping your eyes on him as you dipped your head to plant a soft kiss on his thigh, right by his stitches. 

He winced slightly at the contact, but you could see his cock throb against the fabric covering it.  Your smirk only widened, “But I gotta admit I’m pretty impressed so far. Didn’t even have to slip a blue pill in your oatmeal.”

He gripped your jaw, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I think you need more proof, actually. Allow me.”

With his free hand, he roughly tugged down his briefs and his cock finally sprang free — so thick and long and just fucking perfect — hitting his lower abdomen. The head of it glistened with precum, which he spread with his thumb. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as saliva flooded your mouth.

“Open,” he ordered.

You immediately complied, wondering when the fuck you’d gotten so obedient. He gripped the base of it and fed it into your mouth slowly. You wrapped your lips around it, feeling it slide smoothly against your tongue. 

A small groan escaped him, his head tipped back at the first rush of pleasure. You hummed a little in response and he felt the vibration of the sound against his shaft. His hips began to move again, shuttling his length deeper into your mouth, until you could feel the head of it reach your throat.

He let you steady yourself by placing your hands on his legs, his hand returning to the back of your head as it bobbed up and down. Then suddenly, when you’d reached the very base, he kept your head down. Your nose was against his pelvis, your deep, even breaths fanning against the fine hair that curled there. 

Your nails dug into the flesh of his legs as you staved off your gag reflex as best as you could. Still, you couldn’t help but squirm a little, already pretty slick between your thighs.

 He cursed under his breath as he let you come up for air, an obscene string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

"If I knew you were such a cock drunk slut, I would have dropped my pants much earlier just to shut you up,” he said with a smug grin, looking down at you.

“More bold words from someone who’s only gonna last this round. I’m gonna have to take care of myself after you’re done,” you taunted lightly, making him pull at your hair.

You kept eye contact with him as you stuck your tongue out and traced it over a large vein on the underside of his shaft. You left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses as you made your way back to the tip, and he lightly slapped it against your tongue a couple of times before pushing your head back down on it. His balls tightened momentarily as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and you knew he was enjoying himself much more than he let on.

"Well, if it's gonna be only one, might as well make good use of it, don't you think?" He said, pulling you off of him and making you stand up.

His lips were on yours in the next moment, just as desperate and hungry as the first kiss. He kicked his pants off the rest of the way and yanked your sweater off along with your thermal undershirt. He reached for your pants, but you slapped his hand away, extricating yourself from his lips to undo them yourself.

As soon as they were off, he turned you around and bent you over the back of the couch. There was a wet spot in your underwear that made him smirk, but he also couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the sight.

“This is in the way…” he grunted, tugging at your bra strap.

Before you even registered what was happening, he brought the knife back out and sawed the bra off of you. You let out a gasp that was both surprised and indignant as he proceeded to rip your panties off with his bare hands, tossing the scraps of fabric aside.

“Hey! Those are the only ones I have here!” You huffed, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Unless you have a secret stash of women’s underwear, you seriously owe me.”

He nudged your knees apart with his leg. “I don’t think you’re going to need them while you’re here. You were already ruining them yourself, anyway.”

Before you could retort, you felt him push inside of you slowly, grabbing your hips as he let out a low moan. 

“Fuck…” you sighed without thinking, leaning your elbows against the back of the couch. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He cooed condescendingly.

“In your drea–”

His hips snapped into yours harshly, interrupting you. You felt the heat of him against your back as he leaned over you, his breath fanning across the side of your face. 

“If I were you, I’d be careful about lying again. I might just stop and leave you all drenched like this, with your hands tied behind your back so you couldn’t touch yourself.”

He felt you clench around him at that and his smirk turned victorious. He kissed and sucked at your shoulder and neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks. His thrusts were hard and deep at first, hips barely pulling back as his weight pinned you down.

You let out a sound that was a strange mix between a whimper and a gasp as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth marks behind. The jolt of pain mixed with pleasure – not to mention the slight shame that came with the feeling of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs – only fueled the fire that was steadily growing within you. 

Then, a little mindlessly, you pleaded, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He straightened immediately, readjusting himself to start pounding into you at a nearly punishing pace. You bit your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, but wanton sounds of pleasure escaped your throat despite your efforts. He was hitting a spot that made your head spin, tugging you backward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

The lewd sound of flesh slapping together, along with your collective pants and groans, filled the room. He reached forward to grab your throat again, keeping you semi-upright as he continued to take you. In truth, he was focusing hard to stave off his release. He had plenty of stamina for his age, but the way your cunt took him so perfectly, as if molded just for him, was enough to have his balls tightening again. 

But he would never hear the end of it. 

Your legs began to shake a little as the coil in your belly tightened, threatening to snap. “I-I think I’m gonna cum, fuck…”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, immediately stopping his motions. 

You cursed him under your breath, beyond frustrated. You pushed your hips back, intent on fucking yourself on him, but his firm grip stopped you. He landed a firm smack on your ass, making you involuntarily clench around him. He hissed, feeling the strong urge to give in and continue fucking you until you came all over his cock, but he kept his composure. He wanted to keep indulging you for as long as he could, still not fully believing he wasn’t just having a dirty dream.

“Do that again and I’ll rip your fucking head off,” you snarled as he pulled out, grabbing your arm and leading you toward the bed.

“I told you I was going to make it count.”

He tossed you onto your back on the bed, crawling on top of you and pushing your knees up to your shoulders. He positioned himself between your thighs and sank back into your cunt with no further preambles, his strong body covering yours once more.

His hands cradled your head as he began to move again, reaching impossibly deeper than before. You clawed at his biceps as he ground his pelvis against you, making your brain practically short-circuit.

“There we go… See? I knew you could take more,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips. “Are you scared I'll pull out again? You keep sucking me back in.”

Too dazed to form words, your lips chased his so he would kiss you properly. Your tongue trailed over his upper lip enticingly, and he opened his mouth so his tongue could meet yours. This kiss was deeper, less frantic, finally giving yourselves a chance to taste each other properly. 

Soon you were clenching around him again, too distracted by your mounting pleasure to continue kissing him properly. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, Duncan. Please, please, please, just like that,” you begged desperately, moaning as he moved to kiss your jaw. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, too?” He rasped against your skin. “Claim this needy cunt all for myself?”

You nodded eagerly, face contorting with ecstasy as you held onto him for dear life. Your muscles seized up as your climax washed over you, overpowering your senses. His hips stuttered as you cried out, your hot flesh molding into his like the deepest embrace. 

He kissed you again as he felt his own release rippling over him, groaning into your mouth as he shuddered, unable to hold himself back any longer. He thrusted hard a few more times before remaining fully inside of you, and you felt heat flooding your cunt. 

A whimper of slight overstimulation escaped you, but he soothed you with a whispered praise in your ear. You couldn’t help but smile beatifically, almost purring in content as he kept his cum inside of you.

As you both rode out your highs, your kisses turned lazy, almost tender, and even the way he held you felt different. Somehow, in some deep recess of your mind, it seemed right… and that scared you a little.

Still, you tried not to let it get to you then. Not as he leaned his sweaty forehead against yours, still panting, and said, “I think I tore my stitches.”

You chuckled. “You should probably take care of that, then.”

“In a minute…”

He disentangled himself from you, pulling out and sliding his body down between your legs. You tried to draw your thighs together, but he stopped you, planting a kiss on your mound.

He spread your lips with two fingers so he could see his cum trickling out of you, but then he pushed it back in with those same fingers, making your hips jerk slightly.

“T-this was a one time thing, you know,” you breathed, trying to sound firm. 

He barely glanced up at you, seemingly unbothered. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

But only an hour or so later, you found yourself riding him on the couch. Then, he took you against the wall, over the kitchen counter, off the edge of the bed, and subsequently on the floor. He seemed intent on making sure you never questioned his endurance ever again.

Even throughout the night, you slept sporadically, pawing at each other whenever you stirred. Not many words were exchanged during this time, but that didn’t mean your mouths weren’t put to good use. As usual, you both wound up with bruises, bite marks, and scratches all over each other, but the intention behind them couldn’t be any more different.

The storm died sometime during the night, but instead of fleeing right away, you let him hold you until dawn broke. There were too many new questions floating about in your head, but you weren’t really sure you wanted the answer to any of them for the time being. Perhaps it was simply best to let what happened remain in the past and simply move on.

As quietly as you could, you got up from the bed, cleaned yourself up, and dressed. You sheathed your weapons, avoiding looking at him as you prepared to leave. When your hand was on the doorknob, his voice stopped you.

“You didn’t kill me again,” he said. “Should I take that as an indication that you like me?”

You looked over at him, frowning. “Absolutely not. I’m serious, this was the last time it’ll ever happen.”

“I’m not sure I can trust your word.”

You huffed, irritated. “Well, you’ll have to. I intend to keep it.”

You yanked the door open, about to stomp outside, but you heard the creak of the bed as he sat up. 

“You know, I’m going to be in Portofino in a few months. I heard it’s beautiful there in the summer, and I figured I could use a vacation.”

“Are you trying to make yourself an easy target?”

“...Maybe.”

“And if I decide not to hunt you down?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If?”

You grimaced. “All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up. I’m a very busy gal, I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you.”

“And who’s who in that analogy, hm?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Goodbye, Duncan. Truce is over, do you hear me?”

“I’ll see you in Portofino. Make sure you bring sunscreen.”

The door slammed shut behind you. 

---——-

Part 2 out now!

[pauking5]

my heart calls your name

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x reader

Genre: modern life mutual pining, friends to lovers, there's spice, smut, fluff, Zoro is a normal being with feelings and reader has personality

Word count: 20.1k+ (new recount)

Part 1

A/N: This is the sequel to New Year, New Me :) Firstly, I would suggest reading Part 1 before this one. Secondly, I started working on this as soon as I finished the first part and it has been a wip for 3 months. It was supposed to be a Valentine's gift but my writing went into a slump. But, I pushed through and wrote it. It went through so much editing, simply because I wanted to get Zoro as right as possible. He's everything to me so I wanted to give you an almost perfect piece of him.

Lastly, prepare for a long rollercoaster of everything. Literally everything.

Now playing: Did It Again - Shakira, we can't be friends - ariana grande, Sometimes - MUNA, Eres Mia - Romeo Santos, Only Love Can Hurt Like This - Paloma Faith, All Night - Beyonce, La La Lost You - NIKI, pretty boy - M2M

(because I couldn't pick just one song :') )

Early morning of January 1st

Heels and green-haired man on your arm, you walked around looking for a place to eat in.

The sand between your toes felt warm, welcoming to the first glimmering rays of sun. The sea just as excitedly splashing on the shore to wash away the old and bring new tides afloat.

Though early, the air buzzed with the atmosphere of the previous night as faint music was still playing from houses nearby.

You passed by multiple cafes and diners but they all closed early in the morning rushing to go on holiday. Every knock on the door was met with an apologetic smile, sending you out to venture further down the beach in hopes of finding at least a vendor that was still selling food.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, you spotted a restaurant that was still open. Today's menu was plastered out on a board outside with the schedule that said they're still serving for a bit. Just enough to grab a bite.

Picking out a table overlooking the shimmering azure sea, you went to pull out a chair when Zoro stopped you to do it for you. Shaking your head with a smile at his gentlemanly mannerisms, you sat down as he pushed it closer to the table before sitting down on the opposite side.

You scoured the menu, stomach twisting in hunger at all the food combinations. Salmon on a bed of baked wedges, mussels boiled in white wine, even your usual chicken tenders - this place had everything. It was hard to pick just one thing, but you had to make up your mind before your insides started digesting themselves.

Zoro didn't have it any easier than you. He perched the menu in one hand while the other sat on his chin as he contemplated what looked awfully like the drinks page. From the way he bit his lip in thinking and the way his sleeves were messily made up to his elbow, he himself looked appetizing enough for you.

"Something tells me you're not that hungry," he flashed you a knowing smirk under the pretense that he was looking at beverages.

"I am," you stated, sheepishly diverting your eyes back to your own menu.

"Then why are you browsing me instead of today's special?"

At that you closed your menu flat and sat back, folding your arms over your chest.

So, audacity is indeed a manly thing.

"You are scrumptious, I'll give you that," you admitted, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Only that?" he wiggled his eyebrows from behind his menu and you couldn't help but break into a giggle at his playful behaviour.

Is this the same man I drank a whole bottle of champagne with last night? I'm pretty sure he slept less than I did but he seems more energetic than anyone could ever be this early.

Interesting man.

"We'll see," you said, pulling your lips into a thin line to prevent a grin that would give away most of your thoughts about him that were, let's say, more than scrumptious could entail.

The waiter came over and took your order with a little flirting around you. Though sweet in his remarks, you had to admit he had nothing on the man sitting in front of you. But, you engaged in it simply because you wanted to gauge an innocent reaction out of him. And you did.

Seeing Zoro's hand tighten on the tissue box like it was one of his mortal enemies, you smiled internally. So, he's territorial too. Poor paper crunched under the strength of his fist, knuckles white from making sure no corner escaped its crumpling demise.

Once the waiter was gone with your orders, he let go and leaned back in his seat looking out at the sea.

Your eyes landed on him accidentally, being met with a different side of him. One so different from the man you were used to seeing so rough and isolated in his corner at the club. Because right now, he looked so at peace, like this was his natural habitat - close to the sea, spirit dancing in the glimmer of the sun with the golden sands in the background.

The soft morning breeze caressed through his green locks, moving them in calm waves mirroring the ones out on the shore. His golden earrings jingled around each other like they were singing their own tune cradled in the arms of the wind.

His shirt was now fully dry from your late night shenanigans in the sea, with a few more buttons let loose giving you a peek of his tanned chest. Palm curled around his chin, looking out into the all blue, there was not a thought harbored behind those deep brown eyes.

A heavenly dream walking planet Earth.

The small twinkle reflecting in the corner of his eye made you look out to the water too, curious as to what was so fascinating out there. Though this time, it was his turn to sneak a peek at you while you weren't looking.

His jacket was still snugly wrapped around you, long sleeves neatly rolled up to the cusp of your forearms. Your hair was thrown in a messy bun with a few loose curls falling over your collar bones. Though tired circles rimmed your eyes from staying up with him the night before, talking about everything and nothing at all, your lips were pulled into a soft smile. As if you had the most restful sleep. In his arms of all places.

And that made something bloom in his chest. Something so unknown yet so familiar, almost like the anticipation of what could be if he let his walls down. Only god knew that he was ready to let them all fall down if this was the beginning of something good. Something that he's been waiting for a long time.

But he had to give it time. Rushing into anything ruined everything. Deep down in his gut, in the place he trusted his instincts the most, he had a feeling this was worth waiting for.

It wasn't long until your food arrived. After a long debate, you settled on a creamy shrimp pasta because who doesn't like pasta? You could eat pasta at any time of the day and your stomach would thank you. Although, Zoro's fried chicken wings looked so much more inviting for some reason.

Maybe it was the way his eyes closed in delight at the taste on barely his first bite or how he gobbled on them with all the sauce streaming down his lips like they were the very essence of immortality. But those wings looked divine.

He saw you ogling his plate as you mindlessly poked a shrimp around and was about to ask if you wanted one when you just reached out and stole one. You dipped it quickly in the sauce before his plate and stuffed the whole thing in your mouth, sighing in the same delightful manner he did.

Those were some amazing chicken wings.

"I was just about to offer you one."

"Food tastes so much better when you steal it away," you said, licking your fingers off the leftover sauce.

They were just your regular chicken wings. Deep-fried and golden, meat coming off the bones so tender. But something about them being placed so neatly on his plate made them taste so much better than they would have if you ordered them yourself. Or maybe it was just the fact that he munched on them so hungrily.

Whatever it was, you were glad you grabbed one and left him starring back at you dumbfounded.

You turned back to your pasta and forked a shrimp. Before it could reach your mouth, a firm hand wrapped around your wrist and your fork was redirected to Zoro's lips instead. He bit the shrimp off of it, imitating the sound of delight you previously let out after stealing his chicken wing.

"Hey! That was the shrimp I kept for last."

"That's too bad," he said with his mouth full. "It looked too good to be left for last."

"Then I will have this one," you stole another chicken wing. "And this one and that one and-"

"Then these little shrimps are mine!" he took your whole plate of pasta away leaving you with the stolen wings hanging in the air.

That's how you ended up sitting next to each other sharing your dishes together. You kept poking at his as he did with yours, thing that became a custom for you in the coming month.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner and everything in between, they were all consumed and enjoyed together in each other's presence.

Among a few other things.

Grocery runs whenever your fridge was empty, since he liked crashing at your place more often than you could count.

Movie nights spent debating all the romcoms you could find where he would give you a piece of his mind on how much of a douchebag the main lead was and yelling at the tv 'stop being an idiot and go get the girl' on the usual like he lived for it. The neighbors ended up at your door sometimes, asking you to have mercy on their ears and keep it down.

Whenever romantic scenes came on screen, your fingers would always find each other on top of your plush couch, tangling together just lightly, barely above a soft brush. But he would never admit that he was a romantic at heart. Not even when he smiled to himself when the main characters kissed. Not even when his hazy eyes, soft hands and raising heartbeat gave all that away. Not even when your own beat wildly, inviting him in.

You even went to the gym together a few times, though that endeavor ended as quickly as it started.

"Come on, push it. Bend your knee more. One more time!"

"I'm really trying to, but this is heavy as fuck!" you pushed the leg press feeling the weight thrash your ham strings apart.

"Your body will thank you tomorrow."

"Not if I die today," you gritted out.

"Tell you what. You do three more and you can flip me off all you want."

"I can do that without breaking my knees. What's in it for you?"

"You grant me a wish when I ask for it."

"What kind of wish?" you perked an eyebrow up in suspicion.

"You'll find out when the time comes."

Determined to get your rights of the bet fair and square, you pushed with all your might and completed one. With some struggle and curses, you managed one more push before you felt your knees give in, accepting defeat.

That was probably your last leg press forever since you deemed it the demon's machine.

Your legs dropped like dead weight on the floor, heaving breaths as if you ran a full marathon. Disappointment hit you that you lost and had to honour a bet, while the man beside you broke into the biggest grin you've ever seen on his face since you've met. It felt magnetic to see him like that, a small nudge pulling at your own lips. One that you tried to hide. What loser is happy when his opponent wins?

"You owe me now."

If he was a girl he just might have squealed. He was literally beaming with joy.

"Spare me the pride bullshit and give me water."

He handed you his own bottle as he crouched down next to you. Patting the sweat on the side of your face with a towel, he made sure to swipe dry even at your baby hairs that were sticking up on all sides.

When you told him you wanted to try working out with him, though you weren't big on physical exercise, he was over the moon. Studying you with gleaming eyes as you laid on the bench, drenched in sweat beyond the human normal, with your cheeks filled with water to the brim, you were a sight to behold.

He knew you wouldn't believe him if he told you, thinking it was just another one of his flirty lines, but you were glowing brighter than the bright sun outside. That golden glow that gave plants and flowers light and warmth to glow had absolutely nothing on you.

"I'm proud of you," he uttered out of nowhere catching you off guard.

You turned and just looked at him. He wore his gear but did not make a move from beside you the whole time you were at the gym. He trained you on his usual routine, toned down to your own pace, but it turned out to be way harder than he made it look in all the times you were there to just spot him.

He made working out look like an art. Effortless. But he refused to lift a finger for his own gain, set to just be your own spotter for the day.

He was there coaching you through it all the way. When you felt like you couldn't do more, he helped you put a little bit more into it with little encouragements like these. An I'm proud of you or Keep going or You've got this, muttered as he corrected your form or changed your weights.

"You're gonna have to carry me home," you breathed out, stretching your aching limbs. "You know that, right?"

"I know," he accepted his demise. "That will be my exercise."

"Are you saying I'm as heavy as the dumbbells you're lifting?"

"You said it not me."

"You little shit."

You were the biggest homebody that's ever homebodied but somehow he managed to do the impossible and get you out of the house.

As romantic as the outings seemed sometimes, he acted like it was just two good friends hanging out.

Nothing more, nothing less.

And that bugged you. Because this wasn't friendly behaviour.

Friends don't take you out on a walk at 2 in the morning when you can't find sleep, twirling you around to let loose in the dead of night, with a lone streetlight lighting your way.

Friends don't hold your hand as jazz music plays in some edgy café you wanted to try, playing with your fingers that always end up caged between longer, muscular ones as you talk over a steaming cup of coffee.

Friends don't look at you like that.

Like you could be more, mean more, feel more.

Maybe you were being selfish, but the more time you spent with him the harder it became to part ways. Even if you saw each other the next day, it just wasn't enough for you. You started wishing he would stay a little more. Hold your hand a little more. Look at you a little more.

Then, ass slow January turned into warm February, your feelings evolved and you craved to have him around in more than just one way. You wanted him in every way.

Slowly but surely, and a little against your will, you found yourself falling for the green-haired guy you kissed on new year's.

And boy, you fell hard.

Present Day

Valentine's Day.

Oh, how you dreaded this one too. Maybe even more than New Year's.

Maybe it was the over-exaggerated displays of affection from strangers on the street, plastering kisses on each other's swollen lips like they would die without getting into a heated make-out session every five minutes.

Or the way the florists had heart-shaped balloons tied to bouquets mixed in pinks, whites and reds in every single window.

Or the fact that most chocolate was on the best sale price you could get it just because it was a special occasion.

All of it was just a ploy to say love exists and that the world will stop at nothing to capitalize the living hell out of it.

But that was just part of the reason you carried an anti-romantic persona around today. This time you had a reason. There was a love interest on your horizon and you were annoyed that he was too lost drifting in his own world to notice how enamored you were becoming with him day by day.

It was crazy how fast you fell for him. For Zoro.

You promised yourself that fast love wouldn't be the norm anymore after what happened the last time. That you would take your time to keep it steady, consistent and cautious. That you would protect your heart well this time.

Until he crash landed into your life, ripping the safety net that you've threaded for so long at the seams so skillfully, little by little, until you were free-falling into his own. A safety-net that didn't want to let you go once it caught you in its hold.

You needed him. As simple as that. The flirting, the sweet-talking, the teasing. Every time you saw him it was all just Cupid's hidden stash of poison arrows aimed and shot deeply into your heart. To make you fall in deeper into an unfamiliar ocean where you couldn't see the top of the water, sinking in the endless stream without a way out.

You needed him. Before you would go and make a fool of yourself and ruin the great bond you already had for some feelings. Before he would sew his existence onto your soul, your conscience, your very being completely and it would become too much to bear. Too much to live without.

You needed him. To stop yearning. To stop wanting. To see how loving him could feel like.

The digital clock on your bedside table read 2:30 pm. You sat in bed most of the day, whizzing through tv channels faster and faster with every romance movie playing, every news channel talking about this wretched day and how lovers planned to spend it, every love song playing on the radio.

Romance was everywhere and you couldn't do anything to escape it. Just hearts and chocolate and red everywhere.

Sick of the world and the pure existence of love, you shut off the tv, throwing the remote to the other end of the bed and watched the seconds on the clock trickle away, wishing for this day to finally come to an end.

You flipped on your back, letting out a long sigh as the empty ceiling gave way to thoughts of him again. Sighing, you closed your eyes trying to think of something else. Anything else. The wide beachfront, the azure sea, the warm sand. But all roads led back to him. All those things were connected to him now.

You kind of expected him to make some plans with you. Even if it was something as small as going to get coffee and walk around. Or watch another romcom and dissect it. Though you knew he wasn't one to do things like that on the go. Not on a day like this.

It wasn't even a minute that he crossed your mind and your phone screen lit up with his name. Cursing telepathy thinking and the universe for loving to bask in your misery, you picked it up finding a surprisingly nervous Zoro on the other line.

"What's up-"

"You, me, tonight. Pick you up at 5?" he rambled quickly and out of breath.

"What?" you asked, trying to make sense of his words.

"I want to take you out tonight," he repeated, a bit more composed than the first time.

"That sounded a little better," you smiled, turning around in bed to flip on your belly.

"Can I take you out tonight?" he asked again, voice way softer and determined than the usual playfulness you grew accustomed to.

What happened to overly cocky Zoro?

"I don't know," you drew out, playing with the hem of the duvet to smoothen the material out, pointer finger spelling the outline of his name absentmindedly on top of it. "Can you?"

You heard him sigh exasperatedly on the other side as you took your sweet time replying. A little payback for waiting so long would hurt no one.

"Jesus, woman. I really want to take you out someplace nice tonight so get dressed as comfortable as you'd like and answer the door at 5. That sound better?"

"It sounded great. I'll be waiting."

"Okay." You could literally hear him smile through the phone. "See you at 5."

"See you at 5."

The call ended and you stared blankly at the ceiling again, hugging the phone to your chest. His words started seeping into your brain and the realization that he finally asked you out on what was possibly an official date made you reach for the pillow closest by to scream into.

"OH MY GOD I'M GOING ON A DATE," you yelled. "Okay, play it cool. Play it cool," you took deep breaths to calm down before something else threw you into panic. "What the fuck am I gonna wear?"

You ran to your closet, throwing it open. Racking through it in a haste since you didn't have the luxury of time, you threw whatever you could find that looked somewhat put together on the bed. Clothes came flying on and off your body as you did a whole catwalk show in front of the mirror only to end up disappointed with every single one of them. Huffing out in desperation at the mess around your room, you came to the conclusion that none of the outfits looked fit for the occasion.

You needed something to make his eyes pop out of his sockets. Something that would make him see what he's missing and to take that extra step to you. Something...

Tapping your cheek in thinking, you spun around to your closet with a gasp. You ran back to it and sorted out through more hangers, digging all the way into the back until you finally found it.

A dress you bought specifically in case you ever got a date that was worth putting in the effort for.

The heart stealer, you called it.

A flowy deep-red satin dress, falling just below your knees. It had a sweetheart neckline and straps to hold your jewels better than a bra ever could, the bodice hugging your middle perfectly too. Elegant, sexy and comfy, all in one. Plus, the ends of it twirled so nicely every time you spun around, imitating a petticoat effect, and the length even complimented your height.

She's the one, you smiled.

The time on your phone read 4:57 pm, three minutes before your agreed pick-up time. You've been struggling to put your earrings on for a while now and were growing slightly nervous, thing that wasn't really helping as your hands shook with a burst of impatience. Putting the earrings down before you accidentally pierced your ear, you let out a breath and looked in the mirror. Which made it all worse.

Your eyes jumped around to analyze the way your hair was down and curled unevenly, if you squinted, to how your eyeliner on the right looked slightly more winged than the one on the left. Even the dress straps sat on your shoulders a little too uncomfortably. Suddenly, your confidence faltered and you questioned everything about your outfit.

Is the dress too comfortable?

I'm underdressed, aren't I?

Where is he even taking me?

I look like a walking cherry. Why do I have so much red on me-

A soft knock echoed through your apartment. Your date was here. Taking a deep breath for reassurance and fixing yourself in the wall mirror one more time, you let it be and moved to open the door.

At the door, you were met with the man that plagued your every waking thought. He wore a loose shirt that looked vintage with a few buttons left open and casual dark navy blue tailored pants, falling loosely from his waist. They gave the impression he was taller than he actually was. The way he dressed without as much as batting an eye, you would raid his wardrobe any day.

He leaned forwards to place a courting kiss on your cheek, the closeness engulfing you in his musky vanilla scent you grew so fond of. You could scent him in a crowd of people like a wolf looking for his lost mate. His lips lingered enough to have blood rush to your cheek, feeling it singe as soon as he pulled away the slightest. It surprisingly made you feel calm, forgetting what you were even stressing about in the first place.

Shaking yourself out of the daze, you stepped aside and invited him inside. Something in his hands completely stole your eyes away from him before he even got the chance to offer it to you.

"ARE THOSE MILKA HEARTS?!" you shrieked as he meekly handed you the chocolates. Your heart raced at the gesture, cradling the box closer.

"I have never seen anyone be so loyal to just one brand of chocolate. It's literally all you eat."

"Because they are amazing and they're not too sweet or too expensive. They have so many flavors, even biscuits, ice cream, hot chocolate. Anything you could ever dream of that could be made out of chocolate, they have it. They're just right and perfect," you smiled as you spun around with the box held closely to your chest like it was your most prized possession, the ends of your dress slightly swirling around you.

"Oh, I know," he chuckled at your obsession with the chocolates. "You literally lick the hot chocolate mug clean after you drink it."

"Can't blame me for having a sweet tooth. Thank you for these." You placed them on the counter, deciding against opening the box just yet.

"Do I get something in return for delivering them to you?"

You saw his plan from a mile away - he was chasing a kiss, this time coming from your own initiative. Before you thought it through, your lips were on their way to connect with his cheek in a short but sweet peck.

"How does this do?"

Before you let go, he tensed and you felt it, grinning mischievously on the inside. If he thought you would shy away, especially tonight, he had another thing coming. Two can play this tango.

"Your sweetness is rubbing off on me."

He's saying that as if you didn't catch the slight twitch of his lips and the faintest tint of pink on the tip of his ears before he turned back to being his serious self.

"Is that such a bad thing now?" you countered.

"To be assessed," he piped up, leaning against the counter as he watched you pace around the apartment to finish getting ready.

"Tease."

"You love it."

"I actually hate it."

"You're such a bad liar."

"Maybe, maybe not" you giggled to yourself.

Truth be told, you enjoyed his teasing a lot even if it was overwhelming sometimes. On most days, it made you forget your worries and he managed to pull a smile so genuine out of you that you didn't even know you had.

"You, uh... look nice by the way," he rubbed the back of his neck, taking in your attire from top to bottom properly this time.

Nice wasn't even the word he wanted to use. Beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, those sounded more like what he had in mind. The more he looked at you in that red dress, the more he had the urge to close the distance between you, press you against the mirror you paced in front of and smudge that cherry tint off your lips with his own, all the while his hands tangled in your curls.

That... that felt like more than what nice could ever encompass.

"Thank you," you said, the surprise present in your voice cracking him out of his thoughts. "So, what's the itinerary for tonight?"

"It's a secret."

"Is it now?"

"I want you to have a nice time and not overthink it too much. So, you'll just have to wait and see."

"Okay, mister Kinder Surprise. I'll just follow your lead on this one."

Normally, he would come up with an idea and you would plan out the itinerary down to the smallest detail. You weren't sure what he had in mind for today, but at least your outfits matched in comfy and classy levels.

Going back to the mirror, you took another look at yourself and realized he was right. You did look nice. You were just overthinking it. Funny how he already knows what sets you off from enjoying yourself.

Grabbing the earrings again, you tried putting one hoop in only to have it slide to the other side. The closing was just too narrow for your small ears and it annoyed you greatly. You were ready to just leave without them when Zoro stepped in the mirror frame next to you. He held his palm out to you looking at the earrings and you obliged with a sigh.

Placing your hair behind your ear, he wiggled the golden hoop around your ear lobe as you watched through the mirror. The proximity sent your heart thundering. You willed it to stop and take to a regular rhythm before he took note and teased you even more.

Looking for something else to focus on, you found his reflection in the mirror, holding the earring with utmost care and attention. Your eyes flew to his and the tug at his lower lip, the concentration on his face making you blush. He was determined to get those earrings on your ears no matter what.

"My ears are just too small for girly shit," you said, looking down to avoid his intense gaze.

"They're not. You're just a really impatient being when it comes to doing things properly for yourself," he said, successfully clipping the earring in. "There. See?" he tilted his head to look at you with that twinkling glint in his eye. "Pretty."

I could kiss your lips right now. And your eyes and your nose and your lips again. I don't think I could stop.

"Dork," you pushed him away, conscious that you were running behind on time. "Come on, I can't go out with only one earring in."

"Give me a second, Speedy Gonzales."

He put the other one in for you as well and rolled them around so they were both facing the same way.

"Look at you," he checked you out from head to your unheeled toes. "You look like you came out of a shop window."

"Oh, yeah? Which shop window?"

"The supermarket."

"I can change into my pajamas sooooo fast and you can just go out by yourself," you patted his chest grinning wickedly. "How does that sound?"

"Okay, okay. I'm just messing with you," he handed you your bag and held out his arm to you as a peace offering. You rolled your eyes at him and put your heels on using the sturdiness of his arm for balance and fixed yourself up one more time. "Ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

He walked you out front to his car, opening the door for you as he held his arm to his chest like a butler while you did a little curtsy before you got in. A little running joke between you since you always ended up being the passenger princess. His passenger princess.

Everything about his car was so Zoro. He drove a dark green jeep, convertible when needed but currently patched up since the rainy weather of early spring was more frequent now. A raspberry Charmander air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror, where you put it on your last grocery run. He constantly argued with you over the fact that its too cute for his car.

"My car is a military tank. Not the Kids' Express," he would say.

"If anything, it's giving the Fun Express now."

But you knew he silently loved it. He had a habit of poking it with his finger each time he got in the car so it would spin around, spreading the fresh smell of berries around.

He got in the car placing the key in ignition and poked it. You smiled turning to look out the window. Kid.

As he drove, the scenery changed from the chaotic city jungle of cars evading rush hour to the more peaceful part of the coastline. The sun was just starting to set, bright orange and yellow painting the sky in lively hues. Some pop song played on the radio making the whole scene look even more tropical.

Zoro rolled the windows down, letting the air flow through and put the song a little louder. You caught up on this habit of his pretty early on - if he heard a song he liked he would make sure you knew it too. Even when you were sitting in heavy traffic and everybody looked at you weirdly. If he knew the song, he might even mumble a few lines with a grin. That made your little crush on him even stronger.

Hope that you will wait for me You'll see that you're the only one for me ~

The lyrics blared over the speakers, emotional yet comforting about falling in love. He leaned back in his seat and snuck a few glances at you. Your hair was blowing in the wind, falling on the back of your seat. Arm laid flat on top of the window frame tapping along to the beat, you looked at the view of the seaside with a smile on your lips. Your other hand sat on your knee, a little too lonely for his liking.

All I really want is to hold you tight Treat you right, be with you day and night Baby all I need is time ~

Adjusting a hand on the wheel, his other one stretched to get a hold of yours, intertwining them together to the beat of the song. Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden contact turning warm atop your thigh. Looking down at your entwined hands, you noticed how his thumb covered yours in guarding, a routine you grew familiar with every time they met in the same space. His eyes were trained on the road but the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips was solely directed at you.

You will be the death of me, Roronoa Zoro.

Parking the car turned difficult considering everyone was out and about tonight. You barely found a spot somewhere next to the beach. Once parked, Zoro got off and came to your side extending a hand to help you down, heels landing safely on the sidewalk.

You were getting a little impatient and you hoped your nerves wouldn't get the best out of you when the air was still so clear between you. But the questions itched on the back of your tongue until you couldn't hold them back anymore.

"So, what's the plan? How much longer are you gonna keep me in the dark?"

He turned to you with a mysterious grin, debating on whether he should tell you or not.

Someone seems to be enjoying themselves at the expense of my sanity.

"The plan for tonight is just fun."

Well that explains everything I needed to know.

"The amusement park up ahead kind of gave that part away," you pointed out to the Ferris wheel bathed in strobe lights, standing tall ahead in the middle of dozens of games and food stands.

Walking side by side, you followed the crowds of couples into the mayhem still suspicious of what the plan actually entailed. Your gaze wandered down to the ground where you found another thing that calmed you. Unknowingly, your steps matched each other's in a balanced rhythm as you followed his lead. Your lips pursed to hide another small smile.

"That's not the only thing I have planned out for tonight," he informed you, checking his watch. "First, let's go loosen up a little."

Your first stop on tonight's itinerary was the club where you first met. It's been a few months since you both laid eyes on the other, circling the dance floor for nights on end to make your mutual interest known.

Months since your little crush born out of seeking real love took off and made space for feelings. Feelings that nowadays chased you to the brink of madness. You could only hope a trip down memory lane would settle them and give you confirmation that your heart isn't tangled in yet another unrequited love story.

It was Latino beats night. The extended terrace was cleared for an outdoor dance floor, stretching all the way to the end of the beach touching the overlapping waves. Fairy lights hung above from tree to tree, warming up the atmosphere in a golden glow. The drinks at the bar had mini red umbrellas to match the theme.

A bartender came to serve you as soon as you sat down at the bar, pointing you to all the Valentine's recommendations. The cheesy names on the cocktails made a shiver run down your spine in repulse so you turned to the normal range instead since you already knew that one inside out.

"What would you like to order?"

Some sweet liquid courage would do me well tonight.

"A piña colada for me," you ordered.

"A mocktail of that for me," asked Zoro, almost as quickly as your own order rolled off your lips.

Mocktail? That sounds unlike Zoro.

Lifting a curious eyebrow at his request, your eyes narrowed on him for a quick mood scan. You barely saw it but it was definitely there. Tension. He was on edge, rapping his fingers on the wooden bar restlessly, foot tapping to the tempo of the current song playing. Impatient sounds more like it.

"Not drinking today?"

"I will. Just not yet," he smirked, as if he had more opportunities to drink lined up later. Well, frankly, you didn't know what followed later, so you asked for more glasses of alcohol.

The song changed to a slow, sensual bachata as the crowd took to the dance floor. Some pairs looked experienced, busting moves in perfect sync with the strings like this was their regular night out to serve some class. They must be fun at parties.

Others could barely get their feet coordinated, unable to decide who would be the one to lead. The changing rhythm, slow at first then rising faster, had them spinning out of control, gripping onto each other for dear life as they laughed it off and tried again together.

Your relationship with Zoro was kind of like that - uncoordinated in your dance to reach each other's heart with normal steps. Every time one got way too close to the other you took detours, going back to square one. But you kept trying. Together.

Zoro saw you looking at the couples with a longing he's seen before, during your first nights at the club. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that longing himself though he didn't know how to express it. But a tight-lipped curl of your lips at the ground had him pulling on your hand in an instant, eyes motioning to the dance floor. Confused at first, you slowly got a rough idea of what he was suggesting and shook your head.

"I'm not drunk enough to dance yet," you lied, trying to get him off your case. You were too sober to trust your heart that close around him just yet.

"Isn't that the beauty of it?"

The tension washing off of him just moments ago wore off into mischief and playfulness. There he was. Your Zoro.

"Are you sure that was a mocktail?" you quipped, suspicious at his sudden change in mood.

"Yes, it was a mocktail." The look he gave you, full of intensity and certainty was enough to tell you he was dead serious. "I just really want to dance with you."

"Okay, fine."

His hand grasped yours as you hopped off the bar stool, pulling you deeper into the moving crowd. Once he found a spot, he tugged you to him in a twirl. Your back landed against his chest, his deep, steady breaths falling right at the tip of your ear. Swaying from side to side, his palms wandered down to your own, lacing your fingers together, squeezing lightly. His touch turned your insides sticky with something akin to desire. His familiar scent overpowered your senses, musky vanilla turning tropic from that mocktail he had, lingering to the depths of your soul. His presence behind you, assertive, dominating and reassuring at the same time, lit up your whole body with fiery tingles.

He lifted your arms up, getting impossibly closer to you as the pads of his fingers reached up to yours, dancing down to your shoulders in a flow of their own where they fell with the rise of the chorus, briskly spinning you to face him. He placed your hands on his shoulders as you stepped back and forth, bouncing up and down to the music, eyes solely trained on you and no one else, nothing else.

In the synergy of the moment, he finally saw you.

It took him a while to understand but you were his rhythm. He couldn't lose you after he finally found it - the frequency of your heart beating to guide his own. If he lost track of you now, he would lose himself again. Among all the other hearts beating in hundreds of other tempos next to yours, he only wanted to move with yours.

You swayed right a little too hard, leg flying next to his hip. His arm shot out to catch it as the on on the small of your back pulled you close, breaths mingling in a flutter harmonious to the one in your stomach, multiplying it tenfold.

Upon releasing your leg, his hand trailed over the thin material of your dress, from your thigh all the way to your waist, where it got a better grip. One that wouldn't let you sway that hard again. Goosebumps burned on the path he carved into your skin and you found yourself closing your eyes on a shaky exhale.

You were shuddering in his hold and he barely did anything but hold you. When you opened them, he was still eye to eye with you, unmoving, patient, waiting for you.

He drowned out everyone else. The chatter, the music, the alcohol pumping through your veins. You couldn't take your eyes off him even if you tried and frankly, you didn't want to.

No words needed to be said as you let your bodies do the talking. The smaller the space grew between you, the simpler things seemed. It was clear as day your heart kept calling for him in a million ways and you denied it enough.

You wanted to have his eyes on you at all times. To have his lips all to yourself. To get the confirmation that he felt exactly what you felt. That he wanted all these things you wanted too.

He spun you out, reeling you back in against his chest. He looked down at you. You looked up at him.

They were close - those damned lips of his. Pink and soft laying on pink and even softer. Just a breath away. Until he broke your gaze.

Whatever bubble you were in popped and all too suddenly, the reality hit you again. They weren't yours to kiss. They were no ones. Forbidden.

The music filtered in your ears way too loud. People bumped into you from all sides. It was too much in too little of a moment to drown in your insecurities again, when his warm touch asked for your attention and his eyes met yours again.

"Wanna get out of here?" he rasped in your ear.

"You read my mind."

The sky announced the coming of night, faint purple clouds flying above the blue. You headed to your next destination, the amusement park. Looking at all the attractions, you had your first pick on the bumpy cars. They were childish, but they were fun enough to pull you out of your misery. At least for a while.

Hopping into the rink, you were barely strapped into your bumper when he rammed into your back at full speed, rattling your seat hard. He really is a child. But you were a bigger child. You didn't hold back either, chasing and cornering him, only to crash straight into the front of his bumpy car, cackling like a maniac.

At one point he disappeared into the crowd of cars as the lights grew dimmer. Keeping your guard up for a sneak attack, you rounded the sidelines cautiously, trying to avoid being caught in the middle of other people's warfare. Just when you stopped to turn and search the rink again, he marched up to hit you from the side only for you to dodge it like a pro. His car rammed into the edge of the rink, jaw dropped in shock as you bellowed with laughter at him.

His driving pride got shaken a little from your bumpy car skills, but you were smiling again. That's all that mattered to him.

Once your time was up, you were pulled to another ride, this time of Zoro's pick. Knowing him, it would be something too adventurous and risky to ride. You realized where he was taking you way too late - the highest roller coaster in the area. Instantly, you shook his hand off, backtracking behind him. That thing looked like what nightmares are made of.

"Hell nah, I am not getting on that."

Thinking you had a choice was a mistake since he pulled a wildcard on you. A wildcard you wished you never agreed to in the first place if you knew it would come back to bite you in the ass.

"Remember that bet we had at the gym that you lost?" Motherfucker. "I think it's time you make that wish come true."

And to think he gave you the impression it would be an innocent wish back then. All men do is lie.

"That's not fair," you argued, trying to think of a way to convince him to use his wish on something else. Something that didn't involve your stomach switching places with your other organs. Coming empty handed, you slumped your shoulders like a child being denied their favourite toy and got in the line with him.

Your leg bounced up anxiously with each pair admitted for a ride in front of you. The screams of the people on the rollercoaster screeched in your ears. You took a gulp of air to calm your nerves just as Zoro's lips brushed to your ear out of nowhere, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Nothing's going to happen to you. I'll be there to hold your hand."

Is he taking the piss? Hold my hand? How about you hold your balls secure before I kick them to the fucking sky-

Your thoughts were interrupted when something clicked fixed around you. The straps to the ride seat. You squirmed around uncomfortably to find a better position that felt safer, but being in that seat itself was not safe in any way. The straps were safe and secure but not safe enough.

"Zoro, I'm getting off."

To your disappointment, the megaphone called out that the next cart was going up and the ride started moving. Despite having multiple piña coladas at the club to calm your nerves, you still felt the panic grip you a little and grabbed a tight hold of the security holds keeping you in place, shutting your eyes and praying that this torture would end sooner.

"Hey, hey, hey." His voice called out to you softer than you've ever heard it before, willing you to focus on him. "Look at me."

"No, thank you," you chuckled uneasily. "If I open my eyes I will see my impending doom," you continued, feeling your heart thrumming in your chest as the ascent began quicker than you expected it to.

"Then give me your hand."

"I want to smack you over the head with it." Tremors took over your hands slightly, aware of how high you were going. "Why did I agree to this?"

"Because you like keeping to your word and it's something I admire about you."

He does? Oh, that's sweet- Wait I'm still mad at him.

"Please don't give me the compliment bullshit right now," you groaned through deep breaths.

"It's true though," he said, keeping his calm composure.

You cracked one eye open at him to see him looking only at you, anchored to your eyes like you were his view of the safe harbor in the tempest, the eye of the storm far away from reaching you.

Suddenly, everything was fine. All was good. It was just you and him on the same boat going in the same direction. Nothing could rock your boat.

Until you felt the ride stop and the urge to look around grew and despite all efforts, you gave into it. You were standing on the highest point, overlooking the whole park. You stopped breathing just looking around at the point ahead on the horizon where the sky met the sea, surprised to see the moon and the twinkling stars peak through the cover of clouds. The view would've been spectacular if it wasn't a few seconds till the train would drop.

"No no no, don't look-" he tried to warn you before you did the opposite.

"WE'RE GONNA FUCKING DIE!" you screeched.

"-down."

"If we don't die now, I will kill you myself when we're back on the ground for choosing to make such a stupid wish. I swear to GOD-" you were cut off as the train fell down into the drop.

Against your wishes, you grabbed onto his hand and held on for dear life, screaming as loud as your lungs could let you. You let out everything you've been holding inside for the past month in one strong yell. Zoro let out a few surprising yelps too, holding tighter onto your hand. The whole thing was over and done with before you knew it and you found yourself actually enjoying it. Not one hundred percent but a good amount of you did.

All that work to curl your hair only to get a blow out when you got back to the ground. It stuck up all sides, curls dismantled from the sheer force of the drop but still standing. Your hands patted it down with a pout, making Zoro take the matter into his own hands, brushing through your hair to fix it. His hands felt so soothing on your scalp, taming your earlier rage at being dragged to that death trap.

"You acted all cool only to yelp like a school girl during the drop," you giggled, his yelps still fresh in your mind.

"No, I didn't," he argued.

"I think the people that sat behind us would beg to disagree. At least own up to the fact that you were a teeny tiny bit scared."

"I don't fear anything."

"Oh yeah? Look behind you."

"What could possibly be so scary behind me- WHAT THE FUCK!" he yelled as he came face to face with a person dressed as a clown, carrying around balloons. He almost punched them on impulse.

"I don't fear anything my ass," you looked at him as he put down his fist and apologized. Once he was certain they left, he straightened his posture and cleared his throat.

"I was just startled," he said, trying to assure you that the statement he made was true. But you got used to seeing through his bullshit.

"Sure you were. Wanna try the haunted house over there then?" you pointed to the shack where a few people just ran out from, some full on sobbing. A scream came from inside, his eyes going wide and that was all you needed to know. Roronoa Zoro did have fears.

"Absolutely not."

"You sure? Nothing's gonna happen to you. I can hold your hand," you teased him like he teased you before the rollercoaster ride.

"Did you say you want popcorn? I'm gonna go get us some popcorn," he laughed, looking for an excuse.

"Okay. Meet you by the benches?"

"Sure."

Walking around, you stumbled upon a long queue of couples lined up to go on the Ferris wheel clogging most of the circulation around the park. If you were being honest, the rollercoaster was much more fun than waiting for hours to see an overpriced five minutes coast view could ever be. Besides, you could drive up the road and see that for free too.

You walked around some more when one of the stands stopped you in your tracks - throwing darts. It wasn't the darts game itself that piqued your interest, but the fluffy beige bear smiling brightly, hanging above the targets. His brown eyes matched those of your green-haired man, warm chocolate infused with honey, too sweet not to stop and stare.

For some reason you found it really lonely sitting by itself up there. All the smaller prizes were won and replaced on the daily, but by the looks of it he's been there for a while, waiting for someone. No one seemed sharp enough to play the game to the end and take him home.

You wanted to take him home with you.

If only you had the darts talent running in your veins. The price for just a set of three darts was way too much and it took seven perfect shots in the bullseye of the targets to win the bear. Perks of having an amusement park next to one of the most popular beaches on the coast meant complicated games that no normal human could aspire to win.

Sparing it one last look that made your heart ache, you turned and went to sit on a bench, waiting for your date that just so happened to see you stop by the darts booth. More precisely, he saw that pout on your face as you looked at the bear hung up high above the targets when it clicked. You wanted that bear.

Zoro knew you wouldn't ask him to get it for you. You didn't like asking for things and he knew that you might not even accept it if he offered it. But the way your shoulders slumped as you walked away told him how much you wanted it.

Darts wasn't his best sport, but he was good with his aim and had a patience that could kneel most at his feet. So, he marched to the booth, placing the popcorn tubs to the side and started tracing his targets to see just what he was dealing with.

"Feeling lucky tonight?" asked the manager of the booth, a sly smile on his face at finding another victim.

Little shit. If only he knew Zoro had the power to send his little business into bankruptcy right at his fingertips. A grin of his own graced his features making the man's smile quiver at the seams.

"Oh, I'm feeling more than lucky."

He rolled up his sleeves showing he meant business and placed a wad of cash on the dirty table, picking up his first set of darts. He was dead set on getting you that bear no matter how much money he had to blow on throwing tiny arrows around.

Anything to not see that pout on your face ever again.

Shuffling your heels over the dust and rocks on the ground, you drew random patterns to busy yourself. A lot of things were weighing on your mind. You were questioning why you went out in the first place. To give this a chance, your brain told you.

To feel something, said your heart. Well, with Zoro, you felt the whole damn universe in one sitting.

There was no telling how this night would end anyways. But you were slowly starting to think Zoro ditched you there since it's been a while he left to look for popcorn. You sighed again, feeling your world tilt, when a pair of shoes stopped in front of you. You knew those shoes.

"I thought you left to get popcorn not to shake hands with the mayor-," you lifted your head up only to stop mid-sentence. Staring at him like he grew a third eye, you took in the way he balanced two tubs of popcorn under his arm and a big plushie in the other.

The fluffy bear.

"I did. They were out so I went to find another stand. And this is for you," he offered you the bear with a smile that made his dimple pop out.

That small indentation in his cheek that showed up when he puffed them on the inside, usually at times when he did something he was proud of. A pit you could hide in whenever you wanted to without him knowing.

"Buddy looked a little lonely up there," he added, tilting his head back to the booth behind him.

Looking into those plastic brown eyes, you took the bear and hugged it close to you. It was even fluffier than you thought a plushie could be. You snuggled into it noticing that it lightly caught his scent, besides the sugary theme park smell.

You teared up a little. Not out of sadness or anything, but because you were touched by the gesture. Because he noticed, which was a rare thing to come by nowadays. Zoro cared and he showed you time and time again, never once falling short to notice. To make you feel seen.

Sensing a change, he placed the popcorn down on the bench you were sitting on just moments ago, grabbing a gentle hold of your arms.

"Hey," he spoke softly, trying to reassure whatever storm pried onto you out of nowhere. His palms stroked your forearms up and down, earlier glee in his voice morphing into worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you shook your head looking away. It was stupid to have a crying session right now of all times.

"You look like you're about to cry. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no! Gods, no. You didn't. You're amazing," you smiled. In an instant, your arms reached out to wrap around his waist hugging him as tight as you hugged the fluffy bear.

"Thank you, Zoro," you nuzzled your head into his chest in deep appreciation for more than the bear, hands holding tight onto the back of his shirt.

Your sudden display of affection made his ears grow pink. He silently hoped you couldn't hear the way his heart was beating from how your head was pressed to it. He wasn't sure how to respond at first but hesitantly, his arms wrapped around you too, squeezing you closer for a moment. His chin sat on top of your head as he let out a deep sigh at the comfort it brought him. If only he could hold you like this all the time.

There weren't enough words in the world to express your gratitude to him. For how well he treated you. For everything he did to make you feel happy. You just wanted to do the same for him. At least even for a little bit if this wasn't going to last.

"You're welcome," he smiled softly at you as you pulled apart from the hug. "Now, what are we naming this little guy?"

"Well, he definitely isn't little," you barked a laugh holding the bear up next to your hip. Now that you were seeing him closer, he was half your size. "I'll name him Lovey and I will be his Dovey."

"Does that mean I have competition?" his arms crossed on his chest, playing jealous. "He does seem like a worthy opponent."

"I didn't realise you were a runner-up, tough guy," you patted his chest to calm his coyness down a notch.

"Did I not make it clear enough?"

I think you and me have very different definitions of clear.

"I don't know," you teased. "Did you?"

"Guess I have to go for Plan B," he said, checking his watch again.

He checked that watch of his hundreds of times tonight. Was he in a rush? Is his prince charming cover going to dissipate like Cinderella at midnight or something?

"What's Plan B?" you asked confused, hoping he would let some information slip.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he smirked tauntingly.

This man is an ore of surprises.

You've been waiting for Zoro in front of the park for a little over half an hour. He left to look for his car a while ago and there was no sign of him yet.

Huh, funny how I keep waiting for him. Both physically and emotionally. When does it end?

The sky turned darker and grey clouds rolled over. You felt uneasiness creep up on you, especially since he mentioned a Plan B. If the club and the amusement park were Plan A, what did Plan B look like in his book?

Five more minutes passed and Zoro returned, surprisingly by walking instead of driving, car keys swinging around in his hand.

"Zoro, where's the car?"

"So, uh, bad news. I lost the car," he smiled apologetically, pressing his hands together.

"What do you mean you lost the car? It's a huge jeep. How hard can it be to find a huge... jeep," you motioned around only to stop as you realized most of the cars around looked exactly like his. "Oh."

"Yeah, charm of living on the coast. But good news is that we are in walking distance from my place which was final destination. Though that surprise is kinda ruined now."

"I don't know what exactly you have planned at your place though," you stated, fishing for details.

"You have a point. Well, I can just come and look for it tomorrow."

He says that as if it's a daily occurrence for him to lose a jeep to the hands of sense. Though that made you think. Just how many times did he lose his car around here? But you'd rather not ask. So you asked something else.

"Won't you get a ticket?"

"Most parking around here is free."

"That's fine then," you shrugged, getting up with Lovey under your arm. "What about Plan B?"

Come on, dude. Give me a clue. Just one hint.

"It's on the way," was all he said as he extended his arm to you.

Okay, then no clue.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

Of all the places you expected to make a pit stop at, Home Depot was the last thing on your list. Zoro had to pick up a bulb for his kitchen light that has been in his shopping notes for the past two months. Two. months. This is exactly why you make the lists on your grocery runs. He always forgets something.

In one hand you held your new fluffy companion close, while Zoro held onto your free one while you padded through the departments to reach the light section. Like any self-respecting humans, you stopped by the furniture section to look at a few sofas and test their softness together. They were so comfortable to sit on but you already had one in your apartment and from what Zoro let on he had one too many. Now, you wanted to reach final destination sooner.

A bit more waddling around floorings and hardware and you finally reached it - the beauty that was the light section. Bulbs of all kinds for all purposes, orientally decorated lamps and simple to more lavish strings of lights hung around each rack, one calling out more than the other.

The section extended into an extra part that seemed to have been arranged more recently. It called to you so you left Zoro looking for his bulb as you went to explore it more.

Following the multicolor trail bouncing off the racks, you came to a makeshift panel widening into the middle of the department. It was built to look like an arch of some sort. Like the kind you would see in extravagant wedding settings.

Fairy lights and crystal chandeliers of all shapes dripped down to paint the grey floors in a myriad of colours. You ventured under it, looking at all the ambient and decorative designs on display. A few lamps were so beautiful you seriously considered redecorating. Although, the warm golden light of a chandelier in the middle of the ensemble drew you in, its intricate framework sending rays of light reflecting from all lamps everywhere.

Zoro found the bulb he needed and turned around to find you gone from his side. He had to put a tracker on you at this point.

Following his instinct, he took just a few steps down the lights wing and found you right away. His breath hitched. There you were, revelling in the warmth of the light of a crystal chandelier. Its main frame made out of goldenrod supported dozens of glass flowers cascading from each side to create a bigger rozette above. The other lights reflected into the glass, shining a warm gold tone all over you, romanticising your features.

You looked like you stepped out of heaven. A fallen angel. His fallen angel.

You were curiously tracing the details of a crystal flower when he stepped closer to you, musky vanilla invading your senses. Turning to him you ended up nose to nose once again tonight, foreheads almost touching in that confined space. He was so close yet so far again. What was he waiting for?

Kiss me, you wanted to scream.

Kiss my lips dry.

Kiss me like I'm yours Zoro.

You were ready to beg. To have him close the distance faster and end this yearning.

He leaned in, breath ghosting your lips almost painfully.

In your daze, too focused on him finally showing a response, you backed up into a lamp that nearly knocked out everything else behind you. You turned around just in time to catch it, steadying it back to its place, saving dozens of installations from being crushed to bits and pieces. When you turned back around, his eyes closed in denial, letting out an exasperated breath.

And he pulled away. Just like that. He initiated the moment and he ended it too.

Now what the fuck.

"Did you get the bulb?" you exhaled, still in shock that the moment was gone as quick as it came.

"I have," he inhaled, straightening his posture, cocky smirk flying back to his lips.

Like he didn't just have me begging for a fucking kiss in the Home Depot lights section.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Nope," he got a hold of your hand pulling it between you, thumb softly guarding yours. "I have everything I need right here."

You're such an anomaly, Roronoa Zoro.

All you could think about was his place. Which was unexplored land to you. Your visit there wasn't too early of a feat in your relationship considering how much he loved your place. You just pondered on what was waiting for you there.

An open invitation to become more? A private tour of his home? A one night only limited edition Zoro? The possibilities with this man were endless.

A small stinging sensation brought your attention to your leg. Your ankles. Not having worn heels in a while, you didn't think it would be this bad if you left them uncovered and just slid into the heels for the night. Until it was that bad and trying to walk in a way that didn't give your discomfort away was hard. Every step down the concrete sidewalk had your the shoe brush like a bristle comb against your ankle.

You stopped to lean your weight on a fence, lifting your leg to be met with the new blood crescents forming on the ridges of your heels. Ouch. Rubbing your ankles to soothe the ache proved to be only temporary relief. You tried putting it back in the shoe only to scrunch your nose at the new wave of pain.

You've been walking for quite a while already. Who knew how much longer you had until you reached his place?

Before you could even register what was happening, Zoro dropped to his knees in front of you with a grunt. You blinked, bewildered at his behaviour. His wide back stretched, laid out for you. You didn't notice until now that his shirt was slightly see-through, the glory of his lean, strong shoulders fully in your view. No view of the coastline could compare to the one you had in front of you. Kneeling at your feet of all things.

You just stared for a while still confused but digging it, until his voice echoed like a wake up call in your ears.

"Get on."

"I can walk."

He turned his head around, pining you with an are you serious right now look. He was trying to be a gentleman but your hugely independent persona wasn't having any of that. Well, that and you were still mad about the home depot thing.

The kiss that never happened. The pulling away after railing you up all night, with a desperate sigh on his part, as if he felt the same. If he felt the same he would've said or done something to cement it. To make you stop feeling like a damn fool.

"I know you can," he added, voice turning so mellifluous to sweeten the mood that your knees almost turned to jelly. "I just don't want those red demons to scar you more than they already have."

He was sweet-talking you again.

He turned back around and made grabby hands over his shoulder for you to hurry up. You bit your lip annoyed that he was right. The heels would only scar your ankles more.

"Fine," you sighed and got on, closing an arm around his neck as the other wrapped the bear's arms around your own.

Certain that you got comfortable, Zoro got a hold of the back of your thighs to lift you up. The spot he touched behind your thigh tickled and you tried your hardest to keep stable and not move around too much. You did kick forwards in instinct once, earning a disgruntled huff from your humble transport.

"Is there a place you aren't ticklish in?"

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it."

You took a strand of your hair and tickled his cheek on purpose as he tried to blow it away.

"I will drop both of you if you don't stop that," he warned.

You leaned closer to the side of his head, the rim of your lips brushing just the tip of his ear, voice playing sweet whispering in the same way he did to you all night.

"Stop what?"

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, jaw clenched, tensing under your hold before slowly reconfiguring his pace. You hit a chord. You grinned in victory that it affected him when your smile fell as you caught sight of the corner of his lip twisting upwards. He welcomed your teasing only to reply with a remark of his own.

"Are you testing me, angel?"

Angel. That was new. So new that your heart fluttered.

You kept your composure unsure of how to respond. This was one of those times his teasing got too deep inside of you and tickled a chord you didn't even know was there. So you just deflected from it, securing your hold on him better.

"Drop me and I will end your entire bloodline."

A deep rumble of a chuckle that he tried to keep inside but failed, boomed under you. The heaviness between you dissipated little by little, unserious, and you giggled along with him.

"You're precious cargo. But I just might," he teased again, readjusting his hold on you.

Yet, the truth was he wouldn't. In fact, he would do anything in his power for you to be comfortable. Even if that meant carrying you and a midsized bear all the way to his place sprawled on his back like a sack of potatoes, with your red feet killers swinging in his hand as your warm giggles filled the night.

Though it was a far reach, the possibility of nights like these becoming a regular thing made his heart soar. Maybe there was a chance for more.

Entering the lush part of the coastline, palm-hidden domains morphed into villas upon villas of the rich and the elite in all kinds of styles running along the lap of a hill. Halfway up the steep hill, your humble transport climbed a set of stairs and stopped in front of a villa.

Your mouth hung open. There's no way this was his.

Your eyebrows reached the heavens when he fished around his pocket for the keys and jingled them in the hole, pushing the door open. This was his.

Once inside, he bent down for you to get off, placing your heels down, putting his own shoes next to yours. You hopped off taking in the place. Each way your head turned you were instantly hit with his scent.

"You're telling me your house was this close to the club and we spent new year's sleeping on the beach?" you asked, twirling around the place.

Walking in further, you came to a dip in the ground going into a spacious living room. Two medium couches and an armchair in a deep forest green laid around facing each other. He does have a couch too many.

"Well, I didn't want to hit third base that early," he said, walking into the kitchen area. "You did take me for a psychopath just for taking you to the beach."

Taken aback at his words, you turned around trying to recall when that happened.

"Pffft, I did not."

Stopping his ascent on a small ladder to change the broken bulb, he placed his hands on his hips and looked back at you then proceeded to utter the exact words you said to him on your first night together.

"Is this the part where you kill me or something?"

He even had the tone right. You laughed remembering his first impression. Oh, how wrong you were. He turned out to be way more than that.

"Fair enough."

Fixing fluffy Lovey on a couch, you walked around some more. The huge space was used so well, beige and green motives spreading all around, combining in neutrals with the dark grey oak wooden floors. Beyond the modern aesthetic and messily discarded trinkets it was so cozy. Compared to your apartment, this place was an oasis.

"You have a really nice house."

"Thank you. It's not much really."

Not much? He's not being real.

He fiddled some more with the lightbulb, lean forearms working to click it into place. Extending his hand to you, he motioned you to the flip switch to test if it works. You obliged and turned it on. The bulb glowed, turning the beige kitchen golden, just like the chandelier you saw.

Moving into the cooking area you realised even his kitchen was something out of the paradise of architectural design.

You leaned your elbows on the marble top, head resting on top of your knuckles, waiting for him to finish. Once he was satisfied with his work, he stored the ladder away and came to sit next to you, mirroring your position. Feeling his prying eyes on you, you turned to find him a few inches away, hip brushing yours, looking at you with a smile.

"Hi," you said softly, smiling back at him.

"Hi," he replied, the crescents around his eyes deepening.

You could sit there looking at each other until time would end. If it wasn't for your stomachs singing in unison demanding some attention.

"I thought that instead of going to spend loads of money on a restaurant, we could cook something ourselves," he suggested.

"You went grocery shopping without me?"

"Yep," he popped the p at the end looking really proud of himself.

You had to give him credit for planning the whole day out ahead of time. It's the most anyone has ever done for you.

"So, what are we cooking?"

"Well," he threw a towel over his shoulder, "your wish is my command tonight."

You loved his determination. Zoro could cook. Just enough to save his life if need be but nothing too grandiose - if that included omelets and fried rice with some creativity to reinvent the dish for every day of the week. Thing that required talent.

So, you thought of one simple thing no one could screw up. Something that would be easy, fun and quick to make that would fill you both. You settled on the pinnacle of good food.

"Then pizza it is."

"Had a feeling you'd say that."

He walked to the fridge and pulled out some of your favorite toppings and a jar of the tomato sauce you swore by. You gasped, holding a hand over your heart in fake excitement.

"You know me so well."

"I try my best," he said, making a bow.

You got to making the dough, mixing the ingredients while he connected his phone to a speaker. Jazzy, romantic music played and you craned your neck at him to see that playful smirk. He wasn't acting like the Zoro you knew.

"Dean Martin? Seriously?"

"What's wrong with it? It's-"

"Romantic."

You never saw anyone cut the music so fast. It gave you whiplash.

"Then what about this?"

The track changed to ABBA's Dancing Queen. You threw your head back with a laugh, shaking it at his questioning music choices.

"Friday night and the lights are low ~," he sang off key, sending you into another fit of giggles. He continued singing as laughter rolled out of you to the point you were holding your stomach in pain.

Cruising around some more, he finally let a pop playlist run in the background as you worked on the dough and he got busy with chopping stuff up. You snuck a few glances at him and stilled - that golden light bounced on his tan complexion, making his focused posture appear so snug and cozy, almost husband material. The amused twinkle was back in his brown orbs, resembling irresistible pralines.

He looked like home.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you turned back to the dough, sprinkling flour on the table top and rolling it out to spread it as wide as you could eat it. Too focused on it, you didn't notice a floured finger coming to paint your face until the white powder was already smeared across your cheeks.

"You're such a child," you let out before you painted his nose with flour too.

"I think that makes two of us."

He cupped the side of your face, brushing his thumb over the flour covered bits. Though that only smudged the flour more, your heart beat accelerated to an uneven rate. He was too close again. Too close to let go again.

"You made me beg for this date so much," he spoke lowly, brushing your cheek in circles. "I don't do begging."

"Can't blame a girl for wanting to torment the guy she's interested in."

Before he could reply, your stomach grumbled again, annoyed that there was still no food present in it. His hand fell from your cheek, though his touch still lingered. Warm, singed, stamped on your cheek.

You finished decorating the pizza with everything you both liked and once it was in the oven, you crouched down to see it cook. Zoro followed on your side, knee touching yours.

"You know, it's not gonna cook faster if you stare at it," he mused.

"I know," you turned to look at him. The gleam from the oven light coupled with the kitchen light above played tricks on you because you could've sworn that hard, playful gaze of his turned softer. "I'm just surprised you can cook something other than basic military canned food."

"Oh, shut up," he laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder into yours.

You made small talk until the oven dinged that your pizza was ready. Letting Zoro deal with it, you ventured more into his living room like a cat looking for her next napping spot.

You walked all the way to the glass windows acting like an outer wall. Finding a handle, you pulled on it expecting it to be just for décor only to see that the glass slid open to give you access to a private beach front. Your jaw would crack if this man shocked you more tonight.

He has a private beach. Who the hell just has a private beach? And he said it's not much. Dude, I can move here if you don't like it.

Pushing the door open all the way, you took a seat on an extended wooden ledge overlooking the stretch of water you started liking so much. The sky was still cloudy, covering up the moon, yet some stars still sparkled through the white glare. A few birds played around in the trees, chirping as brightly as they would in the early morning. Waves lapped calmly at the shore, smaller than the naked eye could see, crashing into each other before they could make a sound on the sand.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath of the salty air, letting it sink deep into your lungs. Calm enveloped you like a warm blanket comfortingly there for you. It was more than an oasis. It was how Zoro made you feel. Though most times it was accompanied by chaos, you would always find yourself waiting for this serene peace.

"I see you've found your favorite spot already."

Zoro was quickly at your side with the pizza sliced, a bottle of wine under his arm and some glasses. He sat down next to you working on the bottle before anything else.

"Favorite doesn't even begin to describe it."

Hungry from all the dancing and walking, you dove into the pizza first. The dough melted on your tongue, nodding to yourself as the good tomato sauce hit your taste buds, among with all the other toppings.

"Is it edible enough?"

"It turned out way better than I expected."

"Hand me one," he opened his mouth, waiting for you to feed him a slice.

You picked up a smaller one. Careful not to smudge any of the toppings on his shirt, you held it out for him to take a bite. He stopped fiddling with the cork to take in the taste.

"You're right, this is heavenly. I didn't know my oven could cook like this."

You choked, slapping his arm.

"That's what ovens are for, dummy."

Red wine, darker than your dress, danced in the glasses as you clinked them together. Taking a sip, the sweetness hit you before it lulled into bitter cherries, spilling on your lips like the promise of love on this chilly February night.

"Look out," he pointed out towards the sea.

You looked everywhere. All you could see was a few boats out on the water, the sky clearing some more and the sea. You even squinted, thinking you weren't looking properly.

"I don't see anything."

He checked his watch to see he was too early. For someone who was always late in making decisions, he still had time. Huh, how the tables have turned.

He counted the leftover seconds in his head, leaning back to look at you the way he did on new year's on the beach. Your back was in his full view, covered by your dress and your hair that grew a bit longer. He still has that impulse to trace your spine with the pads of his fingers.

"Look now."

Right as your eyes fixed on the boats, fireworks lit up the night sky from far out on the water. Pink and red spun around in different shaped hearts.

Seems like the surprises keep on coming.

Too engrossed in the light show decorating the sky in cute and heartwarming messages, you didn't notice Zoro slipped from beside you until you heard slow music playing from the speakers. He sat behind you, hand extended your way.

"Can I have this dance?"

"Another one?"

"You can't blame me for wanting another dance with you when you look this beautiful tonight."

"Only tonight?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"All the time," he corrected himself as he pulled you closer.

You stepped left and right under the warmth of the lights and the fireworks, holding the man you've always wanted in your life. Suddenly, you were taken back to that night where you let it all go to have fun with a stranger. A stranger that became something more so fast.

Who knew you'd end up mending each other's solitude and fill up the cracking pieces in your hearts. You were both aware that you meant more to each other than you let on, but the words just didn't seem to find their way out to communicate that. That was your only fatal flaw.

The need to know where you stand was more powerful than anything right now.

Somehow, everything was perfect.

Maybe too perfect.

"This is so fucking cheesy," you quipped.

"What's cheesy?"

"Everything. This night, the food, the wine, the fireworks... you."

You've kept the uneasiness at bay all night but something made it explode everywhere in your body and it definitely wasn't the wine. Or the way he was looking at you with those deep brown eyes like he could tell what you were feeling. If that were true he wouldn't waste any more time than you already did.

"What is this really about?" he asked, hands falling from your waist to rub comforting circles on the inside of your wrists.

If it wasn't crystal clear until now, he knew what made you tick. And something pushed a nerve by the looks of it and the way you were avoiding his eyes.

You wanted the ground to swallow you up for letting your mouth run wild without any basis besides that nervousness. But you might as well just bite the bullet and tell him everything and be honest with each other at least for once. You avoided talking about it way too long.

"It all feels a little too perfect to be real."

Thinking that voicing your thoughts out would give you some semblance of balance was a wrong assumption. As soon as those words left your mouth, he let go of your arms, taking a step back. Once again, you let your inhibitions take over and reel you away from a great thing.

You got lucky by meeting him. But you still couldn't help but think his heart wasn't yours for the taking. Because he wouldn't let you take it. That you couldn't be more than friends with him because more would destroy the already amazing thing you had going on.

By the way his face fell, brown orbs more preoccupied with the wooden floors, you realized you probably fucked up even more.

Frankly, he did all this tonight for you. He was never the type to go out of his way for people, even the ones he had an interest in because he wasn't one to play the feelings game. To chase and court and shower in affection.

But he knew where you were coming from and why.

He didn't make it clear that you've been the sole object of his attention ever since he saw you that first night you came to the club. For him, that was just another night lost to endless glasses of alcohol to numb himself even more from the world.

Until you showed up.

Hair thrown into the same messy bun you always sported, uncomfortably shifting in your clothes as you nursed a different array of alcohol yourself, trying to do exactly the same thing he was doing. Numbing the feelings away. Keeping them at bay. Fighting them with everything you had in opposite corners of the club when you could've embraced them together from that first look that connected you.

The more time he spent with you the more he let those suppressed feelings in and realised that they didn't bring him any pain this time, but solace, comfort, hope.

The hope that he might just have a great thing in front of him worth changing his ways for.

While Zoro was having a revelation, you were having a war with yourself.

There was this monstrous fire harbored inside of you for so long. Zoro woke that fire and there was no telling of the destruction it could cause this time, especially with so many unsaid things lingering in the air. So many unshared feelings. Because he stood still like the sea washing on the beach instead of doing something. Anything.

Please, Zoro, your eyes begged but he wouldn't look at you.

He was danger, screamed your mind. The danger that you got too comfortable. That this was wrong and you put up the 'no vacancy' sign on the doors to your heart way too soon.

Let me in, your heart screamed, blood in your veins trembling in anger.

One rapid thump of your heartbeat drowned in the silence.

Two more passed and he stood still, gaze set on the ground.

On the third one, you made your mind up.

Before tears could well up in your eyes, you turned around with the intention of bolting out through the same door he carried you through not that long ago.

Sensing movement, he caught sight of you shaking your head, that pout he hated back on your lips. He hurt you. Because he was a fucking idiot who couldn't do words.

But he could do actions. He was willing to do even more to prove to you that this was right and it wasn't all just in your head. That he felt it too.

It only took you taking two fast strides in the direction of the door for him to make up his mind too.

"Then let me make it real," he caught your hand and pulled you to him, crashing his lips onto yours for the first time since that night at the club, kissing you like his life depended on your very own lips moulding to his own.

You felt the desperation, the anguish, the need. All of it to have you close and to feel you in more ways than one. Everything you've been feeling for the past month, hope, passion, the beginning of love, spilling from his lips onto yours. He was telling you everything he kept to himself with each desperate tug at your lip and you received every word.

The last time he kissed you was over a month ago, pressured by the new year's kiss tradition. Back then, he tasted like alcohol and his cologne. But now, he tasted like everything you've been waiting for. And you had a hunch he waited just as long for it.

Once you were past the shock of it, you kissed him back even harder, lips finally moving in sync with his. He got a rough hold of your waist and pulled you even closer to deepen the kiss. One of his hands tangled in your curls exactly the way he wanted to since he saw you at your apartment.

He wanted to be selfish. Let that monstrosity of his heart pour out all of those feelings to you. But he reminded himself he had to take it slow with you. So he let go with a small tug at your lower lip, spurring the eagerness inside of your tummy for more.

You pulled apart but remained close, foreheads touching in bliss. Though short, this kiss was sweeter and more meaningful than any chocolate box you could ever get. It was everything you needed to know what his heart held inside and how much more of him you still had to see.

He let you in.

"I wanted to do this for so long," he breathed haggardly, like you stole away all the air in his lungs with just one kiss. A kiss that was so long overdue.

"Why didn't you?" you voiced the question that's been hanging by a thread all night.

"I didn't know how you felt about me."

"You're such an idiot. But you're my idiot."

Shaking your head against his, you pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt and kissed him again, this time with more fervour. You wanted to make sure he understood where your feelings stood, where you wanted this to go and that you let him be in total control of it. Because losing control with Zoro was surrendering to a higher power. One that your heart loved being handled by.

You carved your own feelings into the way you held onto his cheeks and nibbled on his lips in unsated hunger, trying to put the torment, want and devotion you felt for him over the past month and a half into a language that he could understand.

And he understood.

Tapping your thigh, you got the message and jumped up into his strong arms that wrapped around you like a curtain of safety.

Your safety net.

He ripped yours apart to become it.

He held you to him so easily as he navigated through the furniture maze in his living room, taking off into a long corridor, all the while his lips discovered new grounds with yours. He didn't want to waste any more time if it involved you.

Zoro didn't care if this would end up being a fucked up disaster on his part, but he held back enough from showing you how he really feels. It was time he made things right with you.

You.

It was only you.

There didn't need to be anyone else for him.

Just you.

His hold tightened around you as he rounded a corner, not for security but to brand the feel of your being in his hands, to realize that he was finally holding you, feeling you where you were supposed to be all along.

Heavens, how much he longed for this. Your presence wouldn't dare to leave his thoughts just like he never left yours. Oh, he knew of the ardor your eyes held inside and was well aware of what ran around in your head because he let those same movies play in his own around the clock, early day into late night. Maybe he didn't let it be known, not like you did in wistful glances or pink tinted cheeks, but there were signs.

In the way his jaw ticked in disgust at every man who set their eyes on you every time you went out shopping, to the point he was ready to have an MME match if they stared too long. Or how his hand twitched to grab yours whenever you sat too close, the need to lace them together and press you flat against the couch in your apartment overriding his senses. And his mouth. Oh, his mouth. It wanted nothing but to taste every inch of you, everywhere you touched him and riled him up, every time your eyes drifted down to his lips, until there was nothing left to taste.

Hell would freeze over before that happened.

Kicking the door to his room open, he shut it just as swiftly, maneuvering your back to the nearest wall, moonlight the only thing illuminating the room. The cold wall cooled your burning skin, a breathy gasp leaving your throat right into his mouth with a kiss. He let go of your back, hands searching for your palms, pushing them against the wall beside your head. His mouth never left yours, exploring every depth, rise and sigh escaping you.

He hooked you higher up the wall with every kiss, atoning for every missed opportunity over the past month. Your legs tangled harsher around his torso, tugging him even closer as he pressed against you with all his might, feeling all of him and none of him at the same time.

Close just wasn't enough for any of you.

You needed closer. Attached. Intimate.

Soul on soul.

Patience wasn't your virtue at all tonight. You clawed at his hands, needy unlike anyone has ever made you. Except Zoro. Your head was filled with him. You were breathing him in and it still wasn't enough.

In one breath you were unglued from the cold wall and put down on the comfy edge of his bed, separated from his lips and from him. You whined at the loss of feeling him against you, ready to argue that having him kiss you mattered more than whatever had him lose the tempo. Although that need turned into anticipation just as fast once your eyes focused on his kneeling form before you.

Roronoa Zoro, on his knees, for you, eyes darker than the blackness of the night. That vulnerability looked lethal.

Those eyes. You could drown in them for a lifetime if they asked you to.

"Zoro," you sighed, chest rising up and down, expectant of his next move.

Oh, how he loved the sound of his name rolling off your lips. Usually so contained in the form of a sarcastic remark or to warn him to watch it.

Now, it was tuned to demand for his attention. And he wanted to make sure you got all of it.

One of his hands extended to your leg, calloused fingers trailing up the arch, circling mindfully around your wounded heel to hold it up to his lips. He pressed them to the inside of your ankle, slow and steady, eyes fixed on yours as you took in a sharp breath. The intensity of his unwavering gaze alone made heat pool between your legs.

Flutters rose in crescendos inside your belly at each kiss and there was no stopping them from roaming free. Not when he was watching your every response like your body was the eighth wonder of the world.

Your hands fell beside you, feeling the softness of his duvet to ground you as you closed your eyes to relish in the moment. Focusing on how plush his mouth felt on your skin on two different extremities. Wondering how they would feel on the rest of your body.

Unspoken but present in the air, that wish was his command.

His fingers trailed higher, past your calf, under your knee, roughly tugging you closer to the edge. Your dress bunched up your thighs as his fingers continued their perusal to reach the small of your back. Slowing his pace, he traced the dip in your spine all the way between your shoulder blades, your back arching involuntarily. Still on his knees, he moved closer between your legs as those fingers circled on your nape, pulling you down to meet his mouth halfway in another kiss, more fiery than the last.

This one sputtered with flames of passion. So much that you couldn't contain yourself anymore.

Your hands shot out to undo the buttons of his shirt. Frustrated with the top ones you just dug your fingers in the holes and pulled it open, poor buttons flying to the floor with a pang, interrupting your fast breaths. He broke apart from your lips to assess the damage only to find his chest half-exposed to your itching hands.

"That was vintage."

"I'll get you another one but I want it off, now," you muttered in a breath, grabbing his face to devour him. You couldn't get enough of how he tasted and every breath for air asked for another taste.

Hooking one hand around your back, he lifted you up and hauled you to the middle of the bed. His lips connected with the side of your mouth, dragging the bottom lip you liked biting so much between his teeth. He was just as annoyed at your dress, desperately looking for ways to feel more of you as he fisted the ends until they creased.

"I want this off too," he groaned, pulling on the skirt impatiently.

Said and done.

You sat up, letting the straps fall off your shoulders, pulling the material over your head to leave you in your undergarments. He licked his lips taking you in. The ferocity of his stare alone drinking you in like his normal glass of whiskey made tremors dance on your skin.

And he didn't even properly touch you yet. You weren't even sure you would survive his touch. The good thing was, you were about to find out.

"What now, loverboy?"

The nickname came out way more playful than you intended it to. It was enough to provoke him in ways that will damage you for anyone else. Ways that will tie his existence to your very own, unable to ever untie it.

"I'm gonna have you like no one has ever dared to before and no one will," he spoke, so deep that your buds prickled against the air at the gravel in his voice. "By the time I'm done with you, you're gonna wish you didn't test my patience for so long."

That turned you on even more. At the need present in him matching the same level of want flowing in your body.

He kicked the rest of his clothes off. Your eyes stopped at the huge package that laid under his clothes, a Greek god in the flesh and balls. They then lingered from the sculpted thighs you were so envious of, to his defined middle where you lost count of his packs and chest, going up to the arched bow of his collar bones, stopping at the plump lips that rushed to capture your own again. This time, he bit your lower lip for access to explore the rest of your mouth, tongues tangling in a dance of their own on the same rapid rhythm your hearts were beating in.

A hand sneaked under your back to lift you higher, pressing your chest flush to his, feeling all the shapes of his muscles against your own. His lungs breathed with yours. Your hearts came alive.

His lips left your mouth, moving down your jaw, prodding under it, heading to your collar bones in hungry fire. They left a burning trail in their wake, stretching tingles even to the edge of your shoulders where he pressed softer ones.

Kiss, lick and bite was his mantra that he repeated against your skin. He wanted to claim you tonight, more viciously than a wolf in heat would claim his mate.

Trailing down, he laid small and large kisses on your sternum, between your mounds. His palms sat on either side of your waist, rubbing circles to tease you more. Damn his teasing.

Feeling his lips, his hands and his torso pressed to you all at once turned your breathing erratic, saprking electric shocks inside of you. He was everywhere, taking your control away. Your eyes darted closed to find some kind of anchor besides fisting his sheets.

"Eyes on me, angel," he commanded and in a second your eyes snapped back to his.

He stopped just above your navel, waiting for you to catch your breath. That was a luxury. Once he was sure you were following, he continued all the way down to your lower stomach where the band of your panties stuck to you uncomfortably. Your breath hitched when he stopped there, blowing above where you needed him most, only to move down to your inner thighs, nipping on the softer skin with that amused smirk of his gracing the outline of his mouth.

He was trying to push you over the edge on purpose.

Fuck that.

One swift push and he fell backwards on the bed. You climbed on top to take the reigns and gain some control back. Little did you know that having you straddling him like that bid the beast inside of him alive.

You moved butterfly kisses from the crook of his neck, down his toned pecs. His hand latched in your hair, grabbing a tight hold around your curls, destroying them like he wanted to do all night. The pressure on your scalp pulled a moan from you just as you bit into his abdomen heaving a groan from him, his other hand digging into your waist as he raised up to meet your neck. He bit and pulled on it too, turning your insides to mush.

Sitting up with you on your kness, he hooked a finger on each side of your panties and ripped them apart down the middle with that shit-eating grin. You choked on every remnant of sanity as he threw the shreds to the side leaving you naked, fully naked, exactly like he wanted you.

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you moved to his lap, legs parted to cage him into your space. One look of confirmation that this was still what you both wanted had you sink down on him at once.

He was big. Collosal almost. He felt bigger than you thought you could take. Eyes closed, it took you a moment to get your bearings back but once you did, you felt him everywhere. His upper thighs supported the rest of your weight. His hands circled around you, both grabbing and holding you upright. His cherry wine-infused breath fanned the side of your neck.

And his eyes? Waiting for you as you opened yours. One look at them and your hips started rolling on autopilot. Every swing buried him deeper, further, closer to where your being called for him. And he let you have it. Letting you ravish his gear the way you liked it, feeling him stretch you sore.

His mouth went back to his mantra. Kissing the crook of your neck, licking it right in the middle and biting it hard enough to leave a bruise. To mark you as his. His and his only.

You gripped his shoulders, shifting to get a better position as your hips started getting tired. Silently, you cursed yourself for ditching gym with him because you didn't know how much stamina riding him would take out of you.

You were close and from how he gripped your waist to help your rhythm, pulling them faster front and back, he was too. He stopped nibbling on your neck, moving to your lips to swallow your quiet moans. He had to make them louder.

You rolled your hips until you couldn't find the energy to push into him anymore. He took that as his chance to take over again.

He pulled out, turning you around as he spread you on all fours. Your hands landed on the bedpost to support you as he climbed behind you. He laid kisses from your lower back all the way to your left shoulder where his lips brushed your ear just as his tip lightly caressed your opening. His warm breaths foreshadowed sin on your skin, making you wetter by the second.

And he entered you. One, two, three pumps and he got accustomed to your tightness just as you did with his size stretching you out. He bit the side of your neck with every thrust, sending your conscious into oblivion, chasing that high together.

Every moan you withheld from him earned you a deeper thrust. He wanted to hear you in all your glory. Wanted to know how badly you wanted him, not just like this but in every way.

In your lost haze, you ended up on your back closer to release. Entering you roughly, he pounded in you so fast you were seeing stars, head rolling to the side in complete ecstasy. His hand grabbed your jaw, tilting your field of vision back to him.

His free hand grabbed your hand for the millionth time tonight, placing it on the messy sheet beside your head, fingers smoothly sliding through yours as he kissed away all of your sighs. Your other hand climbed from deep down his waist to his upper back, hard rock muscles rippling under your touch like a stone thrown on the surface of a still river, disturbing its peace, turning it turbulent and wild. Waking up every primal urge in him as he groaned in your neck.

He accelerated, twitching inside of you and you came, letting your insides explode into a mess as he continued chasing his own high. He wasn't done with you yet, thumb rushing to rub another climax out of you as he was close to his own. His mouth bit into your breasts, grazing your buds one at a time, pulling on them in a way that added to your pleasure way more than the last one.

You gripped him again, tighter, and in no time you both came furiously, spilling everything you held back out onto that mattress. He pulled out, letting his seed fly onto your stomach.

You tried to catch your breath. It was gone somewhere between ecstasy and what laid beyond euphoria. He left to clean himself up, returning with a token of aftercare for you. He wiped his mess off of you, gentle and attentive to get everything off. Once he was done, he got in next to you, pulling you close.

You both just sat there for a while, reflecting on everything that happened. You still felt him inside of you, on you, above you, behind you. He managed to ruin you.

His voice cleared the quiet, making you focus back on the real world for a bit.

"You okay?"

"I just got fucked to oblivion. I would say fantastic but I can't feel my legs."

He chuckled. He would never fail to love your sarcasm. Even in moments like these.

"Did I go too hard?" he asked, not sarcastically but wanting to know if it was too much. If he went harder than he should have.

Looking at the vines of love bites he left on the entirety of your neck, the smudged makeup that looked almost natural, and your tousled messy hair, hard couldn't encapsulate it better. You would've said "you could've gone harder" but that meant urging him on another round and you were spent for tonight. So, you laid your head in the crook of his neck and closed your eyes, releasing a content breath, a silent confirmation that you were okay.

A single thought passed through your head - this was all kinds of right. Your once in a lifetime right time right place, as cheesy as it sounded. Maybe cheesy was good.

He was in his head thinking everything through in his own way, breaking down the once intense feelings into little flurries of emotion buzzing inside of him. That passion masked itself as denial for way too long. But tonight, you held his face and took that mask off, giving him clarity and he was able to feel something else.

Something close to love, he thought, chuckling to himself.

You cracked one eye open, taken aback at his sudden cheerfulness. One look at his face bathed in the glow of the moon and you saw him beaming.

"What are you so smiley about?"

He just shook his head, smile widening like a Cheshire cat that's been caught up to no good.

"Nothing."

Taking it upon yourself, you got up from his side with slow moves and straddled his waist, getting his attention back on you.

"Tell meeeee," you stretched, poking your fingers through every dent in his abs until he told you.

"What are you gonna do for it?"

Not this again.

Actually, this time, you knew what he wanted. A kiss. So, you just leaned over and caught his lips sweetly, smiling into it. His hand came to cup your face, smiling back. He pulled away, soft praline orbs gazing at you warmly.

"What if I still don't want to tell you?"

"Zoro, stop playing with me," you complained, slapping his chest.

"Okay. Okay," he held his hands up in surrender.

He sat up to lean on the headboard and get a better look at you - his ruined shirt hugged your smaller form, running all the way to your thighs. The marks of his feelings that he still couldn't utter decorated you everywhere. You sat back on his lap, arms crossed on your chest, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm not one to do feelings," he started, eyes darting down in thinking. "But you changed that."

Your eyes stayed focused on him, softening at his words.

You knew that he was a reserved person, keeping to his corner rather than reaching out into other people's. Until he found something worth thrusting his hand out at full speed to get it. Something worth hanging onto with his teeth.

As he connected his eyes with yours, brown blazing fire burning as bright and consuming as yours, it dawned upon you that something was you.

He was trying. For you.

"You were right. I am an idiot," he paused, fiddling with the ends of his shirt beside your calf. "It took me so long to figure it out but now I know."

Your heart started running when his hand held yours and brought it to sit on top of his own, running just as fast in his chest. Though the rate of yours spiraled out of control at the honesty of his incoming confession.

"I think I'm in love with you."

Your head spun, blinking in confusion at him.

"Am I hallucinating or did you just say the L word?"

"Yes. I did just say the L word," he nodded, confirming that he felt the same for you.

Before you could breathe it through, you leaned in for another kiss. He deepened the kiss trying to reach every corner of you. Wanting to both take his time and rushing to taste every part of you.

Breathless. Serene. And everything in between.

"I take it you love me back?" he asked, needing you to say those words back to him.

Your heart did flips at the way the word sounded coming from him. It dripped with honey and warmth.

"A little more than love," you grinned. "You do realise that I won't be able to stop it, right?"

"I don't want you to."

"Great," you clapped your hands together. "Because I will become so annoying."

He howled a laugh, throwing his head back, the sound you loved so much making you laugh too.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

You leaned down connecting your lips for the millionth time tonight. But you still couldn't get used to them or to the fact that your heart called out his name and his answered back calling out just as loud.

Falling forward into his arms, you sank like a ship happily waiting to meet its end in the depths of the ocean that was him. Because no ocean was deeper and so familiar to swim through than your Zoro.

He kissed the crown of your head, pulling you closer. Happy felt like an impossible destination until he held you to him like this, safe and warm in his embrace. He felt a tinge of it and he wanted more.

"Are you tired-"

Before the question even left his mouth properly, his eyes drifted to the steady rise and fall of your chest, drained body curled into him tightly, head tucked into the crook of his neck, chest pressed to his.

She's drooling again, he chuckled to himself, moving some hair away from your face so you wouldn't inhale it. You sat like a baby coddled in its mother's arms, but your position looked a little uncomfortable.

He pulled your feet from under you to get you in a better posture. Moving his arms around you, he got more cozy, drawing the covers over the both of you and let the night come to an end.

Birds chirped announcing a new day, with the sea singing the same tune as its waves crashed in a swirl outside. The morning sun peaked through the curtains, its soft rays caressing the top of your head, willing you to wake up.

The first thing you felt was your cheek pressed against something plush. A pillow. The pillows I fell asleep on last night were way better.

You rolled around the bed trying to find some more sleep when the thought of last night sparked your brain like the tip of a vinyl record player, making memories play faster than your sleepy mind could catch up to.

Lips kissing on every part of your skin available to sight, carving themselves on the hidden ones. Hands caressing your body like a holy prayer, thought but never uttered. Eyes making secret promises with yours in the darkened moonlight.

You turned on your back and opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the light in the room. The fluffy duvet fell to your lap as you sat up, stretching your sore limbs with a groan. Everything ached but in a good way.

Pulling the covers away, you folded them neatly on the bed and took in the space in the light of day. The beige and green from downstairs broke off into a two-tone sandy beige and a cotton white on the floor and the walls. It truly felt like home. And smelt like it too. That musky vanilla you liked so much enveloping you, mostly from his shirt.

After a steamy shower that your skin welcomed fully, you stopped in front of the mirror to see just what he drew on you last night. You traced the red marks down your body, feeling the ghost of his lips like he was kissing and biting those places again and again. He didn't need any words after all.

Rummaging through his wardrobe, you stole a t-shirt, fitting like a dress on you, and a pair of pants that barely wanted to stay on your waist. You had to roll them up and double tie the strings for them to sit still.

Taking to the long corridor, you followed the sunlit path and looked for your partner in crime. You found him in the kitchen, handling an egg carton, preparing for what looked like the Zoro Special - omelete with a bunch of side dishes and orange juice - or Champions' Breakfast as he called it.

He had his back turned to you, busy chopping up some tomatoes. You sneaked behind him, trying to be quick and silent on your feet, planning to jump him. You rounded the marble top of the island, grinning that stealth was on your side, only to get caught between his arms. He already sensed you from when you entered the kitchen so your surprise attack was doomed from the start.

Unpredictable like a breeze of the wind, he picked you up, placing you on the island as strong arms planted on each side, caging you in his space. He took one look at you, recognizing his clothes draped loosely on you, messy bun on top of your head and his heart did flips again.

"Fancy seeing you here," you said, shying away from his gaze. It looked hungry and not for any damn food.

"I could say the same," he spoke, raspy voice sending tingles down your spine. He studied you some more, lips perking up in amusement. "Trying to sneak up on me?"

"Maybeeeee," you played with the hem of his shirt. "What are you making?"

"My special-"

His words got caught in his throat as you laid your chin on the crown of his chest and looked up at him with the softest eyes he's ever seen, all his resolve crumbling to the depths of the fucking universe.

It was truly a wonder to him - how you could go from one extreme to the other, being both adorable and sexy at the same time.

"Can I be your special?" you asked, voice sweeter than candy.

"I wouldn't mind that," he smirked, leaning down to capture your lips in a slow morning peck quicker than you would've liked it to be.

As if on cue, your stomach made a noise of complaint that the pizza you made together last night got digested.

"Let's get some food in you," he said, patting it tenderly.

"Do I get to assist on the special?"

"You get to watch the special," he rubbed his hands together and got started.

Pre-heating a pan on the hob, he held a knife in one hand and an egg in the other. Your eyebrow lifted up in curiosity as he held the knife horizontally to put the egg on top of it, balancing it side to side. With a confident grin your way, he flicked the handle and launched the egg in the air swiftly turning the knife sharp-edge upwards, just in time to catch the egg right in the middle, separating its contents from the cracked shell successfully. The egg sizzled in the pan while your mouth sat agape, shook at the skills he was pulling.

"You really are the gift that keeps on giving."

"So I've been told," he said cockily, flicking imaginary dust off his shoulder. You hopped off the island and elbowed him playfully, settling beside him to watch the magic omelet take shape.

Once enough eggs were cooked, he arranged the plates. He cleaned up his working space and leaned in for a kiss you dodged on purpose. That brought an ambush of kisses on your face, from your forehead to your cheeks, your eyes, your nose, your jaw and your lips. Everywhere he wanted to leave his affection on you.

You managed to shimmy out of his grip and bolted out in the living room, through the open glass door on the beach. The wind blew cold, waking you up like coffee, making your heart thunder. He followed right behind you just like the night you met, leaving your footprints in the sand. Though this time he caught up to you way quicker, whisking you up in the air and spinning you until your stomach hurt from laughing.

The sound of your laugh filled his ears in the most beautiful way possible. And something else clicked in his head. He wanted that to be the first thing he heard every morning, every day, until you got sick of him.

He placed your feet back on the sand and brought you closer, waves crashing next to you like the beat of his heart. He had to give it a shot no matter what. So, without letting any other thoughts cloud his decision, he just asked.

"Do you want to move in with me?"

OH, boy.

Thank you for reading :)

[eth-edwards-73]

Te amo

Hector Fort x reader warnings: none (all pictures are from pinterest) (Spanish translations in end note)

liked by hctorforrt_, marcguiu9 and 192.374 others yourusername my boy <33 tagged: hctorforrt_

hctorforrt_ amore mio <33 > liked by creator

fan91 I don’t get how he got her

fan7 he’s so arrogant and she’s so sweet

fan78 she deserves so much better

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You could see Hector deflate beside you as the comments came in. You two had been dating for a year, public for 5 months now, both of you knew that there would be some hate but it hadn’t gone down even after 5 months. All the hate came from your fans and you hated how bad they made your boyfriend feel. Just seeing him sad like that made you furious but your manager wouldn’t let you post anything telling the fans off.

In your eyes and the eyes of all the people that really know Hector he is the sweetest person ever and yes he does have confidence but he’s definitely not arrogant. He was the best boyfriend you could ever wish for, taking in account every single thing you felt and you hated that some of your fans couldn’t see that. 

You truly were getting desperate to finally speak out about the matter so you angrily texted your manager, telling her that this couldn’t go on and that you didn’t care if you lost fans for defending your boyfriend, because he was hurting and you didn’t want that.

Finally, after months of begging your manager agreed so you selected some of your favorite photos with Hector and created a post, drafting a caption and sending it to your manager, she agreed and you copied it into insta. After that you perfected it a little, asked Hector if he was fine with you posting it and then posted it when you got the green light from your boyfriend.

liked by bbfusername, hctorforrt_ and 293.019 others

yourusername So since my relationship has gone public both Hector and me have been getting nasty comments on our insta posts and tbh i’m done with this

Hector is the sweetest person i’ve ever met and in the year and two months that we’ve been together i’ve never been happier. He manages to always put a smile on others and my face without problems. Yes he’s confident but he’s not arrogant, not even close to it and I hate that you’re all just assuming that he is when you don’t even know him. He’s the best boyfriend I could ever ask for and I don't want anyone other than him. He had done so much for me, from helping me find ideas for videos and music, to taking me out on the perfect dates and giving me everything I could ever want.

There are no words for how much I love and care for him, being with him has been a dream come true. And to all my supposed fans that hate on him, i don’t consider you a fan because if you were you’d support Hector and me. All of the people that have left comments talking bad about Hector are just as bad as my haters and there is no excuse that can make me think differently. 

Y finalmente para Héctor, tú eres la luz de mi vida y no estaría donde estoy ahora mismo sin ti. No podía imaginar lo que haría si te perdiera. Te amo ahora y para siempre <33

tagged: hctorforrt_

bffusername istg you two are the cutest <3 > liked by creator and hctorforrt_

hctorforrt_ te amo <33 > liked by creator > yourusername yo también te quiero

marcguiu9 Nunca lo he visto tan feliz como cuando está contigo > liked by creator and hctorforrt_

ursistersusername i want someone that looks at me like that :( > liked by creator

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liked by yourusername, bbfusername and 92.182 others hctorforrt_ Te quiero más que a nada ❤️ tagged: yourusername

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm really happy with how this one turned out but just to be sure imma put the translations from the Spanish here

Y finalmente para Héctor, tú eres la luz de mi vida y no estaría donde estoy ahora mismo sin ti. No podía imaginar lo que haría si te perdiera. Te amo ahora y para siempre: And finally for Hector, you are the light of my life and I wouldn’t be where I am right now without you. I couldn’t imagine what I would do if I lost you. I love you now and forever

Nunca lo he visto tan feliz como cuando está contigo: I’ve never seen him so happy as when he’s with you

Te quiero más que a nada: I love you more than anything

I hope you all enjoy it too and i love y'all <33

[thepenultimateword]

Lotus

CW: coroner examination, blood, injury mention, mention of murder, harassment and stalking mention, body description

Civilian tried not to throw up as he lifted the sheet. Not because of the purple hue of livor mortis, all the blood long pooled to the victim's back and the heels of their feet, nor because of the 23 violent stab wounds littering their gut, insides now nothing more than a gooey, shredded mess. No, the real reason he felt so nauseous was the victim's face. He knew that face. In fact, he’d seen it only yesterday when it ambushed him outside his office. Sneering, too close, the hot, floral stench of their breath on his cheek.

Now it lay lifeless.

“I wasn’t aware they died,” Civilian said, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.

“Hasn't hit the news yet,” the chief police officer said. It figured they'd send the boss to deliver the remains on such a sensitive murder case. “Imagine the headline: Superhero Murdered: Killer Unknown and At Large.” It will be an uproar. Superhero was supposed to be the most powerful person alive, if it gets out that someone took them out... The public is going to panic. Not to mention all the villains who might make an attempt on the city without the opposition. I don't even want to think about Supervillain."

Civilian saw the implication in the officer's hard, over-the-glasses stare.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," he said dryly. "That would be unprofessional in any case. Being a hero doesn't change anything."

"Of course," the chief said, probably also hiding his real emotions. The police force's backbone had shattered and crumbled a long time ago. Probably the day Superhero came to the city and took control. None of them were equipped to deal with the type of criminals that narcissist had been keeping at bay. "So. Besides the obvious. How do you think...this...er...came about?"

Civilian turned to his tray of tools, straightening the knives, saws and forceps into even rows. "I need to give a full autopsy before I can give any cause of death."

"Ok, just give me a surface-level first impression then. "

Civilian sighed. "Didn't you have a medical examiner at the scene?"

"I've heard you're better."

Civilian really just felt like collapsing on the ground and breaking down. To get this confusing rush of relief and guilt under control. However, he had a sneaking suspicion that the chief wasn't going anywhere until he got something. Civilian tried not to feel too discouraged that the force was in a low enough place to be relying on him for leads.

He walked around to the other side of the table, gluing his eyes to the wounds instead of the face. If he could pretend this was just any other body, he would be fine.

"I mean, the stab wounds are a start. 23. That's an excessive amount. So it was personal. It's entirely possible it's no deeper than that. Someone got mad, and...bam."

"I could have told you that,” the officer said, index finger stuttering rapidly against his belt. “The question is how? If none of Superhero's enemies could kill them in the past, how did they do it now? The crime scene didn't even show a significant struggle."

Civilian rolled his eyes. Superhero wasn't a god. Just because they were big and powerful and felt like they could dominate everything and everyone around them, didn't mean they were perfect. Just because no one knew how to stop him didn’t mean there was never a way. At least…they’d always hoped there was a way.

"No need to be testy,” he said. “I’m just doing what you asked. Like I said, I need a full autopsy to know if there were drugs or other substances in their system at the time of death. Something like that could have slowed them down long enough to be attacked. Or perhaps, it was the drugs that killed them and the stabbing came later to cover it up.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know, scare tactic? I’m just spitballing. But if I could get to work…”

He motioned as politely as he could toward the door.

“Alright,” the officer said a little tightly, but he still offered Civilian a short nod before striding out of the room. Like always, the large, metal door slammed a little too hard when dropped.

Civilian collapsed immediately.

He barely caught himself in a low crouch, fingers spread flat against the cold tile. His breath came too hard and too fast, but now that the need to regulate his emotions was gone, he couldn’t seem to calm down. He hoped no one else would walk in. He didn't know how he would explain this. The best cover he could come up with was that he was afraid for the future with Superhero gone, but it would be dangerously awkward if anyone happened to hear the lie in his voice.

He honestly didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. Was it awful that he couldn’t bring himself to be sad? Superhero was a human being, someone he’d known personally, shouldn’t he feel some sort of sympathy?

Then there was the awful fact that he’d sort of wished it would happen. Every day that that monster trailed him like a lingering nightmare, in front of his workplace, outside his house, in his favorite stores, he’d wished that something might happen to them. If the law wouldn’t take care of it, then maybe one of their many fights would end badly. Or maybe a tragic accident might occur: struck dead in a lightning storm, broken neck in the shower, anything.

But Superhero had always been blessed.

Until now.

Civilian slowly uprighted himself. Guilty or not, he had a job to do. And if he didn’t want the police back down his throat, he should get started.

With a deep breath, he clicked the red button on his voice recorder.

"January 5th, 5:40 p.m., Superhero. Subject has 23 abdominal stab wounds, just below their ribs. No sign of further bruising or injury on any other part of the body." They held their magnifying lense up to the corpse's blue nails. "Not even any skin beneath the fingernails to indicate a struggle."

Civilian was relieved when they finished the external part of the examination and could get started with the internal. No need to look at the horrible familiarity of their smug jawline and forceful hands. Not only were insides less unique, but they'd carved a body so many times they could do it in their sleep, in fact, with all the inner turmoil roiling inside, the familiar monotony of the procedure was sort of relaxing. An incision here, and incision there, open up the chest cavity, remove the organs, check the weight, take some samples, bag them up, and... What was that?

Civilian squinted at the right bottom rib, smooth bone interrupted by a few jagged markings engraved large across the center. As he leaned in closer to the chest cavity, markings became letters.

STALKER

Civilian's stomach lurched.

"There....there seems to be a message carved into the subject's 12th rib, on the right side." They swallowed hard before saying the word aloud. "Stalker. Along with um…I think that’s a lotus? But with...eyes."

The symbol was unsettling, a staring eyeball carved onto each petal and staring straight into Civilain's soul. Almost like...it knew...

Civilian paused the recording and took another moment to breathe. They needed to think. What was this? A brand? A message? But for who? They glanced back at the staring lotus, quickly swiping a smear of blood over it with their thumb to block it out. It only made it worse.

Did someone know what Superhero and him? He'd never told anyone. He didn't have anyone close enough to confide in personally, and Superhero had been too prominent a figure to go public. If anyone even believed him, he'd been much to afraid of what Superhero might do to him after the fact.

Was it a coincidence that one of the only people who could examine the body intimately enough to see its ribs was...him? It wasn't like he was the only coroner in the city. The body just happened to fall into his jurisdiction based on where it was found. So unless the killer lured Superhero somewhere nearby specifically so Civilian would be the one to-- No. No, that was ridiculous. They were too close, making this all about them. More likely, Superhero had stalked more than one person.

"Someone who wasn't too soft to bite back."

Civilian was used to being alone, but suddenly he felt nervous hearing his voice squeak out against the autopsy room's empty quiet.

He cleared his throat and hit play on his recorder. "I've never seen this symbol before, but it may be a hint to whoever did this. It's the only unnatural mark I see on the body so far, but I will keep an eye out during the rest of the examination."

Civilian blabbered numbly throughout the rest of the autopsy, doing his best to keep the tremor from voice. It was easy going through the motions, it was less easy trying to block out the surge of thoughts invading his mind. There were no other marks and no other clues as to how Superhero was overwhelmed. The contents of Supehero's stomach and blood would take some time to be tested, so as unhappy as it would probably make the police chief, the only lead he was going to be able to give him was that rib. Civilian managed to transfer his old nightmare into one of the freezers and make an appointment over the phone for the chief to come back in the morning, before locking up the office and starting the trek to the bus stop.

He had to admit, even with a powerful killer on the loose, it was one of the least stressful walks he'd had in over a year. At least he knew Superhero wasn't around any of these corners now, watching his every move from the shadows, crooning soft flatteries that Civilian forced queasy smiles to in case Superhero decided to get offended and unpleasant.

He shuddered, swallowing the instinctual bile that rose in his throat at such a familiar image.

It had been flattering at first, receiving attention from someone as big as Superhero. He was no one and Superhero had deigned to look in his direction. They picked him up from work. They worried about his safety. They called him every night to ask about his day. He'd felt special. That is until the red flags started popping up: the demands, the guilt trips, the complete and utter lack of boundaries. The calls became interrogations, the walks turned intrusive, and "no" became a meaningless word.

No. Civilian was not upset Superhero was dead, and if that made him bad person, so be it.

A bus ride later, he fumbled to unlock his front door, relieved that he now had the time to fumble. As he finally got the lock to ungum and swung the door open, a little piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Someone must have slid it halfway into the door's crack.

Civilian snatched it off the cement and stepped inside, already kicking off his shoes and sliding his bag to the floor as he flipped the paper over in his hand.

5 eyes stared straight back.

Civilian yelped, dropping the paper as if it were on fire.

It landed face-up on his hallway tile, gazing up from their respective lotus petals. Underneath penned in looping letters was an phone number.

Civilian rapidly slammed the deadbolt in place, racing to the living room window and peeking up and down the walk through the blinds. A couple passed by walking their dog, but nothing suspicious.

He took a deep breath and cautiously approached the little white square, forcing himself to pick it up by the corner.

He should report this. He didn't know how to handle this alone; his best chance was the police. But...how likely was it for the same symbol to be found on both the body and a note in his own home. And with Civilian's less than pleasant history with the victim... Wouldn't that make him a suspect? But, then again, if he didn't report it and anyone found out...that would be worse.

Not that the chances of anyone finding out were high. Civilian didn't have anyone to invite over, not since their trouble with Superhero prompted them to push everyone who could possibly be used as leverage away.

Civilian stuffed the note in his pocket and headed for the kitchen. He pushed the fear way, way down, and focused on boiling water for a too-rich cup of hot chocolate that made his eyes droop when he reached the last drops. He went upstairs, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and changed into sweats and an old t-shirt. He was just about to throw the clothes into the laundry basket when he couldn't help but pull the note back out of his pants pocket.

He should have let it get damp and ruined in the wash. He should ignore it. Or throw put it back outside and pretend not to have sen it. He should not be sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling out his phone and preparing to call. But some part of him needed to know. Was there more than just him? Who were they? How did they do this? It wasn't like they didn't know where he lived already, so...

He punched in the phone number and listened with a tight stomach to the rings.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

"You called."

Civilian nearly dropped the phone at the sudden even tone. It was a woman. That much was obvious. He had been half expecting a voice changer like the criminals in the movies, but the biggest alteration to her voice was the static crackle of slightly bad connection.

"I...er...yes. Who is this?"

"A friend. At least I hope you'll come to consider me as such."

Her voice was smooth with an obvious effort to infuse some warmth to its natural chill. It reminded Civilian the thawing sheet of ice that coated the lake each spring.

"I don't have friends."

"I know."

Civilian shuddered. "I don't understand. Who are you? Why are you doing this? Did you kill Superhero? What do you want with me?"

It all spilled out in a jumbled panic they couldn’t stop. They felt sick and they probably should have hung up by now, but they had a distinct feeling that stopping now would only make them feel worse.

“Shhh,” the voice soothed. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you everything. Can we meet?”

“What?” Civilian choked incredulously. “No. No, I’m not meeting up with a killer!”

“It can be public. Anywhere you like. But if you’d rather not at all, I understand.”

What sort of a response was that? Was she really offering him an out? Did he really not have to do any of this? But what was the point of setting up this call then?

“Why?” he said.

“You might want to talk? About what happened?”

“Superhero being murdered?”

Hy couldn’t think of anything he would like less to discuss with a killer than their own murders. It seemed sort of sick. Did Civilian seem like the sort of person who got excited over those sort of topics?

“If you like. And everything Supehero did you before that.”

Civilian’s chest went cold. “How do you know about that?”

“I saw it.”

His sharp intake of breath echoed airily in the speaker.

“Not on purpose,” the woman added quickly. “I wasn’t following you. Superhero and I had a relationship that required seeing each other on a regular basis, and I happened across it in the aftermath of…work. From the way they talked, I knew they had someone, but I never imagined…”

Yeah. No one did. That has been the problem.

“Can we meet?” the woman repeated.

Civilian had to be crazy. Something must be truly , seriously wrong with his head.

“Ok.”

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, voice losing its chill entirely for just a moment. “When? Where?”

“Now? Apparently you know where I live, so how about the diner on the corner? It’s open 24/7.”

If Civilian gave himself more time to think about this he’d chicken out. And maybe that would be for the best, but at this moment he didn’t need sense. He needed this suffocating weight off his chest.

“I’ll be about 15 minutes; I wasn’t expecting you to want to meet so quickly.”

"Right, see you...um...what do you look like exactly?"

"You'll know," the woman said, and the line went dead.

Well. If Civilian died tonight, at least he got to cut up Superhero. That was more than he really could have hoped for.

He didn't bother changing out of his lounges clothes, just pulling on a pair of rubber boots and grabbing a roughly matching jacket from the coat hook before darting for the door. Last second, he rummaged out the little canister of pepper spray from his work bag. It had been purchased especially for Superhero, but he had never had the guts to use it. Maybe this time... Well, in any case, he felt safer with it sitting in his pocket.

When Civilian arrived at the diner it was all but empty. Just one couple sat at the counter sharing a disgustingly overtopped milkshake, while a pale-haired woman in a forest green coat sat tucked in a booth at the back.

Civilian drew cautiously near. "Um...hello?"

The woman looked up from her menu, revealing the five eyes lotus tattoo in the hollow of her throat.

Civilian retreated a step back, but it was too late. She grinned, stretching a long pale scar that cut from her cheekbone to the end of her chin, and those eyes...pale as ice and just as sharp. When she stood she practically radiated power. The same aura always surrounded Superhero, something unnatural, awe-inspiring, and terrifying.

Civilian recognized her almost immediately. Not because he'd ever met her in person, but from the many pictures he'd seen on tv.

"Hey," she said, waving to the open seat across from her.

"S-S-S-Supervillain."

"Told you you'd know me." Her voice then dropped back into the even tone it had carried over the phone. "Would you rather sit here, or in the next booth over? I don't want to be shouting sensitive information to the room, but I also want you to have all the space you need."

"This is fine," Civilian said, dropping into the booth. He'd never imagined Supervillain being the type to ask. Not with her dangerous reputation.

For a moment they just sat in silence, Civilian looking at his knees, Supervillain's eyes boring into the crown of his head.

"Do you want to order--"

"So you did that," Civilian interrupted. He immediately blanched. He didn't need to make himself a target for another top super.

"I did," Supervillain said calmly, not even a speck of remorse on her tongue. She didn't duck her head in shame either. She was...apparently fine with what she'd done.

"Aren't you worried I'll tell someone?" Civilian hoped desperately that didn't sound like a threat.

She shrugged. "Police will unravel it soon anyway. And I'm not too worried about their power."

Civilian nodded vaguely. If they hadn't caught Supervillain with Superhero's help, they certainly weren't going to catch her without. He wasn't sure if that she be disheartening or not, but at the moment he only felt neutral.

"And the..." Civilian mimicked writing letters in the air.

"Ah, so you did see that." She leaned forward a little in her seat. "I just called it as I see it. Call it a statement to the public. How long were they doing this to you?"

"A little over a year..."

"That scum." Her pale eyes narrowed and Civilian got the feeling if she could kill Superhero all over again, she would.

Civilian swallowed. "Excuse me, Miss--"

"Miss? That's cute. Just call me Supervillain."

"Supervillain." It tasted strange on their tongue, but not exactly bad. "Why, if I can ask, did you do it? How did you do it?"

"How is easy," Supervillain shrugged. "I've always been stronger. I've only held myself back because together we kept the city balanced. But when it came down to it, it wasn't too hard for me to punch through their steel skin.

"As for why..." Her icy eyes softened. “They were bothering you. So I got rid of them.”

Civilian blinked. "But you don't even know--"

"I didn't have to. It was wrong. Even I wouldn't be so vile, and I'm the expert on the wrong. I saw someone who needed a way out of a terrible trap. One with only one possible escape route."

“Th-thank you.” Civilian squeezed the legs of his sweats in his fists, blinking rapidly to keep back the tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his chin up to stare Supervillain directly in the eyes. "Thank you."

Supervillain smiled. "You're welcome. Do you... want to talk? Or order something? I find it's easier to get words out when I have something else to distract me."

Civilian quickly ordered a large stack of strawberry and banana pancakes. He told her everything.

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer r @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart t @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince

[phonkscribes]

Please write loser Wesker fantasizing about the reader but the games open so they're like "what are you doing lol" and hes like "NO!! NOTHING!!! NOT AT ALL!!"

Here you go! I made it kinda sappy, sorry if it's not what you were hoping for but I got inspired from a fic I read on ao3. Minor angst and comfort in this post of the Loser Wesker AU!

He opened the game, but not to play it. Today had been a particularly rough for him, given that he'd managed to get a bad grade on a test he was so sure he'd ace. His father was harsh, talking down to him about how he disappointed him when he knew he could've done better than that. Wesker knew that too, he was perfect-- he was supposed to be, but this put a blight on his record. Albert didn't like that at all, because he'd obsess over it, whether he wanted to or not. It'd sit in the back of his head like a tumor, and the longer he stares at you, the longer you wonder what has him in such a mood.

You wouldn't say such harsh things to him, you wouldn't have cared because at the end of it all, he was still brilliant and still great. He could look into your eyes for hours, tracing his pupils along your pixelated irises and sclera. He imagines what it'd be like if you were real. If you were here besides him. Your arms are quite strong, even for a silly old game, the developers did an impeccable job. He thinks about what it'd be like to find them wrapped around his body, pulling him into a firm hug. You think he forgets that you're not a mindless machine trapped within the confines of his computer, but in fact very sentient.

Silly boy.

You decide to not say anything, only raising your brow as per usual in your idle stance within the character select screen. Wesker lowers his head to the desk with a longing sigh, his lips pursed into a thin line as he extends his hand to his monitor. His hand ghosts the side of the screen, just out of sight from your field of view. Your hand would feel warm against his own, he bets. Albert thinks that it'd be overwhelming, startling because he's never had the privilege with someone who's grown as close to him as you have. Which is laughable because you don't know that yet, you're sure he has other people of whom he turns to confide. The silence that fills his room is only disrupted by the character select theme and his breathing, which irritates you. You weren't meant to sit still and look pretty.

You're a genetically modified being, constructed by your own will to enact your will. You're a god amongst gods, a ruler over the feeble sheep and slaughterer of the lambs who dare to rise up. What could he possibly be thinking of that has him so remotely lost? What could it be that has him staring at you so openly? Has the fool lost his shame at last?

"Albert", your tone is sharp, and it startles him from his little day dreaming, "Why are you wasting my time today?", you bark, but it's not in that condescending, holier-than-thou attitude that he's grown so used to.

You're... concerned. Which is touching, truly, but it still manages to catch him off guard. Wesker tries to regain his composure right after he had lost it, clearing his throat and acting casual.

"Er- sorry... I was just thinking about something", he replies quickly.

Your brow furrows, but you smirk, because it must involve you somehow. There's scarcely anything that doesn't involve you in his life at the moment. You're honored to have such a devout servant, even if he's quite pathetic at times. The way that you're looking at him makes him hold his breath, because Wesker figures you're about to ask him about just what that was.

"About?"

"Nothing important, I can assure you"

"Albert... do not lie to me", you soften your gaze and he feels like he's being pulled in. The color of his cheeks darken, which stirs something in you.

You like messing with him, the reactions he has are adorable, but you weren't doing that now. You wait for him to respond as you sit down, trying to level yourself with him. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes again as he takes a deep breath. He's thankful for his shades, otherwise this would be much harder if you could see him cry. He doesn't want to cry in front of you again, now that you were sentient and could see it.

The only thing that he keeps to himself is that he wants to so badly be within your arms, that he wants to hold onto you and never let go, to be saved from the high expectations, and to be at your side. There's only so much that you could tell another person, much less you.

[jmagnabo92]

GGSB Fest 2024 - New, Hot Professor

@goodgodfathersiriusblack

Prompt - Professor Sirius

When Sirius returns after the war is over, McGonagall surprises him with a job offer for Harry's redo of his seventh year, which Harry is happy about until the girls try to use him so that they can get close to the new, hot professor.

AO3

***

“I’m sorry, you want me to teach?” Sirius asks, looking unbelievably at McGonagall.  “I’ve only been back like ten seconds, and I really just want to spend time with my godson –”

“Which is why you’re perfect as my successor,” McGonagall states.  “You’d have the opportunity to spend even more time with Harry once he’s returned to school.”

“Yeah, but I – I mean, he’d be in the dorms…”

“He could choose to stay with you in your rooms if he’d like?” McGonagall offers.  “I suppose with the attention he’ll gather; he might prefer some privacy.”

Sirius can’t deny that.  Harry has been rather… determined… to be out of the spotlight and was contemplating not returning to Hogwarts at all due to feeling like he’d be some sort of spectacle.  

“Okay, let me talk it over with Harry and… I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

***

“You’ll be at Hogwarts?” Harry asks, delightedly, that night when Sirius had told him of the meeting with McGonagall.  “We could stay together in your quarters?”

“Er, yeah.  That’s the offer – if you’re okay with it?”

“It would make me feel a lot better about returning – having you there.”

“Well, alright then, I guess I get to be a professor.”

“Brilliant!”

***

Harry’s grinning from ear to ear as Sirius is announced as the Transfiguration Professor in place of McGonagall, who’s now Headmistress.  He’s so happy to have Sirius here.  This past summer had done them both a world of good when it came to recovering, but Harry could admit that he still felt like he needed Sirius’ presence at times.  Someone to just be Harry with and someone who loves him for him.  

It's perfect.  

He’s so excited.

Well, until he hears the girls all chattering about how hot Sirius is and the things that they would love to do with him. 

Lavender, even being brave enough to ask Harry, “Hey, Harry, do you think the hot professor might be into breaking some rules together?”

He nearly gags on his food as Ron and Neville pat him on the back.

“Er, Lavender, you realize that’s my godfather, right?  He’s been like my parent – I don’t really want to be thinking about that kind of stuff.”

“Oh, come on, he’s young and hot, and he probably hasn’t gotten any action since before Azkaban –”

He does gag at that.  “I am so leaving this conversation.”

Then he moves as far away from Lavender as possible.

***

Of course, it doesn’t stop there.  So many of the girls around him kept trying to be his friend to be around the ‘new hot professor’ or get detention with him just so they could spend more time with Sirius.  

It frustrates Harry to no end.

“How is this worse than when they thought I was a cheat or deranged?” Harry groans as he plops down on the settee in their sitting room.  

Sirius chuckles.  “You don’t find this funny at all?”

“Clearly, you do.”

“Well, I admit – it’s nice to be considered attractive after all that time in Azkaban.  Plus, at least no one’s bothering you about the war and things?” Sirius offers, a smug smile on his lips.  

Harry huffs.  “I suppose that is better, but you should hear some of the things they want to do to you – it’s all… “ he gags.  “… I don’t want to hear about that stuff.”

“Sorry, kid.  Just use silencio on them whenever they get too graphic, that’ll teach them a lesson.”

“Shouldn’t you not be encouraging me to use my magic like that?”

“Maybe, but I never agreed to be a good influence.”

Harry snorts.  “McGonagall didn’t know what she was doing when she hired you.”

“Oh, I think she did, but she realized that after everything… it was good to have me here.”

“Do you think you’ll stay after I leave?” Harry questions.  “I mean – do you like it?”

“I do and as long as you come visit and I still get to see you… I think being a professor might just be perfect for me.”

“Good, then I guess I can just make do for now.  As long as you’re happy with it.”

“I am.  Are you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Harry answers and he means it.  He’d put up with anything if it means spending time with Sirius.  “It was a great decision.”

“Good.”

[camels-pen]

a gift (not a burden)

Ao3 Link | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Stay with me to the end

Alabasta came and went. It felt like they’d been there months, though it was nowhere near that long. Vivi and Carue stayed behind, a predictable if saddening outcome. Robin, a scary woman that could snap Usopp’s neck in his sleep, was allowed to join with hardly a thought as was typical with this crew. 

And, worst of all, now that the danger had passed and Vivi’s country was saved, they were left with plenty of down time as they sailed to the next island. 

Plenty of time for all those pesky feelings and thoughts to rear their ugly heads from the depths that Usopp shoved them in. Plenty of time for Sanji to—

Usopp frantically shook his head.

No—No, it was fine. Great, even! He needed the rest from all these dangerous adventures; they were terrible for his heart. That’s why he finished his breakfast in a flash and took over morning watch, afterall. He needed time to himself, away from the crazy monsters on the ship. He wasn’t running from anyone in particular, no, he just needed to… regroup! Yes, that was it. Usopp just needed to regroup. Refocus his strategy. Re-establish his plan.

Usopp stared at the empty notebook in his hand. A seagull cried in the distance.

Okay, so he never did have a plan for this, but how was he supposed to know that Sanji would ever find out?! Usopp had a system! A perfect system! A (mostly) Luffy-proof system!

And it was ruined! All because Sanji had to have magical fingers that made Usopp putty in his hands.

If Usopp weren’t avoiding—er, regrouping, he would give Sanji a piece of his mind for ruining his system. Stupid, beautiful, kindhearted Sanji. Always ruining his carefully concocted plans.

He pressed a hand to his chest, drawing circles in his overalls.

Stupid Sanji.

A cleared throat made Usopp jump, nearly sending his notebook flying out of the crow’s nest.

“Cook’s being insufferable,” Zoro said, taking a seat with his arms behind his head. 

“R-Really?” Usopp laughed, the sound strained. “Well, you’re more than welcome to hide up here with me! Ah, not that I’m hiding. Why would I be hiding? I’ve got nothing to hide, Zoro, what are you talking about? Ha ha ha.”

Zoro gave a deadpan stare. “Like peas in a pod.”

“Hey—”

He settled back against the mast, closing his eyes. “You two just need to talk about your soulmarks and you’ll be fine. ‘Course he’s too busy twisting himself in knots worrying about something new every five minutes.”

Usopp had a moment to feel surprised—to feel utterly shocked at the fact that Sanji was acting like Usopp himself usually did—before shouting, “Wait, did he tell—?!”

“Anyone with common sense could figure it out. Cook just doesn’t have any.”

Usopp sat back, breathing a big sigh of relief. He would’ve rather Zoro didn’t notice—nor anyone else, for that matter—but as long as Sanji stayed ignorant…

Ah, but that ship had sailed, hadn’t it?

Usopp slumped back against the wall. “The whole reason he’s being ‘insufferable’ is because he saw my mark.” He laughed, the sound a bitter, shaky thing. “I’m pretty sure he’d kill me if I tried to talk to him about how his precious woman-loving self was stuck with a man for a life partner.” His hands grabbed a fistful of his pants. “And even if he could get over being soulmates with a man, he’d still have to accept being stuck with someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Usopp’s hands tightened their grip. “Usopp, you’ve got it twisted. You’re too good for him, not the other way around.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him.”

“Usopp.”

“It’s true!” He dragged his bandana down over his eyes and whined. “He’s probably kicking holes in the wall just thinking about it and I’m gonna be next!” Oh, how Usopp yearned for Sanji to get knocked out so hard that he forgot everything that happened a couple weeks ago. It wasn’t likely to happen before Usopp got murdered in the near future, but a man can dream.

“Then how about this: if you talk to him and he tries to kick you,”—Zoro flicked part of his sword out of its sheath—“I’ll kill him.”

Usopp slowly put his head in his hands. “Thanks, Zoro. That is so very helpful.”

“I mean it.”

“Yes, yes, you’re always willing to try and kill Sanji.”

“No, I mean,”—Usopp looked up, catching Zoro’s steady gaze—“you need to talk to him.”

A lie sat on the tip of his tongue. Easy and automatic. It was so very tempting, to complain of never before seen illnesses and fantastical wonders. Obstacles so bizarre and impossible to overcome that Zoro would have to let Usopp run away from it all as much as he’d like.

It was right there. Waiting for him.

Zoro still stared.

Usopp sighed, hanging his head. 

—

He didn’t have the time to dwell on it, what with saving Vivi’s country, saying farewell, and welcoming the lovely Miss Robin on their ship. Now that they were back to sailing the Grand Line, however, it all came back full force.

It had to have been Sanji’s mark. It had to be, right? Right. It had to. It had to.

But then, why hide it? Why not tell him from the start? They could’ve talked about it. Could’ve swapped discovery stories. Sanji would’ve showed off his own mark more clearly, let Usopp touch and hold and examine it as much as he wanted.

Did Usopp not… not want him? Think him inadequate somehow? 

Was he disgusted by the fact he was paired with a man? Of course he was, who was Sanji kidding; anyone would be disgusted by that. Men weren’t supposed to be with other men, weren’t supposed to be dainty, weren’t supposed to be homosexual.

Why did the world have to work this way? Why did Sanji have to work this way? To be so tempted by women and men at every turn. To be so disgusting as to infect even his soulmate with such a disgraceful thing. 

Was it just another failure written into his DNA? Something that would follow him for the rest of his life? It was already unbearable before, unacceptable, but now it was suffocating, filling up his lungs as if—

“Sanji, the pot.”

He jumped, cursing as he quickly pulled the smoking pot off the stove, then cursing again as his wrist bumped the burning metal. The pot dropped to the counter with a CLANG as Sanji shook his hand out, quickly moving to run it under cold water.

“Sorry—sorry Robin, dear,” he mumbled, the rushing water nearly drowning him out. He grimaced at the acrid smell filling the galley as he rubbed his wrist under the spray. “Did you want a refill?”

“No thank you, Mr. Cook.” Her eyes flicked once to the countertop, then back to him. “Something on your mind?”

He followed her gaze, a little embarrassed at his rookie mistake, when he noticed a cigarette teetering on the edge of the counter. 

Did he pull one from his box? 

He tapped his breast pocket and found it empty. 

On the edge of his vision, an arm sprouted from the wall, picking up the familiar cardboard from a spot behind the burnt pot. 

Huh. So he did.

He stared at the crushed little thing. 

Unlit and unusable. 

Unwanted and unloved.

A hand found his shoulder. “Mr. Cook?”

He swallowed heavily. “Not… not using my name, like earlier?”

“You didn’t answer the first few times I spoke.”

Sanji hung his head. “Ah, I see. I didn’t mean to ignore you, my dear, I was just…”

A silence fell over them. The hand vanished with the smell of fallen petals.

“Would you like help?”

Sanji stiffened. He should accept—it wouldn’t do to refuse a lady, but—

“With the pot, I mean.”

Sanji breathed a sigh of relief. “No need to worry, I can handle that myself. I had to do it a lot when I was younger. I’m used to it.”

With that, he grabbed a sponge and set himself upon the task. Pot first, spiraling thoughts later.

Pot first. Pot first. Pot first.

“Mr. Cook.”

Just put everything else in a little box like you always do—just shove it in there, ignore it, put it away.

The pot clanged against the counter once more, wobbling back and forth as he registered a strong grip around his wrists, holding them in the air. There were arms sprouted from his elbows, holding each wrist with a tea towel. Belatedly, Sanji registered an itchy burning on his knuckles.

A new hand caught the pot handle. The sponge slipped from Sanji’s grasp with a plop.

“I believe it should cool off first, Mr. Cook,” Robin said. “We don’t want you harming your hands.”

The butter and garlic were a stark, crackling black on an otherwise pristine pot. A mar—a flaw so stark and obvious that anyone could see it despite its vain attempts to hide behind thin metal walls.

“You know, I’ve been told I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”

Patethically thin metal walls. The kind of cookware that ended up with several irreparable cracks and holes when used in a specific environment. 

One of them being polite conversation with a prying lady.

“I’m also skilled with a knife.”

The tension sapped from his body, leaving him nearly limp with relief. He made to refuse again, but paused as that same itchy heat prickled up his hand. 

Robin took up a cutting board.

—

“Okay, just go up and tell him. Just get it over with, get threatened, and then scream for Zoro when he tries to kill you,” Usopp whispered to himself, pacing back and forth in front of the galley door. “You stared down a guy who called himself a god; this is nothing! Just a few words, one mean look, and you’re gone! Outta there. Donezo. Nothing else required.”

He slowly turned his gaze to the door. A glimpse of blond hair had him ducking with a pounding heart.

“O-Or I could forget about all this, pretend it never happened, and hope Sanji eventually moves on from wanting to maim me.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, solid plan Captain Usopp. We’ll tell Zoro it was a valiant effort, but—”

“Tell Zoro what was a valiant effort?”

Usopp froze. Mechanically, he turned just enough to see Sanji’s face and check that the galley door was, indeed, open. “Oh. Hi, Sanji. I did not see you there. I was just doing Zoro a favour with my new dials.” He swiftly turned to leave. “I will stop bothering you now—”

A heavy hand clapped his shoulder. “Hold it.”

Usopp did his best not to squeak. The weight on his shoulder lightened with a sigh. “I’m not going to fillet you, just… come inside. We need to talk.”

Usopp laughed robotically. “Well, you see. Sanji. I really need to finish up that favour for Zoro. So. We will have to talk some other time.”

He was ready to make a break for it then, take advantage of Sanji’s loosening grip to pull out his patented Usopp Dash and cower in the boys’ dorm—hell, maybe even pay up a handful of berri to hide in the girls’ dorm—but then…

“Please?”

Even before seeing his matching mark, Usopp had never been able to turn down one of Sanji’s requests.

He followed Sanji inside, head hung and dragging his feet as if he were off to the gallows. He might as well be, with the fate that was awaiting him the moment he opened his mouth.

Sanji waited for him to close the door before whirling around and tightly gripping his shoulders. Usopp braced himself to get knee’d in the face. 

“I’m a burnt pot.”

A what? “A what?”

“A burnt pot.”

Usopp stared at Sanji. 

Sanji stared back.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The walls are thin, Usopp.”

“Are you worried someone’s gonna listen in on us?”

“No, I—” Sanji groaned, pulling away to drag a hand down his face. “Look, I’m like a crumpled cigarette.”

Usopp put the back of his hand to Sanji’s forehead. “It doesn’t feel like a fever.”

Sanji slapped his hand away, a scowl on his face. “Will you cut that shit out? I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“Are you?” The words slipped from his mouth without a thought, but Usopp already knew the answer. He saw it written in the deep bags under Sanji’s eyes, the empty mugs and fresh coffee stains on the tablecloth, the way his hands jittered. “Did you sleep at all—?”

“I’m sorry.”

Usopp blinked. “You’re… sorry?”

Sanji looked away. “I must’ve scared you off that time in the bath, right? I get it… and I’m sorry.”

Usopp furrowed his brow. He didn’t remember anything beside his overwhelming panic at the time. “Your face didn’t scare me off, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, it’s—” He made a noise of frustration. “I fucked you up.”

Usopp inched a foot backwards. “Did you kick me so hard I forgot about it?”

“I didn’t kicked you! God,”—Sanji ran a hand down his face—“don’t make me spell it out.”

“If you’re gonna keep talking nonsense, then yes, please spell out whatever you’re trying to say.”

Sanji whined. Honest to god whined. 

Usopp held up his hands. “If it’s that bad, you don’t have to tell me, in fact we can just pretend this never happened and—”

“I’m sorry I turned you gay.”

A slow, rolling anger started to well up inside Usopp. In a low, dangerous voice, he said, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember,” Sanji quickly added. “Don’t know when it started, but I’d been doing pretty good ignoring it or at least making sure other people didn’t notice. Everything was going pretty great until you guys showed up at the Baratie. Then all of a sudden it got worse and—and I kept it quiet, no one noticed, but…”

Usopp didn’t want to try to parse what he was saying. He wanted to give him a piece of his mind, tear into him. He wanted to—

Sanji sniffled. He looked about ready to cry.

Usopp deflated with a sigh.

“I’ve never really cared about who I crushed on.” Usopp took a seat at the table, suddenly tired down to his bones. “Guys, girls, people who were neither. The outside never really mattered.” He put his cheek in his hand and circled the edge of an empty mug with the tip of his finger. “You didn’t ‘infect me’ or anything, I’ve been like this the whole time. Besides, weren’t you given the soulmate shtick too?”

“Shtick?”

“You know,”—Usopp waved a hand—“how they’re supposed to be really important to you or really similar or whatever. People love to say it’s all about romance, but it doesn’t have to be, if you don’t want that.”

“What if I do want it?” Sanji blurted.

“Bold words from someone who was just apologizing for ‘turning me gay’.”

“I’m serious, I…” He knelt at Usopp’s side. “Usopp, please look at me.”

He sighed, but obliged. “Don’t see how this is going… to…” Usopp trailed off, surprise filling him at the tear tracks staining Sanji’s cheeks, the hopeful look in his eye.

“When I woke up next to you in the galley the other day and saw burns matching mine—when I finally got to the top of that shitty flying ship and you were covered in new burns and that fucking ‘god’ ruined your escape, I…” He reached out a hand, pausing to leave it hovering between them. Usopp didn’t move. Sanji gently cradled his cheek.. “I was terrified. I thought I’d lose the chance to tell you before I’d figured things out.” 

His eyes pinched. “No. More than that, I was just terrified to lose you, Usopp. I’d live the rest of my life just being your friend if it meant I could still spend every day of it by your side.” He rubbed his thumb over Usopp’s cheek. Softly, tenderly. “But I want to be more than that, if you’ll let me.”

“You haven’t slept.” Usopp put his hand over Sanji’s own. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Sanji brought his free hand up to Usopp’s other cheek. “Usopp, I know it’ll be hard for you to trust me—hell, I wouldn’t trust me—but please, give me a chance.”

He was forcing himself. He had to be. He was so caught up with the idea of soulmates that he didn’t care who or what he was matched with. He just wanted to blindly follow whatever the universe and adults told him growing up. 

Usopp swallowed around the lump in his throat. “We have time.” Sanji’s brow furrowed and Usopp rushed to add, “Y-You don’t have to force yourself into this just because of a mark. Take your time and think it over.” 

“But… but we’re supposed to—”

There it is, Usopp thought as he plastered on a smile. “We’re already good friends, isn’t that enough?” It had to be enough. “And I’m not telling you to forget about it, just make sure that it’s what you really want.”

A pause. Not long, but long enough. “What about you?”

Usopp waved a hand, laughing like his heart wasn’t splitting in two. “I’ve never believed in all that soulmate stuff. Sure I was curious who had my mark, but that was it.” He shook his head with a sigh, forcing his voice steady. “Don’t know why everyone’s always so caught up on forcing it to be romantic.”

“I… I suppose it’s… possible to have a friend as a soulmate….”

“That settles it.” Usopp pushed himself up from the table and went for the door. “Good talk, Sanji! Let me know when you’ve got an answer.” Please please, let that be never. “I’m going to enjoy the sunshine while it’s still around. Oh, Luffy might barge in the moment I open the door though, he was complaining about being hungry earlier—”

—

“Wait.”

Usopp turned around, still wearing that fake ass smile. Fuck. 

He clenched his fist. “Usopp, if you—”

“Tell anyone I’ll meet the business end of your shoe? I know that much, Sanji.”

Sanji’s lips thinned. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He shrugged. Sanji saw the tremble in his shoulders. “You’ve gotta know what you want—what you really want—before asking me that, Sanji.”

What he wanted? He wanted to be with his soulmate. To—To finally find the soul he was meant to be with, the person who he could love and cherish and dote on as much as he’d like. To find his other half. 

“I know you like the idea of soulmates,” Usopp said. “I get it, I do. But do you like the idea of me?”

Sanji reared back, as if struck. “Usopp, you have my mark—”

“There, see?” His facade cracked at the edges. “You’re not in it for me. You only see your mark on my chest.”

That—no, Sanji wasn’t—he cared about Usopp. They were best friends! Crewmates! Sanji would do anything to see him safe and happy and well fed! What was wrong with exploring things further? With taking a chance at making good times even better? It had nothing to do with marks and soulmates and following a pre-determined destiny.

Sanji wanted to speak those words—or any number of others that would get Usopp to understand, to listen, to wait—but it all dried up on the tip of his tongue, insincere and insensitive.

Usopp’s shoulders sagged, his eyes falling downcast. “Just. Think about it, okay?”

Still knelt in front of the table, Sanji watched as Usopp quietly left the galley, a swell of guilt in his chest and knowing exactly where he went wrong. 

[paramorearchived]

September 12, 2012

Transcript:

to be happy now.

fair warning. i am allllll over the place tonight! so hopefully, you guys can follow along down these rabbit trails...

we're officially a little over half-way through the tracking of this album. it feels real-er than ever. i'm starting to understand all these songs more and where they've actually come from... for a minute, it was such a whirlwind of inspiration, emotion, and sweat. now that we've spent some time getting to know the album and growing with it, i can finally tell myself it's real. i can just almost tell myself that it's alright to relax. 

have you ever been that way? haven't you ever said "things are so great right now that i know something's bound to go wrong... any minute." just so you know, i might be the QUEEN of that phrase. maybe it's part of being a total realist? maybe it's just the fact that i've been through some rough situations and i know how awful it feels not to be prepared for the worst? it's been a while since i didn't have my fists in a ball... since i wasn't sort of on the defense, waiting for the attack. if there was an actual good reason for why i lived that way for so long i'd give it to you but now that i'm (hopefully!) passed that, it's a little unclear as to why that would ever be worth it. because now i wake up every morning and i know for certain that there are at least a few good people around me, if not physically then just by an iPhone somewhere, who could look me in the eye and tell me that they love me. i've got just enough blood in my veins and air in my lungs to know that i am definitely not dead. and that could be enough to say outloud, to myself... "You're OK!" 

another thing to consider is what if there is a part of us that doesn't fully want to be satisfied? what if there's something that asks us: if everything is "OK" then what do we have to strive for? to LIVE for, even? that's the constant duel in my spirit! i want life to go smoothly but when it's all working out... i'm sort of bored. ugh. it reminds me of a lyric by mewithoutYou that i've always connected with so deeply. "All I want is to want one thing." how beautifully that depicts our nature as humans to want everything, sometimes multiple things at once that couldn't be more opposite... and in the end get upset with the whole thing and want to get rid of desire altogether. (i digress!) 

what i've had to learn during this last year and a half, is that i might actually just be happy with where life is heading at this point. doesn't mean i'll always feel this way. nothing's perfect... at least for very long! anyway, it might just be OK to be happy now. right now in this very moment. i should just go with it, right? by the way, if i don't sound completely insane to you after 3 paragraphs which all are complete contradictions to each other then i appreciate your patience and flexible perspective. 

all this to say, i feel happy and i feel like my soul is actually being fulfilled. not only by the making of this album but also by the few close relationships i have in my life that have either stood the test of time or have bloomed from virtually nothing since entering whatever phase of my life i'm in at the moment. i'm not waiting for the sky to fall because i know that while the sky is staying up there in it's place, i have my opportunity to live. no more wasting time, hope, emotions, on worrying when, if, or how i could ever be let down again. i'm going to tell myself it's okay to be happy now.

i guess i want to finish this off by asking you what fulfills you. what is it that reaches your soul? it doesn't have to be some profound thing or even anything cool. if you can hold that one thing in your mind and know that you're exactly who you are supposed to be in that moment, then that could be all you need to get from point A to point B. maybe i want to finish THAT by saying, let's all listen to "One Thing" by One Direction and sing it to each other. you've got that one thing and guess what? it doesn't even need to be named. cause you just know and so does One Direction.

ok, i don't know how you made it to the end of this.... love you, mean it.  hayley

[ellekhen]

Of Silk, Sun, and Sparks

Chapter 5 - A Talented Touch

Chapter Summary: Gale indulges Astarion's request. After a brief respite, it turns out that neither of them are quite done with Church.

Pairing: Astarion/Male Tav/Gale (w/established Astarion/Male Tav) Rating: Explicit Length: 16K+ words; Chapter 5/6

Excerpt below:

In the present, Astarion relaxes, kicking aside the sheets that have become habitually twisted during the couple’s stay in Gale’s old apartment. Beside him, its former tenant occupies himself with casting prestidigitation upon his own mess, muttering as he goes. 

Astarion closes his eyes with a wistful, contented hum. Despite his absence, he can almost feel Church still moving beneath him, his torso vibrating with his sweet voice as he received Astarion ecstatically. And then, oh, that tightening of his body before the enraptured tiefling collapsed in the throes of his release…

“…Astarion?” 

The elf blinks over at Gale. “…what?”

“I asked what exactly you wanted to talk about,” Gale chortles. “But perhaps I should be asking how you are instead?”

He hesitates, glancing down at his nude friend. “Out of the three of us you didn’t get your satisfaction, after all…”

“Oh believe me, darling, I received plenty of satisfaction,” Astarion simpers, his eyes flicking towards the doorway outside of which Church passes, his silk robe hanging loosely off of his shoulders. “I thought Church was reactive, but you, my dear…” he beckons to Gale and the man follows him eagerly in for a firm smooch. “…maybe it’s how uptight you usually are, but I thoroughly enjoyed your little shakes and cries as we had you at our mercy.”

He also enjoys how Gale blushes nearly scarlet at his words. It was an amusing sight to see how hot and bothered the wizard got as soon as he was pinned beneath Church. Astarion could say from experience that it’s quite a nice position to be in, after all. 

“Well! I’m pleased you’re pleased,” Gale chuckles. “But back to my question — what would you like to discuss while our man is out of the room?”

Astarion hesitates. It was a throwaway comment, really, once upon a time. But after everything Gale has boasted and demonstrated about his magical prowess, Astarion does truly wish to see it in practice.

“Do you recall, erm, a little request I made? Over the sending stone?” Astarion asks. He hates how timid his voice sounds, but Gale’s expression softens at his words.

“Of course,” Gale murmurs, stretching his neck and arms with a quiet crack. “We could give it a try.”

“I’d like that,” Astarion smiles in relief. “Provided you’re not too spent from being spoiled between us both…”

“I have quite enough energy for this, thank you,” Gale insists. “Now,” he holds out hand. “Pull?”

Astarion grasps the wizard’s hand. As he pulls upon it, a sheer but solidifying image of the man follows his hand away from Gale’s body. The elf draws him out completely until there before him kneels yet another Gale — a perfect duplicate.

“Um, hang on,” Astarion scowls up at the copy. “I didn’t actually need to do that, did I?”

“No,” Gale admits, ushering the duplicate aside. “But half of what makes magic impressive is the presentation, so…” he shrugs.

“You know, I always wondered,” Astarion remarks, eyeing Gale’s Mirror Image warily. “How often does this… fine fellow… make an appearance in your bedroom?”

“You mean besides when I’m in want of a mirror?” Gale replies dryly. “All of three times in this context, at least.” He frowns. “But, er… I suppose during some transcendental moments with a… past flame… we would exercise something similar.”

Astarion’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “You sly dog!” he laughs, scandalized. “Did Mystra enjoy an audience?”

“More like happy, hands-on participants,” Gale mutters. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to stay in the moment, understood?”

Astarion has the decency to act abashed. “Of course, pet. Now, what exactly did you and yourself wish to do with me?”  

He shimmies enticingly past the anticipation in his chest, as if he wasn’t the one who specifically requested this a week ago. 

“Not just me, myself, or I,” Gale quips. “Behold! The one trick they won’t teach you in wizarding finishing school… but the one that will certainly make you the most friends.”

—

By the time Church returns to the bedroom with two glasses of water in hand, he’s greeted by a deep, cathartic moan. 

All the Gales look up at Church apologetically. 

“...you seem to have kept yourselves busy,” Church manages to say. 

Astarion mumbles something unintelligible from where he lies face down upon the bed. One Gale — an illusory duplicate with his edges shimmering with the Weave — straddles the elf’s hips as his hands knead skillfully along his scarred back. Another sits further behind him, intently massaging one of Astarion’s feet as the other rests in his lap. Another still kneels before Astarion at the edge of the bed, rubbing his thumbs against Astarion’s temples and pressing carefully down his scalp before stretching his neck. 

It takes Church a minute to identify the real Gale — bespectacled and propped up against the headboard in a nest of pillows. He seems to have composed himself since Church’s departure, nonchalantly flipping a page of one of the tiefling’s starjammer books as Astarion lets out another lengthy, pleasured groan. 

“Aw, Gale… you broke him!” Church teases as he leans down to press a kiss against Astarion’s temple. The elf grumbles, half-heartedly nipping at his hand before falling limp again. He appears to have practically melted beneath the Gales’ ministrations.

“I should have tried this years ago,” Gale remarks, peering over his spectacles. “It would’ve kept him busy every time he tried to distract me from my reading.”

“Honestly I didn’t expect this, from what I was hearing in the other room,” Church huffs a laugh, handing the man a glass. He cuddles up to Gale’s side to read over his shoulder. “But it’s even better than I hoped.”

The three — six — of them take a respite together, curled up in bed as they bask in the afterglow. Eventually one of the Gales coaxes Church away from the headboard, carefully stripping him of his robe once again as he begins to massage the tiefling’s back as well.

“Out of all of us, you probably need this the most,” Church points out to the real Gale. “I’m sure we’ve done a number on your back.”

Gale shrugs evasively. “It’s been well worth it so far,” he says, turning a page. “Although you may need to ask me again tomorrow.”

Church laughs, gesturing at the space in front of him. “Come on — let me take care of you?”

“That’s not necessary!” Gale begins to protest, but when Church reaches over to pull the man towards him, he doesn’t resist. 

“I know you can make three of these at the drop of a hat, but the fact that they’re independently moving is gods-damned impressive,” Church says, ushering Gale to lie face down upon his stomach. “So if your mind isn’t relaxing, then at the very least let me help your body relax.”

He happily takes a seat upon the cushion of Gale’s ass, smoothing his hands down the man’s tensed back. “Fair warning, I’m headed straight for those neck and shoulders.”

“I suppose that’s where I’ve got—mmhhhhhh,” Gale moans as the tiefling’s dexterous fingers begin to press into his flesh. Indeed, hours upon hours of reading, writing, and grading papers have rendered Gale’s neck and shoulders knotted and taut. 

“Oh come on, work with me here.” Church kneads into him, trying his damndest to break down his muscles’ resistance. “You’re as tense as a swordsman!”

He glances over to see Astarion peeking at them, a small smirk upon his relaxed mien.

“How are you doing?” Church calls softly to him.

“I’m… peachy,” Astarion slurs. “...juicy.”

“‘Juicy?’”

“I could sleep and dream… just… like… you,” Astarion mumbles. “Gale darling, listen to that sweet boy and let go now.”

From where he lies prone upon the bed, Gale twirls a finger — dismissing his duplicates in a trio of iridescent shimmers. Church isn’t surprised in the slightest afterwards when Gale’s neck finally relaxes. Mirror Image isn’t typically a concentration spell, but with each of the copies focusing on a different task, the wizard’s mind must have been a flurry of activity. Now, Gale sags down against the bed in a near-perfect mimicry of Astarion’s current state.

“That’s it,” Church encourages him, stroking through his hair. “Let me take care of you for a bit, alright?”

Gale groans softly as Church’s thumbs knead circles down his spine, elongating the man’s back vertebrae by vertebrae. His shoulders rise and fall slowly, steadily as Church tends to him.

Astarion doesn’t move much from where he remains melted upon the bed. He merely props his head upon his arms, watching Church rock gently upon Gale’s hips as he massages him.

In the companionable silence, Church finds his eyes drawn to his partner’s relaxed body more and more. The dip of his waist before his hip bones is just so enticing as Astarion shifts upon the bedspread, knowingly showing off the length of his body as he rearranges himself before his partner.

Church adjusts himself abashedly, feeling his cock fill as it rests upon Gale’s tailbone. He can’t help but be very distracted by the recent, visceral memory of Astarion sliding inside of him all the while Gale squeezed around his hard, aching front… 

Astarion chuckles, his own eyes growing hungry. 

“Oh I know that face,” he purrs. “Ready for more, my love?”

[forensicated]

Roger: It's the parents who are to blame... Dan: Yeah, you're right, we should put them in the stocks whilst we thrash their kids… Roger: You can take the mick! There was no need to put coppers in schools when I was there... Dan: Those were the days, eh? Paper round in your bare feet before sun up, breakfast? Just a bowl of gravel. June: Have you just had a shave? Smithy: What? How did you know that? June: I miss nothing, me. Smithy: Am I under surveillance or something? June: No, you've got shaving cream in your ear... Zain: Late night? Smithy: What? Zain: Shaving when you get to work, it's kind of a giveaway... Dan: Come on then, lets get the jokes over with... Tony: Awww, look at Rogers face. He looks like someone's just stolen his conkers.

Louise: I thought we'd finished with the questions? Smithy: Well, you know us Old Bill, we're always after more. Louise: Is that right? So supposing an opportunity arose? Smithy: *phone rings* Hang on... Louise: Don't worry, I can find my way back to Islington... I wonder if you can. *leaves* Dan: We're supposed to earn their respect! Roger: Respect? So far today they've had me in the bogs trying to find a non-existent goldfish. I've had to settle a dispute over a Spongebob Squarepants lunch box, and they've had me up a tree trying to retrieve a games kit. They start to show me some respect, then...*gets interrupted by a groups of lads* Dan: Up until now, they thought he was one of the few that would get to university. Sensitive, artistic...not the type to be carrying a knife… Roger: Maybe he was scared of being done over. I mean they're the ones they usually pick on, aren't they? The bright kids, the ones that are a bit different. The artistic ones... Dan: I used to be artistic... Roger: I rest my case.

Smithy: Louise, it's Smithy...Sergeant Smith. Louise: What are you doing? Smithy: I thought you wanted to see me? Louise: What made you think that? Smithy: When you were at the station, you were wondering if I could find my way to Islington... Louise: And that means come over, does it? Smithy: I just thought that... Louise: Look, you have to go...just don't call me again, alright? Smithy: So that's it? Louise: You're a bloke. I thought a one night stand was a perfect deal. Smithy: Well yeah, but... I dunno, I thought it was a bit of fun, I thought we could do it again... Louise: No. Smithy: Well let me just come in... Louise: No. Please, just go now...*closes the door*

Smithy: What's that job entail? Finding partners for gay coppers? Nick: Why, you lonely?

Smithy: You wily old sod. Bob: Oi, less of the old.

Smithy: They've asked for uniform support... Honey: Yeah, I'll do that... Smithy: Good girl, Amber, come here - you can help her. *Amber scowls and slowly walks towards him* Oh your enthusiasm is overwhelming me...Speak to DI Manson, he'll fill you in. *walks off and looks back* Oh, and happy birthday *winks*

Jonathan: *bangs on the door whilst Smithy looks through the windows* Gina! Gina! Smithy: Maybe she had a hospital appointment and forgot to mention it... Jonathan: I doubt it, look just mind out the way... Smithy: Er, what are you doing? Jonathan: Going to knock the door in... Smithy: Yeah, don't cos she'll kill ya. *pulls a key out* There's no need. Jonathan: Well I'm not going to ask why you've got that...*follows Smithy in and looks through the house for her* Smithy: *runs upstairs and sees Gina out cold on the floor* Jonathan! She's up here! Gina...*goes to help her* Smithy: *checks Gina's pulse* Jonathan: Have you got a pulse? Smithy: Yeah... Jonathan: Shall I call an ambulance? Smithy: No, not yet...Let's get her up *rolls Gina over and pulls her up to him* Gina: *coughs and flails her arms out* Jonathan: Up you come... Gina: *holds Jonathan and Smithy's hands* What's happening... Smithy: You tell us Gina...you're alright now. *both men comfort her* *Smithy and Jonathan settle Gina on the settee* Smithy: How you feeling? Gina: Bit wobbly, but I'm alright now... Jonathan: Do you want us to take you to the hospital? Just in case...? Gina: No, no...they warned me this might happen after the radiotherapy... *sighs* I feel wiped out...I've been up half the night vomiting, I really don't want any fuss... Smithy: Well if you're sure you're alright... Gina: Honestly, get back to work...I need you to cover for me... Jonathan: *nods at Smithy* I'll stay here... Smithy: Well look, I'll see you later... Gina: Thanks Smithy.. *Smithy smiles and leaves* Jonathan: He was really worried about you, y'know...and I almost kicked the door in. Gina: I'd have murdered you! Jonathan: I think a cup of tea's needed... Gina: No, no, I said I don't want any fuss...you can go, I'm alright now. Jonathan: Gina...I'm not going anywhere.

Tony: It's time for a toast... Smithy: Shouldn't this be champagne? Tony: I think in the circumstances, tea will have to do! Jo: Gary's not fussy, are ya! Gary: Looks like I don't have a choice...

Gabriel: *Holds up a newspaper* Is this all you've got to read? Smithy: Well I didn’t exactly get to pack a case when I came in here did I?

Gina: *to Smithy about Gabriel* Have you thanked him yet? Smithy: No. Gina: Smithy he saved your life. Smithy: I know but whenever I go to say it the words get stuck in my throat!

Dan: Yeah, I run a few times a week, did the marathon once... Roger: Dan *waves at him from behind the groupies* Hello? Dan: Sorry...can I have me hat back please girls? Roger: Go on, this is a study period...We're meant to be on patrol, not fraternizing with the enemy... Dan: Just gathering intelligence... Roger: Don't think they've got much to share, anyway, the marathon, who you kidding? Dan: I was at one once... Roger: Yeah, for crowd control. Dan: "I was terrified we'd have to split up. I didn't realise how much you meant to me."

Steve: Are you up for a bit of advice Roger? Roger: Well it's not the best time but go on quickly. Steve: What would you do if there was this woman who, well let's say something happened with her, but you don’t want to take it any further, yeah? Roger: Yeah OK I'm with you so far. Steve: But she keeps phoning you. Roger: What does she say? Steve: I haven't answered. Roger: But you want it to stop? Steve: Yeah I want it to all stop. Dan: *Slaps Steve on the back* be a man about it mate. Roger: Or better still, give her Dan's number *points at Dan* he'll sort her out. *Dan and Roger exit. Steve: Yeah.

Smithy: Well, if my dentist looked as good as you, I'd never miss a checkup...

Smithy: I'm here with a friend... Dan: A woman? Smithy: Well of course it's a woman! Dan: By the way, nice legs. Her that is, not you...

Smithy: You said you didn't want bail, so now you got your wish and I nearly got me nose broke! Smithy: Now I'm running out of patience with you, and my nose is really starting to hurt!

Louise: If you want to end it, fine...I can't make you love me... Smithy: But I do love you...that's what's making it harder to do.

[shapeshiftinterest]

Take A Seat: sun x moon x monty (CH 2)

established relationship version of the last chapter + fennell coming back from their break

some context:

the gator ride stops ahead of the control box and doesn’t go in reverse

Fennell stopped the ride a little too late so they’re a few feet away from the animatronics, can’t see monty who is already in the ride, and can only kinda hear them talking

the beginning's the same, alternate version starts at 'smaller than the other Glams'

story under the read more

Take A Seat (also on ao3) 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

“Ah,” Fennell said, their 3rd day on the job and there was already a problem.

They felt like maybe management should have accounted for the animatronics’ larger frames but oh well. Guess it was Fennell’s problem now.

As a staff member they were tasked to oversee testing for the weight limit on Monty’s gator ride near the catwalks. Monty and another animatronic, whom they later found to be the Naptime Daycare Attendant, would sit in one of the cars and record any changes or abnormalities.

At least that’s what was supposed to happen, they sighed, dragging a hand across their face.

What actually happened was them pausing the rides so a car would stop in front of the accessible catwalk, Monty stepping in the alligator shaped ride... and then there not being enough space for Moon to get in.

Fennell was glad the DA was the other animatronic, at least he was smaller than the other Glams. They made their way back to the control box. Maybe if they all worked together they could figure out a way for Moon to squeeze in-

Before Fennell could finish their thought they saw a clawed hand reach towards Moon.

“There’s not enough space, Monty.” They heard Moon deadpan.

“Naaaah, there’s plenny’ a space right ‘ere,” Monty said. The ride swayed, probably from Monty shuffling around to make said space. Fennell heard the faint sound of Monty pat something twice in the ride.

Huh, they didn’t think the two would be such close friends.

Well whatever, as long as both animatronics could fit and not break the ride it didn’t matter.

Fennell watched Moon’s face plate rotate once, twice, before they (somehow??) rolled their eyes and took the gator’s hand, jumping into the car. A bit more shuffling rocked the ride while the animatronics got settled in and Fennell pulled the lever again.

“Now would be the perfect time for my 1 hour break,” Fennell said to themself, already making their way to the elevator.

1 LUNCH BREAK LATER

Fennell wasn’t sure what they were looking at.

Scratch that, they knew exactly what they were looking at, they just couldn’t believe it.

The newbie had come back from their break to get Moon and Monty’s reports only to find them in the ride with Monty on his back and Moon lying on top of him. The gator’s hands on Moon’s hips and a few scratches on the DA’s back that Fennell was 99% sure weren’t there before.

They hoped the other side of the DA wouldn’t be too upset to have to visit Parts and Services later.

...

Wait, was Sun with them too? Fuck it, they weren’t paid enough to think about animatronic love lives.

Fennell coughed and the animatronics jolted, Moon grabbing the top of the gator ride’s mouth and swinging himself onto the catwalk. Monty followed less gracefully, almost tripping when he stepped out.

“The report?”

“Huh?”

“Were there any problems with the amount of weight the car could handle?”

“No, no problems.” This time Moon answered. They didn’t look at Fennell though, too focused on fiddling with their bell and swaying. That was fine, they’d feel awkward too if their junior caught them making out with a coworker during a routine check.

“Gwahaha, yeah!” Monty laughed, patting Fennell on the back a little too hard and making them stumble. “We even shook the ride a few times to make sure it would hold up just in case!”

Fennell tried not to think too hard on how they achieved that. Moon sputtered and elbowed the bassist. “Ow! What’d I do?”

They noticed Moon’s face plate was a little dented in some places.

Moon sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling the other animatronic to the elevator. “We’ll send a digitized report to your Fazwatch,” he called back.

Fennell questioned their life choices and briefly thought about quitting.

[weilongfu]

Nymph!AU AePete & TinCan: Ae & Tin have to deal with that fact that Pin & Tan are getting older and mating isn’t just a ‘what if’ anymore.

"It was supposed to just be puppy love," Ae grumbled from his spot, curled up around Pete in his den as they both watched Pin make his sixth flower crown that week. "On account of the fact that they were both literally pups."

"Ae, they suit each other very well, don't you think?" Pete said as he scratched behind Ae's wolf ears. "You and I can't watch after Pin forever and Tan has always taken good care of him." Ae's wolf snout scrunched up in a half snarl, but Pete kissed the top of his head before the growling could get louder. "You can deny it all you want, but Pin will not find another more suited to him. No other wolf caters to him half so well. Ae is the best for me and Tan is the best for our Pin."

This time, Ae whined. "He's still just a baby."

"He's been around for 16 summers," Pete reminded him. "He's plenty old as nymphs go. And don't act like wolves, not spirits like you, don't mate well before that." Ae looked up at Pete with his puppy eyes which Pete enjoyed being the only one to ever see. "I'm just reminding Ae that if it's time, it's time. He's still our baby, but we have to let him live."

"Papa, look!" Pin ran over to display his recent handiwork. "I think it's almost good enough."

"Only almost? It looks very pretty," Pete said as he turned the flower crown about in his hands carefully.

"Well..." Pin fidgeted. "I want it to be perfect..."

Pete pet Ae's head one more time before standing up. "I think I have just the idea, come with me." Pete began to pull Pin away as Pin looked back at Ae, still whining in his wolf form. "Don't mind your father, he'll come around soon. I'll persuade him," Pete said as he pat Pin's hand. "But first, we need to finish your flower crown so you can give it to Tan today."

-----

Can grimaced as he watched Tan jump into the coldest river water he could find for the third time that morning. Tin, on the other hand, only continued collecting firewood for their den.

"Na, Tin, shouldn't we uh... Encourage Tan to handle that sort of thing differently?"

"It's his penis, let him handle it how he wants," Tin groused.

"So you'd be okay if Tan and Pin decided to-"

"Absolutely not." Can immediately turned around to glare at his mate, but still, Tin pressed on. "He is not mating with Ae's child."

"Didn't you say you left your last pack because they refused to let you decide and you never wanted Tan to go through that again?" Can could hear the grinding of Tin's teeth and pressed on. "You have to let him choose for himself. Even if you don't necessarily get along with Ae because you're both too used to doing things on your own terms, Tan and Pin have chosen each other. Over and over and over." Can's tail began to swish as opposed to wag and Tin felt his own hackles rise at the change in temperament of his mate. "Don't be a hypocrite."

Tan walked up to them, shaking water droplets off his body before tying his skins around his waist as Tin turned to address Can. Tan paused as he noticed the atmosphere. "Did something happen dad?"

"No," Tin said as he resumed picking up prospective bits of firewood. "And if you don't hurry, I suppose you'll be late for your date." Tin leveled a look at his son. "I presume that's why you've attempted to bathe three times this morning already."

Color flushed high on Tan's cheeks. "N-no- er- well I-"

"Well if it's a date, we should get you going! No sense in keeping Pin waiting now!" Can urged as he grabbed his adopted son's arm and started running. "Come on, this is as close as you'll get to your father's blessing. Better take it now!"

Can smiled to himself as he felt Tan start running even faster, leaving Tin behind to grumble.

-----

Tan loved the smell of peach blossoms, particularly the smell of Pin's peach blossoms. They smelled uniquely different from any other peach tree, even his father's, and Tan attributed it to the part of Pin that was part wolf. The bad thing about such unique blossoms and scent was the effect it had on Tan. Even now, approaching Pin's tree made parts of Tan's body uncomfortable.

Discussing it with Can on the way over had been unhelpful as the older wolf simply told him to, "Let nature take its course. You're at about the age wolf spirits go through this sort of thing." Tan had whined and Can ruffled his hair. "Sexual maturity isn't just a thing for humans you know. You were bound to want to go into rut eventually. Why, Pin's dad Ae didn't go into rut for the first time until he smelled Pete's flowers after falling in love with him, you know. He was more than one-hundred years old at that point."

"Less about how Pin was born please," Tan said meekly.

"Oh, that wasn't the rut that gave birth to him," Can said with a laugh. "It was the second."

"Please stop."

Unfortunately Can had stopped at least a kilometer away from Pin's tree and left Tan to his own nerves which immediately swelled back up in full force without Can's playful banter. Tan's nerves combatted with his propriety and manners, leading to a relatively normal walking pace at least. As Tan walked the last meters, he easily spotted Pin. His currently golden ears and tail for summer were bright and obvious against his dark brown hair and jade green tunic. The motions of Pin's hands made it obvious that Pin was up in his tree adding flowers from it to something. Hope sprung up in Tan's throat.

Even though they'd been close as children and closer growing up, Tan had dared not assume he'd be Pin's choice. It was entirely possible that the grumblings of their parents had truly sunk in and Pin could have changed his mind. But the way Pin smiled when he spotted Tan, the delicate highlight of peach blossoms in a crown full of other flowers which only complemented the smell of Pin without hiding it, all of it made Tan want and want and want. Tan thanked the fact that Can had told him to tie some of his skins and furs a certain way so that some things, "Might not be so obvious and you won't feel awkward," Can said with a wink. "It's a trick Forth picked up from the humans apparently."

Pin jumped down from his tree and Tan caught him easily, immediately filling his nose with the potent smell of peach blossoms and young wolf and nervousness. Before Tan could say a thing, Pin delicately placed his flower crown on Tan's head.

"I do choose you," Pin said softly as he leaned into Tan's body and rubbed his cheek against Tan's neck. Tan felt his body kick into overdrive. "I want to be with you as long as you'll have me."

Tan immediately returned the favor, rubbing his cheek against Pin's before moving to his neck, his collar bone, the top of his head. Pin giggled and pushed Tan down to sit at the base of his tree before sitting in Tan's lap. Tan continued his motions, feeling Pin reciprocate once in a while. Once the air around them smelt of nothing less than their combined scents, Tan tilted Pin's chin and kissed his lips softly.

Pin tasted sweeter than peaches, than honey, than fresh mountain spring water, and Tan desired more than a taste, especially as he felt Pin's hands grip his shoulders. Tan felt his lips move without his conscious thought, felt Pin shift above him, smelled arousal, both his and Pin's, and immediately broke their kiss.

"Tan?" Pin trembled for a moment before Tan rubbed Pin's arms and kissed his forehead.

"Yes... Of course yes." Tan took deep breaths as he nuzzled the crook of Pin's neck once more. "I choose you too, Pin." Tan couldn't help himself and he nipped Pin's neck, causing the other to shiver for different reasons. "But I... Do you... Do you want to come to my den?"

Pin's eyes widened with surprise. "You made your own already?"

Tan moved from rubbing Pin's arms to holding on to his hips. "I've been making it in secret... It's... It's not entirely done though..."

Pin reached up and plucked a peach from his tree before standing up and pulling Tan up with him. Pin adjusted the crown on Tan's head to sit correctly, then offered the peach to Tan. "Then... Let's go finish it together."

Tan took a bite and offered the peach back to Pin, who also took a bite. "Yeah... let's."